Nikki's Secret

by William Malmborg

  She drove by a third time and then decided to pull around the block, park and investigate things on foot.

  But why?

  No answer followed, mostly because she didn’t really have one; her current reason for surveillance nothing more than an attempt at trying to figure out a plan of action.

  Memories surfaced.

  The last time she had gone this route had been last spring when she had grown convinced that Professor Moore was involved with someone else. The theory, and the growing panic it instilled, had come about due to the lack of replies to the texts she sent him following her sudden awareness of how infrequently they were seeing each other. In the beginning, she had stayed with him every couple of nights, his arms wrapped around her as they slept together in the nice comfortable bed. When not together, he had always responded to the messages she sent, ones that often told him how much she loved him, which would then receive replies from him stating his own love for her. For several weeks she had enjoyed the relationship, her mind never feeling more at ease with the world. And then it started to crumble, first with a cutback in visits and then in the replies to her texts. Nothing was ever said to her, though. Adding to the confusion was that she still did get to see him occasionally and he did still reply from time to time. Had both of those things simply ended, she would have known something was wrong. Instead, she had to guess, which wasn’t good because her mind never failed to dwell upon the worst possible scenario.

  And then she had made the mistake of asking him, which had led to their first real argument, all because she mentioned that it seemed like he was losing interest in her. Actually, mentioning that had just been the fuel, his reply that he was busy with schoolwork, teaching, and his possible divorce the spark that ignited things. Oddly enough, they had then spent a wonderful night together once things had calmed down, and during that time he had told her not to worry so much. She agreed. By that time the next day, however, the worry was back, a lack of a reply to her text about what they had talked about starting it up. Several more messages were sent that day, but no replies ever came. On and on this went until her mind could focus on nothing else, her fear of what she was sure was happening overwhelming her to the point where she couldn’t eat, sleep or go to class – the last of which never sparked any messages of concern from him.

  And then she went to his house.

  It was a moment she would never forget, both because it brought to life the fears she had been contemplating, and led to a decision she would always regret.

  Thinking about it now brought tears to her eyes.

  Letting herself into his place was easy, her ear having picked up upon the whereabouts of a hide-a-key one day as she approached his office at the school and overheard him talking to his daughter on the phone. “Just please don’t tell your mother where it is,” he had urged. “You know how crazy she can get at times.”

  Crazy was right.

  NIU_Nikki had once been at the house when the wife came by and stood outside the front door demanding that he remove her friends from his own Facebook friends list. “I don’t want you talking to them and spreading rumors about me!” she had shouted over and over again, fists punctuating each word with a hard THUNK! upon the wood. “You hear me! I’ll call the police if you don’t stop talking to them and making them un-friend me!”

  “I haven’t messaged anyone but you on Facebook for a year,” he whispered to her as they stood within the hallway. “Her friends un-friend her because she is crazy and always causes drama.”

  NIU_Nikki hadn’t really known what to say to that and simply said, “Maybe you should call the police?”

  “I would, but then you would have to get involved as well and that wouldn’t look good.”

  At the time she hadn’t understood what he had fully meant by it not looking good, and simply assumed he thought the police would side with the wife if they found out he had a young lady there. Later, once he started to become distant from her, a new theory appeared. He didn’t want anyone to know about her because he never wanted a real relationship with her, just a sexual one that could be discarded quickly.

  No, he wouldn’t do that, an optimistic part of her brain insisted. He just is keeping you secret until his divorce is final.

  The other part of her brain, the part that always seemed to understand situations better, didn’t issue a rebuttal, mostly because one wasn’t needed. The more she thought about things, the more she would realize the truth of the situation.

  It was that constant thought that led her to the home office of Professor Moore, one where the two of them had frequently engaged in his role-play fantasies of what an innocent little schoolgirl like her would do to get a passing grade in his class.

  I wish I could go back to that moment, she had thought to herself while logging into his computer. I wish I could be kneeling beneath the desk once again with his cock in my mouth. I wish . . . on and on the wishes had gone until she opened up his instant messenger and found what she had feared. Nothing before or since had ever caused her so much heartache. It was as if a black hole had opened inside of her and sucked every ounce of happiness from within. Nothing but hurt registered as she read the statements that had been made between him and Nikki, statements that talked about all the fun times that lay ahead and how, given her pictures and stories he could tell she would be the best partner he ever had.

  A police car drove past as she sat there thinking about that moment, the officer giving her a good look before pulling his car to a stop in front of hers.

  Panic set in.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and rolled the window down as he approached.

  “Everything okay, ma’am?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said and wiped her eyes again, voice somehow calm despite the panic she felt.

  “You sure?”

