by ML Michaels
She was very happy to see him, a face from the past that brought back with it a feeling safety. And for a moment, she really missed her Uncle Roy and the life she had left behind seven years previous ago.
“How are ya darlin’?” Sheriff Wes said, giving Dana a big hug.
“I’m okay, Wes. It’s great to see you.”
“We were all so sorry to hear about your Uncle Roy. He was a fine man and a credit to the town.” Wes had now assumed the standard mourning pose, his head bowed slightly and his wide brimmed sheriff hat held in front of his stomach. “If there’s anything you need at all, just give me a call at the Sheriff office and I’ll be right over to the ole white house.”
“Thanks, Wes. But listen, do you know if my uncle had any enemies in town?”
“Not that I know of, girly. We all make enemies at some point, but if there was one man in the county who had nothin’ but friends, it was your Uncle Roy.”
“What about the argument he had just before he died, with the guy in the Lodge parking lot?”
“Oh I wouldn’t put too much into that, Dana. Sure there was some sort of argument, and we never did identify the fella. But Roy wasn’t a well man, and he wasn’t in the correct frame of mind.”
“So you don’t find it strange that he had an unusually fierce argument with a stranger and bought a gun, days before he died?”
“I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my time, but there’s no mystery here. Your uncle wasn’t well, and he died of a heart attack, probably as part of some underlyin’ condition.”
“But Wes,” Dana lowered her voice for the next part. “Uncle Roy also emptied his bank account before he died. I have no idea what he spent it on or where it is.”
“That’s strange…” Wes said. “But no stranger than the way Roy was acting. I hope it turns up little missy, but I have to get going over to the highway, there’s an upturned apple truck which needs overseeing.”
“Okay, Wes, thanks,” Dana replied.
“And remember, you need anything you know where I am.”
Dana smiled and then walked to her car, deciding she’d head home and make herself some lunch. She drove along the main street, slipping once more into nostalgia, thinking about those aimless teenage days where she and her friends would walk the length of Main Street looking for something to do. Sometimes it seemed boring, but other times it felt right. Sure, being a teenager had brought with it emotional stress – what people thought about her mattered more then than anything else – but there was also a freedom to it; her happy home with her uncle, and her friends who looked no further than a few days into the future.
Leaving Main Street, Dana headed out towards her home. But as she did so, she noticed something. In her rearview mirror, there was a dark blue car; the glare of the sun made it impossible to see the driver. Each time Dana took a turn, the car would follow. Uncle Roy’s letter began to ruminate. Was she being followed, or was it all in her mind? Her uncle had written that she’d be in danger if she returned to Harlan, and for the first time she began to think that he might have been right.
To test the theory, Dana took an unscheduled left, leading onto a long stretch of country road that led to the East, away from her home. She drove on for a moment and then stopped. Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw the dark blue car drive passed without taking the same turn. Dana sighed with relief, thankful that it was all in her mind.
Then her heart raced. The dark blue car reappeared. It had turned around, the driver then taking the same turn as Dana. It entered the street and moved towards her slowly. Suddenly Dana realized that she was on a stretch of road with no houses. And in her mind she thought: there’d be no witnesses…
She put her foot down on the accelerator and spun the car around. Heading in the direction she had come. She drove. Fast. She navigated the town’s pristine streets, the picket fences becoming a blur before she finally reached the lonely road that led to her uncle’s house.
As she approached her old home, she realized how remote it was. It really was on the outskirts of town. There were no neighbors, just fields and the lake in the back. Nervously checking the rearview mirror, Dana felt satisfied that she’d lost her pursuer, and drove into the driveway. She left the car, and as soon as she was inside the house, she locked the door behind her – something folks in that part of the country rarely do.
Dana took a few deep breaths and tried to steady her nerves. She peered out between the wooden slats of the kitchen window to the front garden by the road. And then her hand found it. Jason’s number. He’d given it to her in the bookstore.
Without thinking, she picked up the house phone and dialed the number. It rang, and rang, until finally Jason picked up.
“Hello.” His voice had a calming effect, and almost immediately Dana felt like she had overreacted.
“Jason… Hi!” said Dana, putting on an overly positive voice.
“Hey. What’s up? Miss me already?”
Yes. She did. But that wasn’t why she was calling.
“It’s probably nothing… It’s just on the way home I…” Dana nearly dropped the phone. The dark blue car pulled up in front of her house. “Oh God.”
“Dana? You there?” Jason’s voice sounded far removed from what was happening outside.
The car stopped. Then, a man exited the driver’s side. He stood there looking at the house. Dana was sure the man knew she was watching. He was trying to scare her.
“Dana?” Jason asked again.
“Jason. Someone’s following me,” she said, staring at the man as he stared back. It was difficult to see who he was, but she could see his grey hair and brown overcoat that looked like it obscured a suit. He looked professional, at whatever his job was.
“Are you at the house?” Jason said, his voice full of concern.
“Yes. But so is this guy. He followed me in his car, and now he’s standing outside! Wait…”
The man sat back in his car, and in a few seconds was gone, back down the road that pointed to town.
