Shadowshift

by Peter Giglio

  “Mom,” Kevin says, “the book is a cautionary tale. You can’t deny that terrible things happen in the world. Tina confronts these things. That’s one of her jobs as a writer. I remember how much you loved that book about the Holocaust.”

  “The Holocaust is quite different,” Dee says. “What happened to all those poor souls is history. Besides, the world has enough tragedy in it already that people don’t have to go around making up more just to satisfy this world’s sick bloodlust.”

  “Mrs. Logan,” Tina says, “if you think I was glorifying an act of violence, I encourage you to finish the book. And I assure you, rape is as real as the Holocaust. I didn’t invent it.”

  “Well, sex sells, I guess,” Dee says flatly, then goes back to her dinner, as if the argument is settled.

  Tina’s floored, unable to comprehend how anyone can equate rape with sex. None of her work carries an erotic slant—not that she has anything against sex in books—and yet this woman is accusing her of what…peddling smut? And worse, she’s dragging Hannah into the whole ugly mess.

  Tina glares at Kevin. He shrugs, a look of terror darkening his face, then shakes his head, warning her to let the matter slide.

  Hell no, Tina thinks. She allowed a lot of shit slide with Chet, and where did that get her? She’s incredibly proud of Winterland, and if this haughty bitch is going to reduce her to a pornographer in front of her daughter, she’s damn well going answer for it, no matter whose mother she is.

  “Do you think rape is erotic, Mrs. Logan?” Tina asks.

  Dee’s fork clatters on her plate, her face turning red.

  “I think that’s a fair question,” Tina presses. “You said ‘Sex sells.’ What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “Just what I said,” Dee drones.

  Tina laughs. “Well, I certainly don’t sell many books.” She turns to Kevin’s father. “Mike, I’m sure your college pal sells better than I do, and what’s he doing? Teaching the rich how to get richer, right? I mean, seriously, how can a poor family hope to send their children to college without racking up some debt? What advice does Mr. Savoy have for them? Or does he think poor children don’t deserve higher education?”

  “And what are you trying to accomplish?” Dee asks.

  “I put my pain on the page, Mrs. Logan, and I work through it, try to make sense of it. I explore the human condition, and—”

  “Oh, so I suppose you were raped?” Dee says.

  Engulfed by rage, Tina stands and kicks her chair, which crashes on the hardwood floor as she rushes from the table. Heart thundering, she flees the house. She pulls the door handle of the SUV—it’s locked—then fumbles in her pocket. She yanks out her e-cig and tries to suck a lungful of nicotine vapor, but the blue tip flashes. It’s dead.

  Kevin barrels toward her, and Hannah follows closely behind. He throws his arms around her and says, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Did you tell her?” Tina growls.

  “No, of course not. You have to believe me. I never would share a secret of yours. You have to believe me!”

  “What does she think? That I’m damaged goods? Certainly she doesn’t think I’m good enough for her precious boy.”

  “It’s not like that, Tina. She doesn’t know. She never would have said that if she had known. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

  Pointing a trembling finger at the house, she shouts, “I’m blowing that out of proportion? Excuse me, but were we just at two different dinner parties?”

  “Come on, Tina, let’s go back inside and—”

  “I shouldn’t have told you,” Tina says. “For fuck’s sake, why the hell did I trust you? I never even told Chet.”

  She falls limp in Kevin’s arms, her mind racing back to the winter night when her innocence was taken.

  She’s fourteen. Her brother’s best friend is much older. She’s pinned to the couch, his hot breath in her face. They’re both drunk on screwdrivers. She trusted him. Now he’s forcing his hand up her miniskirt, ripping away her panties, digging his fingers deep inside, where he doesn’t belong. It hurts. Hurts so bad! Why is this happening? Greg has a girlfriend. Why why why why why?!

  When Tina awakes from the memory, she’s in the passenger seat. Kevin clutches the wheel. Hannah’s head is bowed in the backseat.

