by Dan Padavona
Ali struggles up to her elbows. A closed door stands to her right. Heat bathes her legs. The heat source can’t be the sun. The window to the meadow rests on the far wall. She twists her head and stops after pain sears her neck and shoulder. Collapsing, Ali lies face down and inhales the filthy carpet scents.
Footsteps approach. Her heart hammers as she fights back to her elbows. Where is she? The country scene out the window tells Ali she’s not in Smith Town. Yet she senses she’s close. If she can make it to the window…
The lock clicks. A second later, the door creaks open. As Ali drags herself toward the center of the room, a cold shadow falls over her body.
“Good, you’re awake,” a voice says behind her.
The baritone voice sounds artificial, contrived. He cloaks his voice. Because she knows him? The thought scampers through her head before powerful hands grip Ali by the waist of her jeans and haul her up. Her legs give out, but he’s there to support her. She drapes against the man as he pulls her across the room and sits her in a chair. He steadies her to prevent her from toppling. She summons the strength to lift her head.
A scream poises behind her teeth. A clown face glares down at her, wild hair sticking out like a child’s drawing of the sun. The man’s eyes watch through the holes.
“I know you,” she groans, unsure why the words escaped her lips.
She doesn’t recognize the man. Can’t see beyond the mask. The deep blue eyes give him away and seem familiar. How does she know him? Uncertainty flickers in his eyes.
“You slept poorly,” he says, patting her shoulders as he speaks in the faux voice. “You’re confused. Can I get you something to eat or drink? It’s wise to refuel.”
She opens her mouth to respond as the ceiling pinwheels. Gravity pulls Ali off the chair before he grabs her shoulders and sets her upright. For a moment, she senses vomit pushing out of her stomach. He holds her steady until the room stops spinning.
“You’re the man who keeps calling me,” she whispers.
Again, she spots trepidation in his glare. He worries she recognizes him. In the movies, kidnappers keep their victims alive unless they recognize their captors. But this isn’t Hollywood, and Ali knows she isn’t getting out of this room alive. Better to keep him off balance. Make him believe she knows his name.
“And the flowers,” she says, coughing. “The bouquet with the spider infestation. That was you.”
“It’s better you don’t talk. Keep your strength. You’ll need it. But I’m happy you’re paying attention to me. I was losing faith.”
Ali braces her hands against the chair. With each passing minute, her strength ebbs back to her. The stinging sensation on her neck—he injected her, knocked her out and kept her groggy. That he left her alone today convinces Ali he works. Is he another teacher? Or is he a stalker she doesn’t know, the shadow watching her for the last month?
“I missed school today. The principals will contact the police and tell them I’m missing. You can’t lock me up forever.”
He snatches her chin and directs her eyes to his.
“You deserve everything you have coming, Ali.”
Yes, he knows her name.
“I gave you everything. I loved you and you wouldn’t even look my way. You deserve this.”
“Whatever I did, I’m sorry. We can talk this through.”
A smile lights his eyes.
“Unlike you, I’ll show how compassionate I am. You’re a teacher, Ali. But this time I’ll test you. It’s the most important test of your life, and if you pass, I’ll release you.”
Ali shakes her head. No chance he’ll keep that promise. She overplayed her hand, fooling him into believing she knows the man beneath the mask.
“I’m not taking your test.”
His hands fall to her shoulders and press her against the chair.
“You’re not the one in charge. Not this time. All these months, you treated me like a dog. Now you’ll do as I say.”
Treated him like a dog? Refused to look his way? She sifts through memories, trying to recall who this man is. Ali hasn’t been in a relationship in years, and no one shows her interest.
“And if I fail the test?”
His eyes grin through the holes.
“You’ll only fail once. No retakes, darling.”
He swings the chair around and faces Ali toward the opposite wall. Now she sees the source of the desert dry heat. Two rows of glass terrariums on shelves take up the wall. Incandescent lights shoot beams of false sun into the enclosures. Her vision blurs again. Blinking, she clears her eyes in time to see a cricket crawl past the glass.
