Whispers in the Night

by James Hunt

  “Questions for another day,” Lindsy said. “The doctor doesn’t want you getting worked up, remember?”

  Mike leaned back. “Yeah. I know.”

  It was quiet for a moment, Lindsy reveling in the fact that Mike was home, or at least as much of a home as they had here.

  “We have some new leads on work,” Lindsy said. “There’s a potential gig out in California. A family is having trouble with a grandfather. Looked legit.”

  “You sure you’re up for something again so soon?” Mike asked. “I don’t think I’m the only one that might need some rest.”

  Lindsy knew that he was right, but she had been antsy for the past two days, and she wasn’t quite ready to tell Mike the reason why. “I can rest on the drive. It’ll take us a few days to get over there through the mountains. I might even take the scenic route.”

  Mike arched his eyebrows. “Lindsy Foster, are you learning to relax?”

  Lindsy slid out from the bench and kissed Mike on the lips again. “Just taking a page out of your book.” She turned and headed for the cockpit.

  “Page? Hell, you can take the whole chapter,” Mike said.

  Lindsy laughed as she started the RV. “One step at a time, darling.” She reached for the seatbelt and put it on, her hand sliding over her stomach, and she paused.

  Another vision had come to her on two consecutive nights. She saw a child. She couldn’t be sure if it was her own, or if it was alive, but the visions both excited and terrified her. She wasn’t sure what lay ahead, but she would move forward as she had done for the past seven years.

  But maybe, just maybe, she would allow herself to hope.

  Maybe, Lindsy Foster would want to try again.

  The Haunting of the Holloway Family

  25

  Three Months Ago

  Liz Holloway hugged her notebook tight against her chest and stomach. Flanked on either side by her two best friends Mary Sheehan and Angela Compass, she weaved her way around the jocks, band geeks, and slackers crammed into their high school hallway.

  “Ugh, I don’t understand how Mr. Kino can smell like that,” Angela said, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, can he not smell himself?”

  “At least you don’t have to sit in the front row,” Liz said, gagging.

  The girls laughed, and they passed Chase Melroy and his friends by the exit, the boys giving their trio the once over before they disappeared outside.

  Angela buckled at the knees once they were out of eyeshot. “Oh. My. God!” She nudged Liz with her elbow. “Has he asked you yet?”

  “Will you stop?” Liz smiled, fending off the question playfully.

  Mary leaned over to Angela, crossing Liz’s face as they headed toward the carpool pickup. “She’s already turned down three other juniors for prom, so don’t buy into this apathetic persona.”

  “Who did you turn down?”

  “Scott Myers, Frankie Martinez, and Kyle Smith,” Liz answered, shrugging off the names while Angela’s jaw dropped.

  “You cocky little bitch!” Angela shoved Liz, and the trio laughed. “You really think the hottest senior is going to ask you to his final prom? The balls on you, girl.”

  “We text all the time, and he officially ended things with Mallory on Facebook, so, yeah.” Liz smiled. “I guess I am a cocky little bitch.”

  The pickup lane was crowded, and the line of cars stretched from the small roundabout to the street. The three girls clustered among the freshmen and other sophomores waiting for their parents.

  Liz couldn’t wait until she could get her license. She already had her permit, and seven months from now when she turned sixteen, she’d be able to drive herself anywhere she wanted and avoid the shame and embarrassment that accompanied the pickup lane.

  “God, getting picked up by your parents is just barely above having to ride the bus,” Angela said, grimacing, then turned to Liz. “You think your dad will buy you a car?”

  Liz would be the first of her friends to turn sixteen, and both Angela and Mary were banking on rides once that happened. “I’ve been dropping hints, but we’ll see what happens.”

  “What do you think you’ll get?” Mary asked.

  Liz had several acceptable modes of transportation, but she wanted a Jeep more than anything. “Yesterday I found a used-”

  A car horn blared from the street, catching everyone’s attention, and Liz blushed with embarrassment when she saw her mother waving at her with the window down.