Dana was relieved, but it started to dawn on her that she should never have come back to Harlan, that her Uncle Roy had been right to try and warn her. She told Jason what had happened. He said he’d be right over. And he was.
***
Jason arrived quickly, and Dana had never been so glad to see anyone before in her life. In his presence, Dana felt safe, and that meant more to her than he would ever know.
While Dana didn’t want to make a fuss, Jason insisted that they call Sheriff Wes, and at least let him know what had happened. There was never much of anything happening in the town of Harlan. Everyone knew everyone, which meant people couldn’t get away with much. And so for Wes Dean, this stalker was a serious event, one that he’d need to investigate.
When the sheriff arrived, Dana told him the entire story. That she’d left Jason’s bookstore, and that she’d been followed by a smartly dressed man in a suit. That he’d followed her straight to her house and stood there, watching her.
It was clear that the Sheriff was worried about the entire situation. Just last spring, a young woman two towns over complained about being followed and harassed only to end up in hospital after being attacked. Sure, the attacker was now in jail, but it was a wakeup call for the Sheriff – these things can get out of hand quickly.
Jason mentioned the letter. Dana tried to stop him, but when he did, Wes looked genuinely sad. He tried to persuade Dana again that her uncle had been ill, but after being followed, Dana was sure that it was connected. But while Dana was frightened, she always did have an iron will, and so promised Sheriff Wes that she’d do everything she could to get to the bottom of why her uncle, and now she, was being harassed.
“Don’t do anything silly now, darling,’” said the Sheriff. “It’s probably just a coincidence. Maybe the man was looking at the property. Maybe he wanted to buy it after Roy passed.”
But Dana couldn’t agree. The way that man stared at her was about more than
money. All she knew was that he was dangerous, and if he’d been harassing her uncle to the point where he died of a heart attack, she wanted to know who he was and bring him to justice.
“I’ll stay with Dana tonight, Sheriff and keep an eye out.” Jason squeezed Dana’s hand tightly in support.
“Okay, kids. Just, call me if you find out any more.” And with that, the Sheriff left.
For the first time in seven years, Jason Folly sat with Dana Hope on the back porch of the old white house. They looked out to Lake Harlan. The setting sun glistened off each ripple of water, indentations made by a warm gentle breeze.
Dana had made them both dinner, feeling uncomfortable for a while, before slipping into that familiarity again. The “click” she had with a man who she’d loved deeply when they were teenagers. It was Jason, however, who suggested sitting out back, “like old times.”
“Do you remember we used to stare at that water every weekend night?” Jason said.
Dana noticed that his accent was thicker than her own. City life had worn that away for her, but Jason had kept his. It was musical; somehow there was more life to it, and Dana loved that, listening not just to the words but also to the soothing sounds of each syllable.
“Yes, I remember.” Dana remembered a lot of things. She remembered the first time they kissed. She remembered the time she out shot him at the fair and how he pretended not to be mad about being beaten by a girl. She remembered his laugh. His smell. His touch. She remembered the night he broke up with her most of all. How he said that he had to shake the dust of the town from his shoes. How he wanted to get an education and see the world. And that it wouldn’t be fair for either of them to keep things going.
The memory no longer hurt like it once did. Less than a year later and Dana would know exactly how Jason felt. That was the reason she left too. She wanted to see other things. How ironic that they both ended up sitting on the same spot where they broke up, seven years later. A little older. A little wiser. But still with the glint of youth in their hearts.
They talked and laughed and cried thinking about Uncle Roy and how good he had been to both of them. How they missed his oil stained blue overalls hanging out on the line drying. He never did get the stains out.
Then Jason just said it: “I’ve missed you so much.”
They kissed. And in that kiss was the promise of something new. Yet the pain of the past still bubbled up, enough to make Dana pull away gently.
“You hurt me, Jason.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. Seeing you again today made me realize, I’ve never met anyone who even came close to you. No one I clicked with the same way.”
That was the word Dana would use too. “Click.” They did indeed, and she felt almost powerless to resist the pull. She wasn’t sure if it was just nostalgia, or grief, but in that moment, everything felt right.
They kissed passionately. Jason’s hand caressed Dana’s cheek as they did so. He kissed her neck, his arm holding her tight against his body. Dana stood up, and as the sun finally whispered its last on the horizon letting night in, she led Jason into the house where they had spent so many happy memories together.
They climbed the stairs and entered Dana’s room. Jason gasped at how little the room had changed, feeling as though they had gone back in time to the moments they shared as teenagers. Dana lay in the bed, and Jason lay on top of her. A surge of excitement pulsed through her body as they began to undress each other.
That was when she noticed it. Something was burning.
“Jason, do you smell that?” Dana asked.
“Yes” he replied. “Hold on and let me check.”
Jason got up and pulled his clothes back on as Dana did the same. Fear began to creep into both their minds, but they hid it well from each other, not wanting to overreact.
As Jason opened the door, a wisp of smoke entered the room. Something was indeed on fire.