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded. “My boyfriend just broke up with me, that’s all.” Tears burst free as she said this, the memories of Mr. Moore betrayal helping bring them about.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” the officer said. Then, unexpectedly, “May I please see your driver’s license and registration.”

  “Oh, um . . .” she fumbled around inside her purse, which was on the seat next to her, and pulled her license free “. . . here is this.” It took another minute to find the registration.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She waited, concern growing.

  If they knew anything about what you’ve done they would have come for you already, she said to herself. Sadly, it did little to distill the panic. Nothing short of getting her license and registration back and being told to have a good day would.

  Several minutes passed before the officer returned.

  “Here you are Ms. Baker. Hope the rest of your day goes a little better.”

  “Thank you,” she said and returned the items to her purse, a thought about how good it was that she hadn’t been lurking around Kimberly’s place entering her head.

  But is that why the officer was patrolling the area?

  Have the police gotten involved?

  Had the situation been reversed she knew she would have called the police fairly quickly. At the same time, she understood that many people often hesitated to bring the police in, an odd fear of law enforcement usually having been instilled since birth. It was something Professor Moore had actually taught the class during one of his lectures, his theory being that a parent’s frequent concern and anxiety whenever they saw a radar patrol car while driving would help breed an all-encompassing fear of police in the children who were present.

  Whether or not the theory was true was something she didn’t know, but it made sense.

  15

  “Are you sure this is the place?” Kimberly asked.

  “According to the address on Facebook it is,” Bill said, his mind harboring the same doubt that he heard in Kimberly’s voice.

  “Then someone must be taking care of things, because there is no way this has sat empty si
nce May.”

  Bill nodded, his eyes having noted the wheel impressions from a recently used lawnmower upon pulling up. All the bushes had been trimmed as well, and the landscaping around the front kept clean.

  “You don’t think someone moved in, do you?”

  “I didn’t even really consider that,” Bill admitted and then wondered what the process for selling a house after a murder was. “But it sure looks like – “

  “Like what?”

  Shit, could it really have been that easy? he asked himself. Could she have been living here all along?

  He thought about all the time he had spent on the computer that morning attempting to figure out a way of locating the daughter. Most of this search had occurred after he had located the father’s address, yet never once had he even thought about the probability that the house had been handed down to the next of kin.

  “Wait here a second,” Bill said and started to open the door.

  “Woah, hold up!” Kimberly pleaded. “What’re you doing?”

  “Gonna go check the mail and see who lives here, and if it is who I think it is, I’m going to see what they look like.”

  “Wait, what – “

  He closed the door before she could finish and headed toward the front porch.

  Kimberly followed.

  “What’re you doing?” she whispered as he reached into the mailbox.

  “I told you, I want to see who lives here,” he whispered back.

  No mail was within; however, which meant it had probably been taken inside, and if that were the case then that meant someone was probably –

  Movement in the window by the door caught his eye.

  A moment later, the door opened enough for a face to peer out at them, the words, “Can I help you?” filtering through.

  “Um, yes, I believe so,” Bill said. “We’re looking for Emily Moore. Do you know where she might be?”

  “Why are you looking for her?”

  The question pretty much confirmed to Bill that this young lady was Emily Moore. Chances were Kimberly had made the same connection. Now he just needed to get a better look at her so he could see if she was the girl from the other night. The space between the door edge and frame did not reveal enough.

  “Ms. Moore, we have been receiving threats from someone who has also been in the habit of leaving information about your late father at our place for some unknown reason and we would really like to know if you have any idea who this person could be.”

  No reply.

  “Do you know anyone who would do such a thing?” Bill added. “They seem to feel that she was somehow responsible for the murder.”

  Once again, there was no response and for several seconds he expected to hear a THUD! as the door slammed shut. No THUD! echoed.

  “Why do they think this?” Emily asked.

  “We don’t really know,” Bill lied. “Whoever it is just keeps leaving notes and pictures for her to find. She also destroyed my windshield and has been seen lurking outside our place many times.”

  Nothing.

  Bill wanted to say more, but didn’t know what to add. He also didn’t want to overdo it.

  “Is she one of them?” Emily eventually asked.

  Bill looked at Kimberly and then back at the face in the doorway and asked, “One of them, who?”

  “One of the students that was fucking my father?”

  “No!” Kimberly cried before Bill could reply. “I never even heard of your father until these messages started to arrive.”

  Emily seemed to consider this for several seconds. She then opened the door wide enough to reveal herself. It was not the girl from the car. “I’m sorry; I really don’t know what to say. Have you gone to the police?”

  “Yeah,” Bill said. “And to be honest they will probably come to talk to you, because until now everything seemed to point to you as the one who was behind all this.”

