“That’s a lot,” I said, trying to remember everything. Will began listing herbs to take as well and which I ought to try burning during the ritual.
“I’ll send you an email. Ani has it all worked out for me. You’d need help finding the bones, but I’m not sure what. I researched cadaver dogs for you, but the body would still need to have enough tissue to smell. Lucy disappeared too long ago for that to happen easily, although some cadaver dogs are that good,” Will said.
“An email would be helpful. I wonder how police do it when looking for bones?”
“Ground penetrating radar. If you know someone who has it, great, but it doesn’t look like something you buy easily. I mean, I suppose if you had a ton of money you could get it. But even then, it’s not foolproof. If Lucy is only partly there, only a part of a skeleton, then the radar might not catch it, especially if the bones weren’t grouped super close together.”
I rolled my eyes. Will was taking this far too seriously. Did he think I’d go on to rent a backhoe too, to dig up land that was probably owned by the state or the highway system or something?
Finally, Will rang off, promising to send me the email soon. I wondered if perhaps he was too eager. Maybe I should have listened to Anson.
I sighed, stretching my neck. I could go back to the sofa and watch some more television. As I got up, I saw a shadow moving in the bathroom. Vaguely human shaped, though too thin to be normal. A clawed hand reached out along one wall, like it was pulling itself out of the room.
My heart pounded and my breath shortened. I had thought I was done with Lucy. Instead she was back, apparently more powerful than ever.
21
Lucy: Early Fall Then
Lucy tugged at the door of the trailer. She’d gotten up that morning, intending to go town, maybe school. Maybe she’d even have talked to someone about her sister, but Alma had been up first and when she’d left, she’d locked the door.
The place stunk because Alma hadn’t emptied the toilet before leaving. Lucy needed to go but she wasn’t keen on going into the small bathroom with the partially full bucket.
Outside, wind rattled the trailer. Lucy felt like she was in a giant creaking and groaning body, unable to escape.
She looked at the windows. The small ones opened. The largest of them was over the little seating area in the back of the trailer, by the table. She crawled onto the bench that ran under it and tried to open the thing. It squealed. Wind gusted in, blowing her hair back. She shivered. It wasn’t that cold, but the wind bit into her body sending the slight chill deep into her bones.
No screen blocked her way as all of them had long since disappeared from the trailer, if it had ever had them. Unfortunately, the window only opened a little ways from top to bottom and that wasn’t quite wide enough for her to get her shoulders through.
Lucy debated about breaking it and making a run for it. But then she’d have to remain on the run. It probably meant telling someone what she’d done, what Alma had done.
Lucy climbed up to her bunk and began putting a few things in a pillowcase to more easily carry them. She searched through the small bedroom and under the bunk, going through Alma’s things, even the lacy underwear that was placed nicely in a drawer. Everything else was scattered around.
Some coins fell out of corners and crannies, and in the bottom drawer, Lucy found two twenties tucked away. She smiled. She pocketed that. She grabbed her coat. Then she tossed the pillow case and the coat out the window and pushed herself out.
The hinges on the window were harder to break than she expected. Her hands got tired of pushing, feeling achy. Her palms had a red line across them from where it had pressed against the window. Lucy watched her jacket slide under the trailer with the next gust of wind. She hoped that it didn’t blow out the other side and fly into the woods.
Lucy gritted her teeth and gave the window another push. Her hands banged against the side of the trailer when the window gave way, sending a shock up her arms. It took a moment before the ache dissipated and she could pull herself up and partly through the window. Only then did she realize she’d be falling out headfirst. Lucy slid back in the trailer and stood up and put a leg out first, angling herself to go out that way. She had to sit on the window and lean back, almost touching the table before she was able to slip through.
Her breasts connected with the top of the window and she had to push herself down and through, scraping the front of her body, tearing away the thin fabric of her shirt
Lucy swore silently and cursed Alma.
Finally, her breasts cleared the narrow part of the window and she was free. Her coat had caught on a brick where the trailer was raised. Lucy grabbed it and pulled it on. Then she took her pillowcase and made for the trail in the woods to town. Hopefully, someone would help her.
22
Traci: September Now
My nose twitched at the metallic smell that slammed into me like a physical thing. Old blood and rotting meat. I nearly gagged up the air that I had finally managed to take in.
I heard nothing, not a single drip of a faucet. I backed up towards the wall of my condo on legs that could barely stand. I slipped down to a crouched position, shaking, my arms up in front of me, not quite daring to cover my eyes.
The shadow moved out of the bathroom, along a wall. I could barely see it because of the angle. Then, even from where I sat, I saw a hand reach out of the little room down the hall.
I think I sobbed a little.
Thunder crashed outside and rain began again in earnest.
I waited for the lights to go out, to feel the slim cold fingers of bone against the back of my neck or perhaps sliding down my cheekbone.
My imagination ran wild with ideas, my heart pumping faster and faster like a train chugging along up a hill far too fast.
A door slammed out in the corridor.
I jumped.
The shadow disappeared.
