Last Seen Alive

by Carlene Thompson

  Around this time, a girl was gang-raped by four boys. The girl was able to identify two of the boys. Both were part of a group Ned considered his best friends. Ned was questioned in relation to the rape, but he had an alibi, although it was shaky at best. We tried to keep as much of this ugliness from you as possible, Chyna.

  Of course Chyna had heard rumors of the rape at school, but several conflicting stories existed and soon the whole

  matter seemed to have become top secret. No one knew who had been raped, and no one had been charged with the rape. It had all seemed so horrifying, so far from her own protected world, that Chyna had not let herself dwell on the matter. She didn’t want to spark the visions she had been trying hard to suppress for over a year.

  I don’t need to tell you the next tragedy we suffered—the loss of dear Zoey. Had she been killed, the incident would have been awful, but to have her just vanish, to not know if she was dead or alive being starved and tortured, was to that point the most horrifying time of my life. Of yours, too, Chyna. I don’t think you ’d ever known true grief until then, but it was at least a year before I saw you genuinely smile again.

  I desperately didn ’t want to suspect Ned. I didn ’t try to find out where he was that night. And later, when he’d go out at night, I never asked him where he went and he never offered an explanation. Then, near Christmas over a year after Zoey, I happened to be awake, sitting in the dark in the living room, when he came in at two in the morning. I turned on a lamp and he stood in front of me, sweating and disheveled, with what I can only describe as a feral look on his face. He didn’t say a word—he just went up to bed. The next day I learned that Heather Phelps had gone missing, just like Zoey.

  Only one more page of the letter remained, but Chyna couldn’t even look at it. She felt dizzy and slightly nauseated. She wanted to stuff the letter back in the bag, throw it into the fireplace, and set the biggest fire she could manage. But she knew this horror was not over. The trinkets still lay in front of her like small, pathetic offerings begging for her to touch them, pleading with her to let them tell their story.

  Slowly, Chyna reached out and touched a slender silver bracelet bearing the initials “HCP.” “Heather Carol Phelps,” Chyna said aloud, although she had not known Heather’s middle name until that instant. Then the vision hit so hard

  Chyna thought she’d be thrown from the chair. A blond teenage girl after dark on a deserted side street On one corner of die street Chyna could see a lighted Christmas wreath decorating a mundane streetlight. The girl walked slowly, looking in all the windows, smiling occasionally, looking happy, excited, young.

  She had reached the end of the street and stood for a moment on the corner, waiting to cross to the other side of the sidewalk, when a figure stepped out of the darkness behind one of the buildings. Chyna couldn’t tell much about the figure with a parka and ski mask, but it was around six feet tall, obviously a man, and slender. He crept up on the girl so quietly she barely had time to let out a squeak before he had one gloved hand over her mouth and an arm around her midriff. She wriggled in his grasp, but in a moment he’d jerked her onto the heels of her shoes with her legs stuck straight out in front of her and lowered her so close to the sidewalk she didn’t have room to kick.

  Chyna could feel the girl’s heart pounding. She could feel her confusion, her terror. Then, in what seemed only an instant, the man dragged the girl behind a building and covered her face with a cloth—a heavy, sweet-smelling cloth.

  The vision ended as abruptly as it had begun. Chyna sat rock-still in her chair, sweat covering her face and her palms, her hands shaking, her breath coming deep and rough. The abduction of Heather Phelps, she thought dully. Heather out Christmas shopping, having a good time that ended so tragically.

  “Oh God,” Chyna moaned, then folded her arms and put her head down on them. She knew Heather hadn’t been killed immediately—otherwise he would not have needed chloroform, just like he did with Deirdre. No, this person, this monster, as Chyna now thought of him, liked to keep them alive awhile. He enjoyed their fear. He reveled in their desperation.

  Next Chyna picked up a slim length of red velvet ribbon. She saw it drawn through thick, dark hair, hair shining even in the moonlight. The girl with the ribbon walked quickly,

  nervously looking at a cheap watch on her left wrist. She wore a thin coat and she carried a backpack. Edie Larson, Chyna thought with dread. Edie walking home after play rehearsal on a narrow path beside the highway. Suddenly a black Lincoln pulled in front of her.

