Harkham's Case (Harkam's #1)

by Chanse Lowell

  She moved away. “Well, he can hate me instead of himself, because I was stupid enough to follow his instructions.”

  “You were high, Mari. What do you expect?”

  “I was never more sober in my life. You shot up, I didn’t. I performed your sexual favors, you left, and somewhere in there, she died.” She kicked his back wheel.

  He opened the trunk, thrust her bags in her hands and spit on her foot. “Fine, be a bitch about it. I’m telling you the guys have all said you can come back.”

  “You think I want to after what happened? You think I can step anywhere near your ski resort mountain without imagining that one-year-old’s lifeless eyes as she lay in her bed covered in vomit?” Her stomach roiled just thinking about it.

  “It was SIDS, Mari. That’s all.”

  “That’s not all. I did my homework. SIDS happens to babies when they’re infants. She aspirated on her own throw up because she was crying so loud for me to help her. I ignored it. I probably heard it.” She shrugged. “I don’t even remember how loud her wails were.”

  “There’s nothing to feel guilty about,” he shouted, slammed the trunk shut, then punched it hard.

  “The fact you have a clean conscience over this is exactly why I can’t stand to be around you!” She took off, running to the front door of her father’s dilapidated house with its peeling light green paint.

  It was unlocked as usual. She pushed her way in, dropped her bags and locked the door.

  She heard the car speed away and rested her forehead on the door.

  After a beat, she turned her head to the side to see the silhouette of roundness reclined in a chair.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  She was greeted with a dying grunt.

  This week was going to be exactly what she deserved.

  Chapter 13

  Living with a hoarder was a nightmare, but Mari’s dad had always kept her room free of his clutter and prized possessions.

  Not anymore. Mari was tucked in bed with boxes, stuffed animals, clothes, shoes, old radios shoved up against her walls and all sorts of useless shit piled in her closet. There was a wider pathway than in the rest of the house, but it was still claustrophobic.

  At least it would give her something to do tomorrow to keep her mind off the horrors her mind wanted to play on a loop from past times spent here in this god-awful town.

  Adam’s soft music he’d made for her poured into her ears, lulling her to sleep . . .

  Loud, angry music played as she watched Vic insert the needle in his inner elbow. A moment later, he sighed with a doped-up grin. His cloudy eyes raked over her while he released the restraint on his arm that was making his veins more prominent.

  “C’mere. You know what I want,” he said.

  He pulled her by the leg—had her trapped under him. She barely weighed over a hundred pounds, and he was a big muscular guy, three years older than she was.

  His hands were tearing her clothes off. She didn’t bother to stop him. The quicker they got this over with, the sooner he’d leave her with the drugs and go.

  He sweated and grunted as he took what he wanted from her body. She reciprocated but didn’t have to do much since he was so wasted.

  The needle was left behind along with her portion. This would be her first time trying a syringe. She’d only smoked stuff before now.

  He stumbled out the door of his buddy’s house.

  Owen would be home soon. She’d wait and get high in her room later when she went home.

  She tucked the drugs away in her bag, turned off the music and switched on the TV. She heard the faint bleatings of the baby from the back bedroom. With the door closed, it was much quieter. Would she ever shut up? She’d been crying for damn near a half hour now!

  Mari shut her eyes and went to sleep.

  An hour later, she was woken up by Owen. He smiled at her in a way that she could tell he was remembering the last time he got high with her and they had group sex with Vic and a few of his other friends.

  Owen’s girlfriend Claire didn’t know, and why tell her? It was in the past, and she probably wouldn’t believe a twelve-year-old, almost thirteen-year-old, would do that. But then, Owen was only seventeen. Not much older than she was, and he already had a toddler in the beginning stages of walking.

  Their baby girl was adorable with her curly brown hair, dark, inquisitive eyes and chubby legs. Mari adored her.

  “I’ll drive you home,” Owen said.

  “Sounds good.” She grabbed her bag and tucked it protectively under her arm. He gave her a twenty to pay for babysitting and they waved bye to Claire, now sitting on the couch, almost passed out.

  “Did you let her cry it out?” he asked once they were driving.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Claire spoils her rotten. You have to ignore her no matter how hard she cries in her crib. I don’t want a brat on my hands because her mom can’t stop giving in to her.” He turned up the music on the stereo.

  “I always listen to you,” she said, beaming at him.

  He was gorgeous, smart, and everything she wanted.

  The night turned from dark to nothing but a blanket of black. His face morphed before her eyes into his small baby’s lifeless body lying in ungodly angles in her own filthy vomit and excrement.

  Mari picked up the body—it was floppy and white with demon red eyes.

  Blood poured out of the baby’s mouth, then the little girl whispered without moving her lips, “You did this. You killed me.”

  Mari dropped the baby and screamed until her own blood turned to ice . . .

  She jolted awake, only to find a massive form hovering over her, shaking her. “Mari, you’re having a nightmare.”

  “Dad . . .” She wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Sorry . . . I . . . I’ll try to sleep on my stomach so if I do that again, it won’t wake you.”

  She could see the faint outline of a smile, but then he wobbled away and shut the door behind him.

