Dark Water

by Laird, Chynna

Freesia pulled harder on the material and out came a balled-up shirt covered in dust, a few dust bunnies trailing after it. "Oh, gross," she said, coughing. "Your dad forgot one of his shirts."

  "I don't recognize that one." Rick frowned.

  Freesia straightened it out and then gasped. "This is the sweatshirt Mizu always wears." She carried the hoodie over to the picture of Frank, Rick and his brothers. "It looks just like the one your dad is wearing in this picture, only much more worn."

  "Okay, I think you're reaching on this one." He swept up a mixture of buttered popcorn and dust bunnies. "Do you know how many people have blue hooded sweatshirts?"

  That's exactly what she'd said to Sage.

  She grabbed the picture from the shelf, bringing it over to Rick, and gave it to him. She spread the sweatshirt out. "That's what I thought too, but look closer. How many sweatshirts have the same air force badge on the arm? They don't just hand those out, you know. You have to be enlisted. Sage told me the other night she found one exactly like this in my mom's closet. It was my dad's."

  He stared at the photo, then the sweatshirt and back to the picture. "Yeah. That's weird. But it isn't the same. See? This one has a cigarette burn in the arm. My dad doesn't smoke."

  Freesia wasn't sure how to answer him. Frank wouldn't have been fooling around with a teenaged girl, would he? She shuddered at the thought. She tilted her head, looking at the sweatshirt. It was beyond 'worn in.' It looked like it had been washed a few hundred times. Or it had been soaking in water for a long period of time. And there was a really odd dark stain on the hood that she hadn't noticed before. It was the same size and shape of a honeydew melon. A voice startled them both.

  "What are you doing?" Frank stood in the kitchen doorway. He was wringing his hands and shifting from one foot to the other. She noted that the back door leading down to the dock was in the living room and a short sprint away.

  Rick positioned himself between Freesia and his dad, holding the broom so tight his knuckles turned white. Freesia felt her stomach drop.

  "Dad! We were just watching a movie. We spilled our popcorn and—"

  "Put that down! I'm not armed."

  Freesia moved closer to Rick's back, eyeing the back door.

  What was he talking about?

  He didn't seem drunk, but he looked terrified. His eyes darted around before he eyed the sweatshirt and the picture on the couch and his mouth fell open. "Where did you—" He swallowed hard. "Oh, no. We have to go."

  An icy slosh bubbled up in Freesias chest.

  He's out of it. He must be having some sort of PTSD break.

  Rick grabbed his father's arm. "Go where, Dad? Look, if it's about the stupid sweatshirt—"

  "Sh!" His father crouched. "They found me at the Laundromat. I was cornered. They asked me questions, but I didn't know anything, I swear." He stayed crouched down and moved closer to the two teens. "He has some evidence and sent away for analysis. Said it all links back to me somehow. He told me I couldn't leave or even go back to the city without letting him and his boys know."

  Freesia's heart almost jumped out of her chest. She pressed herself against Rick's back, trying not to cry.

  Oh, my God. Why wouldn't the detective just come over to our house first?

  Rick wrapped his free arm around Freesia from behind him. "Dad? Did you want to come in here and lie down? I can get you a beer or some tea. We can talk."

  Frank tilted his head, wiping his forehead with his palm. "No. We have to leave. I have to protect you."

  "I have to go home," Freesia mumbled. "I'm supposed to be home now and my grandparents are probably worried about me—"

  Frank lunged at her. "No! You can't leave. If you go out alone, they'll get you too. No. I have to move you both somewhere safe. I can't lose you again."

  Rick motioned to the back door. "Freesia," he said, keeping his tone strong but soothing, "go to the door and go home."

  Instead of going to the back door like she'd logically thought about earlier, she ran past Frank to go out the front. "Not that way!"

  Too late.

  Frank grabbed Freesia's shoulders and she screamed. At the exact moment her high-pitched screech left her lips, Frank's entire demeanor changed. He flipped Freesia down, pinning her to the floor with his forearm across her chest.

