by Amy Cross
“I don't like the feeling here,” I mutter, switching off the bathroom light and then heading back through to the main room, where my bag is resting on the edge of the bed. The décor of this whole hotel is distinctly old-fashioned, with beige walls and brown furniture, and the phone by the bed is an old cradle model. Oh, and there's an ashtray, and the place stinks of cigarette smoke. “The guy I spoke to at Eli's house was beyond creepy, and I could tell he was covering something up.” I sigh, feeling as if I'm banging my head against a brick wall. “When you came to check on Eli last year, did he say anything about his neighbor, anything that seemed odd?”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe he was in some kind of trouble? I don't know, I just feel as if Eli's name seems to set people on edge. Did he tell you anything at all that made you worry?”
In the background, I can hear my nephew Louis crying.
“Karen?” I say after a moment. “Are you still there?”
“Sure,” she replies, sounding flustered, “it's just...” There's a pause. “Damn it,” she mutters. “Holly, do we really have to do this now? I'm in the middle of changing a very poopy diaper.”
“But how did Eli act when you saw him?” I ask, wandering over to the window and looking out at the parking lot. “Did he seem like he was becoming more active? Did he seem like he was getting out more, maybe even making friends?”
“I really don't remember.”
“Did he seem happy? Sad? Depressed?”
“Holly -”
“Hopeful?”
She sighs.
“You must have got some impression when you talked to him,” I continue, starting to feel as if she's being deliberately evasive. “Come on, Karen, I need some help here. I need to know what I'm dealing with.” I try opening the window to get the stink of smoke out of the room, but the frame appears to have been screwed into place. “What was Eli like when you came to check on him last year?”
I watch as a man walks past the motel; he glances toward me and we briefly make eye contact, before he continues on his way. Slowly, a sense of concern is starting to churn in my gut, as if my instincts are trying to warn me about something. It's as if simply by coming to Tulepa and asking about my uncle, I've disturbed the whole town.
“Karen?” I say finally, realizing that once again she's fallen silent. “You did come and check on Eli last year, didn't you?”
“Do you have any idea how busy I've been?” she snaps.
“Of course I do,” I reply. “You complain about it all the time, including when you laid that guilt-trip on me about visiting Eli.”
“I have to look after the kids -”
“I know.”
“And Scott's always busy at work.”
“I know, but -”
“Do you know the last time I actually had a spare moment?”
“I appreciate that your life is very busy,” I tell her, “but I need to know what Eli was like when you saw him last year.”
Another sigh on the other end of the line.
I open my mouth to ask again, but suddenly there's a sense of doubt in my gut.
“Karen,” I say cautiously, hoping that I'm wrong, “please tell me you came to check on Eli last year. You told me you came all the way to Tulepa, you moaned about it when you were guilt-tripping me into coming this time.”
“Tulepa is such a long drive from here -”
“Karen!”
“I barely have time to breathe!”
“I don't believe this!” I hiss, turning away from the window as I feel a flash of anger in my chest. “You didn't come, did you?”
“Holly -”
“You complained at length about the trip!”
“You don't understand.”
In the background, Louis is starting to cry again.
“So it's been two years since anyone came to see how Eli's doing?” I ask incredulously. “No-one's been since Scott was here?” I wait for a reply, but I can hear Karen busying herself with something on the other end of the line and muttering to herself, playing the martyr again. “Karen,” I continue cautiously, as another realization hits me, “Scott came two years ago, didn't he?”
Again, I wait.
Silence.
“You and Scott are supposed to have been doing this once a year for the past five years,” I point out, feeling an increasing sense of frustration in my gut. “We had a big family discussion and you two agreed! When was the last time you actually came and checked on Eli?”
“Um...”
Silence.
“Well,” she says finally, sounding distinctly uncomfortable, “I know for a fact that Mom dropped by to see him six years ago and -”
“Six years?” I reply, genuinely shocked. “No-one has been for six years?”