  “I never had a chance,” Tina mumbles.

  “You could have played nice back there,” Kevin scolds. “My mom was out of line, but you didn’t have to jump to conclusions. And you didn’t have to push her. She would have warmed to you in time. I told you she’s old-fashioned, but you didn’t listen. You had to…”

  Tina rolls down her window, letting the wind drown out Kevin’s accusations, and feels herself falling out of love.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Excuse me,” the woman said to Chet, “do you know a good pawnshop in town?”

  Alarm bells in his brain, he stopped straightening energy supplements and grinned. “Depends on what you’re selling?”

  Face flush, she stammered, “W-what am I not selling. Dad went and…and died and left me all his s-shit, including all his debt.”

  This was too easy. But this woman was wrong. Jittery. Nervous. Then again, if her father just died, her demeanor could easily be excused. Normal people had a way of letting stupid shit knock them off balance. Her stringy, unwashed hair said enough. This bitch was a mess.

  “You new in town?” Chet asked.

  “No, I live on Tybee Island, but I’ve never needed a pawnshop before. P-probably will n-need a truck to get Daddy’s coin collection downtown. Just don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

  “Don’t go downtown,” Chet said. “Best pawnshop is south of here on Abercorn, close to the mall.” He pulled a pad of paper from below the counter and wrote down the name and address of a shop that didn’t exist, then ripped off the page and handed it to her.

  “T-thanks,” she said, stuffing the paper in her purse.

  “Don’t mention it. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “Yeah, I-I’m a wreck. Need a smoke. Can I get a pack of Camel Lights?”

  Chet sized up the sad woman. Then, with a snap judgment she was on the level, his grin widened. “Sure thing,” he said, “just need to see your ID first.”

  * * *

  “Are you sure this will work?” Samantha asked.

  Phillip Wise leaned back in the recliner, his Smith & Wesson 1911 resting in his lap. He hadn’t moved from his location all night, careful not to walk in front of any windows and make his presence known.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “this will be simple. I’ll draw the gun on the guy and dial 911.” He grabbed his cell from the end table and held it up for her edification. “See, I’ve already punched the numbers in, just need to press SEND.”

  “And what if he has a gun, too?”

  “Did you see that kid? You think that pussy’s any match for me? I’ll take him by surprise in the dark. Get the drop on him first. He won’t even have a chance to draw.”

  “And if he does, what then?”

  “I’ll shoot the son of a bitch.”

  She cringed.

  “Justifiable defense, sweetheart. Seriously, don’t let it bother you. This will work. Besides, he’ll be so busy doing whatever he does to disable the security system that—”

  “I don’t have a security system, Dad.”

  “Oh, yeah, well, that’s too bad. I really wanted to find out his trick. Know what I think?”

  “No, and I’m not sure I want to.”

  “I think he reactivates the alarm before he leaves, just to fuck with his targets. Think he gets off on it or something. Doesn’t matter, though, tonight he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

  “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “Hit me.”

  “I think he won’t show up at all. I think you’re wrong about him. I think he’s just an arrogant loser who works at a convenience store, not the criminal mastermind you make him out
to be.”

  “Okay,” Phillip said, “then you should have nothing to worry about. Now turn out the lights and drive away from here. I don’t have all night to nail this bastard.”

  She followed his orders, and soon Phillip found himself in the dark, waiting for the man who stole more than his nest egg. The fucker stole his dignity. But that was fine. Soon, Phillip would reclaim what was his. And, despite what he’d told Samantha, he wouldn’t wait for the kid to pull a gun before he fired. There would be blood, and he’d make damn sure it wasn’t his.

  It didn’t take long before he heard someone fiddle with the door handle. His pulse galloped as he leaned forward and aimed the pistol at the door.