  "Don't do that," he whispered. "They'll hear you." His eyes scanned the room.

  Freesia's breath came in short gasps as Frank had most of his weight on her chest. She stared up into his face. He looked exactly how Sage looked when she woke up in the middle of a night fright. His eyes were open, but he wasn't seeing what everyone else was seeing. Freesia was terrified. She knew what to do with her sister because it was usually sensory related. She had no clue how to help Frank. Or what would make things worse.

  Rick must have gone through it with his dad before because he didn't panic or freak out. He walked slowly to his dad with his hands up in the air. "Dad? You need to let Freesia go. You're hurting her. Dad? Can you hear me?"

  Frank shifted his body, releasing some of the pressure from his forearm. He was in a low crouch, like he was ready to pounce on some unseen assailant. "Get down! They're coming. I can hear them."

  A flash of lightning shot across the sky. Frank gasped, covering Freesia with his body. "They're here. Let's move. Move!"

  Rick shuffled closer. "Dad, can you hear me? Focus on my voice."

  Rick's touch startled Frank and he reacted by grabbing Rick's wrist. In one fluid motion, he ripped the broom from Rick's grip, flung it behind him into the kitchen and then kicked the back of Rick's knee. The latter action brought Rick down, his head smacking into the fireplace grill. He slumped on the floor, his body limp, unmoving.

  "Rick!" Freesia scrambled out from under Frank, who clamped an arm around her waist, putting his other hand over her mouth.

  "Don't do that, now," he said through gritted teeth. His lips, so close to her ear, brushed against her skin when he spoke. "If you make a noise, they'll find us and do worse things to us. Please be quiet. I don't want to have to hurt you."

  Her body shook. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  "Okay," he said. "Good. Follow what I do. Do what I say and we'll all get out just fine, okay?"

  Oh, dear God. He's totally gone and I have no idea how to work him through this.

  Complying with him was the only option. She was scared of where this psychotic break would take him. And her.

  She kept her eyes closed and nodded.

  He slowly took his hand away from her mouth. "Okay. We have to get down to the boathouse. It's our only chance." He looked all wild-eyed and was looking around them for whatever enemy only he could hear or see. She looked over at Rick's body sprawled out on the floor. He must have detected her concern because he said, "Don't worry. We don't leave anyone behind."

  Frank helped Freesia up and held on to her wrist, forcing her to stay ducked down. He led her over to Rick's body, put two fingers on the side of Rick's neck and breathed a sigh of relief. "It's okay. They didn't kill him."

  He doesn't remember throwing Rick into the fireplace?

  He flung Rick over his shoulder, yanking Freesia with the other hand, and moved to the back door. The rain poured down in sheets, making it not only difficult to see, but also to walk. The fact that the dark-gray clouds gave the appearance of a much later time of day didn't help, either.

  The Oakleys' stairs were easier to walk down, but Freesia stumbled every few steps, being yanked along from Frank's frantic pace.

  When they made it to the boathouse, Frank rolled Rick off his shoulder into the back of the boat, covering him with a tarp. Not letting go of Freesia's wrist, he pushed the button that lowered the boat into the channel and ordered her to get into the boat. He nodded toward it. "Lay under the tarp with him."

  She did as she was told, squishing herself as close as possible to Rick. She felt his breath on her face so she knew he was still alive.

  Hold on, Rick. Someone will find us.


  After that, she had no idea where she was or where Frank was taking them. A clap of thunder exploded above them and she jumped.

  Please, Granddad. Let this be one of those times you look out the window to check out what idiot would be going out in this weather.

  She closed her eyes, feeling the choppy waves hitting the bottom of the boat as Frank sped off, praying again that they found wherever he was taking them without capsizing.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mizu watched the boat drive away. She saw it all. Anger and hatred shook her body.

  Where is he?

  The weather seemed to mirror her emotions as the sky lit up with lightning followed by the sonic boom of thunder.

  The Watcher appeared by her side, placing his hands on her shoulders. "The end is near. You must go now and plant the final seed."

  "What if I'm not strong enough," she whispered. A single tear trickled down her cheek. "What if he doesn't come?"

