by Harper Shaw
Old house. No one keeping it up. Old and rotting house. The wet, mildew smell was apparent all around her. The wood had grown soft over the years, pliable.
The axe continued to assault the door and continued to flick needles of wood at her.
Can’t go up, Rebecca thought, can’t go back and can’t go forward. Guess we’re going down.
She pulled herself to her feet and began smashing her heels down on the floorboards. With each bang of the axe through the closet door, she hammered her feet at the floor. Each stomp was agony on her wounded leg, but she let the pain drive her.
The Shroud’s barrage rendered the closet door to little more than upright kindling. It smashed through the remaining wood and charged at Rebecca.
With a shout, Rebecca jumped once more and, as she landed, she willed her whole weight down and through the floor. The wood gave. She and the Shroud went tumbling to the ground below.
Rebecca hit hard, but immediately softened her knees and channeled her downward energy into a sideways roll, avoiding any serious injury from the fall. She kept rolling away from the landing place, trying to put as much distance between herself and where she assumed the Shroud had landed as possible. She finally came to a stop at the edge of the room and looked back.
The Shroud hadn’t been expecting the drop. It had taken the full shock of the landing in the legs. They hadn’t fallen from a great enough height for any bones to break, but certainly to twist an ankle. Given the damage Rebecca was sure she’d done to one of its knees, she figured her adversary was in some good pain at this point.
Fortunately, the assumption seemed to prove true. The Shroud was struggling to stand.
Rebecca did so. The Shroud noticed her and began grasping around for the axe that had fallen from its hand in the drop.
This was Rebecca’s chance. All around them lay broken pieces of two-by-four that had joined them in the crash from above. Rebecca hefted one of them in her hands and hauled back. With a shout, she brought it cracking down on the Shroud’s skull.
The Shroud dropped, hard, but Rebecca didn’t wait around to see how badly she’d injured it. Instead she turned and fled. She threw herself into her car and sped away, tires squealing and the rubber kicking up smoke.
Breathing heavily, she pressed her hand against her bleeding left thigh and winced. Fortunately, the wound wasn’t deep and probably wouldn’t even require stitches. But it burned like hell fire. She applied pressure on it the whole way to the police precinct, hoping one of Faruq’s officers was good at bandaging wounds.
It was time to heed the words of her sponsor. It was time to make amends with Monica’s ghost.
She floored it all the way to the station.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rebecca nearly busted a tire pulling into the parking lot of the police station. And while she didn’t do that, she did painfully smack her already cut left thigh. The cut wasn’t big, but it still hurt enough that she felt she was merited to be at least a little bit of a baby about it. Pulling the key out of the ignition, she noticed her heart was still racing.
Her vision flew out of focus, and she felt her head spinning for a solid minute. To get her bearings back, she took long, deep breaths and held on tighter to the car keys in her right hand. She wasn’t sure what the buzz was from since she didn’t get anything to drink, which was something she probably would have regretted had she not been face to face with an actual axe murderer. Drunk Rebecca probably—scratch that, definitely—wouldn’t have pulled off an escape as close as hers.
She wasn’t exactly thanking her lucky stars, though. Her leg was throbbing, and it was likely Faruq wasn’t going to take well to her story. She already knew he was as sick of her face as she was of his, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still trying to get the law on her side for once.
Stumbling out of the car, Rebecca hobbled into the police station and held herself up on the counter with her right palm pressing into the surface. She knew she probably looked a mess, and the glance the receptionist was giving her basically confirmed her suspicions.
“Can I help you?” she asked, eyes roving over Rebecca in the most judgmental way possible. Rebecca must not have answered fast enough because the woman repeated herself. “Excuse me, I said can I help you?”
“I need to speak to the chief.”
“Hm, about what?”
“What do you mean about what?”
“I mean, it doesn’t seem like you have an appointment or anything, so it’d be helpful to know what you want to meet with him about.”
“About a case,” Rebecca answered cryptically.
“Mhm,” the lady sighed. “And what’s the first and last name?”
“Rebecca Morgan.”
The woman squinted for a moment, and then she just shook her head.
“What?”
“I’m afraid Chief Bradshaw isn’t available to see you today.”
“I have valuable information on a case, and I need him to come check some things out.”
“No, he’s busy.”
“You’re probably just saying that because he told you to. Aren’t you? Just tell him to get his ass out here so we can get this over with. Then I’ll be out of his hair.”
Rolling her eyes, the woman rapidly typed into the keyboard. When she saw Rebecca was still there, she sighed yet again. “I’ll get a message to him soon. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Make sure you hurry up. Oh, actually, could you get me a first aid kit or something? I have a little scratch that needs to be taken care of.”
“You look fine to me.”
“Listen, if you don’t want me to smear my blood all over your little navy desk, I suggest you get me a first aid kit.” Rebecca stared the woman down. One beat. Two. After what must have been at least ten seconds, the woman reached down under the desk and pulled out a first aid kid. She set it on the counter and slid it over to Rebecca.
“Feel free to have a seat,” she said.
