by Krystal Wade
“Make sure you thank your mom for me, but I’m trying to keep up with things while they’re, um, gone.” If the psycho had already forced Dad and Joce to call in with excuses, would anyone believe Haley if she came forward and said they were missing?
“Will do. See you soon. Tell Joce to at least return my calls.” Amanda waved and took off down the hall.
After depositing her bag, the gift, and school clothes at home, Haley dressed and went to work. She stocked shelves, trying not to associate any smells with the pain, fear, or frustration, trying to pull out good memories. Like how Bahama Breezes reminded her of vacationing with Mom, Dad, and Joce at the beach, where she learned to boogieboard, dig sand crabs out of the surf, and how not to freak out when a wave washed ashore. Or how Pumpkin Spice reminded Haley of the pies Dad used to help Mom bake, the pumpkin patch, trick-or-treating. Good smells for good times she’d never again have because Dad, Joce, Mom… they were all gone.
Stop thinking like that.
“Yo, Berkshires is closed, girlfriend.” Christine stuck her head around the storeroom door, interrupting Haley’s trip down memory lane as she opened more boxes and sorted the candles. “Ready to walk home?”
“Yeah. Let me clock out.” She swiped her card down the electronic keypad, grabbed her things, then headed out the door with everyone else, into the quiet, cold night. The feeling of being watched was stronger now than it had ever been, and Haley glanced around, peering into parked cars, glancing behind bushes.
“You’re on edge.”
A car barreled down the road, accosting them with frigid air.
Christine pulled a red hoodie over her head, then ran her hands up and down her arms. “I, um, would understand why you’d think that about me, given my new leaf—or the one I’ve turned over. I can never remember exactly what that means. But anyway, are you not getting enough lately? I mean, I do hear that you’re double-dipping with boys.”
“Gross.”
Christine snickered and lit a cigarette.
Maybe trying a cigarette laced with pot wouldn’t be so bad. Just light it up, inhale, and let the problems disappear.
“Don’t even ask me for any of this. I know you don’t want it, but the way you’re staring!”
“Sorry. I think—Christine, Dad’s still missing. Joce isn’t around. The guy I really like punched my ex-boyfriend last night—”
“Now it’s from ‘don’t make me waste my breath, Christine’ to ‘the guy I really like’. You, Haley-loo-boo, are, like, dealing with some split-personality issues, aren’t you?”
Haley sighed. “Probably. I’m going to head home and get some sleep.”
“‘Night.” Christine darted across the road, remembering to say goodnight for once, but not remembering to wait for Haley to say it back.
Improvements.
Haley went through her routine, maintaining as much normal as possible. She cooked dinner—a smaller dinner just for her, cleaned—a smaller mess because no one had really been here, checked the mail—a pile of bills for Dad. How much longer could he go missing before the electric company turned off the power, before the water company cut the water? How much longer could Haley live this lie?
How much longer could Dad or Joce?
Sitting down in the den on the ugly paisley sofa she’d never once sat on, Haley glanced around. What did she need to do? What did the psycho want next? When would he reach out?
How did he know everything she was doing? Always?
“Just tell me what to do.” Haley stood and clenched her fists. “Let my family go. I’ll still do what you want. Just let them go. Or are you going to kill them anyway? Kill me?!”
She ran to the kitchen and picked up the house phone, hoping he was listening. “I’ll call the police.”
The line went dead.
“I hate you.”
By Thursday, Haley felt like a caged animal and avoided school. Normal was impossible. No word from Chris. No requests from the psycho. Nothing from Niles. Only the cat decided to come back to her, and the only thing that little beast wanted was food.
But by Friday? By Friday, Haley couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t showered. She picked up the phone a hundred times, and each time she found it dead. It rang when the school called to leave a message about her attendance, to check on her, on Jocelyn, on Dad. All the administrators left messages of apologies and asked if they could help, or if they could bring schoolwork.