I remained where I was, crouching in the corner, just waiting for something else to happen. My ears strained for sounds that didn’t come. My eyes stayed on the hall searching for any sign of a shadow moving.
I sat there, eyes wide, frozen in fear for a very long time. Did rabbits wait that long when they sensed a predator? I read once that the best defense was out-wait the predator. It’s why cats were successful. They had the patience to stalk. I wondered how much patience my ghost had, imaging it sitting back in the bathroom, waiting for me to walk past, to jump out, to grab me.
I wanted to giggle suddenly when I realized there was no reason for her not to be patient. She was dead. She had all the time in the world. She could corner me there in my breakfast nook and keep me from doing anything. She could leave me to sit there until I died from lack of food and water.
How quickly one’s bravery falls to the wayside when confronted with one’s own mortality.
At some point I began chewing on my thumb, still waiting. My thumbnail gone, I had to move on to another nail.
My bladder filled faster than time passed. I would need to move soon.
Still I waited.
When my legs began to cramp, I slowly pushed myself up along the wall. Nothing moved down the hall. No strange forms waited for me. No shadows danced along the walls.
Even so, I stood in the breakfast nook mentally preparing myself to walk down the hall, to look into the bathroom, perhaps even to use the toilet.
Any sound of cars passing along the road outside disappeared from my consciousness. Now it was me and the periodic tap of rain. Someone started running water, whether a toilet flush or a dishwasher, probably from downstairs.
I took one hesitant step forward.
Nothing jumped out at me. No faucet dripped.
Gaining confidence, I took another and then soon enough I was across the kitchen and standing at the opening to the hallway.
No shadows. The lights remained on. All of them.
I walked down the hall and peered into my bathroom.
Nothing.
I breathed out. It would take a long time for my heart to slow, but for now, I felt safe enough.
I went in to use the toilet.
No faucet dripped. No skeletal hand threatened to pull aside the clear shower curtain to reveal a creature I’d run from years ago. I finished, still alive, though my hands may have shaken just a bit as I flushed.
I made the mistake of looking in the mirror while washing my hands.
There, I saw a skull, grinning teeth, one broken eye socket, four stray hairs still sticking to the top of the rounded bone. Three teeth were gone. The curve on the right looked wrong, as if the bones were broken. The skull was attached to a boney neck, a scrap of blue cloth still sticking to it.
Over it, my face was superimposed, almost exactly.
I stumbled back, feeling the warmth of the wall.
I screamed as loudly and as long as I could. I no longer worried about bothering the neighbors. I wanted them to wonder what was happening. Wanted someone to hear and perhaps call the police.
“Come to me, one that got away, and I’ll tell you my secrets.” The voice was soft and slightly scratchy and sounded as if it were on a long distance, perhaps a transcontinental 1950s phone call.
My screams hitched and I started to hyperventilate.
“Kill him for me and I’ll let you go.” The voice was stronger, as if it was getting used to speaking again.
The skull in the mirror was gone.
Still I couldn’t help but squeak out, “What if he’s dead?” I’d done the math. If Alma hadn’t killed Lucy and someone else had, chances were they were over a hundred. Not likely to be still alive.
“Then I’ll take you in his place,” the voice said.
I shivered and slid down towards the floor, a fist in my mouth.
Which was where I stayed, staring at the cabinet that held the sink in front of me until daylight came again.
My heart rate still hadn’t slowed.
23
Traci: September Now
I didn’t know exactly when Sunday dawned. I was on the floor of the bathroom, staring at the sink cabinet, my eyes gritty, my mind tired, and my muscles stiff from not moving all night. If asked, I couldn’t say if I had blinked, though I must have as I don’t think you can go for hours without doing so.
My heart still pounded far too hard, though it had slowed, and I could draw a breath, but each time I did, I worried that I was being overheard.
At some point, I slipped out of the bathroom, avoiding looking into the mirror again, though I knew that Lucy was gone.
No shadows lurked, waiting to grab me. No faucets dripped. Upstairs, the neighbors bounced around and I heard a vacuum cleaner running, a soft purr that was perhaps the sound that soothed me enough to get up and move. Fortunately, my neighbors cleaned early on a Sunday. I was probably the only person in the world grateful for that.
I poured myself some orange juice, letting the sweet acidity of it perk me up a bit. I find orange juice disappointing in that it never smells as good as a fresh orange though I like the taste. It’s something that I puzzle over from time to time. Why does the juice not smell as good as the orange itself?
The thought was a great distraction and about as much as my exhausted mind could handle.
I tumbled into bed and napped restlessly in the daylight for a few hours before getting up to go back to researching. I was hesitant to contact Will. After all, maybe thinking about the mystery so much was forcing me into insanity. Even if I wasn’t actually losing touch with reality, I worried Will might think that’s exactly what was happening.
I certainly couldn’t tell Anson about my experience. It was one thing to share that I’d had a bad experience in a rest stop and that I jumped at shadows because of that. That might be a normal sort of PTSD thing. He could handle that.