  Edie stopped abruptly. Then the front car door opened and a young dark-haired man wearing sunglasses and a suit stepped out. He smiled. “Edie Larson?” She nodded. “Don’t look so afraid, dear. I only wanted to tell you I watched your rehearsal of Our Town and I thought you were wonderful.”

  Edie looked flustered. “Thank you. I messed up a line in one scene, but I’ll have it down by next week. No mistakes.”

  “I’m sure there won’t be.” The man took one tiny step toward her. “My name is James Chadwick and I work in the theater circuit, especially around New York,” he said. “I’m what in the old days they called a talent scout. I was traveling through Black Willow, and when I heard there was going to be a play rehearsal at the high school, I decided to drop by.” He smiled conspiratorily. “Actually, I thought I might be stopping in for a few laughs. Some of these high school productions …” He shrugged. Edie giggled guiltily, a bit nervously.

  “I was particularly impressed with the way you could project your voice without losing any nuances of the character’s speech,” he said quickly. Another small step toward her.

  “Really?” Edie breathed, thinking he looked vaguely familiar, except for the dark hair.

  “Yes, really. I believe with just a few acting lessons and a little more experience with stage movements, you could be a star. Of course, that may not appeal to you at all.”

  “Oh yes!” Edie trilled. “I want more than anything to act in Broadway plays, even though I haven’t seen any Broadway plays.”

  “There’s a lot you haven’t seen.” In a flash, he was behind her, his hand over her mouth, leaning her back just like he had Heather. “There’s a whole world you haven’t seen, Edie.” He placed the white cloth over her face. “And I’m going to show it all to you.”

  Suddenly Chyna was back at her mother’s desk, holding the red ribbon from Edie Larson’s hair in her hand. She dropped it as if it were a poisonous snake. Sweat poured down the side of her face and her heart beat so hard it felt as if it might fracture a rib. Daylight saving time had ended and already the evening was closing in, a soft gray evening pressing at the windows, shadows lurking in the corner. Michelle had curled up at Chyna’s feet and she reached down, rubbing the dog’s ears. Michelle licked her hand. This was how they sat most evenings, with Chyna reading medical books and Michelle right beside her, waiting for the occasional pat or ear rub and, at the end of study time, a beef-basted biscuit.

  And that’s how it should be tonight, Chyna thought. I can’t go on with this. She was tired, she felt sick physically and emotionally, and her head was beginning to ache fiercely. But no matter how she felt, one more object on the desk seemed to call out to her, and she was helpless to resist holding it in her hand—a four-leaf-clover necklace. Zoey’s necklace.

  Zoey had bought them matching necklaces when they were fifteen, and Chyna had worn hers faithfully ever since Zoey’s disappearance. She wore it now. All of these years, she’d pictured Zoey wearing her own necklace, even if she were nothing except a skeleton by now. Instead, here it lay, still clean and sparkling, right in front of her.

  Chyna’s hand crept toward the necklace almost as if the hand belonged to someone else. Finally, her middle finger touched the chain and she quickly grabbed it before nerves overtook her.

  Chyna expected to be rocked by a vision as soon as she touched Zoey’s necklace. Instead, she seemed swallowed in cloying, complete obscurity. Puzzled, she closed h
er eyes and tightened her grip on the clover pendant so tightly she could feel the edges jabbing painfully against her skin. The smothering, unnatural gloom lightened into the sweet, warm, velvety darkness of a summer’s night, and suddenly Chyna could see what had happened twelve years earlier.

  Moonlight danced off the waters of Lake Manicora and the night seemed full of fireflies. “It’s almost like a firecracker display!” Zoey was saying, her voice gleeful, her brown eyes filled with delight. “I think this is the most beautiful, wonderful night of my whole life!” And then she looked up at the face of a man.

  Gage Ridgeway.

  Chyna was so shocked she dropped the necklace and opened her eyes. She’d remembered that earlier in the visit Zoey had run into Gage Ridgeway. He’d greeted her, told her she was “lookin’ good,” and Zoey had been transported. Apparently, they’d talked again and set up a rendezvous at the lake, a rendezvous kept secret from Chyna.