“Are you just too chicken shit to ask me for anything else?” Haley spun in circles all around the house, slamming her head against an invisible cage, losing her mind. “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”
By Saturday, Haley couldn’t stand being caged. No school today, so no worry about the administration leaving yet another message. No work, though after her missing two nights, she might not even have a job.
No word from Chris in four days. He was probably embarrassed by his behavior on the porch or really was the guy everyone said he was—or maybe ashamed of a girl like Haley, a girl who failed on purpose, who skipped work, and whose dad was a drunk.
Psycho would probably watch Haley all day. She couldn’t stand the loss of privacy. She couldn’t stand being on display for some sick, twisted nut and whatever fantasy he’d dreamed up for the Charmings. He’d probably installed cameras all over the house and stared when she showered, or got off watching her sleeping, freaking out, and crying.
That’s it. No more. Haley ran from room to room, tearing the house apart. She pulled the TV from the entertainment center; the ancient thing crashed onto the floor, and Haley winced when she stepped on the glass with her bare feet. She threw every plant in the trash—stupid things were dead, didn’t matter—grabbed Dad’s screwdriver and popped off vents, looked in light fixtures—searching, searching, searching for the cameras, for mics, anything that would deliver details about the goings on inside this house to someone outside of it.
And find them she did. Cameras were in the light hanging over the kitchen table, mounted in the vent above her bathroom door, on her dresser… everywhere. Haley collected them in a pile, put on a pair of Dad’s boots, then stomped the hell out of the bugs, raging, screaming, feeling more in control.
Haley’s cell phone rang. The word BLOCKED scrolled across the screen. “Hello?”
“Stop.”
Cold dread swept through her blood. His voice. His. Not a voice scrambler. Not muffled. Clearly a man, and a voice that sounded somewhat familiar. She had one clue. But who, and why?
“I did what you wanted. I got them away from the house. Leave us alone.”
He laughed, short, clipped, and the maniacal sound made Haley want to stomp her phone just to escape. “You were only supposed to get Chris from the house. You’re such a liability. Since you’ve shown me that your father and sister aren’t important to you, I’m raising the stakes. If you don’t do exactly as I require, I will frame you for your dad’s, sister’s, and Niles’s murder. Do I make myself clear?”
“Niles?” Breathe in. Breathe out. “Why Niles?”
“Two reasons: One, he was getting in the way, making things a bit more complicated between you and Chris. Two, because you don’t ever forget your first, and knowing yours could die because you were unwilling to do such a simple task—well, I imagine that would stick with you forever.”
He meant it. Good God, this psycho meant it. “Why are you doing this? What do you want with Mr. Charming?”
“Maybe we’ll sit and chat about it sometime.”
Shudders tore through Haley. “Why do you want to protect Chris so much when you want to hurt his father?”
“He’s a good kid, always been kind to me.”
Clue two: this man knew the Charmings personally. “You realize that hurting Mr. Charming will hurt his son.”
“Grief can be overcome.”
“And mine?” Haley had to keep this man talking. Sounds filtered through the phone line, announcements for Joe to come to the produce section, cart ti
res making hideous vibrations as they were returned to their place outside the doors. The grocery store.
“Haley, how could you grieve for these people? They’ve never treated you the way your mother treated you. They’ve never been good to you. Not like she was.”
Clue three: this man knew the Charmings personally, and he was close to Haley’s mother. “Because they’re family.”
“Horrible, awful family.”
“Dad is sick. He needs help. Jocelyn is just confused. That’s my fault.”
“And this Niles, he taunted you, taunted Chris. You have come to realize Chris Charming is a good guy, correct? You two deserve each other.”
“He’s a better person than you.”
“Just do what I ask, then no one gets hurt… not even you.” The man sighed, then hung up.
Only Chris if I let you win.
Haley had lived in grief for too long. That’s not something anyone can overcome.
Chris wouldn’t have to.
No more waiting. Time to tell him without accidentally taking him to some special place.
ick up. Pick up. Pick up.”
