Cruel Minds

by Malcolm Richards

  As they walked, Emily stole glances at Melody. Her pale skin seemed even whiter. Dark shadows bruised the skin beneath her eyes.

  Sensing Emily’s gaze upon her, Melody looked up.

  “I can’t believe this is all happening,” she said. “First Oscar, now Sam.”

  “Sam’s probably fine,” Emily assured her, ignoring the niggling doubt in her mind. “Like Helen said, he’s probably headed into Lyndhurst to find Marcia.”

  The path coiled around a collection of rocks that stood like ancient monoliths.

  “That’s if she made it there in the first place,” Melody said, ominously. “Meadow Pines used to be such a peaceful place. Now, all I want to do is to pick up Derek from the cattery and go home.”

  Streaks of dusky sunlight dripped through the canopies to burn circles into the growing shadows. Emily quickened her pace. Darkness could creep up in the forest like a venomous snake and she had no intention of getting caught by it. Beside her, Melody peered into the surrounding vegetation.

  “You’ve been here a few times. How well do you know the Hardys?”

  Melody ducked beneath a low branch. “They’ve always been very kind to me. Why do you ask?”

  “What about Marcia and Sam? How long have they been together?”

  “A while, I think. I used to see them flirting with each other like school children. Then, one time I visited, I saw them in the woods. They were...” Even in the waning light, Emily could see her face blossom with embarrassment. “Anyway, I think it’s very sweet. Even if some people don’t approve.”

  “And by some people you mean Pamela?”

  “It’s not that she doesn’t like Sam. But he’s her employee. I suppose she’s worried if it doesn’t work out between the two of them it could make things awkward. And then there’s the—”

  “The what?”

  Melody looked over her shoulder. “Sam likes to smoke marijuana. Never around the guests of course. But sometimes you can smell it on him, if you get close enough. Pamela knows about it for sure. I think she’s worried Marcia will make some bad choices. But Marcia says she’s old enough to make her own choices, good and bad.”

  The path turned. They passed by a dead tree, its bare branches reaching towards the sky like gnarled claws.

  “How do you know all of this?” Emily asked, bewildered by Melody’s knowledge of the Hardy family.

  “Marcia talks to me sometimes. It must get lonely out here. Besides, sometimes you need someone to confide in who’s not your mother or your boyfriend. Someone who’s more like a sister.”

  “So, you’re friends? Do you ever meet up outside of Meadow Pines?”

  “Oh, no. Marcia rarely has a day to herself. And when she does, of course, it’s only natural she would want to spend it with Sam.” The smile left Melody’s lips. She stopped walking. “Do you think Pamela will forgive me? She looked so disappointed. But I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that I miss Derek when I’m away from him. Having all of my pictures of him nearby makes me feel better, that’s all.”

  Emily took her arm and gently tugged her along the path. “I think Pamela’s more worried about her daughter right now. And to be brutally honest, I’m not sure Meadow Pines will be around long enough for her to hit you with a lifetime ban.”

  Melody stopped again. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because mud sticks. And so do newspaper headlines.”

  “Helen,” Melody clenched her teeth. “I really don’t like her.”

  The path grew wide and familiar. Emily felt her heart beating a little faster as they stepped into the clearing. Oscar’s body lay wrapped in tarpaulin, half-covered by shadows.

  Melody squeezed her eyes shut. “Sam shouldn’t have done that.”

  “There’s a photograph in Oscar’s pocket, of a man,” Emily said, an idea coming to her. “I think he might have something to do with Meadow Pines.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Just a feeling.” She moved closer to the tarpaulin. “Perhaps if you took a look you might recognise him.”

  “I don’t want to look!” Melody still had her eyes shut. Now, she covered her face with her hands.

  Emily stepped forwards. She froze.

  “Someone’s been here,” she said. The tarpaulin had been pulled back to one side, exposing Oscar’s arm and chest. His shirt pocket was empty.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Jerome stumbled through the foliage, thorns and prickly leaves scratching his skin. He had insisted on taking the lead, determined to prove to himself—and to Helen—that he was unafraid of the natural world. But now that the light was beginning to fail, his survival instincts were kicking in.

