by Blake Croft
She left the door ajar, and Dave felt his heart plummet into his stomach when her footsteps faded down the hall. He couldn’t be imagining it. The room was suddenly very cold, and the faint light of the street lamp that came from the window deepened the shadows and highlighted the closet.
“Good night, Dave.” Aiden yawned, snuggling deeper under the covers, teddy clutched in one hand.
“Good night, Aiden.”
“Good night, Madam.”
Madam? Dave was in a state of paralysis but his mind was racing. Who was Madam, and why did Aiden say it with a weird accent?
“Who are you talking to, Aiden?” Dave didn’t know why he was whispering. “Aiden!”
But Aiden was snoring softly.
The night was suddenly too quiet. Dave couldn’t hear the noises he would have heard back home, the rustling of leaves from the tree in the backyard, the neighbor’s dog, and his own parents going about their nightly rituals before bed. There was nothing but a piercing silence filled with the drumroll of his heart beat that seemed to be sitting on top of his chest, heavy and brooding. He couldn’t even hear the lilting whispers of the lake.
— § —
He didn’t know how much time had passed but it felt like hours. Dave wondered what it would cost him to put a foot out of bed and make a run for the door, because he was suddenly very sure he didn’t want to be in here. Something was coming, and Dave didn’t want to see it.
He shifted slightly to get the covers off of his feet.
Click.
Dave froze.
The door had closed shut.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Someone was knocking on wood. Dave didn’t move a muscle, his eyes darting to the source of the noise. The closet. His breath hitched in his throat as the closet door unlatched and creaked open a little, making a noise worse than nails on chalkboard.
He shook with fear, not knowing whether to lie back down or to bolt. He waited a few minutes to see what would happen. Maybe the closet door was faulty and opened up all the time. That was probably it. Dave was just being silly.
Dave laughed to dispel the palpable fear in the room.
Thwack!
Something went hurtling above his head. Dave cried out. It bounced off the wall and came to rest in his lap. A small rubber ball lay nestled in his white sheets like a black egg in its nest.
— § —
Abbie was standing on the beach under the full moon. From where she stood the house was a looming black shadow, eyeless but staring. The swish of the waves called behind her and she turned to face the lake. Her limbs were heavy and every step was agony. The guilt of what she had done weighed down on her like a ton of bricks.
But guilt for what? The reason was just beneath the surface of her psyche, a dark shape under the water both mesmerizing and terrifying. She knew. Yet, at the same time, the details eluded her as if the guilt wasn’t her own, but something she had picked up along the path to the beach. What was happening to her?
A swift breeze tore through her like ice picks, and she realized she was completely drenched. She lifted her finger and tasted the liquid dripping from her fingers. It tasted of salt and iron. She looked down at the black streaks that covered her bare arms. She was covered in blood.
Abbie’s eyes shot open. The transition from dream to wakefulness was so abrupt it took her a minute to realize where she was. Richard snored in bed beside her, but that’s not what had woken her. She tried to go back to sleep, but the nightmare was still clouding her thoughts.
Deciding to check on the children, Abbie got out of bed. The hall was dark so she used the light from her phone to guide her. The children’s door was closed. Abbie frowned. She remembered leaving it ajar. Maybe there had been a breeze.
Taking the cool doorknob in one hand, she twisted and pushed, but the door was jammed. The faint stirrings of panic furred the back of her throat. She felt for a keyhole and looked inside but the room was dark. She distinctly remembered thinking about the streetlight and how the room wouldn’t be dark at night.
Keeping calm, she walked down the hall to look for the key in one of her bedroom cupboards when a faint click made her stop in her tracks. The children’s door stood ajar. Someone stood in the doorframe. Abbie’s heart leaped into her throat.
“Mom?”
Abbie sighed with relief. “Hey, Dave. Why aren’t you in bed?”
Dave opened the door and walked out into the hall. He looked pale, and when Abbie touched his forehead he was blazing with fever. “There’s something in that closet. It threw this ball at me.”