“I will.” Rebecca pivoted sharply, which hurt her leg just as much as it bolstered her ego. From there she limped over to the seat closest to the hall and splayed her leg over the chairs next to her. Her leg wasn’t hurting as much anymore, but she didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
She unscrewed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide first, but then she opted for a few alcohol swabs instead. Then she sprayed pain relieving gel and Neosporin on it before patching it with gauze. She was bringing white tape around it when she saw Faruq walking into the lobby.
First, he lingered at the desk, but then he was heading over to Rebecca before the receptionist could extend her arm fully to point. His hands were on his hips as he sent Rebecca a tight smile. What do you want?
“Hi to you, too, Chief,” Rebecca greeted, pulling the tape tighter around her thigh. She didn’t bother to look up at him.
“Rebecca, what do you want?”
“I was attached by the Shroud.” She glanced up to see if he was frowning, and Rebecca was glad to see he was. “Oh, yeah, but I’m okay and all. You know, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t been left without, you know, anything to protect myself with.”
“Is that where you got that cut from?”
“Yeah,” she answered, nodding. “They had an axe.”
“Ouch.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Rebecca.”
“Yes?”
“Do you have any evidence of this?”
“Maybe. Why don’t you walk back to the beach house with me and see?”
“Beach house? Whose?”
“It’s the Lopez family’s.”
“Dennis Lopez?”
“That one, yep.” As she finished, Rebecca stood and discarded her trash.
“So, you went there, and you were attacked?”
“I thought we already got past this point.”
“I’m just trying to get my facts straight,” Faruq said, crossing his arms. By the way he was looking, though, the way his br
ows furrowed, Rebecca was seeing he was definitely beginning to believe her story if not already confirming it in his own mind. “Why were you there?”
“Is that what you ask people whenever they’ve been assaulted? ‘Oh, you got shot? Why were you at the movie theater anyway?’” Rebecca mocked.
“You have to admit, Rebecca. That house has a lot more significance than the movie theater downtown. After all, it’s where Monica was killed.”
“I know.”
“Does that have anything to do with it?”
“Of course.” Rebecca tossed the first aid kit over to the receptionist desk, wincing when it hit an edge and burst open into the air. “Oops. I should get that.”
“No, we should go. Did this just happen?” Faruq began walking out of the station. Rebecca gave the receptionist a wink as she followed Faruq out.
They drove to the beach house, and Rebecca took Faruq down the path she had gone before. She was glad not to see Monica’s ghost there with her, but it didn’t make her any less tense, even with Faruq and his gun here.
She stayed a step behind him and always paused to see if they heard anything before continuing through. The signs of her struggle were clear, though, and Faruq agreed with her story. She didn’t need his confirmation, but it did comfort Rebecca to have another reminder that she wasn’t crazy.
Rebecca felt something else in the back of her throat as Faruq crouched in front of where Monica had been killed, though. Sighing, she tried to hold it in.
“Happened here,” Faruq said, his hands hovering over the sand. “I remember everyone talking about it at school, you know? Some people were saying Jennifer probably pushed her or something, but everyone had the same story…”
“It wasn’t the true story,” Rebecca said.
“What is the true story, then?” Faruq turned to her.
“Well…” Everything spilled out from there. “She fell over the balcony because there was some tripwire we think was meant for Chad there, and no one wanted to—we all just agreed on the story that she was drunk and had fallen when we were all looking at the house. We all agreed on it, and—” Rebecca was cut off by her lack of breath. She took in a few deep breaths, but it seemed that was all Faruq needed to hear as he stood.
Instead of shaming her or asking more questions, Faruq stayed quiet and pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds before turning his eyes downcast at the ground.
“Aren’t you going to say something?”
“Honestly, Rebecca, you may have to answer for your own past, but…” He trailed off.
“But what?”
“Don’t take this as my personal acquittal or anything, but right now the important thing is catching whoever got Chad and Jennifer. I mean, whether or not they’re the one who had something to do with back then, they’ve definitely got something to do with things now, and I can’t have someone going around killing people.”
“What’re you thinking?” she asked.
“Well, I’ve been going through the suspects, and I’m wondering if Monica’s parents need to be brought back into the mix. After all, they brought you back with a lawsuit, and since then you’ve been having all of these brushes with some killer. It could’ve been them luring you here for your death.”
“So, what’s next?”
“Them, I suppose.” After pausing, Faruq began walking back toward the car. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s go?” Rebecca echoed under her breath. Let’s go.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
As Rebecca got into Faruq’s car and they headed on the road to the Griswalds’ house, she began feeling less like a fugitive and more like a cop. Finally. Resting against the seat, she knew this was her time to put her brain to use and stop being an obstruction to the investigation (though these were the words of her parents and Faruq and not hers). Crossing her legs, she turned to Faruq.
“So, why don’t you talk to me more about your Griswald theory?” she asked.
Faruq seemed hesitant at first. He opened his mouth and then closed it again before saying anything. Then he turned the radio on and set the volume to the lowest setting as he sighed.
