by Melissa Jane
“The cameras weren’t working?” I asked, perplexed. They were always operational.
David shook his head in resignation. “The early morning storm must have caused a blackout. The tapes stopped running at 2:25 a.m. and didn’t reboot until 4:50 a.m.”
It was time to employ what David had been lacking. Empathy. “Look Maximus, this is an incredibly frightening situation, and I cannot fully express our sincerest apologies. Not that it’s any consolation, but it’s the first time we’ve been targeted since we opened, and usually, our security covers every corner of the exhibition rooms. Our insurance will take care of the damages to your artwork and—”
“What?” Maximus’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Just one artwork or all of them?”
I’d been in such shock, I hadn’t looked further than the outside wall.
“Go. Take a look.” He gestured for me to pass into the exhibiting room. I glanced at David, his jaw twitching in agitation. Charlie cleared his throat nervously, wishing he could be anywhere but here.
I left the others, rounding the feature wall, my heels clicking on the tiles, adding to the tension. When I saw it, my heart froze, a cold shiver working up my spine. The walls were closing in, trapping me in a world of subconscious debauchery and benevolent threats. A world I had tried so desperately to escape.
A voice murmured next to my ear, startling me back to the present. “I don’t think this has anything to do with me, do you?” Maximus asked quietly enough so only I could hear.
Reluctantly, I scanned the photographic portraits. One after another, I read ‘Truth or Dare?’, the words carved violently across their faces. “Now tell me…” Maximus continued, “why would anyone go to such lengths to desecrate my art over an obscure question?”
“I don’t k-know,” I stammered. My heart thawed and was now galloping, my head spinning. Wiping sweaty palms on my skirt, I turned to Charlie. “I need you to call the police, so we can attain a case number for insurance.”
He gave one quick nod in response and disappeared down to reception, no doubt elated to be out of the firing line.
David cleared his throat. “I’m going to contact the commissioners who purchased last week and let them know there will be a slight delay in delivery. Gemma, can you work with Carleen in handling social media and the police when they arrive?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
David left without another word. While he remained somewhat stoic concerning the whole debacle, I knew he would be entering damage mode with the gallery’s reputation on the line.
I turned back to Maximus who suddenly appeared calm and rational since David left. “I truly am sorry for everything. This is such an anomaly, and I’m sure it wasn’t aimed at you—”
Maximus raised his hand to stop me. “Please, Gemma. I am a hundred percent certain this has nothing to do with me.”
I swallowed, my throat dry. “What makes you say that?”
Holding my gaze, he handed me a folded-up piece of paper that had my name scrawled on the front. “I found this on the floor in the middle of the room. It’s evident whoever came with a message wasn’t aiming it at me. I won’t show the police because it will jeopardize any insurance claim if it at all appears personal.”
“What does it say?” I asked, almost too scared to look myself.
“Open it.”
Unfolding the paper my blood ran cold. “Jesus!” I read the note a fourth time, my hands trembling.
Forget everything you think you saw.
“I don’t know what’s going on Gemma, but I hope for your sake you can end it before you get hurt.”
I was lost in a barrage of memories. Six words had catapulted me into a time I would rather forget. Except it was ten years later and the threat was still real. My past had become my reality once more.
~
Slumping into my office chair, I heaved a heavy sigh. My chest hurt like it had been repeatedly pummeled and my stomach knotted with fear-induced anxiety. If only the detectives had let sleeping dogs lie this wouldn’t be happening. But it was happening, and the threat was real. Mason Carter was watching, and it was clear his malicious and dangerous behavior had only worsened into adulthood.
But then there was the flip side of the coin.
Reaching into my purse, I retrieved Detective Walsh’s card and leaned back in the chair. I rocked gently, contemplating my next move. If I cooperated with the detectives and divulged everything I knew, however helpful it might be, perhaps Mason would no longer be a threat. If, however, I was no help at all with my information, I would only have increased the target on my back.
An obnoxious trilling cut through the silence causing me to jump and curse.
“Pull it together,” I willed myself. The red light on the phone blinked signaling reception on the line.
Pressing the speaker option, I answered, “Hi, Carleen. What is it?” I didn’t intend to sound so terse.
“Ahh, there’s some detectives here to see you.”
“Right. Send them through. And if Maximus is still in the building can you send him my way?”
“Yes, but—”
“Thanks, Carleen.” I ended the call and straightened my still damp blouse. Less than a minute later there was a slight rap on the door, and Detectives Walsh and her partner wandered in.
I expected detectives, but not them.
I could feel my face pale. Surely they weren’t assigned to the vandalism case? “What are you doing here?” I asked, fearing the repercussions if Mason were to learn of their involvement. “You have to leave!” I stood, pointing to the door. They remained stationary, staring at me with an odd curiosity.
“Is there a problem?” Detective Walsh asked, her head tilted to the side.
Yes! And you’re only making it worse.
“Yes, I’m waiting on the NYC bureau to get here.”
“And why is that?”
My shoulders sagged a little in defeat. They weren’t going anywhere until they got what they came for. “We were broken into last night during a power outage, and some artwork was damaged.”