  “We should probably head back. It’ll be dark soon.” He slowed his pace until Helen was by his side. She was proving to be equally inept at negotiating the forest paths.

  “We’ve only been gone five minutes,” she said, stopping to brush cobwebs from her face. “Besides, we have to meet your friend Emily Swanson by the lake.”

  She marched on, cursing as she stumbled over a fallen tree branch, and then shooting a warning glance at Jerome when he failed to suppress his laughter. But Jerome’s amusement was short-lived. He peered over his shoulder at the sea of tree trunks. It didn’t matter that the house was just a hundred metres away, it was beginning to feel as if they were lost in the wilderness, miles from civilisation.

  Helen had gained some distance. Jerome quickened his pace and stumbled over an exposed tree root.

  “Damn it! Helen wait up! It’s not a race you know.”

  “So, you and Emily have known each other for how long?” she asked once he’d caught up.

  “About eight months.”

  “Is that all? You seem like old friends. How did you meet?”

  “She moved into my building.”

  “I see.” Helen walked on a little more. “And how come she’s taking antidepressants?”

  Jerome stopped in his tracks. “How did you know that?”

  “A little bird may have flown into her room earlier and told me.”

  “Bloody hell! Do you have any boundaries whatsoever?” Jerome barked, ignoring Helen’s fluttering lashes. “Clearly not, seeing as how you convinced Sam to cut Oscar down! Well, you won’t be getting anything else from me.”

  He ploughed forwards. Helen struggled to keep up.

  “Come on, Jerome. What are you hiding? Emily Swanson—I know that name. I’m sure I’ve heard it before. Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Forget it!” Jerome quickened his pace, then ducked to avoid a low-hanging branch. “Emily’s been through enough without some hack journalist wannabe digging things up all over again. Stay away from her.”

  “Hack journalist wannabe? And what do you do that makes you so much holier than me?”

  “As a matter of a fact, I happen to be an actor.”

  Helen’s laughter rang out through the forest.

  Up ahead, Jerome slipped and struck his shoulder against a tree trunk. He twisted around, anger searing his insides. “You think you’re Barbara Walters but you write for some shitty magazine no one’s ever heard of! Emily isn’t part of the so-called story you’re chasing. And speaking of your story, as much as I hate this hell hole, Meadow Pines is Pamela’s business, her livelihood. I hope you bear that in mind when you’re writing your snappy headline.”

  Helen closed the gap between them, then hurried alongside, trampling vegetation beneath her feet. “You know, you’re pretty narrow-minded, Jerome. In exactly the same way not all actors are narcissistic, egotistical children, not all journalists are complete assholes.”

  Jerome froze. He stared off into the distance, squinting in the half-light, the fight instantly forgotten. Several metres ahead, the trees parted. A wooden shed, which had seen better days, sat in the centre of a small glade. Tangerine light bounced off its mossy, corrugated roof. A dirt encrusted window stared back at them.

  “Okay Barbara, what do you think
they keep in there?” Jerome said, pointing a finger.

  Helen strode forwards. “Shall we find out?”

  “We’re supposed to be looking for Sam.”

  “Maybe he’s inside.”

  Jerome stared nervously at the ramshackle building. “What would he be doing hiding out in there?”

  “Come on, pussy. I thought you men were supposed to be the tough ones.”

  “Your attempts to emasculate me using gender stereotypes is both outdated and disappointing frankly.”

  “Worked a charm though,” Helen said as Jerome jogged up beside her.

  As they approached, the wet smell of mould and rotting wood invaded their nostrils. Standing on tiptoes, Helen pressed her hands to the sides of her face and peered through the window. Using her sleeve, she wiped a corner of the glass.

  “I can’t see anything.”

