Next Day Gone

by J C Wing

  Chink!

  The blade of the shovel glinted momentarily in the silvery moonlight and Drew moved even closer, running toward one of the biggest trees and hiding behind the trunk. The sounds he heard behind him were unmistakable this time, and when he felt something push against him, it was all he could do not to cry out in fear.

  “Shhh …” he heard before turning to see a bespectacled face as the branches above him moved to allow some moonlight to shine down.

  “Mr. Kennedy?” Drew whispered. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the exact same thing, couldn’t I?”

  Drew remembered Paige asking him what he thought of Mr. Kennedy. Right now, he was grateful Mr. Kennedy was the kind of hall parent that would follow one of his students into a cold, dark morning.

  Chink!

  They both turned to see a jagged edge of torn grass and something lying beside it. The hole was growing ever bigger, and next to it was something covered by a light-colored fabric.

  “Who is that?” Drew breathed.

  “I can’t tell. The shadows are too thick.”

  The person who was digging stopped and Drew felt Mr. Kennedy’s fingers wrap around his arm.

  “Quiet.”

  Drew almost didn’t hear him speak and they both watched as the person below them stood there, trying to decide if he’d heard something. Drew held his breath, tried not to move a single inch.

  Chink!

  The shadowy figure continued to dig, his efforts faster now. He moved forward and kicked the mound beneath the sheet. It rolled and part of the fabric fell to the ground, revealing something pale.

  “Oh, my god …” Drew whispered. It was an arm. “Mr. Kennedy …” Around the wrist shone a hint of gold. A locket dangling from a gold chain. “That’s Paige,” he said, feeling himself go light-headed. “Oh, my god, that’s Paige!”

  Drew gasped for air, immediately reaching up to cover his mouth with the palm of his hand. He slid down the trunk of the tree and landed hard on his butt as the world closed in around him. No. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be a nightmare. He was still upstairs in the dark, nestled in the warmth of his bed. This was unreal.

  He heard someone speaking, then saw a light. He turned and realized Mr. Kennedy was on his phone.

  “No,” he whispered to himself as bile built up in the back of his throat. “No, no, no…”

  “You stay right here,” Mr. Kennedy commanded. “I mean it. Do not move.”

  Drew tried to answer, but the only word that came out of his mouth was, “No, no, no …”

  He saw the beam of a bright flashlight cut through the air. It moved, caught the dark figure beneath the tree and shone on the person holding the shovel.

  “Stop right there!” Mr. Kennedy shouted, and Drew heard more rustling coming from a few different directions. “The police are already here. Just stay where you are.”

  Drew tried to pull himself up, but his legs didn’t seem to be working. He held onto the tree and forced himself to his knees. Mr. Kennedy was walking down the hill toward the copse of trees, his flashlight bouncing, but there were other people moving from different directions. When Mr. Kennedy moved just slightly to the right, Drew caught sight of the person standing next to Paige.

  It was Hank Mills.

  PORTRAIT

  Drew had forgotten about staying where he was. He stumbled down to where Mr. Kennedy stood with two cops, their trio of flashlights a halo of light around the body lying on the ground. He’d taken his eyes away from Hank and was now staring at the motionless arm. Just as he stepped up next to Mr. Kennedy, one of the cops lifted the sheet and gently uncovered what was underneath.

  “Paige!” Drew cried, his heart feeling as if it would explode in his chest. He felt someone grab his arms, pull him back, and he fell to his knees. “Oh, Paige …”

  She lay on the ground surrounded by fallen leaves. She wore a short, light blue nightgown, and her legs and feet were bare. Her arms were akimbo, the golden locket around her left wrist glimmering in the flashlight beams. Her blonde hair looked like a tornado had whipped it around her head, and Drew thought she looked cold. He wanted to go and get her favorite hoodie, or one of the afghans Grananna had knitted for her. He wanted to wrap her up, hold her, rain kisses on her colorless cheeks and warm her up.

  Tears were streaming down Drew’s face, and he could only hear a buzzing sound swirling around him. Paige’s blue eyes were open, looking up toward the canopy of trees above her, but he could see no light behind them.

  He was being lifted to his feet, but he was afraid that his legs wouldn’t hold him.

  “Coroner is on his way.”

  “Move him. Don’t let him near the body.”

  “Drew, come on. Come over here.”

  He heard voices over coms the officers wore on their chests, and more officers were arriving, setting up spotlights. He watched as a pair of medics carried what looked like a long sled down the hill, then realized when legs beneath it popped down that it was a gurney.

  “I need you to stand here, okay?” He felt fingers on both sides of his face, turning his head. Detective Cabot’s face came into focus. “You’ve seen more than you should have. You’re in shock. I need you to stand here until I can get some paramedics to take care of you.”

  Drew couldn’t find his voice. He felt like the world was exploding around him. It was too loud. It was too scary. It was going to swallow him up.

  “Drew!” He blinked.

  “Yes, sir,” he managed to squeak out.

  “Right here. Do not move from this spot.”

  Drew nodded, then lifted his head to see Hank. He was staring at him. His hands were cuffed behind his back and there was dirt smudged on his face. Drew wanted to lunge at him, wanted to tear into his smug looking face, but his body wouldn’t move.

  The officer that had ahold of Hank moved him forward and the two of them passed Drew.

  “I didn’t do this alone,” Hank whispered loudly as he stumbled on the uneven ground. The officer pulled him up roughly, got him back to his feet. “He’s watching. He’ll know. Be careful what you say, Larsen, or everyone you ever cared about will die.”