  His grip tightened. "He will come. All will be clear tonight and he will no longer be able to hide. You must go now before things take a different turn. The right man must take the fall."

  She closed her eyes. Her body felt stronger than it ever had.

  "The rain will keep you strong. Use its energy to finish your journey. I will always be here for you, child."

  His hand slipped away.

  She was alone.

  She opened her eyes to see the boat masterfully taking the high waves until it disappeared into the fog.

  I'm coming for you.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Freesia wasn't sure how long they'd been going, but the rain was getting heavier. She could tell because the pressure of the drops were stronger, drumming against the tarp wrapped around her like a band snare player. And as the boat rose and fell among the waves, tiny rivers of water sneaked under the tarp.

  She wished there had been a way to track where they were or have a way to send a message to someone. She heard the motor cut off and felt the boat drifting. After a minute, there was a grinding noise as the front of the boat hit land of some kind. She scooted even closer to Rick as their bodies jolted forward and then rolled back.

  After what felt like hours, Frank ripped the tarp back. "Okay, we're here. Let's go. Quickly!"

  He'd put on fishing raingear—jacket, waterproof pants and the ugliest rubber boots she'd ever seen. She stood, struggling to steady herself on the slippery surface of the boat's floor. She tumbled twice—once to her knees and once on her butt—before finally making it out. Frank helped her out of the boat and guided her toward a narrow path leading into a small forest.

  While he went into the boat to get Rick, Freesia scanned the area. It looked like he'd taken them to some sort of island because everywhere she looked there was water. She squinted, trying to see as the rain pelted her in the face. There was something so familiar about where they were. The trees…the path…

  She breathed in sharply. My dream. The one I had in the car on the way up here where Mom was calling for me. Where she was dead.

  She shuddered. Then she felt a hand on her back, pushing her up the path.

  "Get moving," Frank yelled over the waves, wind and rain. "Walk that way all the way up. There's a cabin at the top."

  Lightning streaked across the lake, followed by the bang of thunder that boomed directly above them. Freesia screamed and buried her face in her forearms.

  Frank ducked down, covering his head with his free arm. "Just get moving. We have no time to waste."

  The path wound around and through the trees until she finally saw a small cabin right in the middle of the forest.

  This must be the fishing cabin Rick said his dad disappeared to a few times a year with his buddies. I didn't know it was so far away. She hoped that others knew about the spot too.

  The cabin was a modest size. There was one bedroom with a door and the rest of the cabin was all one space divided into a kitchen, living room and eating area. Observing the candle lanterns and heavy-duty wood-burning stove, she guessed there was no electricity. And not seeing a bathroom, she guessed there had to be an outhouse.

  Gross. She hoped they were found long before she needed to use it.

  Frank led Freesia inside, motioning over to the plush-cushioned couches. He carried Rick into the bedroom and closed the door, leaving it open just a crack, before moving over to the stove.

  "Why are you doing this?" She tried to keep her voice as steady as she could. There was no way she could show him her fear. It could make things even worse.

  Frank threw logs into the stove and lit it. "They all think it's my fault he's dead, you know. And now they think I killed her too."

  Freesia bit the inside of her bottom lip, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets in a lame attempt to hide her fear. Her heart almost stopped when her right hand hit something metal in her pocket the size of her palm.

  The mini-tape recorder.

  Grabbing the opportunity and praying she hadn't rewound it, she thumbed around the side of the machine and found the Record button. Freesia hoped Frank didn't hear the tiny click. "No one is blaming you for Santiago's death. None of that was your fault—"

  "I told them to take me, you know? He was just a kid. Just a kid. The others were too scared to say anything." His face paled, a frown stitched his forehead and his eyes rimmed with tears. He sat on the cushion beside Freesia.

  She cowered from him, unsure of what he was about to do.

  But he burst into tears. Freesia stayed silent, allowing Frank to cry until he could speak over his sobs. "Barry wanted to make a plan to escape. Always thinking about the fastest way out, you know? I told him to cool it, to play it safe, but he wouldn't listen. They got mad at him and beat him. After that, those animals just grabbed Santiago, laughing right in my face."