“I don't have time!” she hisses. “Scott doesn't either! We're too busy to go driving off to Tulepa to check on some mad old uncle who was never even that close to us anyway! You don't understand, Holly. You're single, you don't have kids, you can afford to be selfish and just do whatever you want. You can afford to feel guilty about stuff like this.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, turning and looking across the dingy motel room. “So all those times you moaned about the responsibility of checking up on Eli, you were lying through your teeth.”
“I'm sure Eli's fine,” she replies, sounding distinctly annoyed.
“Eli's missing!” I continue. “As in, I can't find him anywhere and his neighbor is acting really weird. And now apparently no-one in the family has seen him since six years ago!”
“We've been getting Christmas cards from him.”
“That doesn't prove anything,” I point out. “Anyone could have sent a bunch of cards.” Heading over to the bed, I sit down and then fall back, landing with my head on the hard, uneven pillow. For a moment, I stare up at the broken ceiling fan and try to make sense of the thoughts rushing through my head, but I can't shake the feeling that this whole situation is an unholy mess. “So uncle Eli's been all alone here,” I mutter finally, “and no-one from the family has been to see him for six years. He must have thought we don't care.”
“We don't care,” Karen replies, and I swear I can hear her rolling her eyes. “Let's be honest, Holly, it's all a charade. Eli distanced himself from the family on purpose, he kept himself at arm's length and -”
“Not on purpose!”
“Yes on purpose!” she hisses, as Louis starts crying in the background. “Great, now he's started up,” she adds under her breath.,“are you happy? Eli's weird. There, I said it. He's a strange old man and frankly I'm glad I don't have to spend any time around him. All you have to do, Holly, is write a note, stick it in his mailbox to show him you were there, and get out of town. I mean, Jesus Christ, what do you think is going to happen if you come face to face with him? Is he gonna invite you in for tea? Imagine how awkward that would be!”
“He's family!”
“Barely!”
“Karen...”
“No-one cares about guys like Eli,” she continues, sounding more and more flustered. “You're just trying to make yourself feel like a better person by pretending to give a damn. Just because you thought Scott and I were checking on Eli, that doesn't mean you couldn't have gone too. Or would that have been too much effort?”
I want to tell her to go to hell, but at the same time I know she's right. I should have made an effort to come. After all, I used to like Eli when I was a little girl, and I know Karen never felt the same way. Life has just been so busy over the past few years.
“Eli's nothing to us,” she continues. “He never was, not really.”
“He's family,” I say finally, with a hint of desperation in my voice. “That has to mean something.”
“He's only family by blood,” she replies, sounding exhausted. “There's no real emotional connection.”
“Karen -”
“He's a freak!”
Spotting a flash in the distance, I look over toward the far side of the pa
rking lot and spot a figure ducking out of view. I swear I'm not being paranoid; some kid seems to be following me around town, taking photos. Staring at the window for a moment, I wait for her to come back into sight and a moment later I spot her face leaning around the corner, although she quickly slips out of view as soon as she realizes I've seen her. It's almost like I'm being tailed by a very bad, but very enthusiastic spy.
“What the hell?” I mutter.
“So you're getting out, right?” Karen asks. “Please, Holly, don't tell me you've suddenly decided to give a damn about Eli. I mean, come on, you're the last person who should be running off on some big family quest.”
“Huh.” I stare at the corner for a few seconds, waiting to see the girl again, before realizing what Karen just said. “Wait, what?” I turn away from the window. “Why am I the last person who should care about Eli?”
“You've never given much of a damn about family.”
“I care a lot about family!”
“Is that why you moved to New York, away from the rest of us?” she asks. “Is that why you don't want to start a family of your own?”
“I never -” Taking a deep breath, I force myself to stay calm. “This isn't a conversation I want to have right now,” I tell her, “but I'm sure we'll pick it up at Thanksgiving, just like last year.”
