by Mary Stone
The lady was just as kind as Sadie had told her, and she’d explained why Sadie visited her every week. Since then, Mariah hadn’t bothered her mom about the visits.
Before the mall, Sadie had been bossy and snotty, but now, she was quiet and sweet. Too quiet and almost too sweet sometimes, letting people walk over her rather than bring attention to herself. Every now and then, Sadie would wake up in the middle of the night from a bad dream, and she’d ask Mariah if she could come sleep with her.
Though Mariah wouldn’t admit it to Sadie, it made her feel good to know that she was able to help her older sister.
As the rerun of Supernatural flickered onto the wide screen, Mariah’s eyelids started to droop. From the kitchen on the other side of a dividing wall, she heard her parents’ faint laughter as they prepared dinner.
Even through the haze of sleep, Mariah’s stomach grumbled when she caught the first whiff of garlic. Her mom’s family was from Italy, so food like lasagna and spaghetti was a regular occurrence.
“Girls.” Dana Young’s voice drifted over to the sisters.
Mariah reluctantly blinked to clear her vision before she turned to regard her mom.
With a slight smile, Dana beckoned for Mariah and Sadie to follow her to the dining room. “Lasagna’s in the oven, but your dad and I need to talk to you about something.”
With that single sentence, Mariah’s mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls. She and Sadie exchanged fervent glances before they climbed off the couch. Usually, when their mom and dad wanted to talk to them in the dining room, it was because someone was in trouble, or something bad had happened.
Swallowing to fight the desert that had overtaken her mouth, Mariah followed her older sister to where their mother waited for them at the entrance to the dining area. The space was just off the kitchen, and a breakfast bar separated it from the cooking area.
As Mariah glanced back and forth between her mom and dad, she pulled out a wooden chair to take a seat. “Are we in trouble?”
Mom’s smile widened as she shook her head. “No, honey, neither of you are in trouble. We just need to talk to you about something.”
To her side, Dad scooted forward and propped his elbows on top of the table. “You girls remember what a safety plan is, right?”
Sadie nodded, her face as pale as the white shirt she was wearing. “Me and Ms. Stanwell talked about safety plans a few times. Mariah was there for one of the times.”
“I remember, yeah,” Mariah said, concern settling into her bones. “It’s when you and your family come up with a plan in case something bad happens.”
Even as Mom smiled, Mariah didn’t miss the worry in her eyes. “That’s right. That’s what we’re going to go over right now, okay? We’re going to just go over our safety plan and make sure we all know what to do in case something happens.”
Mariah glanced to Sadie and then back to her mother. “Are we in danger, Mom?”
She expected her mother to laugh and wave a dismissive hand, to reassure Mariah and Sadie that they were safe, and that the safety plan was just a precaution.
Instead, her mom’s smile faded as she looked over to Dad. As she did, Mariah felt her bladder squeeze, and she had the sudden need to pee.
Clearing his throat, Timothy Young nodded. “Yeah, honey, the police think we might be.”
Mariah’s eyes went wide, but she pushed back the threat of tears and swallowed. She was too old to burst out crying whenever she heard bad news. “How? Why? Who wants to hurt us?”
Dad shook his head, and Mariah could see real concern in his eyes. He was afraid. She never saw her father afraid. Except…
She pushed away the thoughts of the day of the bad men in the mall. Her lower lip began to tremble, and she pulled it between her teeth so nobody would see.
“The police aren’t sure, honey,” her father said. “They’re looking for the person right now, though. They’ve even got the help of the FBI.”
“It’ll be okay, you guys.” Mom reached across the table to clasp Mariah and Sadie’s hands. “The police are keeping an eye on us. There are some other people in danger too, so they’re working really hard to catch the person. Right now, this just means that we have to be a little extra careful, okay?”
Mariah swallowed again, but she nodded. “Okay.”