Abbie sighed. She had known the children would have nightmares, she had warned Richard to keep his work to himself. “It was just a nightmare, my love. Come on, let’s get you some medicine for your fever and get you to bed.”
“I don’t want to go to that room.”
“I’ll check the closet for monsters, okay Dave?” Abbie frowned. This was the second night in a row that Dave had had nightmares. Maybe it was more than Richard’s stories. The move had certainly taken a toll on all of them, if Abbie’s own nightmare was something to go by. “Come on, please. It’s already really late.”
Dave complied and followed her down the hall the red rubber ball still held in his tight grip.
Chapter Four
— ∞ —
June 14th – 12:53 PM
Lafayette Street, Mandeville – Louisiana
“A bbie, you promised!”
Abbie removed the phone from her ears and pinched the bridge of her nose, praying for patience. She was aware that Katherine was still talking, but Abbie was in no mood to listen to her ex-colleagues rant about Abbie’s lack of interest in her old career.
“… I blame him, and I can’t believe you’re letting him dictate how you live your life. Aiden’s five, Abbie, he’s potty trained for God’s—”
“Katherine, I have to go,” Abbie interrupted.
“Abbie, don’t—”
Abbie disconnected the call. She leaned forward and rested her head on the steering wheel, enjoying the silence in the car. The day had started off harrowingly. Abbie had woken up in the early morning to Dave’s terrified screams.
Richard had had to shoulder the door in a few times before it finally budged open, bruising his shoulder in the process. She breathed a shuddering sigh as the image of Dave’s small bruised fists rose in front of her closed eyes. He had still been banging on the door after she had unlocked it, his eyes closed, and face screwed in fright. Richard had fished out a few tiny splinters from Dave’s hand at the breakfast table.
Had she accidently closed the door last night after putting Dave to bed? Or did the children lock it from the inside? Abbie had looked up and down the house, but found no key to the room. The key ring the owners had left them only had three keys on them: front door, back door and garage door.
Rubbing sweat off her forehead, Abbie grabbed her bag and got out of the car. A cool sea breeze ruffled her loose button down shirt, but did little to abate the sweat pooling under her arms.
It’s probably this humidity, she thought fanning herself with a hand. The woods probably warped with all the temperature changes. I’ll ask Richard to plane it.
Shielding her hand against the glaring sun, Abbie followed a throng of people to a covered street market she had spied when they had driven by it on their way to the beach house.
The beach house. Even after they had all settled in, the place seemed foreign and uninhabited. Richard seemed to be doing well on his manuscript, jotting down notes and character traits. He had even offered to look after the kids while she went grocery shopping, something he hadn’t done in months. Abbie had watched silently as her husband had become more distant, and distracted over the past few months, so this change was a welcome one.
Aiden was also thriving. He had found a dirty old teddy bear, and had refused to have it cleaned, but he slept through the night, was eating well, and was generally out of her way which was unlike hi
m.
But Dave had become a handful, and Abbie was seriously considering taking up Katherine’s offer. It had been much easier being a pharmaceutical rep, selling prescription drugs to physicians and medical practitioners, than fielding night terrors, tantrums and unending demands on her attention, but she wasn’t going to tell Katherine that. It was true that Richard had persuaded her to leave her job when Dave was born, having sold another manuscript and the old one finally reaching national bestseller status, but that wasn’t what kept her away from it now. She couldn’t think of leaving them in anyone else’s care. She was a mother now, and that in itself was a fulfilling career.
Wicker basket swinging by her side, Abbie walked down the covered street looking for some fresh produce. The people were friendly, inviting her to taste tangy peppers, sweet watermelons, and freshly squeezed juices. Abbie bought some onions and potatoes, then went on the lookout for celery and tomatoes.
A band of young locals sang songs from a stoop, their rich melodies and foreign tongue buoying Abbie’s mood, and she resolved to bring the kids with her the next time she came. As it was, she was glad of the chance to enjoy this on her own this once.
