by Sharon Sala
“Where do you hurt the most?” the nurse asked.
“It was just my back and hips, but I think my belly hurts worse now.”
“Your stomach? How so?”
“Oh, my God,” Lissa said, and then gritted her teeth as a spasm rolled across her belly. “That’s the worst cramp I ever had in my life.”
“Lissa, I need you to take off all your clothes and put this gown on. Can you stand up to do that?”
Lissa nodded, and then took the gown and slid off the table.
“I’ll be right back,” the nurse said.
Undressing was more difficult than Lissa had expected because the wet clothes stuck to her skin, and by the time she got her jeans down she was shaking. The wet denim was in a puddle around her feet, but she didn’t see the blood running down the inside of her leg until she bent down to pick them up.
“No!” she cried, and grabbed at the blood with both hands, as if she could stop what was happening. Her heart began to hammer as the room started to spin. She looked up as the door opened, then held out her hands. “Help me.”
* * *
Betsy Jakes was sitting cross-legged in the bed with her journal in her lap, her glasses persistently sliding down her nose no matter how many times she pushed them up. She was desperate to get everything on paper before she forgot the dream. There was a horrible knot in her stomach, and her head was spinning. She felt like she was losing her mind. She paused, looking back at what she’d just written.
Someone died. I think we saw it happen. I don’t think it was an accident. I keep seeing it in my dreams but I cannot see a face.
Then she added, “I have to remember or they’ll kill me, too.”
Suddenly there was a knock at her door. She slapped the journal shut and shoved it in a drawer in her bedside table.
“Yes? Come in,” she called.
Trina opened the door and peeked in.
“Mama, are you all right? I got up to go to the bathroom and saw the light under your door.”
Betsy made herself smile.
“Oh, sure, I’m fine. I just got up to take some pain meds. I woke up with a headache, and now it’s keeping me awake.” Then Betsy reached over and turned off the lamp, and crawled back beneath the covers.
“Okay,” Trina said, but she didn’t buy the story. Something was going on with her mother, something frightening.
They were all worried about her, but none of them knew what to do. Trina went to the bathroom and then back to her own bed, but she couldn’t sleep, so she lay awake, waiting for daybreak.
In her own room, Betsy went back to writing in the journal.
* * *
As Reece was scrolling through the latest NASDAQ figures, he was also mulling over what to do next with Melissa Sherman. The little game he’d been playing was taking on a life of its own, and he was at a crossroads. Now that she’d called the police, the danger of being caught had increased exponentially, so where did he go from here? Did he quit while he was ahead and let everything cool off for a few months, or up the ante? For him, the next logical progression was always getting inside the house. If he did get that far, would scaring the shit out of her be enough, or did he want to fuck her? And if he did that, then he had to have the balls to kill her, because he wasn’t about to take a chance on being identified and sent to jail.
When he’d targeted girls before, he hadn’t always fucked them. Some of them just needed killing. But he was entranced with this one and wanted a taste of what she was like before he killed her.
It was nearing 4:00 a.m. when he decided to sleep on it. He shut down the computer, then went to bed. He was still sleeping like a baby with Bobo curled up on top of the covers at his feet when he heard Louis’s alarm go off. He roused momentarily as Bobo jumped off the bed, then rolled over and went back to sleep. The alarm was Louis’s problem, not his.
* * *
Louis got up and shut off the alarm, then listened to tell if Reece’s dog was awake. He always let him out in the backyard to do his business before he left for school. When he got up, Bobo came trotting in from the hall, his ears up, his tail wagging.
“Hi, Bobo,” Louis said. “Wanna go outside?”
Bobo made a dash for the kitchen. Louis hurried along behind and let him out in the fenced-in backyard, and then proceeded to make coffee and fix a lunch to take to school.
As he was working, his cell phone signaled a text. He stopped and walked over to the charging station, saw that the text was from their mother, in Florida, and winced. Mama never wanted to talk to him. She always wanted to talk to Reece, but Reece was asleep, so she must have decided he would have to do.
He picked up the phone and read the text. Call me. It’s important.