“Just so you girls know,” Dad’s eyes flicked from Mariah to Sadie, “we usually only turn on the alarm at night or when we’re all gone, but we’re going to be leaving it on all the time now, okay? That means that you’ll have to enter the code if you go outside and then come back in. And you can only leave the house with our permission, got it?”
Mom gestured to her smartphone. “You two are practically young women now, so I’m going to trust you with your phones when you go to bed. No games, no internet, none of that, okay? I want you to have your phones in case something happens so you can dial 911.”
Sadie opened her mouth to say something, but Dad held up a hand. “Don’t hesitate to call, either. That’s what the police are there for. If you hear anything weird in the house or you see anyone suspicious, call. Even if it turns out to be nothing, it’s better that you call, just in case. Either your mother or I will always be here with you too. I know it’s kind of a pain in the butt, but it’s not permanent. It’s just until the police catch this guy.”
Mariah felt queasy, but she nodded, trying to be brave. “Is that why that security guy was here earlier?”
Her mother shook her head. “No, he was just a salesperson out and about.”
Mariah scratched at her cheek, wrinkling her nose. “He didn’t look like a salesperson.”
Shrugging, her mom offered her a quick smile. “Not all salespeople look the same, sweetie. Different industries have different dress codes. Apparently, whoever he worked for didn’t have any rules about shaving.”
Sadie perked up at the change in conversation. “Like that guy at the grocery store with the tattoos on his arms, right?”
With a chuckle, their father pushed up the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt to reveal a warrior angel tattooed on his forearm. “Ten years ago, no one would have let me wear short sleeves at work with this. But now, most places are okay with tattoos as long as they aren’t something offensive.”
Mariah finally managed to overcome her unease and a smile came more easily than she thought it would. “When I’m older, I want all kinds of tattoos.”
When Sadie’s first scream pierced through Mariah’s slumber, she thought her sister had suffered another nightmare. But when the second shriek sounded out immediately after, her eyes snapped open.
That wasn’t a scream caused by a nightmare. The bloodcurdling sound was the result of something worse. Much, much worse.
With a sharp gasp, Mariah sat bolt upright.
Through the faint ring in her ears, she made out the dull thud of heavy footsteps as someone made their way down the hall.
Even if you’re not sure if it’s an emergency, don’t hesitate to dial 911. As her father’s words resonated through her thoughts, Mariah’s stomach churned, the taste in her mouth suddenly sour.
Blinking back tears, she cast a desperate glance around the shadows of her bedroom. She couldn’t remember closing her door, but one of her parents must have shut it when they went to bed after she and her sister did.
As the footsteps slowed to a halt, Mariah’s body might as well have been turned to stone. She felt like one of those knights who had looked at Medusa. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even pry her stare away from the door, couldn’t even blink.
The first tear slipped from the corner of her eye, and even though her hands had begun to tremble, she still couldn’t break the spell. As her wide-eyed stare remained on the door, she felt like time itself had stopped.
She didn’t even know if this was real. Maybe she, and not Sadie, was the one who had suffered the nightmare.
No, that wasn’t right. She was sure she’d heard Sadie’s cry.
A muffled shout came from the end of the hall—from her parents’ room. All at once, reality sped back up, and Mariah broke through the spell. Her heart hammered a merciless cadence against her chest, but she grated her teeth against the fear and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
With one hand, she snatched up her cell phone. Her hands were too shaky to draw the unlock pattern. She tried once, and she was greeted with the angry buzz that told her the pattern was incorrect. Blinking back tears, she made a second attempt, and then a third.
Then, she got the dreaded warning. If she tried too many more times, she’d be locked out.
She couldn’t let that happen.
“No,” she managed. The word was little more than a squeak. Even though she doubted that the burglar had heard her, she snapped one hand up to cover her mouth.
As Mariah took in a shuddery breath, she squeezed her eyes closed. During Mariah’s one time visit with Sadie’s counselor, Ms. Stanwell had gone over a technique the girls could use if they felt overwhelmed.