  But the door didn’t open. Instead, something rose slowly from the floor, dimly illuminated in slats of moonlight from the house’s many windows. At first, the rising thing was only a dark, shapeless blob, but then it became more—a half-man, half-bug thing that reminded Phillip of something out of an old sci-fi flick. Off balance, he stood and fumbled the gun, which fell and clattered on the parquet below.

  The thing in the dining room’s eyes shot open. Human eyes. And Phillip recognized the invader. The young man from the convenience store.

  A sharp pain erupted in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He fell back into the recliner and managed to grab his cell phone and press SEND.

  When he looked up, the convenience store clerk stood before him. He had retrieved the fallen gun from the floor and was pointing it at Phillip.

  “911,” a tinny voice called from the phone, “what’s your emergency?”

  “You saw my secret,” the clerk said.

  Phillip clutched his chest and sputtered a wet cough. “I-I don’t know…I don’t know what I saw, you son…you son of a bitch.”

  “911,” the voice repeated, “what’s your emergency?”

  But Phillip never had a chance to speak to the operator. A flash of light erupted from the barrel of his gun.

  Then everything went black.

  * * *

  As the night’s events unfolded, Tina and Hannah slept on the couch. And when the cockroach squeezed beneath the front door and scurried into the bedroom, they were as oblivious to its movements as they were to the dark deeds that had brought it home.

  But when a knock sounded, Tina’s eyes fluttered. She sat up slowly and glanced at the clock in the kitchen. Well after midnight. Who would be pounding on the door at this hour?

  The knock came again, this time more thunderous. Whoever wanted her attention wasn’t selling Avon.

  “I’m coming,” Tina said, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she pulled herself from the couch.

  Hannah snorted and turned. “What’s happening, Mommy?” she grumbled.

  “Go back to sleep, sweetie.”

  Tina looked through the peephole, and what she saw set her nerves ablaze. A man in a suit held a badge up for inspection.

  The next two hours of Tina’s life were hell. She endured thinly veiled accusations, restraining herself from hysterics while Hannah wept through an inquisition of her own in the bedroom. Police searched the apartment and uncovered Chet’s stash of money, which they confiscated.

  She felt a glimmer of hope when a uniformed officer carried her laptop through the living room—she had been certain Chet already destroyed it—but there was no silver lining to be found that night. The laptop was also taken as evidence.

  “Your husband is wanted for questioning in connection to a murder,” the detective said.

  She didn’t understand. Chet was a lot of things, but certainly not a killer. She wouldn’t have shared a bed with a murderer for more than seven years. The father of her daughter couldn’t have committed such a vile act. Myriad rationalizations plagued her, but none were convincing.

  Tina controlled her emotions through a seemingly endless battery of questions, but fatigue eventually set in, and she couldn’t hold her guard up any longer. She broke down and wept.

  “We’ve been fighting a lot,” she said. “He’s been…distant. I had no idea what he was up to. I wanted to leave…but…but I didn’t have a way out.”

  “There’s always a way out,” the detective said. “Come clean with us.”

  She shook her head. “It’s never easy when a child is involved. If I ran…he would follow.”

  At that point, a wave of sympathy softened the detective’s stern features. He nodded and leaned back on the couch. “You smoke in here?” he asked.

  “Sometimes,” she said.

  He palmed a pack of Kools from his sport coat and shook one into his mouth. He flipped the pack onto the coffee table and motioned for her to help herself. With a tremulous hand, Tina took one of the offered cigarettes, then allowed the detective the courtesy of lighting it with his plastic lighter. They took long drags. Each exhaled slowly.

  “Do yourself a favor,” he said.

  “Anything,” she promised.

  “Whatever loyalty you have to Chet Mitchell, let it die tonight. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for your daughter.” He slapped his card on the table. “And if you hear from him, call me right away.”

  “You have my word,” she said.

  The detective stood and headed for the door.

  She wanted to stop him, correct him, to shout that her love for Chet had died long ago. But she couldn’t, because that wasn’t exactly true.