“Lemons, limes, lettuce, tomatoes, picked this morning for your pots and stews! Come and buy them while they last! Limited stock!”
The lilting voice belonged to a rotund, middle-aged woman. She stood behind a small stall of wooden crates full of her fresh produce. Her fuchsia head wrap complemented her ebony skin. Her smile was wide, revealing a large gap between her front teeth, yet it was more beautiful for this one imperfection.
Abbie inspected a few tomatoes.
“I picked them myself today. Very firm and juicy. They’ll be a great base for any sauce, or even a stew if that’s what you’re going for tonight.”
“Beef stew, to be precise. It’s my son Dave’s favorite, and he hasn’t been eating that well lately so I thought I’d make it for him tonight. Do you own a farm?”
“Not a farm, no. Our house was completely destroyed by Hurricane Katrina, and we could only afford to build a shotgun house. Left a wide patch of earth for me to do with as I pleased, so I decided to grow vegetables. We’re not doing so bad since my husband’s skiff was undamaged, and I can survive on crawfish for days, but the vegetables bring variety to the table and help pay the bills. Most women planted flowers.” The woman rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine that kind of extravagance?”
Abbie laughed. She was instantly taken with the woman and was enjoying the conversation. She hardly got to converse with adults without being called to mediate a fight between her boys, so this was a breath of fresh air.
“I’m guilty of planting flowers instead of zucchini myself.”
The woman laughed, a booming sound that was infectious and delightful.
“I’m Abbie, by the way. We’ve rented a beach house for the summer along Lakeshore Drive.”
“Welcome to Mandeville, Abbie. I’m Doralise. If you need anything, be it vegetables, crawfish, or just a cup of coffee in the sweltering afternoons, you can come to me. Why, I can even read you your fortune, if you like!”
Abbie laughed. She had expected a few con artists and mystical palm readers when she had come down to French Creole country, but to be propositioned in front of a stack of lettuce heads was something she couldn’t have pictured.
“All right then, a dozen tomatoes, and a palm reading.” Abbie handed Doralise the tomatoes she’d picked out, and then proffered her hand. It was a silly thing to do, but it made Abbie feel young again, as if she had no responsibilities that were nagging for her attention, just this moment of silly fun.
“Let’s see now.” Doralise brought out a pair of gaudy reading glasses decorated with plastic jewels. Her palm was rough and the pads of her fingers hard from rough work, but it was warm and comforting, her big smile shining past her big lips.
She peered at Abbie’s face, her face like a movie screen of flickering emotions. Abbie smiled complacently, expecting to hear about some tall, dark stranger who would sweep her off her feet. Doralise’s smile faltered then completely vanished. She dropped Abbie’s hand like a hot stone. Despite her lack of belief in fortune telling, Abbie felt a knife of worry slice through her.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” Doralise busied herself in packing Abbie’s tomatoes. “That’ll be $5. I hope the stew comes out nice and your boy asks for seconds.”
“But what about the—”
“I’m sorry, but there are people waiting behind you and I have a stall to run.”
Doralise was markedly less friendly, and Abbie didn’t need to be told twice when she wasn’t wanted. She paid for the tomatoes, and walked away, a nagging nugget of worry in the pit of her stomach.
Chapter Five
— ∞ —
June 14th – 1:22 PM
Lakeshore Drive, Mandeville – Louisianan
R ichard rubbed his aching shoulder, and stared at the blank Word document on his computer screen trying to form words into meaningful sentences. It had never been this hard for him when he was younger. Back then, the stories just poured out of him. Characters developed along the way, and he had a solid first draft to work with within a month. Now every sentence was agonizing work.
Music flitted in from the open study door. It was an old Creole lullaby, stored in some recording device in the old teddy bear Aiden had found. Richard could hear Aiden trying to sing along. The low hum of a TV show played in the background. The kids were in the living room.
