He pushed her out of the bed while she was still gasping, still trembling and told her to get dressed and get lost. He’d tell her sister when he wanted her again.
Lucy was left in no doubt that he’d want her again.
As she dressed she tried to hold onto her anger at Alma. It was safer than the terror she was living with.
13
Traci: September Now
Somehow we made it back to Charlotte. Nils dropped me at my condo and told me not to worry about my car. I hadn’t even thought about it in the bank employee garage. It was the last thing on my mind.
Nils hesitated as he dropped me home, as if he wondered if he should offer to see me to the door. I didn’t say anything, still in shock. I had talked to police but didn’t recall what I had said. I hoped I was coherent.
The parking lot of my complex was dark, lit only by lights that left too many shadows. Normally I tried to avoid it at night but it’s not like I had a choice that night unless I wanted to remain in the van. The lights that might have shown from windows had long since been turned off. That long after midnight, only a few beacons guided me towards the building.
I hurried as best I could, encumbered by my suitcase. I would have left it the van but Nils reminded me of it. I scurried off like a rat scared by the sounds around him.
My hands shook as I tried to get my keycard to the outside of the building to work. It took me three tries. Finally the door unlatched and I was welcomed into the minimally lit lobby. Bright enough for most people, but all I noted were the way the shadows puddled in the corners. The large desk, normally manned by a guard in the daytime sat silent and empty. At night, locked doors were considered sufficient.
I would have been glad of company, happy to pay more in dues to have someone waiting at the desk no matter the hour of the night. I didn’t care that packages wouldn’t come that late, leaving a watcher bored and perhaps sleepy.
I walked through the lobby, staying to the brightest areas. The white tile reflected what light there was, the gold veins creating a pleasant enough color. The brightness was one reason I had chosen the building. I by-passed my mailbox so shrouded in shadow.
I hurried to the elevator, dancing impatiently as it came down from the fifth floor. When it finally arrived, I rode up to the third floor. This elevator wasn’t as brightly lit as the one in the hotel. Matt black floors greeted me and walls lined in a brown colored panel that usually looked caramel, but that night looked like melted chocolate in the dim light, were dark enough to make me cringe.
My floor was quiet. I heard someone snoring from the condo nearest the elevator. They must have been sleeping in the living room because the bedroom should have been too far away for someone to hear. Besides, the walls were well insulated and I was rarely annoyed by my neighbors. I hoped they felt the same way about me.
My condo was dark when I unlocked the door. I felt for the switch and flipped it on. I held my breath, worried for an instant that nothing would happen and the place would stay plunged in the darkness. But the light worked fine.
My refrigerator kicked out an ice cube. The place smelled of basil and garlic from the spaghetti I had made before leaving.
I walked in, flicking on all the other lights. I dragged my suitcase behind me. I needed to get the electric lanterns out in case of a power failure. I was exhausted and shaky but I knew I wouldn’t sleep until that chore had been taken care of.
Opening my bag I quickly found them and lit them, setting them around the apartment in their appropriate places. Tonight of all nights I needed the light.
I breathed out. I was home. I was as safe as I was going to get. I sat down on the bed and removed my socks.
In my bathroom, a faucet dripped.
Once.
I whimpered.
Tears fell from my eyes. There was only so much terror I could take.
I wanted to start screaming, but didn’t know who would come. My fellow condo dwellers would probably think someone had their television on too loudly. By the time the police arrived, I’d be dead.
The lights stayed on, bright.
One of my electric lamps started to buzz a little.
I picked one up and took it with me to the hallway.
I edged a foot into the hall feeling the wall press against my back.
My eyes were open, though tears still streamed from them.
My heart pounded so loudly that if the faucet dripped again, I wouldn’t hear it.
My body smelled too sweet, sickly, as if I’d just had a fever and it had only recently broken.
I drew in a breath, too short. Not enough air for me, but I couldn’t breathe in any deeper, feeling as if a boney arm were crushing my throat.
I edged my foot further along the hallway, feeling the cool laminate flooring beneath my toes. My feet were icy from the internal chill and then the coolness of the floor. Normally I liked the feel of it, reminding me that I was in a safe building.
I craned my neck to look around the bathroom door.
I saw nothing.
I slipped my foot in a little further and looked again.
The bathroom was empty.
There was the faintest shadow in the shower but that could have come from the angle of the shower curtain.
I breathed out, watching.
I stood there longer than I should have as the clocked ticked later into the night, until enough time had passed that it was no longer late, but early.
At some point my eyes started to close and I slipped back to my bedroom.
Nothing had been there. Or so I hoped.
I undressed quickly and pulled on sweats. I curled up in my covers and attempted to sleep.
Sometime in the early morning hours, my upstairs neighbors started moving around, making their normal morning sounds. I dropped off.
And dreamed.
I was back at Steely Woods Rest stop. The branches of the trees were bare in the fall night, reaching towards me like skeletal arms ready to grab. The lights of the buildings, all disconnected cream brick joined only by covered walkways, looked like the eyes of a jack-o-lantern. The main building where coffee and cookies were served became a dark maw.