  Freesia covered her mouth with her hands. The memories of the words she'd read in her dad's witness report and the individual reports by the guys who were there with Santiago flooded her brain. She'd only read about the experience. She couldn't begin to understand what it must have been like to have actually lived it.

  "But your mom, she helped me, you know? She tried anyway." He turned back to Freesia. "She never gave up on me. Not ever. I wouldn't have hurt her on purpose. You have to believe me. She was an angel. My angel. She helped me through a tough time when nobody else was there or understood. It was an accident. A horrible, terrible accident." He sobbed uncontrollably.

  "I know. I believe you." She tried to sound as sincere as she could. "Tell me what happened."

  He stood up and stared out the window. His chest heaved and he dropped his arms to his sides. "I-I don't remember. I blacked out. Not from booze or anything. I was sober when I saw her. She wouldn't see me if I drank. My memory just goes all wonky sometimes. One second I'm doing something, the next I'm doing something else and I just can't remember what happened in between."

  Freesia sat still, staring up at Frank's face. Her heart broke for him. He wasn't mean. He was confused, struggling to cope in a world that most of the time bombarded him with more than his brain could handle. Just like Sage. In that moment, she felt she truly understood Frank and she wanted to help him.

  He started speaking again. "It was just like it is tonight with the rain and the lightning. I was getting into the car to go back home after seeing Tamara and I heard an awful scream. I was going to go back in, but I saw her running out with someone right behind her. They fought. She yelled. He yelled. I didn't hear anything they said. He grabbed her by her shoulders. She tried getting away and fell. Hard. That's when I don't remember anything."

  He paused. After a few deep breaths he continued. "When I snapped out of it, I was beside her and she wasn't moving. We were out in that ditch where her car rolled over. She was hurt really bad. Blood was pouring down her face. She was wearing one of our sweatshirts. It had her blood all over it. When I leaned down closer to her, I saw that her sunglasses must have broken when she fell. Stabbed her righ
t into the cut in her head."

  He got up and opened a cupboard beside the stove, pulling out a forty-ounce bottle of whiskey.

  "Frank," Freesia said before she had a chance to stop herself. "You don't want to do that, right? My mom wouldn't have wanted you to turn to that."

  He stared at the bottle and put it down on the counter beside him. Freesia pulled her knees into her chest and cried. Another voice asked the very question she had on her mind.

  "Why didn't you get help?"

  Freesia turned to see Rick in the doorway to the bedroom. He didn't look too bad, except for a half-golf-ball-sized lump on the side of his head and bruising developing around his eye. He plunked himself down beside Freesia on the couch.

  Frank shrugged. He rubbed his hand over his military cut hair. "I don't know where she is," he mumbled. "I blacked out again after that. All I remember is a huge pain in my neck and then…nothing. I woke up the next morning on the couch back at the cabin. I don't know what happened. I don't remember!"

  "But someone told us that my mom's car was all covered up and that her sunglasses and your fishing hat were right there," Freesia said, her breath coming in short hiccups. "Someone we know found them and gave them to us. We've already given them to Detective Cuaco. How come no one found those things during the searches?"

  "I don't know. I've been trying to remember for months. I wouldn't have hurt her for the world. I—" His face went white as a sheet, his eye widening. "Wait. What's that?"

  Freesia gently helped lay Rick back the opposite way so she could turn around and look out the window. "I don't see anything."

  She strained to see in the foggy sheets of rain. She had no idea what time it was, but the sky seemed darker than it should have been. A short burst of lightning illuminated the forest and she thought she saw something too.

  "See? Right there." Frank pointed.

  Mizu.

  She wore a blue hooded sweatshirt—not Frank's, but a newer version of it—jeans, sneakers and sunglasses.

  Thunder shook the small cabin.

  Frank ducked down, covering his head with his forearms. "Who the hell is that? How did she get up here? Nobody knows about this place." He jumped up, ran to the door and flung it open.