  Jerome watched as she moved in front of the door, and with her head cocked, listened for signs of life. There was a bolt on the door, which was secured by a heavy looking padlock. Taking a step back, Helen turned and scanned the ground. She found a rock the size of her fist, lifted it with both hands and carried it back to the door.

  “Wait! What are you doing? We’re looking for Sam, not breaking and entering.” Jerome said, mouth gaping as Helen raised the rock. “And I think that huge padlock is a pretty good indicator that he’s not inside.”

  Helen’s arms remained above her head, the rock swaying from side to side. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, she turned and pitched the rock onto the ground.

  “Well, you’re no fun,” she huffed.

  “And you’re not quite as monstrous as I thought you were.”

  They moved away from the shed and picked up the dusty path on the far side of the glade. Minutes later, the forest rolled out in every direction. They could no longer see the house or the meadow. The path veered to the left, taking them further into the trees and passing by a thick mire of bog water. A stench hung in the air, thick and putrid like sulphur. Above them, the sun continued its descent. Shadows grew long and wide, moving through the forest like a black flood.

  “So Ms Walters, what do you think’s going on here?” Jerome asked, his eyes glancing upwards.

  Beside him, Helen chewed her lip. “As journalists, we’re taught to differentiate between facts and opinions. The facts are that Oscar is dead—seemingly by his own hand, Marcia went for help but has yet to return with any, and now Sam appears to be missing.”

  “Don’t forget the delightful Ben and Sylvia.”

  “I haven’t, but I think we can eliminate them and the robbery from whatever’s going on.”

  “So if those are the facts, what are your opinions?”

  Helen was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I think there are an awful lot of facts to be put down to mere coincidence.”

  They emerged from the forest and stepped onto the path that connected Meadow Pines to the outside world. Jerome turned his head. A temptation to break into a run, to reach the gate and vault right over it surfaced in his mind. But then his thoughts turned to Emily. It wasn’t as if he had the car keys anyway. Or a driving license. Or the ability to drive.

  “Emily doesn’t think Oscar killed himself,” he said.

  “I think Emily may be right.” Helen wiped perspiration from her brow. “Regardless of the facts.”

  They crossed the path and continued into the forest. They found the trail a moment later, directed by a signpost pointing northeast towards the lake. All around them, insects rustled and chirruped. Somewhere in the branches, a bird called out and was answered by another.

  “Whatever’s going on here, the quicker we get to the lake the better,” Jerome said. “If Emily is right, then the last place I want to be right now is running around in the middle of the forest like some hapless idiot from a slasher movie. Let’s pick up the pace.”

  Helen peered over her shoulder into the shadows of the trees. “I don’t need to be told twice.”

  They fell into silence as they hurried along. More than once, they lost the trail to dense, overgrown thickets. Then, just as the treetops pierced the sun and molten lava spilled into the sky, the ground began to descend beneath their feet. Jerome caught a glimpse of the lake’s shimmering surface between the trees.

  Letting out a deep sigh, he stepped off the path, then looked back to make sure Helen was following. Any relief he felt was instantly snatched away. Helen stood on the path, shoulders up to her ears, wide eyes staring off into the distance.

  “What is it?” Jerome whispered.

  She lifted a hand and pointed into the shadows. “There’s something there.”

  Cursing under his breath, Jerome stepped back onto the path. It took a few seconds for his eyes to find what she was looking at. Then, his heart slamming against his chest, he slowly backed away.

  “Oh God,” he said. “We need to find Emily.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Emily leaned in closer towards Oscar’s body, thankful that the tarpaulin still covered his face. She checked the ground in case the photograph had slipped from his pocket but it wasn’t there. Someone had taken it.

  In the middle of the clearing, Melody peered between her fingers.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” she said, removing her hands from her face and curling them into tight balls. “We’re supposed to be looking for Sam.”

  “The man in the picture was white. He had dark hair, dark eyes, a scar just here.” Emily pointed to her eyebrow. “He looked about the same age as Marcia. Sound familiar?”