Now he was worried. Should he wake Reece up anyway? No. Reece would be pissed. He’d better find out what was wrong before he made a decision about that, so he called her back. She answered on the second ring.
“Reece? Honey, I’m so glad I caught you at home.”
“Reece is still asleep, Mama. It’s me, Louis. What’s wrong?”
There was a moment of silence and then a sigh.
“Really? I thought I called Reece’s cell. Just put him on the phone and let me get this over with.”
Louis frowned. “No, Mama. He gets mad if I wake him up. You tell me and I’ll write him a note. He can call you back later.”
“Oh, for the love of God!” Pinky Parsons shrieked.
“If you’re gonna be mad at me, I’m hanging up,” Louis said.
“No, no, don’t do that! I’m sorry,” Pinky said. “Do you swear you’ll write the note?”
“Yes. Don’t I always? Doesn’t he always call back?”
“I guess.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“The company that owns my apartment building sold it. The new company is raising the rent, and I can’t afford it. I’m gonna have to move.”
“Well, I’m real sorry to hear that, Mama,” Louis said. “But you’ll find a new place, maybe better than that one. It’s a dump anyway.”
Pinky cursed beneath her breath. “That’s just the problem. Dumps are all I can afford. This was the cheapest one in town. I can’t afford anything else here, so I need to stay with you until I can get on my feet again.”
Louis stifled a gasp. They’d only just moved to Mystic this past summer. He had been lucky to get the job at the school, and he didn’t want his routine messed up, which would happen anyway because eventually either his brother or his mother messed shit up. That was just how it was.
“We don’t have much room,” he said, hoping to dissuade her.
“I don’t mind. It won’t be for very long.”
“Reece still has Bobo, and you don’t like dogs.”
“I can put up with it for a while,” Pinky said. “I have your address. I’m taking the bus to Mystic. I’ll be there about tomorrow afternoon. You be sure and tell Reece. You know he doesn’t like surprises.”
“I know. I’ll tell him,” Louis said, defeated and trying not to panic.
“Okay, son. So, uh...I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The click in his ear was as definite as the fact that their mother was actually going to be living with them. He couldn’t imagine anything much worse. Reece was going to have a fit. Bobo would bark and snap at her because she kicked at him when no one was looking, and there would be hell to pay on all fronts.
Why, why, why did stuff like this have to happen just when he was settling in? Then he heard Bobo scratching at the back door and went to let him in.
“Well, furball, you better enjoy yourself today. Mama is coming to visit.”
Bobo sat down, waiting for his food dish to be filled.
Louis shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered, as he got a scoop of dry dog food and dumped it in the dish, and then gave the dog fresh water.
The silence in the room was broken only by the crunch of kibble and the sounds Louis made as he ate his cereal.
&nbs
p; When he was through, he wrote the note to Reece, then finished getting ready and took himself and his lunch to work, leaving Bobo and the bad news behind.
* * *
Lissa woke up with a gasp and threw back the covers, certain she would be covered in blood. But the pink pigs on the old white flannel pajamas were unstained and the bedclothes pristine. She combed her fingers through her hair in frustration, knowing she had Mack Jackson to thank for the resurrection of that nightmare.
It was less than an hour before daybreak, soon enough to quit the bed and get ready for the day ahead. School was her safe place to be. It wasn’t just a job to her. It was her calling. The children kept her connected to the things that mattered, and today of all days she needed her work to help keep her mind off the current hell of her life.
Since she was still without a car, she decided to rent one.
She put on a pot of coffee, made herself a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, and then got her laptop and searched online for car rentals in her area. When she realized one of the rental agencies was owned by a man she’d gone to school with, she began to breathe a little easier. She was going to take a chance and wake somebody up, hoping he would help her make this happen.
By the time the coffee was done, she was agreeing to the final details over the phone. The car would be delivered to her within the next forty-five minutes—plenty of time to sign off on it and get to school.
* * *
An hour later Lissa was in the rental car on her way to school, dressed warmly for playground duty in an all-weather coat, brown corduroy slacks and a blue turtleneck sweater. She’d made herself a ham-and-cheese sandwich for lunch and had a Hershey’s candy bar stashed for her planning period. Life felt almost normal as she drove into the parking lot. She grabbed her things and started toward the building, determined to get through this day with her emotions in check.