  Everything in Chyna rebelled against picking up that necklace again, seeing what had happened to Zoey at Gage’s hands, but she knew Zoey wanted her to see. Zoey had wanted her to see since the first time she’d spoken to Chyna at the lake. “I owe her that much,” Chyna muttered, and again clutched the necklace.

  More darkness. The fireflies. Then Gage bending down and kissing Zoey deeply. After the kiss, she’d looked at him with tears in her eyes. “I won’t get to see you again until next summer,” she’d said mournfully.

  “Next summer isn’t so far away. And by then you’ll be seventeen and I don’t think Vivian Greer will object to you going out with me. We won’t have to sneak around like this.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Zoey had looked at him with pleading eyes. “Will you write to me?”

  “At least every two weeks. And I’ll use a fake name on the return address. How about ’Irma Vogel’?” Zoey, who had met Irma, laughed delightedly. Gage had smiled and leaned down to kiss Zoey’s freckled nose. “Everything is going to be fine, Zoe. I promise.”

  And you had no idea to how many girls he’d made that same promise, Chyna thought. Gage simply could not resist girls of sixteen or seventeen. She sensed that he already had been feeling relieved that Zoey was leaving tomorrow. There were so many other girls to conquer.

  They hugged. And now he’s going to grab her, Chyna thought with dread. Now he’s going to put a hand over her mouth and pull her backward….

  Instead, Gage had begun walking away from the lake toward the parking lot. Zoey had stood still, watching him climb onto his motorcycle, throw her a casual wave in return for the kiss she blew to him, and roar out of the parking lot. Then, wiping tears from her cheeks, Zoey had begun to climb the hill up to the Greer house, the hill on which Chyna slept peacefully in the grass by the road.

  “No!” Chyna cried, making Michelle jump. “No. That’s not what happened. She was killed by the man she met at the lake!”

  Except she wasn’t.

  Chyna squeezed her eyes shut. Her head was pounding now, her neck grew stiff with tension, and her entire body felt damp with perspiration in spite of the comfortable temperature of the house.

  She’d dropped the necklace in shock when she’d seen Zoey, healthy and only unhappy about parting from her “big love” of the summer. Zoey had been headed back to Chyna, who lay sleeping between Zoey and the house. Zoey had been fine. It couldn’t be possible. Chyna’s vision of that night was “off.” With determination, she picked up the necklace one last time.

  This time the vision was not slow in coming. She felt as if she were flying through time, back twelve years, to that warm, beautiful July night. Zoey was humming to herself as she climbed the hill. She was humming and smiling and touching the four-leaf-clover pendant on her necklace—

  When Ned stepped out from the woods beside her. She squealed slightly in surprise. Then they both laughed as Ned said, “Geez, Zoe, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

  “I thought you were a bear or something,” Zoey giggled self-consciously. Chyna could feel that the girl was actually afraid she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “It was so hot tonight and Chyna and I couldn’t sleep, so we decided to take a walk….”

  Zoey seemed to run out of breath and her smile was stiff and unnatural. But Ned looked completely at ease as he said, “Sometimes I need to get out of the house, too. I get, I don’t know, claustrophobic at night.”

  “Is that why you quit listening to your music and came out?” Ned looked at her quizzically. “You said you were going to listen to music with your headphones on all evening so you wouldn’t bother anyone.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “You were lying that night, Ned,” Chyna now murmured. “You’d heard Zoey make plans with Gage….”

  Back in the past, Chyna could see Ned looking around. “You’re all alone except for Chyna?” Zoey nodded. “Well, she’s asleep in the grass on up the hill.”

  “Asleep? Well, I’ll have to wake her up.” Zoey looked at him pleadingly. “You won’t tell on us, will you?”

  “ ’Course not.” A tight, narrow smile appeared on Ned’s face. “You can count on it.”

  “Oh God,” Chyna moaned as in her vision she saw Ned grab Zoey in the way she’d already come to know—hand over mouth, arm around her midriff, and tilting her backward as he dragged her off into the woods. “Zoey, I’m so sorry,” Chyna said aloud. “I should have been there for you.”

  “But you weren’t.”

  Chyna whirled around to see Ned standing right behind her. “N-Ned!” she blurted in a bright, brittle voice. She tried to casually push the letter and trinkets aside. “I didn’t know you were coming by. Did you bring Bev and the kids?”