Two years. Two years since he’d had anything to show his publisher who was demanding a book. Readers these days were fickle, and a dying breed. You had to keep them interested with regular work, or they forgot you. The money from his previous book had run out and the royalties were dwindling since his last book hadn’t managed to secure a movie deal, which would have boosted sales of his entire work. Nothing had worked out like it was supposed to. He wasn’t the next Stephen King after all.
His phone buzzed.
Richard flipped the phone over so he wouldn’t have to look at the screen. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his throat tightened with sudden anxiety. He scratched his cheek, the sharp hairs of his stubble itching his fingers. He hadn’t seen the point of shaving and saw some merit in growing a beard.
It couldn’t be put off.
Richard picked up the phone and read the message.
I’m on my way back. Kids doing all right?
Richard sighed with relief and tapped in a quick reply.
Watching TV. Can’t we give that nasty teddy a wash?
Placing the phone back on the desk, Richard opened his bank’s website to access his account information. His next royalties were supposed to arrive in a few days. There was nothing yet. The number had remained unchanged. Licking his lips, and checking over his shoulders to make sure Abbie hadn’t come home, Richard accessed their joint account.
Watching the substantial amount in the joint account always filled Richard with a tangible sense of relief. He didn’t dare touch it because more than half of it was Abbie’s money, funds she had squirrelled away and saved as a start to the kids college funds, and a retirement plan. She was nothing if she wasn’t organized, his Abbie. And somewhere deep in his subconscious, Richard resented her for it.
It was unfair that she had so much more than he did. He was supposed to be the breadwinner; he was supposed to provide for them, not the other way around. Richard toyed with the idea of using a little of the money, but then stayed his hand. He couldn’t risk Abbie asking any questions. He couldn’t risk her leaving.
His phone buzzed again. Teeth gritted in annoyance, Richard checked the phone and nearly dropped it in shock. His hands were shaking so bad that he couldn’t read the text properly for a full minute.
We know you’ve left the state. Not a wise move. Sooner or later, we’ll find you. Lemmy always does. Rats that hide and make my boys work to find them, usually pay more than they owe us.
&nb
sp; Richard slammed the phone down on the desk, and raked his hands through his thinning hair. His breathing was coming in ragged spurts, like something was choking him. He paced the study, trying to calm himself down. It had only been a few days and they had found out that he had left Colorado. How was that possible? How could they possibly know that? They must have known he wasn’t at home, but the state?
Richard sat back down at his desk, his fingers guiding the mouse down the page to the controls that would let him check out cash from his joint account. His hands stilled over the transfer button, his heartbeat slowing down. He tasted bile and fear.
Sudden screams pierced the silence.
Richard jumped up from his chair, and ran out into the living room. It was empty.
The TV was still on, an inane cartoon playing out amidst loud music, but the children weren’t there. Richard whirled around as another spate of screams came from the top of the stairs. He took two steps at a time and raced to the children’s room at the end of the hall. Dave was crouched on the floor in his urine soaked pants, his legs kicking the air. He kept screaming and pointing at the closet, his face as white as a sheet, accentuating the dark circles under his eyes.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” Richard crouched down and took Dave in his arms, taking care that the urine didn’t soak his own jeans. His throat was dry from shock and worry.
“A…” Dave hiccupped. “Aid… en… dark… clo… clo… closet…”
Richard stroked Dave’s hair to sooth him but when he tried to go check the closet Dave whimpered in fear, his feet rubbing frantically against each other, pushing his back further into the wall.
“It’s okay, Dave. I’m here. Nothing will hurt you.”
He had never seen Dave like this. His confident, sunny boy had turned into a fearful, crybaby that jumped at shadows and wet the bed. It annoyed him more than it worried him. He walked to the closet, his hand trembling from the fright he had just received twice in the span of fifteen minutes, a cold sweat breaking on his scalp and trickling down his back like ice cubes.