“C’mon!” Jason shouted.
They ran to the bottom of the stairs to exit through the front. But they were blocked by a seething wall of flame that was quickly climbing up the walls and ceiling. They ran to the back, only to find their path blocked once more by the same.
There was no escape. Smoke bellowed and plumed all around them.
“Lie on the floor, Dana!” Jason shouted, as he pulled Uncle Roy’s large cooking machete from a kitchen drawer.
He coughed and spluttered as he did so, and for a second, Dana lost sight of him from the floor where she lay. But he had been right. Smoke rises, and there was a pocket of air on the ground. It wouldn’t last long.
Suddenly, through the smoke Jason appeared. He covered his mouth as he hacked and slashed at the floor boards. The flames grew higher; the heat blistered and tore at wallpaper and paint. The old house groaned, it would soon be consumed, with Jason and Dana along with it.
Jason continued to break the floorboards, and just as the black smoke obscured all, he grabbed Dana and pulled her underneath through the hole. He hung from the floorboards as he dropped Dana to the basement floor and then jumped down himself. It was quite a drop — 12 feet at least.
Dana flicked a light switch and was shocked by what she saw. Boxes upon boxes, stuffed with the belongings of a family she’d almost completely forgotten. It was her parent’s things, but Uncle Roy had never told her about them, and what’s more, Dana didn’t even know that there was a full basement in the house!
“There must be a way out of here,” Jason said.
Dana looked around in disbelief. If they were to escape, she wanted desperately to take her family’s things with her. Clothes, an old baseball trophy her dad had won, photos of a life lost to flames. And history was about to repeat. It wouldn’t take long for the fire to cause the house to fall in on itself. If the smoke didn’t make its way down there first, the roof certainly would.
“Dana. Look at me. I know this stuff is important. But it’s more important that I get you out of here. So help me look for an exit!”
They pulled the boxes down, hoping to find a shutter or vent that would lead them to the outside. One box fell to the ground, and on it in large faded red letters was a single word: “DANA.”
She couldn’t resist, she opened it. Inside there were countless documents, but there was one, now on the floor, which broke her heart. She stuffed the piece of paper into her pocket and as she did so Jason shouted.
He’d found a door!
Suddenly, a large piece of fiery timber fell from the house above and landed just a few inches from Dana. The boxes quickly ignited, and so the fire had finally conquered the basement.
As the flames neared, Jason rammed against the wooden door again and again with his shoulder. The fire roared, but Jason finally broke through. It was an old coal chute, where people use to deliver coal to the house at least a hundred years ago.
And above, there was a small glimmer of hope, a wooden slat that Dana broke with her hand. They both climbed out at the side of the house, and then ran for cover in the tree line.
They stood there in the darkness. And watched as the old house burned.
***
Jason whispered to Dana between the trees, and Dana agreed. The fire was deliberate, and whoever Uncle Roy had been afraid of had tried to kill them.
But were the killers near?
They looked around and could see no one, but they couldn’t be sure. The road would be too dangerous. If whoever had lit the fire was smart, then they’d be watching, trying to make sure that no one got out alive.
They decided to stay in the woods. The tree line led back to the town. Following it was difficult in the low light. The ground was filled with roots and tangled grass. Several times they stopped, thinking that they heard footsteps nearby before continuing onward.
Finally, they reached the outskirts of the town. It looked picturesque; The houses all asleep. No lights on. Everyone tucked up in their beds cozily. Little did the people know that someone had tried to commit murder in the most bru
tal fashion just an hour previously. Shooting, stabbing, Dana thought these were almost reasonable compared to burning someone alive. Whoever had lit the fire, they didn’t care how much she and Jason would have suffered before the end.
Jason was still nervous. They were in the town, but as they walked through the deserted night time streets, he felt that they were being watched. Paranoia was a terrible thing, it had obviously consumed Roy, but it could blossom anywhere, especially in the minds of those under attack.
Finally, they reached their destination: The residence of one Sheriff Wes Dean.
They knocked the door, and it was eventually answered by the Sheriff, wearing a ridiculous pair of tartan pajamas, his hair unkempt and wild from being woken from a deep sleep.
“Dear Lord, what happened to you two?” he asked as he left Jason and Dana into his home.
After telling Sheriff Wes what had happened, Dana sipped some hot coffee, as Jason theorized about why someone would want Dana dead. Sheriff Wes wouldn’t commit to speculation, but neither of them had to; Dana had an idea already. She pulled out a piece of paper, the document she’d taken from the box in the basement, and passed it to the Sheriff.
“Sheriff Wes, I don’t think Roy was my uncle.” As those words left Dana’s mouth, a piece of her broke inside. “That document refers to the name Roy, but his last name isn’t Cohen, the same as my father’s. It’s Anderson, Roy Anderson.”
Jason looked astonished. He’d known Roy almost as long as Dana had; at least, he thought he’d known him.
“I think this has something to do with my parents dying in the fire when I was a little girl. Sheriff, how long did you know Roy before my parents died?”