“Sounds expensive.” They both glanced around my office taking in every detail.
“I’m reasonably snowed under at the moment, so is there something I can help you with?”
Walsh nodded.
“Take a seat.”
The detectives claimed the chairs in front of my desk and waited patiently for me to sit. When I finally did so, a small smile played on Walsh’s thin lips. “Ms. Sinclair, we need to move forward on a case we’re investigating and to be perfectly honest, we’re not willing to wait until you feel you want to talk.”
“You haven’t even told me what the case is about and I’m sure whatever it is, I have nothing to say.”
“I highly doubt that, but since you are so unwilling to discuss Little Valley on your own accord, how about you just answer the questions we have for you?”
I opened my mouth to object, but she cut me off.
“So…” she began, leaning forward and interlacing her fingers, “… let’s cut straight to the chase. How well did you know the Carter brothers?”
I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek in frustration before caving. “Well enough.”
“Would you say you shared the same relationship with Mason Carter as what you did with Lucas?”
“Since you already know I was best friends with Lucas, you’ve obviously been talking to someone who’s told you this. Which means you most likely already know the answers to the questions you’re inquiring about today.”
“We just want to hear it from you. You were their neighbor. You were best friends with Lucas Carter. Best friends usually tell each other their secrets. By all accounts, you and Lucas were incredibly tight.”
I felt rage boil deep within. Lucas Carter was the gentlest soul I’d ever met, and for them to sit across from me and imply he wasn’t was an injustice.
“There’s a reason why I was best friends with Lucas,”
I replied with bite. “Because he was a genuinely good person. Mason Carter was the opposite, which is why I had little to do with him. Like I said to you on Friday night, I haven’t seen either since they left over ten years ago. So instead of nosing in on my relationship with the Carter brothers, why don’t you tell me a bit more about what this is about?”
“Bones,” Walsh conceded. She watched intently, and despite my pounding heart, I gave her nothing. “Bones were discovered deep in Little Valley woods. While we are yet to make a positive ID on the remains, we are almost certain it will close a decade-old missing person’s case. We’ve done the rounds around Dangerfield Drive where our suspected victim was frequently seen, and fingers are pointing toward the Carter residence. More specifically, the Carter brothers.”
While my mouth was dry, my palms were furiously sweating. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably, weighing up the pros and cons of discussing anything further with the detectives.
If I divulged what I saw, Lucas would be brought into question, possibly imprisoned for something that had Mason written all over it. Lucas always had his back, and that night was no exception. If I told, Mason would seek the retribution he always promised.
If I maintained my silence, the detectives would be without a massive piece of evidence to solve the crime and Lucas wouldn’t become collateral damage. Mason would see I kept my word and go on with life as normal.
“Ms. Sinclair?” Detective Walsh tilted her head again in question bringing me back to the present.
“Yes?”
“You drifted off there, is everything okay?” She wasn’t asking out of care. Her tone was rightly loaded with suspicion.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Ms. Sinclair, are you planning on traveling anywhere in the next two weeks?”
I shook my head clearing the haze. “Ahh… possibly to my parents’ house in Maine.”
Detective Walsh pulled a small notebook from her breast pocket and tossed it in front of me. “Would you mind providing the address of your parents’ house in the event you do leave?” Her eyes met mine. “For your safety, of course.”
“Fine,” I said, nodding, feeling the situation slipping from my grasp. Absently opening the desk drawer, I reached for my pen. Instead, I was pricked by something sharp.
“Ouch!” I muttered turning my gaze to the culprit.
A single rose lay on top of my organized stationary, its stem covered in razor-sharp thorns. A Post-it note was positioned under it, a message scrawled across it.
Shh!
Mason had been in here, snooping around my space, making his presence known. I slammed the drawer closed before anyone else noticed. My finger pad beaded with blood, and I snatched a tissue from the box located at the front of my desk.
“Are you okay?” Walsh asked again, this time with a bemused smile. My continually odd behavior was raising her suspicions.
“I’m fine.”
“Yes, you say that a lot. Your behavior tells me otherwise.”
“Look, I will assist you in any way I can,” I placated. “And I’ll contact you if need be. But for now…” I stood up and smoothed my skirt, “… I do have to attend to another pressing issue, and that’s our overnight break-in.”
The Detectives didn’t move.
“Was anything stolen?”
“Ahh…” I rubbed my temple in suppressed frustration. “No. Just vandalized.”
“Seems like a dangerous mission to break into an institution such as this just to destroy someone’s work.”
My patience was up.
“Detective Walsh, people do crazy things without a second thought. Especially when it’s personal.”
She gave a knowing smile, one I found overly patronizing. “Yes, yes they do, Ms. Sinclair.”
They both stood and made to leave before Walsh stopped by the door. “Just remember, hate-fueled crimes of the personal nature are often the worst.”
Chapter 5
THEN
“The Blackwells are hosting the annual street party this year. God save us all,” my mother began, shaking her head in disbelief.