  All the same, she couldn’t beat herself up for it. All she had was now. This was the time to change the course of her life. She was done with secrets. Done with deceit. Done with Chet. And she made a vow to herself.

  With the exception of Hannah, Tina would never trust again.

  CHAPTER 12

  Upon returning home from the disastrous dinner, Tina wordlessly trudges up the stairs, leaving Kevin and Hannah in the living room. The sound of a slammed door echoes through the house, signaling the potential end of their new beginning.

  He and Hannah glance at each other, then look away, neither speaking. Kevin doesn’t know what to say. He wants to console her, as a father would. But that’s not his position. He’s not even a stepfather. He’s just Kevin. And when Tina leaves him, he’ll become nothing more than a faded footnote in this young girl’s life.

  Finally, it’s Hannah who breaks the silence. “She hasn’t always been this way.”

  “What do you mean?” Kevin asks.

  “She used to be a lot…a lot weaker, I guess. My father controlled her.”

  “I’m sorry, Hannah,” Kevin says, “but I don’t think it’s fair that I have to pay for another man’s sins. She didn’t even give me a chance to defend her honor tonight. It’s like she just assumed I wouldn’t. And I don’t control her. Do you think I control her?”

  “Well, you were pretty mean to her in the car. You shouldn’t have said all those things.”

  “You’re right, but I was upset. Come on, those are my parents.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to lecture me about parents letting you down.”

  “No, I guess I don’t.”

  Placing a hand on Kevin’s arm, Hannah says, “You love her, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I love your mother more than anyone in the world.”

  “I believe you,” she says. “Because if you didn’t, Mom wouldn’t be here right now. I never thought she’d find love—she always swore she wouldn’t—but here we are.”

  “I’m losing her,” he says.

  “Yes, you’re losing, but you haven’t lost yet. Please let me help you.”

  “Of course, but what can you do?”

  “Over the last few years, Mom and I have done everything together. The reason I didn’t leave any friends back in Savannah isn’t because I couldn’t make them if I’d wanted to. It’s because I didn’t want to hurt her. She needed me so much that I couldn’t leave her alone while I ran around with other kids.”

  “That’s one hell of a sacrifice.”

  “Nah, not really. Most kids my age are pretty stupid anyway. But there were
times, I guess, when I wanted to be…I don’t know…I guess I wanted to be normal. And it’s not like she didn’t push me to make friends. I suppose she just thought the problem had something to do with me.”

  “That’s really sad, Hannah, but how is any of this going to help me with your mom?”

  “Kevin, promise me you won’t be offended when I tell you this, okay?”

  “Okay, sure.”

  “The reason my mom ever trusted you enough to fall in love with you is because I let her.”

  “I take back my promise,” he says, unable to stifle a laugh. “I’m completely offended.”

  Hannah laughs, too. “Okay, okay, maybe I said that wrong. But what I mean is, I like you a lot, and I think you’re good for my mom. I knew that right away, so on the first day I met you, I told my mom that I wanted you to be my new father.”

  Kevin doesn’t know what to think. On one hand, he’s touched. On the other, he’s terrified. “Were you being honest?”

  “I don’t know. I did know it would make her feel more for you, and that’s what I wanted. That’s what I still want. My mom always told me that my lack of social skills was because I didn’t have a father figure. That’s what she blamed it on when she was pushing me to be more like other kids. I guess I just decided to give her a little push of my own.”

  “You’re pretty smart.”

  “Oh, hell, I’m a frickin’ genius is what I am, but that’s not the point I’m getting ready to make.”

  “Preach on, I’m listening.”

  “Good. What you’re gonna do now is give my mom some space, and while she’s feeling sorry for herself, you’ll help me make a friend.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that?”

  “Don’t worry, Kevin, I’ll do most of the work.”

  * * *

  With Kevin asleep downstairs, and her mom clacking away at computer keys in her own bedroom, Hannah sits in a bean bag chair, the likeness of her mom’s favorite figurine resting in her lap.