With regards to her stalker, she had to admit she felt an odd sense of relief now that she’d turned things over to the police. If she was lucky, maybe that would be the deterrent he needed to cool him down.
As for Mack Jackson walking back into her life, it had certainly resurrected all her old feelings, including the lingering resentment she carried for how they’d parted ways. Last night’s bad dream had only exacerbated her mood.
And then she entered the building, and the distant sound of children’s voices down in the cafeteria made her smile. They were getting their bellies filled, and later she was going to fill their heads with knowledge. It was her perfect world.
The principal turned and smiled at her as she walked into the teachers’ lounge for a cup of coffee to take to her room.
“Good morning, Melissa.”
“Good morning, Mr. Wilson, and thank you for yesterday.”
“Certainly. I trust you had a good night’s sleep?”
She blinked. “It was fine.” Then she grabbed her cup, filled it and left the lounge before he could ask her any more questions.
The janitor was down on his knees in the hall cleaning up a spill when she passed.
“Good morning, Louis. I see someone has already made a mess for you to clean up.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly, and kept wiping.
She stopped. “Thank you for taking me home yesterday. You were very kind to volunteer.”
He shrugged slightly. “I didn’t mind.”
Lissa smiled. Louis was just being Louis, which today was welcome. The more things that stayed normal, the better off she would be.
She hurried down the hall to her room to unload her stuff, took a quick sip of coffee and then got to work. When the first bell rang and the chatter of children’s voices filled the hall and then moved into her room, the last bit of anxiety she’d come with was gone.
* * *
Mack was dressed early but hoping for a little peace and quiet so he could finish going through the house. He didn’t really expect any revelations, but he’d promised Trey Jakes that he would look. An hour passed, and he was about to call it quits when he opened a drawer and saw his mother’s old jewelry box. She’d been gone so many years that he assumed his dad had kept it for sentimental reasons, but for as long as he could remember it had been on a corner shelf near the bedroom window.
Now it was in a drawer? Why?
Only one way to find out.
He opened it slowly, taking care not to break a loose hinge, and at first saw nothing except bits and pieces of outdated costume jewelry. It wasn’t until he began poking through the necklaces on the second level that he found the key. He knew immediately what kind of key it was, and he was shocked.
He actually stopped and sat down on the corner of the bed, palming the key to a safety deposit box he’d never known about while trying to wrap his head around why his father had kept it a secret.
“Okay, Dad. You always told me everything. I know your lawyer has a copy of your will. I knew every time your doctor changed your meds. I even remember you telling me one time how you wanted your funeral to play out. I know you expected me to sell the garage one day because I wasn’t going to live here, and I know you trusted me implicitly, but I never knew about this. Why did I not know about this?”
Unfortunately, Paul wasn’t there to explain himself, and Mack was an impatient man. The only way to get answers was to go to the source. He glanced at the clock. The bank would be open in five minutes. It was time to take a look at his father’s secrets.
But his trip to the bank became more involved than he’d imagined. Because Paul Jackson was deceased, and because he was the only one on the signature card and his estate would have to go through probate, the box had to be opened in front of witnesses, including his dad’s lawyer, Adrian Emerson.
So he made a quick call. The phone rang once, twice, and then a woman’s no-nonsense voice was in his ear.
“Emerson Law.”
“LaDelle, this is Mack Jackson. Is Mr. Emerson in?”
“Oh, Mack, I am so sorry about your father. One moment while I connect you.”
Mack stood up and turned his back to the lobby as he walked toward the plate-glass windows. The sky was an odd shade of blue-gray. He hadn’t listened to the weather since he’d been here, but it looked like it might rain.
He saw Trey Jakes drive by in his patrol car and wondered if he’d heard from the lift company. There was a knot in his gut that kept getting tighter. He needed to know the truth about his father’s death. Had it truly been just a horrible accident, or had he been murdered?
“Adrian Emerson speaking.”