Until a black, spindly form, a devil with eight legs, snatches the cricket and drags it inside a hollow log.
Ali screams.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Friday, September 18th
6:55 p.m.
“Thanks for the ride,” Jennifer says, leaning over the seat.
She kisses Julian on the cheek and grabs her bag as Kaitlyn waves to Jennifer in the doorway, a knowing smile on Kaitlyn’s face. These kids could use a lesson in keeping secrets.
“We want you home at a decent hour,” Julian says, holding a poker face. “So I’ll pick you up at ten.”
“Ten it is.”
Jennifer steps out of Julian’s car.
“And no going downtown or visiting another friend’s house.”
Jennifer gives him an eye roll. The one she reserves for Julian appears playful compared to the sarcastic eye rolls she gives her mother.
“I promise.”
“Okay. Try not to crack the neighbor’s windshield with a lacrosse ball.”
“Ha ha, very funny.” She closes the door and pats the top of the car. “Thanks for the ride. See you at ten.”
Julian watches from the curb until the front door closes. Then he waves on the off chance Jennifer watches through the window. Pulling into the road, he cruises down the upscale residential street, past the gated driveways, and down the tree-lined avenue. The sun flares in the mirrors, half the light below the horizon. When he brakes at the stop sign, he checks his mirrors. From here, he can still see Kaitlyn’s house. No movement outside. If Jennifer intends to sneak across town, she’ll be smart about it and wait until she’s certain Julian drove home.
A sedan passes at the intersection. Julian checks both ways and pulls onto Hubbard Street. The one-way street is a left turn only. He takes another left on Crandall, waits at a red light, then turns left on Brevard. Kaitlyn’s street is next. When Julian drove Jennifer to her friend’s house, he scanned the road for hiding spots. Remembering the shadowed parking space beneath an old oak tree, he pulls to the curb and kills the lights. The neighborhood sounds drift into the car. A group of kids play tag behind a nearby house, a dog barks, and a lawn mower buzzes down the block as someone races against sunset to cut the grass.
From beneath his seat, Julian removes the binoculars. Fixes them to his eyes and adjusts the focus. He scans the houses until he finds Kaitlyn’s, where a hanging basket sways over the door. A black shape wings through the viewfinder. The bats are out early tonight.
Tempted to step from the car and walk down the street, Julian fights the urge to leave. He’s better off in the car where Jennifer can’t see him. Checking his watch, he notes he’s sat in this spot for five minutes. After ten minutes, boredom inspires him to flip the radio on. As he drums his leg to a grunge rock song he grew up with, he spots a woman walking her poodle. She’s coming toward the car. Julian lowers the binoculars and relaxes, appearing casual. The woman eyes the compact and lifts her nose, deciding Julian’s car will lower property values. After she passes, he watches her through the mirror as the poodle stops and does its business against the oak tree. Then the woman gives the dog a tug, and the poodle scurries forward, sniffing the manicured lawns.
When Julian brings the binoculars up, brake lights flare at the end of Kaitlyn’s driveway. That was fast. They’re already leaving.
&nb
sp; Julian checks behind him and eases the car off the curb. He keeps the lights off as he coasts a hundred yards behind Kaitlyn’s car. A troubling thought occurs to him. What if he’s following Kaitlyn’s mother, and the girls are still in the house? Pressing the accelerator, weighing risk against reward, he edges closer until he recognizes the two silhouettes seated inside. From their animated gestures, Julian can tell the girls are engaged in discussion. He’s close now. Near enough for Jennifer to recognize his car if she glances in the mirror. Kaitlyn waits at the stop sign, hits the gas, then jams the brakes when a truck motors through the intersection. Julian’s heart pounds as he watches Kaitlyn’s car jerk and rock. That was close. The girl can’t drive.