  It must have been bad for him to come all the way upstairs. The last she’d heard, he slept downstairs now in his recliner. His acid reflux was so bad that lying in a bed made it worse. It also hurt his tender feet to walk up those hard steps.

  Mari sat up, took a deep breath and hung over the side of her bed. After a few more lungfuls of stale air, she grabbed her laptop and composed an email for the person she missed more than anything.

  Adam,

  It’s already happening—I’m already having horrible nightmares, flashbacks of that night so long ago. Before I lose the nerve, I’m going to put this in writing and tell you everything that happened. I hope you’ll share it with your whole family so they can talk some sense into you . . .

  She went ahead and told every detail of her dream since that’s exactly what happened that night with the exception of the baby turning into a ghoul at the end.

  The message ended with another warning. She hit send with tears in her eyes.

  Mari went back to bed, and this time she woke before the baby turned demon because her ringing cell woke her up.

  “Yeah?” she answered.

  “I miss you already. Can’t you come back home?” Adam pleaded.

  She smiled and sat up. His voice was more comforting than she deserved.

  Some light peeked in through the old dusty blinds, but his words were already making the room aglow with warmth and goodness.

  “What? You mean you haven’t figured out a way to sneak yourself up here yet?” She chuckled.

  “Do you want me there?”

  “You know I do, but it wouldn’t be good for you.” She paused. “I’m gonna take a picture so you can see what I’m living in. And this is only my room. The rest of the house is worse.”

  “Whadaya mean?”

  “My dad’s a hoarder. His house is filled with junk, and today I’m going to watch him bawl his eyes out as I haul all this crud out of my room.”

  “He’ll cry?” His voice shook.

  “Y
eah. Or he did in the past whenever I chucked out his stuff.” She leaned her head back against the wall. “He gets attached to it all. It’s like cutting his arm off.”

  “Did you grow up like that?” Soft music played in the background wherever Adam was. Pianos and violins—it was soothing.

  “No. My mom and dad split up when I was about four. He wanted to live here, and she didn’t. He was also gaining a lot of weight, and it bothered her. They fought a lot. She left with me and went back to Phoenix where she grew up.”

  “That’s sad. I feel bad for you,” he replied softly.

  “Don’t feel bad for me, hon. I can deal with it. I used to come stay with my dad during the summers until I started getting in trouble here in Alta. There’s not much to do here during the hot months. It’s a small ski town.” Oh God! She said the town’s name. Now he’d probably look it up and find a way to get here and find her.

  Why couldn’t she keep her big mouth shut?

  “That’s where your dad lives.”

  “You can’t come here, Adam,” she repeated.

  “Why? I want to be with you. I can help you clean up his messes.”

  She swallowed. “I know you could, sweetie. You’re so wonderful that way, but the numbers would overwhelm you if you were here. My dad’s not the only problem I have to face.” She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Did you get my email?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t read it yet. I wanted to talk to you instead, so I called you. Was that wrong?”

  She chuckled. He was the only person she knew that was always checking with her to make sure everything was good between them. “It’s fine. Just make sure you read it sometime today. How about I tell you a story in an email every day while I’m here?”

  “I’d like that.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “You might not. I think it’s time you got to know who I really am. I’ll tell you different sad stories of my life so you’ll know why I’m not good for you.”

  He exhaled. “No matter how many times you tell me that, I’ll never believe it. There’s goodness in your heart. I can feel it.”

  “Yeah, just call me Darth Vader. I’ll chuck the head bad guy off the side to temporarily redeem myself, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t do all those other nasty things beforehand.” She picked at the pills on her bedspread.

  “I miss your lips.”

  “Adam, I . . .” This sounded oddly like the beginnings of phone sex.

  “When you kiss me, my toes want to dig in the dirt so they can’t count numbers. And then I wanna do more to you than that.”

  “Is that good? Not being able to count the numbers?” What a dumb question, but she had no clue what else to say.

  “It’s really good. Wanna know something else?”

  “Not really.” She smiled, knowing he’d tell her anyway.

  “I think I found a good way to beat the numbers, besides you. Because I know you can’t always be holding my hand, even if I wish you could.” He paused, and she could hear paper crinkling. “I’m turning the numbers into notes. I’ve started figuring out how to write songs again. When I get upset, I force myself now to see notes instead of numbers.”

  Her heart rate spiked. “Do you think you could hum some music from your head for me right now?”

  “Mmhmm,” he hummed, then turned it into a song. It was scattered and a little rough, but it was magnificent. He sang to her, and he had an amazing voice.

  When he was done, she was out of breath. “That was beautiful. Do you have a name for it?”

  “Mari’s Night of Breaking Stars.”

  She wagged her head. “Only you could come up with a name like that.”

  “Is it stupid?”

  “It’s perfect, like you.” She struggled to stop sounding so breathy and enamored of him. “Do you think the next time the numbers are about to storm on you, it could be turned into a song you could hum instead of shouting numbers?”

  He didn’t answer, but she heard his breath so she knew he was still there.

  “Could you do that for me? Your friend?” Her voice went softer.