  “That could be anybody.” Melody moved to leave the clearing but Emily remained where she was, her gaze moving from Oscar’s body to the tree.

  Who’d known about the photograph? She’d only told Jerome and Pamela. Sam had been there when Helen had pulled it from Oscar’s pocket. When the three of them had returned to the house, Pamela had pulled Sam straight into her living quarters for a talking to, and Emily and Jerome had argued on the back porch. That left one person unaccounted for. Someone who would have had the opportunity to run back, take the photograph, and return in time for Ben and Sylvia’s grand escape.

  “Helen,” Emily breathed. She hadn’t looked happy about returning her next lead to Oscar’s pocket. It had to have been her. Unless... She looked over her shoulder into the forest. Sam had left Emily and Pamela in the Hardys’ living room. And gone where?

  “I don’t understand. Why would someone take that photograph?” Melody said, rubbing her hands against her bare arms.

  “It’s a good question. Come on.”

  They left the clearing, picking up the path and following it through the forest. As they continued on, so did Melody’s chatter.

  “Poor Oscar,” she said. “He must have felt very sad. I mean, we all feel sad sometimes, don’t we? Miserable even, until you don’t want to get out of bed. But I suppose you just have to bounce back, don’t you? And come to places like Meadow Pines to help make yourself feel better.”

  Oscar doesn’t look like he’s feeling better, Emily thought, then decided to keep that observation to herself.

  “But it’s very worrying, don’t you think, about Marcia? She’s been gone for hours. I’m sure there’s a good explanation, and I’m sure she’s fine, but it will certainly be a relief when she comes back with the police, won’t it?”

  They reached the stream and made quick work of crossing the stepping stones. Above them, the sun dipped an inch further below the treeline.

  “I suppose with everything that’s happened and with the weekend finishing early, it means we won’t get our picture taken together,” Melody sighed, stopping to scratch her leg.

  “What do you mean?” Emily asked. “What picture?”

  “At the end of every weekend, Pamela gathers all of the guests and takes a group photograph, which she adds to her Happiness Hall of Fame. Well, that’s what she calls it, but it’s really just a photo album.” Her shoulders sagged as they picked up the path again. “I wou
ld have liked my picture taken with you and the others. Perhaps not with Ben and Sylvia, though. Or Helen.”

  They walked on, the undergrowth becoming thicker and impassable in places. When Emily became unsure of the way, Melody took the lead.

  “Who do you think that man is anyway?” Melody asked, after a long bout of silence. Her expression had turned grave. “The one from the photograph.”

  “I don’t know.” A gentle lapping of water reached Emily’s ears and she moved towards it. “But I think somebody here does and they’re keeping quiet about it.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  Emily came to a halt. “Because I don’t believe that Oscar killed himself.”

  Melody startled the forest with a strange, frightened laugh. “You think someone ... no, that’s just silly. Why would anyone want to hurt Oscar? Besides, no one here is capable of doing something like that.”

  “You’d be surprised what people are capable of,” Emily said.

  They emerged from the trees and came upon the lake. Long, scarlet flames of sunset burned across its surface, setting fire to the forest’s reflection. Wisps of clouds floated at the edges, suggesting a change in the weather was on its way. Emily moved along the shore with Melody close behind. They reached the jetty and walked to the end. Melody sat down, legs dangling over the water. Beside them, the small boat tugged on its moorings.

  “I wonder if they found Sam,” Emily said. Knots of anxiety were knitting together in her stomach and twisting around her insides. She sat down beside Melody and took in a deep breath. A flock of birds sprang up from the lake and headed for the treetops. Staring into the waters, Emily tried to forget the horrors of the day and, just for a moment, focus on the tranquil surroundings.

  Melody began to hum under her breath. She swung her legs back and forth like a child.

  “It’s not fair,” she said suddenly, her voice filled with anger.

  “What?”

  “That Meadow Pines could close.”

  Emily felt bad for having suggested it. After all, Meadow Pines seemed to be Melody’s only asylum from an unhappy, lonely life.