I didn’t want to be there, not again.
A breeze blew, rattling the boney trees. The rush of traffic whizzed by on the interstate. I was already scared.
I stared at the building where I’d nearly died, waiting for something to happen. I had no idea what I expected to happen, but I waited there.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
Laughter met me. It grew louder until my ears filled with buzzing.
I opened my eyes, back in my bed. Terror overcame me when I realized the sound was still there, filling the room. It took me a moment but to realize it was only the alarm on my phone. I hadn’t turned it off the night before.
Nils had said I didn’t need to come in.
I was still exhausted. I wouldn’t be able to work but I couldn’t imagine sitting around the condo listening for the single drip of a faucet.
It was my fault Deborah was dead. I needed to set something right. I’d run that night at Steely Woods, too terrified to continue. I’d gotten lucky. Two teenagers had come into the building just as the creature was about to murder to me in the stall. When they arrived it disappeared.
Someone else had died that night, but I didn’t hear about it until I got home.
And now another woman had died there. And Deborah, so fascinated with the deaths, had died here.
I was the link. The only link.
This had to be my fault.
I’d gotten away, not because I was smarter or because I was more fearless than anyone else, but because I’d gotten lucky.
I’d been closer to Deborah when she died, so very close. I could have died with her, easily. My luck had held, but only just.
14
Traci: September Now
I spent the day dozing and then working on the computer. I had a laptop that I normally
used on the kitchen table. Today, however, I curled up with it in my bed, pillows tucked behind me.
Sunlight came through the large window at my side. I had no music playing so I could listen for sounds that didn’t belong.
My ears strained to hear anything, and as a result, I heard the murmurings of phone calls from the man next door and a conversation from the my neighbor on the fourth floor.
I knew when the air conditioner was kicking in and I noticed when it went silent.
Smells didn’t seem to relate to my experience, though I recalled the smells of dirty diaper and bleach.
I searched through the internet, looking for deaths at rest stops. There were more than I expected. I had no idea if all the people were actually killed at rest stops but they seemed to be a prime place for hiding bodies. I should have given up my search after multiple articles about creepy deaths at rest stops and unsolved murders. Still, I hoped to find something out about Steely Woods.
The woman, Renee Parsons of Olympia Washington who had died in my place was mentioned on several of the sites. The latest victim, Alice O’Dell, showed up in a couple of news stories.
I looked up murders at rest stops and the same general articles repeated. I searched more specifically for murders at Steely Woods and came up with the information Anson and Deborah had imparted about the fact that every nineteen years or so someone seemed to die there. It had begun in 1970. I searched further and found that the first rest stops in that area were built around 1954, which would have been after 1951. Did that mean that the first person to die had died there in 1954? I bit my lip, wondering about it.
I did some more sleuthing to find which cities and towns were closest to Steely Woods. There were some small communities and I searched for murders there. There was a girl found in 1951 not far from the highway, before there was a rest stop. I didn’t find anything for anyone earlier.
I made a few notes.
As the afternoon went on, although I was still feeling like I was in shock over Deborah, I realized I was less frightened than I’d been in years. I should have been terrified, having gone over the details of what I remembered so many times, but I wasn’t. I felt like I was doing something. I felt strong.
Despite feeling strong, I jumped when the phone rang while I was working.
I looked at the number. Nils.
“Hey Nils,” I said, picking up.
“Are you okay?” he asked. No preamble, nothing.
“I’m getting there,” I said. “I think I still don’t believe it happened. I think about going into work tomorrow and I expect that I’ll see Deborah there.”
“You don’t need to come in right away. Don’t even think about using sick time either. We were on a work excursion when this happened. I sent you in there to find her. When I think of how you could have been murdered as well…” Nils trailed off. “I’ll make sure any time you take isn’t taken off your sick time.”
I had a feeling Human Resources wouldn’t be pleased to hear the way Nils was talking. Likely he was also still in a state of shock. I wondered how Anson was.
“Are you at the office?” I asked.
He said he was. He talked about telling everyone and the reactions. All of this was processed carefully.
“We’re worried about you,” he said finally.
“It was a shock to find her,” I said. “I think I’m recovering now.”
Nils made a few sounds, so solicitous.
“How is Anson?” I asked.
“Oh he came in,” Nils said. “He’s busy doing some graphics. Said it would help not to be alone. I know I said you didn’t have to come in, but I was worried about you. Being alone, I mean.”
“I didn’t really sleep. I dropped off about the time I’d be getting up. I considered coming in late but didn’t know that I’d be able to focus.”
Nils made some conciliatory remarks and reminded me that I could take more time.
I wondered how bad I’d been the day before, what I might have said that had gotten him so concerned. What would he think when I came in the next day and was ready to go? I was a new woman. I was ready to confront my ghosts.
I hung up the phone and the faucet in the bathroom dripped.
Once.
I started to cry.