  “Mari, I don’t wanna be friends anymore. It hurts too much. I want you to be my girlfriend. You don’t have to have sex with me or anything like that, even when my dick gets really hard for you, but I’d like to kiss you a lot.”

  Guilt rose in her throat along with bile. He must’ve been talking to Zach, his brother, a lot more about sex lately, because he’d never referred to it as his dick before. Adam usually just said he was sore. He must be really going nuts to approach a family member about it. “I think you should read my email before you say these kinds of things.”

  “I don’t need to read it. I want you all the time. Really bad. I want the scent of your skin in my nose, I want to taste your lips again, and I want to be in the real rain with you, not the fake stuff. I want to eventually touch your breasts and feel how warm and soft your skin is under your bra because I love how round you are there. I want to lick your nipples, and see what you taste like in your most intimate areas. We can be together. And maybe someday you’ll let me put my hands down inside your jeans again. I really love your round, firm ass cheeks. They should be squeezed by me often. My hands really want that. I feel all that and more because I love touching you.”

  “Love, huh?” she teased.

  “Yes. I’m going to stop saying like all the time. It’s not adequate enough of a word to describe anything I feel about you. Love isn’t strong enough either, but it’s all I’ve got.” He chuckled, and it was the most adorable sound in the world. “Please, Mari. Give me a chance to be what you need. I can help you.”

  She sighed. “You think all of that because you still don’t know everything. Let’s put these thoughts on hold and wait until the week is done. I want you to know more. I promise I’ll tell you everything. No more hiding.”

  “Are you going to hang up now?”

  “Not yet. Tell me what your plans are today . . .” She got up and opened the blinds. It was gray outside.

  “I’m going to mow the lawn. Zach says he might take me to a movie, but I can only have popcorn, no soda.”

  “Well, maybe you could save me a few of your grass clippings, and don’t worry about the soda. I’ll find a way to get you another one when I get back. Did anybody find out about any of the other sugary stuff I’ve given you?”

  He giggled. “No. I did what you said. I hid it real good, and I only eat sugared stuff after I eat something else first.”

  “Good boy. I knew you could handle it.”

  “How did you know?” His voice went up in pitch.

  She could imagine his adorable eyes glistening with wonder. “Because after I stopped taking drugs, I gained a lot of weight. In order to lose it, I went on a lot of bad crash diets. I stopped eating sugar and white flour and—”

  “Like right now? You don’t eat sugar now.”

  “I didn’t do it right though because I still ate things that spiked my blood sugar so I’d still crave sugary foods. I’d go a week, maybe ten days, then I’d cave and my whole body would shake. I’d get a raging headache and could barely think straight. I’d have to lie in bed until it passed. It was awful.”

  She could hear him moving on the other end. “I got that—me too!”

  “That’s what I figured. You probably were on an almost empty stomach, and after not having processed sugar in so long, it was like a narcotic hit to your system and when you crashed from the sugar high, you got emotional and out of control.” She leaned against the windowsill. “Samara told me that you went a little nuts that last time I gave you a soda.”

  “It wasn’t so bad.”

  “Tell me . . . I wanna know exactly what happened.”

  He told her what happened that day and the next when he had to skip school, and how it had nothing to do with sugar intake. “It wasn’t as bad as when my mom left, though. Not anywhere near as bad as that.”

  “Do you want to tell me a
bout that?”

  “No. I’m not good at telling stories like you are,” he said, his voice stiff.

  “What if you write your story in an email like I’m doing for you? We can both purge, tell each other the bad stuff we don’t want to say out loud?”

  “Will it make you hate me?”

  “Never, Adam. Never . . . That’s simply not possible.”

  * * *

  Mari’s dad left halfway through the day. He couldn’t take it anymore. Just as she’d predicted, he cried, pleaded for her to stop, but she kept going.

  Her room was cleaned out, but now she was tackling the kitchen—the worst spot in the house in terms of trash lying about.

  The other rooms were filled with clutter, but this room smelled like rotting food and feces. It was enough to make her vomit, and vomiting would make her trip out—episode again.

  She tightened the bandanna around her mouth and dug through the dishes in the sink, setting them on the counter so she could fill the sink with soapy water and start cleaning them.

  Creeeeeeeaaaak . . .

  Her head snapped over her shoulder only to find Vic standing there with work gloves and a bandanna around his neck. “I’m sorry . . . About last night, I don’t know what I was thinking. I know it’s hard for you to come here. I just . . . I miss you a lot. I was mad you didn’t miss me back.”

  “Do you want me to apologize for not wanting to be here in this sty?” Her eyes traveled around the room.

  He gripped the door and leaned into it. “No. But I wish you cared about me at least a little . . .” His head titled down and angled to the side a little as he looked at her, studying her reaction.

  “I can’t care about anybody here—it only makes it all hurt worse. I have to feel disconnected or I’d never survive coming back here.” She opened the cupboard under the sink, found the dish soap and squirted some into the sink. She went about plugging it and filling it with water.

  “Can I help to make up for being a bastard last night?”

  “You can make up for it by not dwelling and forgetting about anything other than helping my dad out. That’s all that matters.” Right now all she cared about was cleaning this place up so it was at least halfway livable.