“Will Dean be coming?”
“I told you, Dean and I broke up.”
“For the thousandth time. Come on, Holly, you'll be back with him soon. You always take him in again when he crawls to your door.”
Checking my watch, I see that it's almost midday, which means I should grab some lunch before I go find the police station. “If we're talking about family,” I tell her family, “then let me remind you that I'm not the one who lied for years about coming to check on Eli, and I'm not the one who thinks it's okay to just leave without making sure the poor old guy is at least still alive.”
She says something in reply, but for a moment her voice is distorted by static before finally coming through clear again. “And that's sad, Holly. You've got nothing to prove.”
“I'll call and let you know when I find him,” I mutter. “Maybe I'll even invite him to Thanksgiving this year.” Cutting the call before she has a chance to reply, I toss my phone onto the bed. Leaning back again, I take a deep breath and try to compose my thoughts. I hate the idea of going to the police station and reporting Eli missing, but I figure I should at least find out if they know what's happened to him. Picking up my phone and bag, I head to the door, while also making a mental note to try grabbing that kid with the camera so I can find out why the hell she keeps taking pictures of me.
There are some weird people in this town, but all that matters is finding Eli. Six years is way too long to go without hearing from him.
Chapter Six
Tatty
“Six minutes until showtime,” I mutter, checking my watch again. Glancing across the town square, I watch for a moment as a few of the locals mill about, and I try to guess which of them will be the latest to drop dead. After all, I'm convinced that someone is about to die.
Someone always dies at noon in Tulepa.
God, sometimes my life is so morbid.
Spotting the strange woman emerging from the hotel's front door, I duck out of sight and listen to her footsteps heading across the parking lot. I think she almost saw me just now, when I was taking pictures of her at her window, but fortunately I ducked out of sight just in time so I figure she's not quite onto me yet. I'm not one to brag, but I think I'm pretty good at following people without being spotted. Leaning around the corner again, I see that she's already headed past her car and is over by the bank, and she's walking with purpose, as if she's going somewhere specific. After waiting a moment longer so that I'm far enough back, I hurry after her while keeping low so I can duck at any moment.
“What the hell are you doing?” a voice asks suddenly.
Crouching behind a parked car, I watch as the woman heads into the police station, and then I turn to see that Jordan Swinton is watching me from nearby. He's leaning against a wall, chewing gum and grinning like a fool, almost as if he was waiting for me to show up. Either that, or he's been following me.
“I'm investigating something,” I whisper, before realizing that I might as well speak at a normal level. “I'm investigating something,” I say again. “You wouldn't understand.”
“I understand you're a freak.”
“I understand you can go to hell,” I reply, turning to look over at the police station. What's that woman doing in there? What kind of business would a complete stranger have with the local police?
“No idea.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Hell, no.”
“Do you know anything about her at all?”
“You think you're a real Nancy Drew, don't you?”
“Nancy who?”
“Why don't you just leave that woman alone?” he continues. “Seriously, Tatty, you need to find something better to do with your time.” He pauses, but I can tell he's watching me closely. “It's your birthday soon, isn't it?”
“So?”
“So you're getting older, that's all. You're growing up.”
“Wow,” I mutter under my breath, “you don't sound creepy at all.” Checking my watch, I see that there's now only four minutes until midday.
“You still wondering who it's gonna be?” Jordan asks.
“I thought you didn't believe in any of that.”
“Come on, we both know it's true.”
I turn to him.
“You've changed your tune since earlier,” I point out.
He shrugs.
“So you think I'm right?”
“Just between you and me,” he continues, “there's no way those deaths are a coincidence. I mean, I'm not an idiot, I can see that something's going on here. The only question is who's next. It could be anyone, right?” He looks across the town square. “Somewhere in Tulepa right now, someone is going about his or her business, completely oblivious to the fact that he or she is gonna drop dead in -” He checks his watch. “Three minutes and four seconds. That's kinda cool, don't you think? It's like there must be something in the air, or some other reason why it happens, but it does happen. Maybe God is looking down on this dumb little town, trying to decide which ant to squish next.” He smiles at me. “Maybe it'll be you, Tatty.”
