Cry For Help

by Wendy Dranfield

  “So sorry about that.” He takes a seat opposite her with a notepad balanced on his knee. “I know we’re leaving longer between sessions now—is it a month since I last saw you?”

  She nods, pushing her trembling hands into her lap.

  “How have you been?”

  “Fine. I’m working a lot.”

  “At the amusement park?”

  “Right, mostly.”

  “And have the intrusive thoughts been bothering you lately?”

  She looks away. Even though he’s her therapist, she doesn’t always tell him the truth. She only gets fifty minutes with him, and that’s just not long enough to explain what’s going on in her head, so she doesn’t bother starting anything that won’t fit into their time together. “I’m still with that boy I told you about last time. He makes me feel much better.”

  Dr. Chalmers crosses his legs. “Now, Nikki, I can tell you’re evading the question.” He smiles at her. “But remember what I’ve told you before: we can’t rely on others to make us happy, even though it feels like the easiest solution. Ultimately you have to find happiness within.”

  She’s so confused. If Mason makes her happy, isn’t that enough? It’s like she’s always being told she has to be comfortable with herself, but if someone else helps her feel that way, isn’t that still a good thing? This is why she clams up when people ask her how she is. She has no idea how to answer correctly.

  “How are things at home? Is your father working yet?”

  She avoids the impulse to roll her eyes. “You don’t understand. That’s not his plan. He doesn’t want to work. He likes living off the state. My mom wants to get a job, but he won’t let her.”

  “And how does that make your mom feel?”

  She has no idea. Her parents’ relationship confuses the hell out of her. Her mom is intelligent and hard-working, but she chose to marry a guy who brings her down. She lets him waste their limited income on liquor and drugs, and she allows him to verbally and emotionally abuse their daughter. Why doesn’t she leave him? “My mom would never say anything bad about him to me, so I don’t know. I wish she’d leave him and take me with her. I want her to choose me for once.” She has unexpectedly let her guard down, and tears quickly follow.

  Dr. Chalmers looks sympathetic. “It’s difficult to understand someone else’s choices sometimes. What to us looks inexplicable can make perfect sense to them. That doesn’t help you, though.” He pauses. “Perhaps you could try telling your mom how you feel. I’m sure she’d be receptive to hearing it.”

  Nikki shakes her head and laughs at the idea. “They’re too close. She’s always with my dad and she takes his side in every argument. I get no alone time with her at all. I think that’s why he won’t go out to work: because it would give us a chance to talk about him. He probably knows we’d come to realize we both hate him and that he’d come home one day and we’d be gone.” The tears start again. “But it’s not like he shows us any affection, so why does he want us there at all?” She’s sobbing now. She just doesn’t understand how someone can hate you but want to keep you chained to them at the same time.

  The doctor rises and hands her some tissues, which for some reason makes her feel dirty. Like she’s a mess that needs to be cleaned up. She decides, not for the first time, that this will be her final session. It’s probably not his fault; she just doesn’t think therapy is for her. It always feels like it’s all about her finding solutions rather than someone else trying to help her. She’s just a teenager, so how is she supposed to solve her own problems? Anyway, maybe she’d be okay without her medication. It’s not like she cuts herself anymore.

  Dr. Chalmers is flicking through her record. “It looks like you’ve had quite a few therapists over the years.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  He leans forward. “It just seems to me that you don’t want to truly open up, and I’m wondering if it’s because you don’t feel comfortable with me. I could find you a female therapist if you’d prefer.”

  She doesn’t answer. Is he actually trying to get rid of her?

  “I only ask because to get the most out of these sessions you have to feel comfortable and you have to trust the person in my seat. I’d love for you to trust me, but tell me what you want and we’ll always do what’s best for you.”