“Basically, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I wasn’t sure since they were suing you and all. It doesn’t make sense, even if they did kill her, to be suing you. After all, whoever killed Monica may not be the same person who killed Chad and Jennifer, and they sort of got away with it. It would make more sense for them to be going after you and the rest of your group, though. After all, even if you guys didn’t push her over the balcony, you were there and no one else was. They may think you guys did something bad to her.”
“We didn’t,” Rebecca replied.
“I’m just saying my thought process. Anyway, once I saw the connection between Jennifer and Chad’s deaths and found out someone was following you, I figured they could be prime suspects. They have the motive.”
“So why were you chasing me this whole time? And why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
“Rebecca, up until about an hour ago, you were just someone impeding an investigation, and don’t go on and about how you knew all along, but you did enough suspicious things for me to think you may be involved somehow. Hell, the only reason I’m taking you off my list fully is the fact that you were attacked.”
“Thank you.”
“Not sure why you’re thanking me.”
“Fine, be that way,” Rebecca said, crossing her arms. She felt her cheeks warming and figured she was already blushing. Asshole.
Faruq chuckled but didn’t say anything more. As they drove down the road, Rebecca noticed Monica’s old street coming up. It was the same one they’d lived On up until she died. She remembered riding bikes there and walking. Monica’s parents had been just as much, if not more, supportive than her own at some points in her life, and they’d always spent more time there than at her home. They stopped at the light, and Rebecca took the chance to look down the street once more. Even though it had been so long, it felt familiar.
“They don’t live there anymore,” Faruq said, seeming to know what Rebecca had been thinking. “They moved up to the North side of town.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, pressing his foot to the gas as the traffic light turned green. “Maybe because of the memories, maybe someone else. Death does weird things to people.”
“You can say that again.” Rebecca sighed, relaxing her head against the seat rest. “Did you miss Monica when she died? I know you weren’t in our group or anything, but I know tons of kids felt it.”
“I was high all of high school, so I honestly don’t remember. Maybe.”
“It’s messed me up my whole life, Faruq.”
“I think it would mess me up, too, close friend just dying like that—with such brutality. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s what messed Monica’s parents up, too.”
“So, you think they actually did it?”
“I think they’re suspect enough to be confronted. Don’t you? Thought you were a detective, Rebecca.”
“I am.” She paused. “You know, they call me Becks on the force.”
“Becks?”
“Yeah.”
“Gosh, that sounds annoying. You sound annoying.”
“Oh, shut up.” They passed one of the bars in town. “You know, my mom says I ruined my chance with you. We’re never going to get married now.”
“Oh, why?”
“Because you want a nice girl and I’ve been delinquent this whole time I’ve been here, duh. Chief Bradshaw doesn’t want a girl with a record.” She chuckled at that. Faruq did as well, but he was more reserved. Eventually they got to the Griswalds’ house. Faruq turned to Rebecca.
“Stay here,” he told her, pointing. “Listen, you may be clued in and everything, but to them—and to the law—you’re just a dismissed suspect and witness. You have nothing to do with this case or their questioning, and you need to stay out of it.”
“It’s Chief to you.” Faruq stepped out of the car and slammed the door.
Quietly, Rebecca left the car as well. She ducked next to her door until she saw Faruq go into the house, and then she ran to the front door and stopped it just before it fully shut. After waiting a minute, she walked into the foyer and closed the door quietly behind her.
Instead of taking the house in, she opted to look for Faruq and Monica’s parents. She heard them inside the living room, and by the calmness and polite nature of what had been said so far, she figured Faruq hadn’t asked them any real questions yet.
She was sort of grateful for it, nosy to hear everything. She pressed herself to the wall next to the archway entrance and slowly slid her way inside, her intention not to hide herself from them but not to be too loud.
Faruq noticed her immediately, and she could tell he was holding back an eye roll. It didn’t take long for Rebecca’s dad Daniel to turn around and see her, though. His eyes widened for a moment, and then his brows furrowed as his look quickly turned to anger.
“What’s she doing here?” Daniel Griswald asked.
“She shouldn’t be here at all,” Faruq said. “Rebecca, go.”
“No, she really shouldn’t be in here. I don’t know why you have her out here instead behind bars, Faruq. She killed our daughter.”
“I did not kill her,” Rebecca said back, though the guilt of what truly happened stuck like peanut butter to the back of her throat. She wanted to say more but didn’t, knowing it wouldn’t do anything but make her feel worse. Slowly she went over and sat next to Faruq.
The room settled down some as no one seemed to know what to do but just move on. This didn’t last long, though. Soon Faruq was getting into his real questioning.
“Mr. Griswald, may I ask where you all were earlier today?” asked Faruq.
“We’ve been home most of the day,” he answered, his arm around his spouse. “I mean, I was off at work, and I got home about an hour ago, but besides that I haven’t been anywhere. Why?”
“Just asking some questions, sir. As long as you answer honestly, there aren’t going to be any issues or anything.” Faruq cleared his throat and glanced over at Rebecca, his eyes wandering to her blood-stained leg for a moment before turning back to the Griswalds. “Do you own a black rain slicker?”