Seeing a ghostly face in the bathroom mirror and having it threaten you was not normal. Not by any standards. I doubted he’d even question my sanity. I might find men in white coats waiting for me before I left town.
I set the glass in the sink and looked around the condo. I opened the blinds, something I normally did first thing every morning. My electricity bill was enormous, but I didn’t do much socializing. It averaged out. Periodically I was ashamed that I wasn’t doing my part, so to speak, for the planet, but that was neither here nor there.
I breathed in. My flight didn’t leave until Wednesday. I had two days of work before heading off to Washington. I could get back in my routine, a little bit, and see how things went. I rubbed my eyes, feeling tears. If I couldn’t sleep, though, how would I ever have a normal day at work?
My stomach tied itself in knots as I worried how I’d get through those days. I couldn’t even tell anyone what I was going through because they’d think I’d finally lost it. Then, someone might even call the mental health professionals to lock me up in a hospital. A hospital that might not care how bright the lights were, where they might even force me to try and sleep in the dark. What if I wasn’t crazy—and mostly I was certain I wasn’t—and she came for me?
I wondered how afraid Deborah had been. Had she believed what she saw? Had she been as terrified as I was? Did she hurt? Had Lucy told her why?
I didn’t think Lucy would have spoken. She didn’t speak to me at all, the one time I saw her.
Finally I went to my phone and called Will.
“Hey,” he said picking up on the second ring.
“I hope I’m not bothering you but I had a question,” I said.
“Shoot.” Will sounded like he was eating something. It was probably a late lunch or maybe a snack. Or maybe he was watching the game.
“What if Lucy’s goal is to get revenge and kill her killer and he’s dead?”
“Maybe telling her he’s dead?” Will suggested.
“What if that’s not enough?”
“That’s harder. Maybe you can locate any relatives who are still alive and let them know what their relative did?” Will sounded thoughtful. “I don’t know. Normally, just knowing the murderer is dead offers some peace. Or if there’s a medium, maybe they can get the two to communicate?”
I made some conciliatory comments, though I was wondering how he expected me to find people like that. I didn’t know a medium. Who said, “Oh yes, a medium. Of course. I’ll check my contacts because I know several and I’ll see who’s available.”
I hung up, frustrated. But I got on the computer and went to the cold case forum. I’d made my screen name “LucyFriend,” though I doubted if Lucy thought of me as a friend. It was better than “HauntedTraci” which might eventually lead someone to me.
I checked my post and one person called SerialHunter had responded with a generic comment about needing more information.
WAFinder gave me one of the websites Will had found and commented interesting.
That started a discussion with someone name Pit saying the bones probably belonged to someone other than Lucy. DNA would help if there were any relatives still alive.
I didn’t know if there were relatives or where to find out if there were. WAFinder was also unable to find any living relatives, though he or she had found Alma. Alma had not had children, at least not that either of us had located.
Pit was certain the bones hadn’t belonged to Lucy. I still wondered.
WAFinder didn’t seem convinced.
SerialHunter said that the only way to be sure would be to search the area for more bones. He didn’t specify how.
WAFinder had a search and rescue dog, but it had a good nose and had periodically found bones. He or she offered to meet me there.
So now I had to decide if I trusted this person I only knew online to meet me at a rest stop along I-5 to search for bones. I’d be alone, really alone, and there was no one I could take with me, unless Ronette agreed to be there. I couldn’t see that happening, but then again, I hadn’t asked.
I went onto Facebook and sent her a note. I let her know I was trying to work
through my terror of Steely Woods and wondered if she’d come with me. I left out, for the moment, that I might be meeting another person there, one with a dog that was supposed to be search and rescue. Even thinking about meeting them was probably stupid.
I sent the note anyway, thinking I could extricate us both if things sounded really sketchy. I contacted WAFinder via PM on the forum and started asking further questions.
WAFinder said her real name was Lois Neil. Her dog, which she used as a picture, was a black standard poodle named Mercedes. She said noonish would be good as she would drive down from Puyallup.
I looked her up on other social media sites and the photo image was the same. Her profiles also held personal images of a woman perhaps fifteen years older than I was, with graying hair. There were more photos of the dog and a few of young children who were probably her grandchildren. She loved reading, mostly mysteries, and she belonged to several Facebook groups on solving cold case mysteries. She was even a member of a group devoted to psychics.
“I’ll bring my husband along,” she wrote. “He’s not much into this but doesn’t like me meeting strangers alone.”
Well good for him. I didn’t like it much either.
“If I can come, I’ll bring a friend.” I didn’t tell her Ronette was a woman. I’d leave her to think I was bringing a boyfriend or someone like that.
I bit my lip. I hoped this worked out. I’d have people around me at the rest stop. If I had to go back alone at night, at least I’d know what I was getting into. The day wouldn’t be wasted.
I breathed in and watched the cars driving by on the street for a few minutes. I didn’t quite feel safe but I felt as if I had a reprieve, though I was dreading the night. What would happen then?
The Haunting of Steely Woods Page 10