  Her heart sinks. He doesn’t get it. None of them do. They don’t know what it’s like to return home to a toxic household where she has no control over anything: no money, no say in the food she eats, no relationship with her own mother. How does anyone solve that through talking? Feeling despondent, she decides to leave. “I’m going to think about what you said.” She stands up. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”

  He stands up too. “Okay. That’s probably for the best, I’ll check in with you in a week’s time to see how you are. Does that sound okay?”

  She nods and forces a fake smile.

  “Well, happy Independence Day, Nikki. Take care of yourself.”

  She follows him out of his office. She can’t help feeling that he wants rid of her, same as everyone else. That’s okay. She won’t be seeing him again.

  30

  Madison glances at her phone, but there’s still no word from Nate, despite all her messages.

  As someone blasts their horn behind her, she realizes she’s got a green light. The other drivers join in. “Shit.” It’s been too long since she last drove. She needs to learn to pay attention to the road again. Brody barks in the seat next to her.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m an embarrassment.” She strokes his head. He’s been whining since they got in the car and she thinks it’s because he’s hungry. They don’t have any dog food at the house and Steph’s kitchen cupboards aren’t well stocked, so she has no choice but to stop by the grocery store for supplies.

  In the parking lot, she slides her sunglasses on as she gets out the car, hoping it will reduce the chances of her being recognized. She tries to get Brody to sit outside the store and wait for her, but he runs off to survey the parking lot instead.

  He always seems to come back, so she lets him go.

  As she pushes a small cart around the store, scanning each aisle for people she might know before turning into it, she tries to pretend it’s perfectly normal to be back here, but the truth is, last time she was in here, she would have been buying food for her and Owen. Rice Krispies, pasta and plenty of milk and coffee were always the staples. She smiles at the memory of Owen in his pajamas watching cartoons while dropping cereal everywhere. She used to find it all around the house; crunched into the carpets.

  Turning around to add some bread to her cart, she jumps as she comes face to face with Jane Levy, Ryan’s mother.

  Jane looks her up and down, her face pinched like she’s chewing a wasp. “I knew it was you as soon as I saw you. Your sunglasses can’t fool me.” She leans in close and Madison wants to flee. “I think it’s disgusting they let you out early. And how do you even have the nerve to come back here? You bitch.” She grabs a bottle of ketchup from her cart and squirts it all over Madison’s shirt.

  Madison turns away just as someone walks up and grabs the ketchup bottle from Ryan’s mom. She has to fight back tears of humiliation. She can feel some sauce on her face. As she turns to leave, the other person steps in front of her. Unable to see clearly past a dollop of ketchup, she removes her sunglasses. When she looks up, she sees that it’s Ryan’s father.

  He leans in. “You need to leave town.”

  She has to stand up for herself, despite wanting to get out of here before anyone notices what’s happening. “Look, I understand why you’re upset at seeing me back.” Her voice is shaky. “But I did not kill Ryan. He was my friend, and—”

  “You don’t understand a goddam thing!” shouts Davis Levy. His fury makes her back away, but she’s been cornered against the shelves. “Our son had a fantastic career ahead of him. He was an excellent police officer.”

  “I agree.”<
br />
  “No! You don’t get to agree. You murdered him!”

  She notices a man behind Davis pointing his cell phone at her. Her heart sinks as she realizes she’s being filmed. She needs to get out of here.

  “Let me by.”

  “You won’t understand how we feel until someone murders your son. Until you attend your son’s funeral. Only then will you appreciate what you did to us.”

  His words chill her. She looks him dead in the eye for the first time. “Don’t you dare mention my son.”

  He leans back with a satisfied smirk. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Imagine how much worse it is when he’s dead. If you stay in town much longer, you won’t have to imagine.”

  Anger wipes out any sympathy she once had. “Are you threatening my son, Mr. Levy?”

  His wife tries pulling him away. “You stay away from us,” she says. “You need to do the decent thing and leave Lost Creek. I mean, you haven’t even apologized to us!”

  Madison doesn’t look at her. There’s something on Davis’s face she doesn’t like. “You know where Owen is, don’t you?”