Take a deep breath in and count to three.
Mariah inhaled and counted, careful to be as quiet as possible.
And then exhale and count to five. Do that as many times as you need to until you start to feel better.
Forcing her eyes open, Mariah counted to five as she silently exhaled. Her hands still shook, but the trembling was much less noticeable than it had been at first.
As she focused on the unlock pattern on her phone, Mariah purposefully ignored the handful of shouts in the distance. She had to be brave so she could call the police to come help her family. They were counting on her, she was sure of it. If the burglar had made it to her parents, then she was the only one who could call for help.
Her index finger wavered only slightly as she drew the series of zigzags to unlock her phone. Rather than an angry buzz, she was greeted with the photo of her and Sadie she’d saved as her wallpaper. Though the tremor threatened to return full force, she pressed the phone icon and dialed the numbers 9-1-1.
Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, Mariah pressed the device to her ear. With her other hand, she groped at the darkness between her nightstand and her bed until she felt a familiar wooden handle. Her Louisville Slugger.
“911. What’s your emergency?” The man on the other end of the line sounded calm, like he was ready for anything. Mariah hoped he was.
“H-hello,” she whispered, her voice a shaky waver she couldn’t control. “Hello, 911? My…my family, they’re in danger.”
The professional edge in the man’s voice softened. “Okay, what’s your name, sweetheart?”
“M-m-m-m…” She bit down on her tongue, trying to force it to work. “M-mariah Young.”
“That’s great, Mariah. What’s your address?”
With another paranoid glance to the closed wooden door, she rattled off the same address she’d recited countless times before. They’d lived in this house since Mariah was three and Sadie was five.
“Can you tell me what’s happening? Are you safe?”
Mariah’s bottom lip trembled. “I’m not sure. I’m in my room and…and the man, I think he’s in my parents’—”
Her explanation was cut short as the raucous crack of a gunshot cut through the night air. The sound was so clear, so piercing that Mariah felt as if she’d been physically struck.
“Here’s what I want you to do.” The man’s voice was more urgent now. He must have heard the gunshot too. “Are you with me, Mariah?”
“Uh-huh.” She barely heard her own voice over the roaring of blood in her ears. Tears poured down her face, mixing with the snot that began to flow into her mouth.
“Grab a weapon if you have one, and then I want you to hide, okay? The police are on their way, but I need you to stay safe until they get there. Do you have a closet you can hide in?”
“Y-yes,” she stammered, wiping her face with her sleeve, taking a step backward, then another, desperately afraid to turn around. She didn’t stop until her back caused the slats of the bifold door to rattle.
She was just reaching for the knob when the footsteps neared, stopping in front of her door this time. The pace was hurried, and the thud was more pronounced.
“He’s here,” she whispered, the words barely a puff of air.
“Mariah!” The sound of the dispatcher’s voice sounded so very, very far away. “Mariah! Can you hear me? Hide, sweetheart. Hide now!”
To her horror, the bedroom door creaked open in slow motion. Even though she knew she should heed the 911 operator’s advice and hide, she had been turned to stone again.
As the door completed its arc, the faint glow of a nightlight near the stairs outlined the hulking silhouette of a man. In one hand, he clutched a gun, and in the other, he held a knife.
The clatter of her phone hitting the hardwood floor was the only indicator that Mariah had lost her grip on the device. She didn’t remember reaching down to grasp the Slugger with both hands, nor did she remember her bladder loosening until warm pee soaked her pajama bottoms.
“I c-c-called the p-police!” As much as she wanted her voice to sound menacing, there was an unmistakable hint of fright in the shaky words.
Swallowing the sting of bile in the back of her throat, Mariah raised the bat over her shoulder, the wood causing the slats of the door behind her to rattle. She took a step forward so she could maneuver better, although she was loathed to get even an inch closer to him.
The man was still. Watchful. The waiting was terrible, and her bladder emptied a little more.