  “What?” Emily asked, her voice changing to one that contained worry. “Why?”

  “Given the messages and the pictures and the accusations it seemed like someone was blaming her for your father’s death and the only person we could really think of that would have a reason to be upset about this was you.”

  “But it isn’t me.”

  “I know,” Bill said. “I’ve actually come face to face with the girl that is doing it, and you don’t look anything like her.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, that leaves us with nothing once again.” He looked at Kimberly for a second and then back at Emily. “You really don’t have any idea who this could be?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. I pretty much stayed out of everything. My parents were . . . well . . . their marriage had been bad for many years, and once I was able to get away from it I rarely looked back because each one always wanted me to tell the other one they were wrong.”

  “You said your father had relations with several of his female students,” Bill said. “Was that the cause of the marriage problems?”

  “No,” she said with a laugh. “That came after they had separated for the final time and was another reason I didn’t visit him very much. Got a little awkward sometimes if you know what I mean.”

  Bill saw sadness in her eyes, but also saw that she had control over it. “I can understand that.”

  “Do you know who any of those students were?” Kimberly asked.

  Emily shook her head. “Sorry.”

  An awkward silence settled.

  Then, “If you don’t have any more questions I – “

  “Just one more,” Bill said.

  “Okay,” she replied, voice heavy.

  “How did your mother find out about the meeting between your father and Nikki at the hotel on Route 64?”

  Emily stared at him for a long time, and, after a while, he started to think she wasn’t going to answer, but then, “Someone sent her an email about it.”

  “Really?”

  Emily nodded.

  “But you don’t know who?”

  She shook her head. “And now, if you don’t mind, I just got back home from work like ten minutes before you two showed up so I would kind of like to relax.”

  “Okay,” Bill said.

  “And I hope everything works out,” she said.

  “Same here,” Bill said.

  “Yeah, me too,” Kimberly muttered.

  “And if you do learn anything,” Bill added, “do you think you could let us know?”

  “Yeah, but chances are I won’t learn anything.”

  Bill shrugged. “You never know.” He pulled out his phone. “Do you have your phone? I’ll give you my number.”

  “Hold on,” Emily said and disappeared for a moment, door closing.

  Nearly a minute passed before she returned.

  “Okay, go ahead.”

  Bill did, then Kimberly.

  “Are you two together?” Emily asked.

  “Um . . . we live in the same apartment house,” Bill said.

  Kimberly added a nod to this.

  “Okay, well, good luck.” With that, Emily closed the door.

  Bill and Kimberly exchanged glances and then, without a word, started toward the car. Once inside Kimberly said, “That wasn’t what I expected.”

  “Same here.”

  “So, now what?” she asked.

  “I really don’t know.”

  He had been so convinced that Emily Moore was the one responsible for everything that he had never even considered another possibility. Of course, he hadn’t been expecting to find her living here either, his thinking being that this little visit would have been the first step toward uncovering a trail that would lead them to her.

  Kimberly started the car, but didn’t pull out right away.

  Bill looked at her.

  “When did you come face to face with the girl?”

  “What?” Bill asked.

  “You told her that you came face to face with the girl, but the other night when you tackled her I never really saw yo
u get a good look at her.”

  “Oh, it was last night. I saw her watching the house when I went for a walk and confronted her.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I never got a chance. It was late and then you went to school this morning – “

  “You could have still told me.”

  “Yeah, well, it was a disaster.”

  You should have called the police, he told himself again. One simple call and this might have been over.

  “What happened?” Kimberly asked.

  “She bit me.”

  “What?”

  “I tried pulling her out of the car and she bit me.” He lifted his arm so she could see the bandage. “I was kind of surprised you never asked about it, actually.”

  “Well, I figured you would have told me if it had anything to do with the situation.”

  He shrugged. “Next time I will.”

  “And why the fuck didn’t you just call the police?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “At the time . . . well . . . I wish I had.”

  Kimberly shook her head and pulled away from the curb. Five miles came and went in silence. “By the way, I might go to my parents’ place until this all comes to an end.”

  “Really?”

  “I figure it might be the safest thing I can do if this girl decides to turn violent because there is no way she could figure out where I live.”

  “She could just follow you home, or look on Facebook like I did.”

  “My privacy settings are . . .” she didn’t finish and instead simply said, “Fuck.”

  “What?”

  “My Mom has everything visible and is on my friends list.”

  “You think she has looked at that by now?”

  “Probably. It seems she has learned everything else there is to know about me, except the fact that I couldn’t possibly be the girl from the website.”

  Bill didn’t know how to reply to this.

  “Dammit!” she suddenly snapped. “I was so convinced it was the daughter. Now, well, it could be anyone.”