Mack jumped. He’d almost forgotten he was on hold for the lawyer.
“Mr. Emerson, this is Mack Jackson. I found a safety deposit key at my dad’s house. I’m at the bank, but they have to open the box in front of witnesses, including Dad’s lawyer, so I was wondering if you were free.”
“Mack, my condolences for sure, and I’m glad you called. I have about an hour before my next appointment. I’ll be right there,” Emerson said before he hung up in Mack’s ear.
At that moment Mack saw Trey Jakes go back by and realized it might be wise if he was present, too. He got out the card Trey had given him and made a quick call, explaining what was going on. Trey made a U-turn and beat the lawyer to the bank.
By the time the group assembled inside the vault, there were five people present: Gregory Standish, the president of the bank; his secretary, who would record the event; Adrian Emerson; Trey Jakes; and Mack himself.
He eyed the wall of safety deposit boxes with a mixture of curiosity and dread.
“What are you thinking?” Trey asked, as they waited for the secretary to get the recording equipment set up.
Mack shrugged. “That this might not amount to a thing, and that it might have been something he and Mom had together and he just forgot about it.”
“He wouldn’t forget,” Gregory Standish said. “Everyone gets billed annually for the rent, and he must have paid it every year or the box wouldn’t still be in his nam
e.”
Mack gave up trying to figure out why it was here. They would find out soon enough.
“Okay, here we go,” the secretary said.
She took the bank key and Mack’s key, opened the door and removed the box without fanfare, then promptly pulled out a large manila envelope with Paul Jackson’s name on the front and handed it to the lawyer.
Emerson opened the flap and tilted the envelope, letting the contents slide out onto the table. The first thing he picked up was a piece of paper. He read it, frowning.
“It appears to be a list of the items in the envelope. The heading reads, ‘Property of eighteen-year-old Paul Jackson of Mystic, West Virginia, removed from his person in ER during triage.’”
Trey Jakes’ heart skipped a beat as he glanced at Mack. That damn wreck was going to tie the deaths together after all. He could feel it.
Mack frowned at the odd assortment of items as they were being listed.
An old wallet containing a five-dollar bill, a condom still in a wrapper and a school picture of Trey’s mother, Betsy.
A stained tassel from a graduation cap.
A folded-up program from graduation night.
A handful of coins totaling a dollar and twenty-three cents.
“I believe that’s all,” Emerson said, then absently checked the inside of the envelope. “Oh, wait! There’s something else.”
He pulled out a smaller envelope.
“It has Mack’s name on it,” Emerson said, handing it to him.
Seven
Mack didn’t know what to expect, but he wasted no time opening the envelope. His eyes widened as he scanned the text, then he took a deep breath and handed it to Trey.
“I think this is something you’re going to want to read.”
“Please read it aloud for the record,” Emerson said, as Trey took the letter.
Trey nodded.
“Mack, if you’re reading this and you are questioning my death in any way, there’s something you need to tell Trey Jakes. The tassel in the envelope does not belong to anyone from the wreck. The night of our graduation, before we ever left town, we gave our caps and gowns to our parents. I was told the tassel was in the pocket of my pants. I have no idea how it got there, but it was bloody, as was everything else I’d been wearing, so they thought nothing of it. I don’t remember the wreck or what we’d been doing before it happened, but after Dick died, I began having dreams, and one of them had to do with that tassel. I kept seeing a boy’s body on the ground, holding a tassel soaked in blood, so maybe it was already bloody when I put it in my pocket. Maybe they can get DNA off it. Maybe it will help figure this mess out. I don’t know what happened, but I think the four of us were a part of something bad. I can’t bring myself to believe we caused it, but we were so drunk when we had the wreck there’s no telling what might have happened beforehand. I want to think we witnessed it. I want to think we were on the way back to Mystic to get help when the wreck happened. I want to think that, but I’m not sure. All I know is that I’ve had a feeling in my gut ever since Dick’s murder that either Betsy or I could be next. You know how much I love you. You know how proud I am of all you’ve accomplished. Live your life. Don’t waste it. Go make peace with Melissa. I know you still care.