“The police are on their way!” Her second shout carried more weight than the first. She had peed on herself, just like she was a baby. The thought made her mad, gave her a little bit of strength. “They’ll be here any minute now. Look, they’re on the phone right now!” She didn’t dare even flick her eyes at the fallen smartphone.
Even as the tears streaked down her cheeks, and the pee ran down her legs, Mariah didn’t let her grasp on the Louisville Slugger waver. Her grip was iron, and as soon as the man made a move, she would explode into action. She’d broken through the spell that had turned her to stone, and now she was prepared to fight.
She had no other choice.
When the bad man took a step toward her, she arced the bat behind her head, just like she did in softball practice. She was the best hitter on the team, and today, she knew she needed to make this one count. She fully expected him to raise the gun to take aim, or to charge at her with the knife in his other hand.
Somewhere in the house, something crashed to the floor, making Mariah jump. To her surprise and tremendous relief, the bad man jumped too, his body turning toward the door.
Hit him, Mariah’s mind screamed as she gripped the baseball bat tighter. This is your only chance. Don’t wait.
But she was so afraid. Deathly afraid.
“When life throws you a curve, just drive it.” Her softball coach had said that a thousand times.
Forcing her frozen body to move, Mariah raised the bat higher, but before she could take a step closer to him, the bad man ran out into the hallway. She barely heard the thud of his footsteps on the wooden stairs over the pounding of her heart.
Inhale. One, two, three.
Exhale. One, two, three, four, five.
Inhale. One, two…
She burst into tears when the front door slammed shut.
19
For the duration of their drive to Danville, neither Noah nor Levi Brandt uttered more than six words. Detective Doug Leavens had reached out to Noah personally to relay the news of the newest murder. At five in the morning, Noah and Winter had dragged themselves to the FBI office for a short briefing on the situation in Danville.
Due to the nature of the crime, Levi Brandt—an agent from the Victim Services Division—had been tasked with accompanying Noah to meet with the two witnesses who had survived.
Until now, the killer or killers hadn’t left any survivors. What had change
d? Why had Mariah Young and her father, Timothy Young, been left alive? The father had been shot in the arm, but the young girl hadn’t been touched.
Why?
“The next Charles Manson,” Noah muttered to himself.
Levi’s eyes shifted over to Noah as he pulled the sedan into a familiar parking lot. “Come again?”
Shaking his head, Noah heaved a sigh. “That’s what Winter said. She said she thinks we’re dealing with the next Charles Manson. Every one of these cases is different. Different murder weapon, different cause of death. Different time of day. The only thing that’s consistent is that all these people were at the Riverside Mall when Haldane and Strickland killed fifteen innocent people.”
As he nodded his understanding, Levi’s mouth was a hard line. “So, their ringleader is giving them orders to finish what Haldane and Strickland started, killing however they want. The third person in the manifesto.”
It was Noah’s turn to nod. “It has to be. Nothing else adds up.”
After he threw the car into park, Levi turned the key back in the ignition. “Then we need to find one of these fuckers. Alive. And then SSA Parrish needs to work whatever magic he used in Baltimore to get the son of a bitch to talk.”
A flicker of vehemence passed over Levi’s gray eyes that told Noah he never wanted to be on the receiving end of the man’s wrath. The Richmond PD had botched their relationship with a potential witness during the Augusto Lopez investigation, and according to Winter, Levi Brandt’s scathing reprimand of the precinct’s captain had been the stuff of cop ghost stories.
Unfastening his seatbelt, Noah wondered if they would even need Aiden Parrish to interrogate a suspect. Maybe all they had to do was sit the guy in a room with Levi. Between the withering stare and his creative use of four-letter words, Levi would break even the most hardened criminal.
Noah and Levi lapsed back into silence as they made their way up a set of concrete stairs to a pair of heavy double doors. As soon as he shoved the first door open, Levi’s badge was in his hand. Noah followed suit in short order, and a uniformed officer behind a wooden desk waved them forward.