She’d already tried Niles without getting through, and now Chris’s phone rang and rang and rang. Haley wanted to pull him aside and spill every secret locked inside her soul. At least he’d be able to protect his family. If the psycho framed Haley? Fine. She’d live. Right? She survived Mom’s death.
A sob rumbled from her chest as the call went into voicemail. Haley didn’t think she could survive Joce’s, Dad’s, or Niles’s death, because Haley hadn’t actually survived Mom’s.
But, still, this was the right thing to do.
Haley dialed again, breaking a pen in half while waiting. She left the blue ink stain on the table. Who cares? One ring, two, three…
“Hello?”
“Chris, we need to talk.”
“I can’t right now.” He sounded distant, cold, disinterested—and like he had company. A girl giggled in the background, then asked who he was talking to. “Jessica, give me a minute, will you?”
He was with a girl—a girl who giggled and knew him well enough to ask who was talking to. His family, hers, everyone would suffer because Chris didn’t really like Haley.
“Okay. Call—”
The girl announced “minute’s up”, and Chris sighed. “Seriously, Jessica.”
The phone went dead.
What the hell? Maybe she should go to his house? Pound on the door. Demand to be let in?
Haley called again, like any good stalker girlfriend, like the scum of the earth Joce considered Christine, not appropriate for the bottom of a bum’s shoe. That’s how Chris acted, like Haley meant nothing to him.
Voicemail. “Look, not trying to be nutso girl here, but seriously have to talk to you. Life. Death. Lifetime of misery kind of talk. No, I’m not pregnant. Just in case you’re wondering, like the rest of the town.”
Giving up on truth for now, Haley searched Dad’s room for a written combination to his gun safe, because lord knows the drunk probably couldn’t remember a string of numbers over one and had to write them down. She located several combinations in the top drawer of his nightstand, then ran to the closet, where he and Mom had kept weapons in the old house, though Mom hated them.
Haley yanked open the door and waterworks assaulted her eyes, waterworks she had no chance of controlling. “Oh, God.”
All Mom’s suits were hanging, color coordinated how they’d been in her old closet, shoes lined up along the back wall. Why did Dad keep everything? Why did he place things in here as if she weren’t really gone? As if she were on a trip and would be home soon?
Haley touched some of the suits Mom had worn to work. When she died, Haley spent a month, two months, maybe three, walking around in a vegetative state. She figured Dad gave everything away when he furiously packed boxes and moved houses while she and Joce were away at school. He took care of everything, bought this new place and locked up the old one, stuck a for sale sign in the yard without ever giving the girls an opportunity to be a part of it.
But why? Why keep this? Haley didn’t figure he’d saved everything and hung it up. How much did he miss Mom? How much of the loving man Haley knew before he turned to the bottle, before he fell off that crane, actually existed inside?
None.
None Haley could forgive.
She shook her head and dug through his rumpled clothes in the back of the closet, locating the safe beneath. Grabbing the gun and some ammo, Haley shoved them into her waistband, then jumped in Dad’s truck, heading for the closest grocery store in Greenfield. She checked out The Barn first, realized it didn’t have carts, then drove around more, stopping at every farmer’s market, every produce stand, every small store—and there were so many. None of them shared the same sounds as what Haley’d heard coming through the phone.
She stopped at Fosters, a brown building with a covered area for carts. This had to be it.
Haley ran inside and right up to one of the clerks. “Excuse me.”
“Haley,” the tall, broad-shouldered pimply guy said, color draining from his already pale cheeks. “I’m Thomas, in case you don’t know. We have Y block Calculus together.”
O-kay. “Look, Thomas, does the store have a public phone?”
He leaned his head to the side and shrugged. “Out front.”
“Thanks. See you around.”
“Sure.”
Haley ran back outside, and there, an ancient metal and black plastic contraption hung loosely from the brick wall, graffiti decorating every inch: phone numbers labeled with ‘good lay’, ‘blows hard’, images of body parts best saved for the bedroom.