  “Wow,” Mary said. “Your mom is in a hurry today.”

  Another honk, and Liz grunted in frustration. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” She kept her head down as she crossed the parking lot, ignoring the snickering seniors that hung out by their cars, amused by Liz’s walk of shame.

  Once clear of the parking lot, Liz walked along the fence near the sidewalk, then hurried to the car before her mother could draw any more attention.

  Liz slammed the door shut, her cheeks reddened. She faced forward in the seat, refusing to acknowledge her mother as she buckled her seatbelt. “Think you could have been any more—”

  Whimpers in the backseat turned Liz’s attention to her six-year-old sister, Maisie, who had tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Maisie, what—” The car angrily jerked forward, and the seatbelt slammed tight against Liz’s chest, preventing her collision into the dash. “What the hell, Mom?”

  Amy Holloway kept one hand on the wheel and the other gripped tightly around the neck of a nearly empty bottle of vodka that she raised to her lips and drank.

  Liz froze, paralyzed by the fear that spread from the pit of her stomach. “Mom?”

  Amy glanced at her daughter, her eyes bloodshot with dark half circles carved beneath them, accentuating the shape of her skull. Her hair was messy and her clothes dirty and askew, stained with vodka that had missed her mouth. “Had to get out of the house. They wouldn’t shut up.”

  Liz glanced back to Maisie, tears still streaming down her sister’s face. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m scared,” Maisie said.

  “It’s fine, baby,” Amy said, calling back to her youngest. “Mommy will keep you safe.” She raised the bottle near her lips, then dropped her voice to a whisper as she looked ahead in a trance-like stare. “Mommy will keep you safe.”

  “Mom, you need to pull over,” Liz said, her voice shaking. “You shouldn’t be driving.”

  Amy accelerated quicker through traffic, weaving between cars with reckless abandon. “Need to keep moving.” Amy shut her eyes and violently shook her head. “Need to keep the voices quiet.”

  The SUV veered into oncoming traffic and Liz reached for the steering wheel, pulling them back into their lane, horns blaring from the drivers who dodged the collision just in time.

  Amy opened her eyes, quickly reclaiming the wheel. “Hands off, young lady!” She angrily shoved Liz away, that right hand still clamped tight around the vodka bottle.

  Frozen in her seat, Liz tensed, and her knuckles whitened from her vise grip on the armrests. “Mom, you need to stop!”

  Amy glanced at Liz, madness in her eyes, and tapped her left temple. “Whispers. Everywhere.”

  Maisie cried harder.

  Liz turned to comfort her sister. “Hey, everything’s going to be fine.” She gently reached for Maisie’s foot and forced a smile. “We’re okay.”

  Maisie sniffled and nodded, and with her sister calmed, Liz faced forward again, shifting her attention between the stranger in the driver’s seat and the road ahead.

  The buildings of Boulder, Colorado faded as they headed out of town, and the road narrowed to two lanes, curving up the side of a mountain.

  “Where are we going?” Liz asked.

  “Someplace safe,” Amy answered, nodding. “Away from the voices.”

  The SUV swerved, the turns along the mountain becoming more dangerous to navigate at their high speed. Liz dug her fingernails into the armrests. “Mom, please pull over.”

 
“No,” Amy answered, conviction in her voice. “Need to keep moving.”

  They picked up speed and passed a station wagon, veering into the empty lane of oncoming traffic, eliciting angered honks on the drive by.

  “Mom, slow down.” Liz pressed her feet into the floorboard and the phantom brakes, the turns growing tighter.

  Amy rocked back and forth, jaw clenched tight, murmuring through bared teeth. “No more voices. No more voices. No more voices.”

  The speedometer passed seventy miles per hour, and Liz’s heart pounded wildly in her chest. “Mom, slow down!”

  Maisie screamed in the back seat.

  “Shut up!” Amy exploded with anger. “Shut up! Shut up!” She pounded her fist against the dash, heaving all her weight behind the motions and crashing her body forward with every smack of her fist.