They take the left on Hubbard. Julian coasts to the stop sign and allows Kaitlyn to drive a block ahead before he turns and follows. It’s dark enough for the head beams. The light in their mirrors will make it harder for Jennifer to spy his car. Guilt accompanies Julian. He’s close with Jennifer, walking the fine line between being a stern parent and keeping her trust. He wishes there was a better way than this. Spying on her? When Julian was a teenager, he dated Tanya Benton. She was a year younger than him, and her parents forbade her from having a boyfriend. Every weekend, Tanya told her parents she was going to her friend’s house. Then she sneaked to Julian’s and made out with him in his bedroom. And that’s as far as it went. Just kissing on his bed and watching comedies on his DVD player. Eventually, Tanya broke up with Julian, worried her parents would catch them. Is he treating Jennifer the same way Tanya’s parents treated her?
There’s a big difference, he reminds himself. Nobody kidnapped Tanya and murdered a teenage girl in front of her, and there hadn’t been a serial killer stalking the shadows after the Haines family moved to Genoa Cove.
Five minutes of driving tick past. Kaitlyn and Jennifer coast through the village center. In front of the cafe, Kaitlyn hits the brakes and lowers the window. One boy and two girls rush to the car and lean their heads through. Julian hangs back until an angry beep and a flash of headlights forces him to move. There’s no choice. Either he blocks the busy road, or he passes Kaitlyn’s car and risks Jennifer seeing him. He concocts an excuse for being downtown and presses the gas. Swerving around the teenagers, he peeks at the mirror. Jennifer leans over the seat, excitedly talking with their friends. Good. She didn’t see him.
The drug store parking lot lies half-empty. Julian swings the car into an empty space and waits.
“Come on,” he says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Say goodbye and stop blocking traffic.”
A minute later, the teenage trio crosses the street, and Kaitlyn’s car shoots through a yellow light. Julian curses and pulls out of the lot. He breaks the speed limit to keep the car in sight. That would be ironic if the GCPD pulled him over and caused him to lose Jennifer. No flashing lights follow. Theirs are the only two cars barreling through the northern edge of downtown.
As Kaitlyn continues to drive, the houses grow larger. Julian had been impressed with Kaitlyn’s neighborhood, but it looks rundown compared to these houses. Julian hates responding to calls in this section of town. Rich people problems, he often jokes with Officer Wolpert. Property line disputes, complaints about neighbors not maintaining their yards to lofty standards. If there’s a fender bender, the combined values of the cars approach the cost of Julian’s old house.
Halfway to the end of Cedar Street, Kaitlyn turns into a driveway beside an alabaster Craftsman bungalow. Julian taps the brakes and stops behind a minivan. As his compact idles, Jennifer pops out of Kaitlyn’s car and waves to her friend. Then she bounds up the steps to the luxury home and rings the doorbell. Five heartbeats later, the porch light flares, and a blonde boy with an athlete’s physique opens the door. He wears a muscle shirt and baggy shorts, his hair wet as if he just stepped out of the shower. Julian had known Jennifer had a boyfriend since the windshield incident. She’d confided with Cynthia, who covered for Jennifer on the agreement she told Darcy and Julian about the boy. Jennifer hadn’t kept her end of the bargain.
Jennifer enters the house and the door closes. Julian can’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. Nicely played, Jennifer. He remembers the courtship with Tanya. Still, he’s unhappy Jennifer lied to them and broke the rules.
He phones Wolpert, knowing the officer is working swing shifts through the weekend. After Wolpert answers, Julian has the officer look up the address. Julian could do it himself on a computer, but searching databases on his phone befuddles him.
“The Braden family,” Wolpert says with a whistle. “That house is worth seven figures.”
“Who’s the kid?”
“Sean Braden, age eighteen. He’s a senior at Genoa Cove High. Plays basketball and lacrosse.”
Julian coached football when Aaron Torres came through the program. He bristles, remembering when he gave Torres the benefit of the doubt after the boy threatened Hunter. Athletes are good kids, he tells himself. Except for Aaron Torres and the three teammates who attacked Hunter and vandalized Darcy’s Prius. Should he trust Sean Braden?
“Thanks, buddy. I’ll see you at shift change tomorrow.”