She didn’t really know what she was doing but looked around for people, cameras, for anything. Haley spotted a camera mounted above the sliding glass doors of the store. No one would give her footage without reason, and telling them why she really needed the tapes would be dangerous.
“Dammit.” Haley kicked the pay phone, over and over. “Why does this have to be so hard?”
She kicked it again, and again, and again.
“I take it inanimate objects offend you?” Chris.
“You have no”—Haley turned and forced a scream of frustration into a little box, tucked it deep inside—“idea.”
A beautiful girl, a beautiful rich girl, wearing a cream colored pencil skirt, a navy-blue button-up, sleeves rolled to her elbows, bright red belt and matching high heels, dark blonde hair pulled into a sloppy but perfect side ponytail, had her arm linked through Chris’s.
He wore black slacks and a pale blue sports coat. “What did it do?”
They were on a date.
A date.
The girl—presumably Jessica—didn’t spare Haley the courtesy of a glance. Haley had been that girl once. Maybe. She certainly didn’t miss that type of girl.
Haley missed Mom though, and Dad, and hope, and definitely love.
Chris laughed nervously, then leaned close and whispered, “Forget how to speak in your animalistic rage?”
No. Yes. “I need to talk to you.”
The girl pushed her bug-eyed sized sunglasses to rest on her head. She frowned and tugged on Chris’s coat sleeve. “We’re going to be late, Christopher.”
“And your point?” he snapped, removing her arm from his.
“You’re being a dick. Tell your little charity case you have to go.” She stomped off and into the store.
“I’ll call you later.” Chris shrugged and took off after his date, staring back over his shoulder. Maybe he wanted to apologize. Maybe he was just sorry Haley caught him, that his nice guy act was shredded in a single instant.
She would have loved to call out ‘don’t bother’, but that wouldn’t help her at all.
Maybe Haley hadn’t misjudged him. Maybe everything her gut told her about Christopher freaking Charming was correct. He didn’t care about Haley.
Pity then? Nah.
Chris probably just hated Niles
and wanted to prove Haley as his latest conquest.
The air whooshed out of her lungs.
This didn’t feel right. That kind of Chris didn’t fit the profile of the gentle, lost soul she’d gotten to know over the last couple weeks.
Maybe he believed the rumors about Haley? Maybe Chris thought she was using him to get back something she lost. That would make more sense. But… this girl, this new roadblock, wouldn’t stop Haley from protecting Chris and his family.
Haley’s back pocket vibrated. She pulled the cell out. BLOCKED. Again. “What do you want now?”
“You have three days to get Chris far away from the house, three days before I kill them all slowly, painfully, and let them know how easily you could have spared them. Three days until you’re locked up for something so simple, so miniscule, something you could have prevented. Don’t prove me wrong.”
“Prove you wrong?”
“You’re like me, Haley. So much like me, and so much like her.”
Right. Mom. Somehow this guy was fascinated with Mom.
A bell rang. The same kind of bell that Irving’s used at their full service fuel pump.
“I hate you.”
“I know.” The psycho laughed. “You’ve mentioned that a few times already. Goodbye, Haley.”
Three days to figure out where he was keeping Dad, Joce, and Niles. Three days to protect the Charmings and locate the others.
Haley bolted into the store and ran up to Thomas as he bagged an old woman’s groceries. “Thomas, I need your help. It’s urgent.”
The kid glanced at a girl behind the cash register. She looked Haley over and smiled at Thomas.
“Go ahead,” she said. “We’re pretty slow right now. Take your break.”
“Thanks.” Thomas followed Haley out the sliding doors, fingers holding her elbow. He released her by the brick wall, then leaned next to her, cocky, arrogant—a football player. She finally recognized him. Thomas had asked her out the first day she showed up at Frontier. Great, one more person who would spread rumors and probably tell Richard some fabricated story of these events, and Richard would tell Chris. And like that the whole town would most likely label her a whore. “What’s up, Haley?”