  They picked up speed, and the SUV shook violently along the winding mountain road, which periodically blocked their view of oncoming traffic.

  The roar of the engine, Maisie’s screams, and her mother’s repeated nonsense bled into the blaring horn of a semi-truck turning the bend.

  “Mom!” Liz lunged for the steering wheel and yanked hard, veering them safely out of the truck’s path, but the harsh correction, combined with their speed, lifted the tires from the pavement.

  Time slowed, and Liz shut her eyes, casting herself into darkness. Her stomach swirled as the vehicle flipped in the air. She didn’t understand how all of this was happening, she didn’t know why her mother was driving drunk and screaming about voices, and when the stillness and silence was replaced by a thrashing violence, she wasn’t sure if she’d survive to know why.

  26

  Present Day

  The desert landscape was bare save for the few earthy shrubs and cacti that sprouted from the reddish-yellow sand. It was a desolate place, the life that survived hardened by centuries of adaptations to the harsh environment.

  Kara trudged forward under a cloudless night sky, guided by the moon and stars, periodically adjusting the straps of her backpack. She remained alert, her senses heightened by the urgency of her mission and the consequences of her failure. Or capture.

  But occasionally, Kara lifted her eyes to admire the brilliance of the stars that shone down on the land of her ancestors. Out here, the night went unchallenged by the pollution of the cities, but it was not untouched by the reach of man’s development.

  Barbed wire curled in large loops over the top of the eight-foot-high metal mesh fence, guarding a patch of land that had been disputed over for nearly two centuries.

  A No Trespassing sign was secured over the mesh, the warning repeated in equal distances along the length of the border, the warning written in multiple languages.

  Kara crept toward the fence, only the whites of her eyes visible, the rest of her face concealed behind the black bandana she wore to hide her identity from cameras on the premise.

  Reaching the fence and checking to ensure the coast was clear, Kara slid the backpack off and removed the thick wool blanket from the main compartment. She slung the blanket over her shoulder and then reached high for the fence, her gloved fingers poking through the mesh, which buckled as she transferred her weight from the ground to the flimsy metal.

  Kara’s arms shook, and her muscles burned on the climb, but she refused to quit. All other options had been exhausted. This was the only way.

  At the top of the fence, fingers and arms aching, Kara flung the wool blanket over barbed wire, creating a narrow path for her to pass unharmed. But as she swung her legs over, the left pant leg of her jeans caught one of the barbs.

  “Gah!” Metal tore flesh, and the pain cost Kara her grip. She fell from the top and smacked hard against the densely packed sand.

  The wind was knocked from her lungs upon impact, and she lunged forward, choking for air, arms outstretched as if she could reach and grab a breath.

  A vicious cough finally loosened the constriction on her lungs, and she gulped in the cold, dusty air with greedy breaths.

  After a few moments on the ground, Kara stood, slowly, and limped forward, keeping east.

  From her position, Kara saw the faint twinkle of lights from the tourist trap that sat on the property’s outskirts called Ghost Town. Its owners had exploited the history of the old mine along with the legends of the Chemehuevi tribe, which Kara belonged to.

  A second fence guarded the back entrance of the mine, but it had remained neglected and Kara found a hole she could easily slip through.

  She hunched forward and weaved around the remains of the idle and rusted equipment on her trek toward the mine’s rear entrance, which had been boarded up with fresh plywood and nails.

  Kara removed a crowbar from her backpack and wedged the planed hook into a crack between the plywood. She leaned back, pulling with all her weight, and the board snapped. She broke two more boards and then stepped into the dark shaft.

  A damp, musty scent greeted her nostrils when Kara reached for the flashlight. She flicked it on, sending the beam of light down the narrow tunnel that swallowed the light.

  The old mine shaft was narrow and short, and Kara ducked as she walked along the worn and brittle cargo tracks that split the floor. The wooden beams that helped reinforce the ceiling and walls were just as decrepit, and their condition made her wary of venturing too far.