  “It’s too late to try to act natural, Chyna. I’ve been standing here for at least five minutes.” Her heart felt as if it were plunging to her stomach, but she could think of nothing to say. “I see you have a letter. No doubt it’s from Mom, and hidden someplace only you could find, hidden because it told you all her secrets. Where was it, Chyna?” She stared at him. “Oh, come on. It can’t hurt to tell me now.”

  Chyna felt as if her mouth were so dry she could barely speak. “It was behind the portrait of Mom and … Dad.”

  “Don’t you mean Mom and your dad?”

  Ned grinned. She’d always thought he was so good-looking—blond, blue-eyed, even-featured, with that slightly lopsided, charming smile—but he wasn’t good-looking now. Now he looked pale and flat-eyed and his smile had turned into the slit of a shark’s mouth. Something about him didn’t even appear human anymore. “The man in the portrait isn’t my father, Chyna.”

  Should I bluff or be honest? Chyna wondered. But something in Ned’s expression told her they were beyond bluffing. “Did Mom tell you Edward wasn’t your father?”

  Ned looked away from her for a moment, those awful, flat eyes focused on the portrait of her parents. “Vivian didn’t tell me when I was a kid. But I knew. You’re not the only one who can sense things, Chyna. I think I was about nine when I began to wonder if Rex was my father instead of Edward. When I was old enough to know anything, I thought it was odd that I was a seven-and-half-pound premature baby. Then I read a book about a boy who thought one guy was his father and he found out another guy was. All at once … bingo! I knew I was just like that boy in the book.” He gave her a weird, crooked smile. “Bizarre, isn’t it?”

  “Very. And pretty flimsy evidence, if you ask me.”

  “Oh, you mean I should have checked with you? Gotten a reading from the walking ESP machine? Oh, but you were only six then. It was a whole year before the boating accident that triggered your visions.” He paused and smiled. “You didn’t have the slightest idea that it wasn’t just one boat banging into another that sent you over the side of the Chyna Sea, did you?”

  “W-what?” Chyna was flabbergasted. “Do you mean …”

  “That you had a little help? Yes. When the boat jerked, I was standing beside you. In a flash I just put my hand on your back and sent you right ov
er the side.”

  Chyna felt as if she could hardly get her breath. “Then why did you save me?”

  “Oh, Chyna, don’t act stupid. If there’s anyone in the world who’s not stupid, it’s you. You were everyone’s little

  darling. So pretty, so smart, so accomplished. Everyone’s golden girl. Oh, Ned was okay when he was behaving himself—average intelligence, good sense of humor, temporarily gawky looks he was bound to outgrow—but Chyna! Well, she was another matter altogether.

  “You got all the attention until that day when her brave, athletic brother risked his ten-year-old life to save his sister and succeeded! Wow, was I the glory boy for a while. It felt so good, Chyna. It felt so very, very good. Even Edward looked at me differently. Not that he’d ever let anyone else see the coolness in his eyes when he’d looked at me earlier, but after that day even he let a little warmth show—warmth he usually reserved for you.”

  “Ned, Dad never treated you different than he did me.”

  Ned smirked at her. “He never treated me different, but treating us the same was an effort for him because he felt different I didn’t have to be a psychic like you to know. Kids sense those things. Edward Greer did not love me. He resented me with every fiber of his being.”

  “No, he didn’t!” Chyna and Ned both stiffened when they heard Rex’s voice as he descended the stairs from the second floor. Chyna had forgotten he was still in the house. “You weren’t Edward’s biological child, but you were Vivian’s child and my child, and he loved both of us. He loved you, too.”

  Ned nearly spat, “He hated me from the minute I was born because I was the child of Vivian and you!”

  “When you realized you weren’t Edward’s child, you made up this whole fantasy about how you were unloved, resented, maybe even hated,” Rex lashed back. “You were jealous of your sister, but you couldn’t admit that. No, Ned, you’ve always had one thing your sister doesn’t—a huge ego. You couldn’t admit to feeling something as petty as jealousy of a little girl, so you invented reasons to explain all the foulness that’s festered inside you since you were a child!”