I swallow hard. “Maybe.”
“Or someone you care about.”
“Maybe.”
“Or me.” He pauses, eying me with a faint smile. “What if I'm the one who drops dead? What if, in just under three minutes, I keel right over and land dead on the sidewalk next to you? How'd you like that?”
I swallow again. “I don't want anyone to die.”
“Well someone's gotta die, right?” He chuckles to himself. “Go on, guess. Take your best guess at who it'll be.”
I shake my head.
“Too sick for you?” he asks, before looking across the town square. “That's disappointing. I thought you had a stronger stomach.” He pauses for a moment, before sticking his hands in his pockets as he wanders past me, and then stopping next to the nearest parked car. For a moment, he seems to be surveying the scene, as if he thinks he can somehow sense who'll be the next victim. “Okay,” he says finally, “I think I've got a good enough idea who's gonna be next.” He turns to me. “The question is, if I get it right, what do I win?”
“Why would you win anything?” I ask, slightly disturbed by his attitude.
“I think I should get a reward if I pick the right person. It'd be a hell of a thing, don't you think?” He steps closer to me. “Hey, I think I've got an idea. If I guess right, you have to come meet me tonight, at midnight, somewhere fun, like the cemetery or...” He pauses. “No, the cemetery's too cliched. If I'm right, meet me outside Eli Denton's house. You know the place I mean, right?”
“No way.”
He smiles. “Why not
?”
I fumble with my camera's strap for a moment, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. “I don't want to make stupid bets about who's gonna die,” I tell him. “It's not right.”
“It's just a game,” he replies. “It's not like my guess is actually gonna make it come true, is it? I mean, that'd make me, like, psychic or something.”
I glance over at the police station, still wondering what the strange woman is doing in there.
“Alfred Packer,” Jordan says suddenly.
I turn to him.
“That's who I think is gonna die in...” He checks his watch again. “Ooh, fifty-eight seconds. That's not long, is it? I wonder how old Alfred is doing right now? I'd sure love to see.”
“I don't -” Before I can finish, I spot the door to the convenience store opening, and as if on cue Alfred steps out. Stopping in the doorway for a moment, he seems to be taking a moment to watch the town square. It's almost as if he's come out purely so we can see him.
“Does that look like a man who's about to die?” Jordan asks, putting a hand on my shoulder before I pull away. “He looks healthy enough for an old guy, right? Then again, why's he just standing there, watching the town? Maybe he feels weird, maybe he's sensed it's coming on? It's kinda hard to tell from here, but do you think he's starting to look kinda pale? Can someone really drop dead suddenly, or would they have to at least feel a few twinges first?”
“Jordan...”
“Scared to look? Scared you might see death in his eyes?”
I want to tell him to go to hell, but I know he's challenging me and I also know I can't afford to back down. He thinks I'm just some dumb kid.
“Dare you,” he adds with a smile.
Raising my camera, I zoom in on Alfred and see that his expression seems normal. Well, as normal as any expression looks, at least, especially in a town like Tulepa where all the adults are a little glassy-eyed. I take a couple of pictures anyway, but so far nothing seems out of the ordinary apart from the fact that he's just standing there, watching people coming and going across the town square. For all I know, he might do the same thing every day, although to be honest I've never noticed him standing like that before. A moment later, however, he turns and suddenly looks straight toward me with such intensity that I feel a shiver pass through my body. I take a couple more photos, as many as I dare, and then I lower my camera just as he turns and heads back into the store. I raise the camera again, just to take a shot of the back of Alfred's head, but suddenly Jordan leans in front of the lens, huge and out of focus as he grins at me.