  He smirks at her. “I hear your girlfriend was killed last week. You know how I can be sure it wasn’t you who killed her?”

  It takes everything Madison has not to punch him, but she’s transfixed.

  “She might have been a lesbian, but at least she got to experience a man before she was—”

  Madison doesn’t let him finish. She slaps him across the face so hard his head snaps sideways. Her hand stings.

  His wife gasps. “How dare you?”

  Madison leans in close. “What happened to Ryan was despicable. He was my friend and I will miss him every day. I know you miss him too, but that’s no excuse for threatening to kill my son. I had nothing to do with Ryan’s murder and I’m going to prove it to you.” She looks at Jane. “And then you’ll apologize to me.”

  She pushes past them on shaky legs, trying to leave the store with some dignity intact, but Davis follows her. As she reaches the exit, he grabs her by the arm and spins her around, but before he can say anything more, Brody runs in through the entrance and hurls his full force against the man, knocking him into a stacked display of tinned soup and onto his back. He barks over him until Madison pulls him away.

  “It’s okay, boy.”

  She runs to the car with Brody behind her and pulls off her sticky shirt, glad that she’s wearing a T-shirt underneath. After wiping her face with it, she throws it in the back, then gets inside and locks the doors just as the familiar sound of police sirens reaches her. Some asshole has already called the cops.

  With shaking hands, she pulls out of the parking lot before they can arrive.

  On the radio, she hears Kate’s voice talking about Nikki, so she turns it up as she drives, trying to calm her breathing and checking the rear-view mirror frequently in case she’s being followed.

  “We have a surprising development in the Nikki Jackson case for you now, folks,” Kate is saying. “Two workers from the amusement park have come forward to suggest Nikki had a boyfriend, who has finally been identified by locals as seventeen-year-old Mason McCoy. And what’s odd is that no one has seen or heard from Mason since his girlfriend’s tragic death. His only social media account that we know of—Facebook—has been recently deleted. His disappearance certainly suggests he might have been involved in Nikki’s death. We’re waiting for the Lost Creek Police Department to comment.”

  “Oh my God.” Madison’s blood runs cold and she almost hits a sedan when she hears that surname; McCoy.

  Last time she was here, the McCoys were childless. And Kate said Mason is seventeen. Her mind is in overdrive. Could the couple have taken Owen in and renamed him? She tries to think rationally. They can’t have him. Stephanie would have told her; of that she has no doubt. Maybe this Mason kid is a nephew who came to live with them to work at the scrapyard.

  Pulling into a random parking lot, she grabs her wallet and finds the business card Kate gave her. She phones the number, and eventually Kate answers.

  “Hey, it’s Madison.”

  “Hey, how are you?” The tone of her voice gives away her surprise.

  “I just heard the news. Who the hell is Mason McCoy?”

  “I’ve been trying to find out.” Kate seems as confused as she is. “Has Angie never mentioned him?”

  “I haven’t spoken to Angie in years.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize. She won’t speak to me either. They declined to comment when I went to their place. All I can gather from asking around is that he works at Fantasy World part-time. I haven’t found a birth certificate, so he must have been born elsewhere, and he didn’t go to the local high school. He’s not on social media anymore, which is weird for a kid of his age, although he could be using a fake name. None of the McCoys’ staff will talk to me either.”

  Chills run down Madison’s arms and she feels like heaving. Her hands are sweaty but she’s shaking with cold. “Do you have a photo of him?”

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

  She tries to think, but she doesn’t want to believe where this is leading.

  “Madison? You still there?”

  “Yeah, sorry. Let me know if you find anything out, or if you locate the boy. I want to see him before the cops get to him.”

  “Sure.” Kate sounds wary. “Let’s catch up soon, okay? I don’t want you to leave town without telling me.”

  Madison agrees. Leaning back against the headrest, she tries to focus.

  She knew the day was coming when she’d have to visit the McCoys, but she didn’t know it would be for this. She needs to see this boy for herself.