Julian slips the phone into his pocket. A light turns on in an upstairs window. The boy’s bedroom. Dammit.
“Why did you lie to me?”
No matter how long it takes, Jennifer will find Julian waiting at the curb when she leaves the house.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Friday, September 18th
8:10 p.m.
A college football game plays on the television as Jennifer kisses Sean on his bed. Though his parents remain in California, the door stands locked. Cool central air falls on her bare legs and raises goosebumps over her flesh. The jean miniskirt rides to her thighs, Sean pushing the hem higher while his hands caress her skin. His kisses are warm and needful.
Moaning, the boy slips a hand beneath her shirt and crawls his fingers toward her bra strap.
“Don’t,” she says, snagging his wrist.
He gives her a lustful smile and massages her shoulder. The halter top dips low on Jennifer’s chest as his body crawls atop hers. She agreed to kiss on his bed, but she senses kissing won’t satisfy his urges tonight. She’d made it clear she wasn’t ready. Jennifer squirms and twists to her side, causing him to fall against the mattress. His lips press against hers. Though she desires Sean, she’s in over her head. What if he pushes too far and she can’t stop him?
As if to quell her fear, he kisses her with less desperation. She locks fingers with Sean, and for the next minute, Jennifer relaxes enough to enjoy their time together. A guilty voice chides Jennifer inside her head. She shouldn’t have lied to Julian and Mom. But she’s not alone, and no serial killer will come after Jennifer at Sean’s house. Not that the threat is real. Before she left her bedroom, she scanned the latest articles on the murder investigations. Even Gail Shipley claims spiders killed the two women, and the medical examiner agrees. Maybe Mom should take a step back. She fears the worst too often.
Sean wants more than she’s willing to give him tonight. When he plunges his tongue inside her mouth, she pushes against his chest and backs him off.
“Slow down.”
“Sorry,” he says, though he’s not sorry. The fire in his squinted eyes tells Jennifer he’s losing control.
His hand slides to her waist and unsnaps the button on her miniskirt.
“Come on, Sean. I said stop.”
“I’m not doing anything. Relax.”
How can she relax with his fingers pushing inside her skirt and groping her panties?
“I’m not ready for this.”
“Shh.”
He grasps her wrist and forces it to the bed. As Jennifer pushes against him with her free hand, he rips her skirt off and slams her opposite wrist against the mattress. Before she can react, he slides on top of her, his legs between hers, feet pushing her legs apart. She bucks up and can’t move his weight. Somehow, he wiggled out of
his shorts. Now his boxers press against her underwear. He grinds down.
“Stop, Sean. I mean it! You’re hurting me!”
Sean pulls her arms together. One powerful hand is enough to pin both of hers in place. One arm free, he grabs her panties by the waistband and tugs them down her thighs. Then he goes to work on his boxers. They’re naked from their waists down. He won’t settle for anything less than sex. With no other choice, she clamps her teeth on his shoulder and bites. He yells and falls off. A red welt, an outline of her teeth, puffs on his shoulder.
“What the hell was that?” he yells, his face beet red.
“I told you to stop.”
“So you bit me? Shit.” He yanks his boxers and shorts off the foot of the bed and slides into them. “I should have listened to JT. You’re a psycho.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said.”
Shrugging the muscle shirt over his shoulders, he shoves her off the bed while she straightens her skirt. She topples and lands on her elbow, white pain shooting up her arm.
“Hey! Don’t put your hands on me.”
“Next time, move. I’m trying to make the bed.”
She stares at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. Not only did he try to rape her, he became abusive after she denied his advances. Her eyes brim with tears as she snatches her bag and stomps toward the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Leaving. You’re lucky I don’t call the police.”
“Who’d believe a lunatic like you? I knew you were crazy, just like your mom.”
“Don’t talk about my mother. You don’t even know her.”
“Haven’t you read Shipley’s article? The entire village is laughing at your mother. Stupid whore blaming spider bites on a serial killer. Too bad Richard Chaney didn’t finish all of you off while he had the chance.”