  Kara carefully worked her way forward, the air growing colder on her descent. After a few minutes, she spun, unable to shake the sensation of being followed. And while she found herself alone, she still reached down the front of her shirt and removed the small amber stone wrapped in leather lacing at the end of the necklace.

  She knew the stories. Her grandfather had told them to her when she was a girl, and they frightened her now as much as they did back then.

  With the mine’s entrance nearly out of sight, Kara dared not to go any farther. She grabbed a hammer and chisel from the pack and went to work.

  The first chiseled bits were nothing but granules, not large enough to endure the needed testing. Once the larger pieces of rock broke loose, she stuffed the chunks into plastic bags and zipped them away in her pack’s compartment. She grabbed the flashlight and just as she was about to turn, the light caught a glimmer on the wall.

  Kara frowned, taking a closer look into the hole she carved, and saw the sparkle of a thin gold vein. She had seen gold in its raw form only twice before. And despite her grandfather’s claim that it was good for nothing but greed, she couldn’t deny its splendor. She glanced down at the amulet around her neck, and then back to the gold.

  She cocked an eyebrow, hearing her grandfather’s warning. But that was why he’d given her the pendant. To protect her. And if she was caught before she could escape, then it might be useful.

  Quickly, with hammer and chisel, Kara worked around the vein until the earth loosened its grip on the gold, sending two pieces to the ground. She pinched the gold between her fingers, and then waited.

  A harsh bang echoed from the mine’s depths, and Kara turned her flashlight toward the noise. It could have just been a rock breaking loose, or an animal. But the longer Kara set her gaze into the darkness, the colder the air became.

  She slowly backtracked toward the exit, keeping the light focused on the source of the noise. After a few steps, she stumbled, her heel catching on one of the rail cart tracks, and she landed hard on her ass, the uneven earth worsening the impact.

  Kara dropped the flashlight and it flickered out. “Dammit.” She rolled forward, reaching for the light. She shook it a few times, but it wouldn’t come back on.

  Standing, Kara brushed the dirt from her pants and gingerly continued toward the exit. Periodically, she turned to glance behind her, but she saw nothing.

  Still, the mine and its lore hastened Kara’s pace and brought forth that unreasonable madness that one experienced in dark, lonely places. She imagined monstrous hands scraping the back of her neck. She fumbled over the busted rails in the ground, patting her han
ds against the walls of the narrow shaft on her journey to the surface.

  Moonlight marked the mine’s exit and she tripped just before she crossed the threshold, somersaulting out of the mine, backpack flying off, a litany of bruises covering her arms and legs as she skidded over rock and sand.

  Once still, Kara remained motionless on the ground. After a minute, she slowly lifted her head, her back popping, and rolled to her side, spitting a wad of blood.

  She dabbed her lower lip with the cuff of her long-sleeved shirt and examined her injuries, finding nothing more than flesh wounds. She searched the ground for her backpack and found it nearby. She opened the bag’s main compartment, confirming its contents were still intact, and made it three steps before the flashlight blinded her.

  “Hey!”

  Kara turned on a dime, heading for the fence, but the harsh spill out of the mine slowed her down, allowing the pair of security guards to easily catch up and subdue her.

  “This is private property!” The guard was silhouetted from the flashlight, and Kara turned her face away from the harsh light.

  The second guard yanked Kara’s backpack out of her hands.

  “That’s mine!” Kara lunged for it, but her hand was quickly knocked away, and the first guard twisted her arm behind her back, a jolt of pain freezing her in place.

  The second guard laughed, keeping the bag out of reach like a bully with a basketball on the school courtyard. He opened all the compartments and spilled its contents onto the ground. “Well, well, well.” He picked up one of the plastic bags filled with rocks and dangled it in front of Kara’s face. “Stealing is illegal.”

  “You cannot steal what is rightfully yours,” Kara replied.

  The first guard yanked the bandana down and exposed the dark-skinned complexion of a young Native American woman, the beauty of her youth contrasting with the fiery anger in her eyes.

  “How many times do we have to tell you people to stay away, huh?” the first guard asked. “It’s bad enough you guys are camped out front night and day.”