  31

  Angie McCoy places her cell phone on the dinner table and sighs. The clock above the sink, which was a wedding present that’s managed to outlive the love in the marriage, says it’s almost six, and Mason’s been out all day. Fantasy World has reopened, so she can only assume he took a couple of day shifts, which surprises her. She thought he wouldn’t be ready to go back yet after what happened. Not that he’ll talk to them about it.

  She’s learned that teenagers have their own secret lives where they do things they’d never want their parents to know about. Mason’s at the age where he desperately wants to be an adult, but she knows he’s not ready yet.

  The computer screen is making her eyes ache. She’s been working on the monthly accounts for their scrap metal and auto repair business. It brings in peanuts compared to their financial loan business and fundraising endeavors, but it keeps Wyatt busy and out of her hair. He works there part-time knowing he can afford not to. Probably because he hates spending time with her as much as she does with him.

  As Wyatt slurps an early supper of soup and bread at the dinner table, she fixes herself another vodka. Car tires crunch their way toward the house. Mason’s back. She can relax now. Wyatt won’t be worrying like her, of course. He’s planning to eat supper, grab a bottle of whisky and spend the evening upstairs watching crappy black-and-white Westerns in bed, and she’s glad. It means she can talk to Mason alone. He spends all his spare time out of the house these days, so she’s looking forward to getting him to herself and finally having a proper conversation.

  When he walks in, Mason ignores them.

  “Where have you been?” she asks, trying to keep her tone casual. “Haven’t seen you since breakfast.” They’ve kept him on a tight leash over the years, for his own benefit. Allowing him to work at the amusement park this summer was a decision she’s starting to regret. But he’s getting older, so the leash is becoming slippery.

  He brushes his hair from his sweaty forehead. “What does it matter? I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  He has a little attitude going on, but that’s okay. She’ll forgive him that after the week he’s having.

  “Answer your mother,” says Wyatt, watching him carefully. “She worries about you.”

  Mason grabs a soda from the fridge. “I’m almost eighteen. I c
an take care of myself.”

  That makes her sad. She knows she’s going to have to let go of him at some point, but if he would stay in their lives and work in the family business, he’d always be close. And he’d be that important buffer between her and her husband. Unfortunately, for the last few months she’s had a horrible suspicion he has no intention of doing either.

  She places a bowl of soup and some bread in front of him and is surprised when he sits next to his father to eat. She joins them at the table with just her vodka. Her appetite for food isn’t too good lately. Her throat is always stinging with the acid she gets from heartburn, making her nauseous. She’s constantly on edge, and even the blazing hot summer sunshine can’t put her at ease.

  Wyatt’s a noisy eater, slurping his soup like he has no teeth, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and tearing his bread apart with his oil-stained hands. She’s been married to him since she was eighteen; twenty-four long years. It’s not just his noisy eating that bothers her. That’s actually the last thing she’d complain about if she were compiling a list.

  She tries not to think about her husband’s faults and instead watches Mason eat. He looks like his dad, but that’s where the similarities end. Mason has always been a good boy, studious and kind. The first time Wyatt took him hunting when he was eleven years old, he cried for a week. He hated the idea of killing animals. She had to explain they weren’t doing it for the sport; they ate every bit of what they killed.

  Slowly, over time, he’s got used to going out with Wyatt and coming home with something for dinner, but she can tell he still hates it. He just pretends not to in order to keep his dad happy. Wyatt has a fast temper that they would both rather avoid wherever possible.

  Her husband wipes his mouth and looks at his son. “I have a long list of jobs for you to cover in the scrapyard with Brad tomorrow.”

  Brad Skelton has worked for the family for twenty years and is still loyal. Although they can never be one hundred percent certain of anyone. He mainly works at their scrapyard but can be useful for other jobs too. Angie watches Mason’s face, but if he’s annoyed, he doesn’t show it, which is wise.