We were nearing the end of our four-hour road trip back home after a week’s holiday in New Jersey. Pulling into Little Valley, my father navigated the streets at the regulated forty miles per hour allowing my mother plenty of opportunities to whine about the Blackwells. “Do you know there’s a rumor Shelley Blackwell was responsible for the food poisoning outbreak with her chicken casserole last year, and now she’s in charge of organizing this year’s!” My mother’s voice became high pitched toward the end, incredulous over the anointing of the newly-in-charge.
“I, for one…” she continued as a matter of fact, “… will not be risking a weekend locked in the bathroom because of her lack of hygiene.”
“I ate the chicken casserole last year, and I never got sick,” my father bravely interjected.
I watched from the middle back seat as my parents dueled it out, but I was more eager to pull into Dangerfield Drive and see Lucas.
Less than a minute later we turned left into our street. Sprinklers were casting their watery halos over already plush green grass, and the smell of fresh cut lawns gave the feeling of home. The Carter residence no longer looked a part of the neighborhood, ever since Mr. Carter left. The grass was never watered, and the roses Mrs. Carter once took pride in were nothing but short, undernourished twigs. But there, up ahead standing at the end of the driveway, was Lucas. I smiled excitedly when he waved, my father’s humored eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror.
“He could smell you coming from down the street,” he teased.
I gently punched his arm, and he feigned injury like he’d been hit by a professional boxer. Giggling at his response, I slipped over to the left side of the backseat and gave Lucas a small smile as we turned into our drive.
Before we had come to a complete stop, I was out the door and crossing from my yard to his. Lucas’s smile widened when we met with open arms, and he wrapped me up tightly. We were more than just friends. We were kindred spirits. Lucas had lost weight. More than he should have lost within the timeframe I was gone.
“That was the longest week ever,” I mused against his neck.
“I barely noticed you were gone,” he quipped, which earned him a poke to the ribs. We pulled away, and it was then I noticed Mason. He was sitting on the driveway behind his upturned bike which was currently minus one wheel.
“Hi, Mason,” I greeted quietly and without the fanfare given to Lucas.
“Hi,” was all he replied, hardened eyes meeting mine through the wheel spokes.
“Can we go?” I asked, turning my attention back to Lucas.
“Your chariot awaits.” He kicked up the stand, and I hopped onto the handlebars while he kept the bike steady. As we cruised down the drive and onto the street, we both turned at the sound of a crash, metal against concrete followed by cussing. Mason angrily kicked at his bike that now sat in a deformed heap.
My parents who were still unloading the car stopped momentarily to watch the display. Mason Carter’s behavior was not news to anyone on the street, especially to my parents.
“Should we help him?” I offered, a little terrified of the answer.
“No.” Lucas had grown suddenly distant while keeping his eyes glued over my shoulder. “You wouldn’t want to be around him at the moment.”
~
We made it to the lookout just as the sun was beginning to set over the valley. We’d hiked through the woods in relative silence, Lucas offering his hand when crossing deep trenches and fallen trees. He was reserved, lost in contemplative thought, and I feared I was losing him to a hidden darkness. When we settled next to each other on the grassed overhang, thighs touching, we watched as slashes of orange marred the sky contrasting against the murky gray storm clouds forming in the distance.
“So,” I chirped. “What’d I miss?”
Lucas exhaled heavily like he was preparing the stories. “Old Mr. an
d Mrs. Smith went door knocking searching for their yappy sausage dog and blaming each and every person on the block for illegally hoarding him. Turns out, little Franklin had gotten himself stuck between the shed and the fence, his tiny legs tearing at the grass to free himself. The Blackwells are busy preparing for tomorrow’s street party and bossing everyone around. She has this vein in her neck that twitches whenever someone asks her if she’s making a chicken casserole.”
“Oh, sounds hectic,” I replied, smiling. “And what about you?” I threw a casual glance his way. “What’d I miss?”
By now the sky was cut in half. Half was the brewing storm clouds in the distance, the other was the faint glimmer of stars.
“I’m fine,” he stated quickly. “Mrs. Burnett said that she won’t be cooking if—”
“Lucas,” I calmly reprimanded. “I want to know about you.”
He turned his face away from me and pulled at some blades of grass. “Mom has a boyfriend.” His tone was caught somewhere between scathing and defeated. “She’s been seeing him for a while apparently.”
“Have you met him?”
He nodded.
“What’s he like?”
“He’s tall. Bigger than Dad. Throws his weight around like he owns the place. Like he owns Mom.”
“I’m so sorry.” The last six months had proven to be tumultuous for the Carter family, and it didn’t seem to be improving.
“He’s taken an interest in Mason,” Lucas continued. “I don’t know whether it’s because he’s the eldest and he can handle more, but he’s always on his case. He comes into the house and makes himself at home, eats our food, leaves a mess and beats on my mother. Mason tries to stop him but is hit with the consequences of disobedience.”
My heart was pounding in my chest. “Has he hit you?”
“A few times.”
I hooked my arm through his, and together we fell onto our backs staring into the darkness at the twinkling stars.