Not just out of fear but out of anger at the fear that I was still feeling.
I pulled the covers up to my chin and tried to figure out if I’d be better off getting up and checking or hiding in the bedroom.
I stayed that way for longer than I should have. Long enough for me to realize that the sense of power I had gotten from believing I was doing something had been an illusion. I was not ready to confront my ghost and I wouldn’t be until I understood what it was that I was confronting and how I could save myself.
If I could save myself.
15
Traci: September Now
I went back to work the next day. I didn’t expect to get a lot done, but like Nils and Anson, I wanted to be there. I didn’t want to be home focusing on Deborah’s death. My condominium, which had always seemed so safe, with its hardwood that shone in the light, pushing back shadows, and it’s bright shiny tiles in the kitchen and bathroom that allowed me to see in all corners, keeping darkness at bay, no longer seemed so bright and safe no matter how many lights I turned on and how many electric lanterns I placed around.
My faucet washers that had been tightened to within an inch of their lives and been replaced at the first sign of a drip had begun to drip just once every few hours. There was a chill in the condominium that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. In fact, there were moments when I felt a cold breeze, a slight touch at the back of my neck, and the air wasn’t on at all.
I had to get out. To be with people.
I took my personal laptop with me to work, taking the Lynx, the local light rail that ran only half a mile from my home and stopped just a few blocks from the bank. At one time I had looked into taking it regularly but I had forgotten about it when I’d had to leave late one evening in the winter. The lights hadn’t been very bright and more shadows than people had crowded the cars.
That morning, like most mornings, there were plenty of people crowding around me, keeping me safe with their bodies, their warmth, their aliveness. Perhaps that very aliveness was a light to drive away the ghosts and if I stayed surrounded by people all the time, I’d not have to fear. Then again, Deborah had been alive once, too.
My office felt cold, and I immediately wished I worn a sweater over my long sleeved pullover and blue knit skirt. I probably could have arrived in jeans, but I didn’t want to push it. It was enough that I expected to get only minimal amounts done, perhaps some routine work on the computer.
Although sun came in through the glass, hitting my chair, I continued to be cold as I worked. My fingers felt stiff from the chill that ate away at my flesh and creeped into my bones.
Will came in and talked with me, asking me how I was. I gave him my general answer. He looked at me sadly, not quite meeting my eyes, but closer than usual.
Anson came in not long after. He glanced around the office and rubbed his arms, as if he, too, felt the chill.
“I couldn’t believe what happened,” he said, “and I can’t believe we made you see that.”
“You saw her too.” I wasn’t sure why he and Nils were so protective.
“You just looked so terrified of having look into the stall. It was like you had a premonition or something.” Anson picked at the arm of the chair he sat in. The bright blue cloth was smooth but he was making it even smoother as he talked.
“Maybe I did.” Perhaps I could just be considered psychic instead of crazy and fearful, which was probably a more accurate description. “I mean, I didn’t know what I’d see, but when Deborah didn’t answer and she was clearly there, I had a feeling something terrible had happened. I guess I just expected to be wrong.” The last was a lie. I had expected to find her dead. I had been more surprised that there wa
sn’t a pool of blood and spatter all over, like a scene from a horror movie. Deborah’s death had been almost too clean and tidy.
Anson nodded. “I have to say, you were pretty out of it after. I can’t say I blame you. I think I was too. Everything I did was on autopilot. I got nothing done yesterday. I worked on graphics and tossed everything. I just can’t get in the groove and I know we need that stuff soon.”
“Did Nils give you the talk about how we aren’t supposed to push ourselves?” Maybe Nils was only talking to me, perhaps expecting Anson to feel normal after all of this.
“I got it. I can even take some time off. I guess Nils is looking into what it takes for a compassionate leave thing. Normally it’s so that someone who has a death in the family doesn’t have to use all their vacation and sick time, but Nils thinks this qualifies.”
So perhaps Nils wasn’t overpromising and HR wouldn’t be on his case if Anson and I took some time off. I considered what I’d do with it.
“It’s so weird,” Anson went on, “we were all talking about the death at the rest stop in Washington and then this happened.”
“It is weird,” I said. “And it’s weird that the deaths happened more than once at Steely Woods. I looked up that information yesterday, you know.”
Anson looked up, eyes wide. I must have made it very clear I wasn’t interested.
“I mean, suddenly we were involved.” Maybe I had always been involved. I just hadn’t realized how. “I didn’t find multiple deaths at any others. I think maybe one other rest area had a couple of deaths, but they seemed more random than Steely Woods.”
Anson nodded. “Do you think there’s a connection? Like because Deborah had lived in both places? Maybe someone was stalking her? But you didn’t see anyone else there, did you?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t seen anyone. I didn’t dare tell Anson I was thinking about a creature. I was still afraid. Afraid of being labeled as crazy. Afraid of realizing I really was crazy. I was also afraid that the ghost or creature or whatever it was had found me and was toying with me.
The Haunting of Steely Woods Page 6