  “Shut up,” the officer commanded and hauled Hank up the small incline.

  “Give them a minute,” he heard Detective Cabot say indicating Hank and the officer leading him through the grounds and up to the squad car. “There’s an ambulance up there waiting on Drew. Someone get Corinne Larsen on the phone and have her meet him at St. John’s. Then I want one of you to explain to me how in the hell he wound up at the crime scene.”

  Drew rested with his feet propped up on pillows and a heated blanket wrapped around his body. He’d finally stopped shivering, but the nurse wasn’t ready to let him go.

  “Oh, my sweet boy,” Corinne crooned as she ran her fingers through his hair. Before he was born, she’d expected him to be blond like Willow. He’d always had a bit of wave to his hair that none of the Larsen’s had. The thick strands flipped up all around his head, and he’d always worn it just a bit long because it laid better that way.

  His eyes were a clear, deep blue, and when she looked into them, she saw both Alex and Willow staring back. That had oftentimes made her sad. What she saw in them now frightened her. There was chaos and confusion and pain swimming around in there, and she was afraid Drew might never be who he was before the night’s events had taken place. Before he found Paige.

  “You’re coming home with me tonight,” she told him. She expected him to argue with her, but he didn’t.

  “Can I pick up some things from my dorm first?”

  Corinne thought that was a reasonable compromise.

  “I’ll call the headmaster and arrange it.”

  There was a knock on the door and when Corinne turned, they saw Detective Cabot walk in.

  “Hey, kid.”

  The nurse pushed between Corinne and the detective. “I need to change out his blanket,” she said
unapologetically. Both of them moved and she tended to her patient. Drew was grateful for the heat and hugged himself beneath the fabric. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” she asked him. “Give you a bit of a sugar boost, and I can make it nice and warm.”

  Drew didn’t know if he wanted hot chocolate or not. He stared at the nurse without really seeing her. She smiled at him and tucked the blanket a little tighter around him.

  “I’ll be right back,” she promised, turning to the detective. “He’s not ready to go home yet,” she informed him. “Don’t push him too hard.”

  Detective Cabot lowered his chin, acknowledging her warning. She kept a stern eye on him for a few moments before turning to leave.

  “Does he need a lawyer present?” Corinne asked.

  Detective Cabot raised his hand. “No, ma’am,” he said. “Drew isn’t a suspect. I’ve got men in Henry Mills’ dorm right now. They found articles of clothing—”

  “Like what?” Drew croaked.

  “A hat, for one thing.”

  “Green? Like the top of a strawberry? It was part of Paige’s Halloween costume …”

  Detective Cabot nodded. “Well, that makes a little more sense now. I’ll talk to you more about that later. It looks like that’s where he killed her and kept her.”

  Drew closed his eyes. He wanted the world to swallow him up. He didn’t think he could stand being here without Paige.

  Corinne let out a shaky breath and pulled up a chair near Drew’s bed. She dropped into it a little heavier than she intended to.

  “I have some questions,” the detective began, “but they can wait until tomorrow. Henry Mills has a nasty looking scratch on the left side of his neck. The coroner has only done a perfunctory examination, but she says there is skin beneath the fingernails on Paige’s right hand. I’m going to guess and say both the skin and the blood we found belong to him.”

  “He told me he didn’t do it alone.” Drew’s voice was shaky when he spoke.

  Detective Cabot looked up, surprised. “He spoke to you?”

  Drew opened his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  “When?”

  “After he was cuffed.” He remembered the sound of Hank’s voice and how he’d wanted to jump on him, tear him apart. But his body wouldn’t cooperate. It didn’t want to move. It felt the same now. There was a disconnect, and his arms and legs weren’t getting the messages his brain was sending.

  “Damn it,” the detective swore. “One thing you’re gonna explain to me tomorrow is why you were there this morning.”

  “I’ll tell you right now,” Drew said.

  “First, I want to know everything Henry Mills said to you.”

  Drew swallowed and realized that his throat was sore. “He told me he didn’t do this alone. Then he said he’s watching. He’ll know. That I needed to be careful about what I say, or everyone I ever cared about will die.”

  Corinne let out a gasp, then covered her mouth with her fingers.

  “He?” Detective Cabot asked. “He said, ‘he’s watching?’”

  “Yes, sir. Someone else is out there, and apparently they’re watching me.”

  The nurse came back in with a paper cup. “I’m guessin’ you got from this young man all you’re goin’ to for the evenin’, Detective,” she stated.

  He sighed in aggravation, his eyes still on Drew. “I did,” he said, giving in. “Thank you.”

  “Detective Cabot?” Corinne asked, standing up. “Drew would like to pick up a few things from his dorm. Then I’m taking him home with me. Can you make sure that happens without any trouble?”

  The detective brought his phone to life and checked the display. “It’s almost six,” he said. “By the time you head in that direction, I reckon someone will be in the office. I doubt you’ll have any issues, but I’ll clear the way.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Now,” the nurse said, looking at Detective Cabot. “You need to leave, and Drew needs to sip on this.”

  “Tomorrow,” the detective repeated. “You’ll be hearing from me,” he promised.

  Drew sat on his bed and held the envelope in his hands. He’d found it upon returning to his dorm room. It was underneath his desk chair, and he knew he’d never seen it before. His grandmother had urged him to hurry, so he pulled a duffel bag out of his closet and filled it with clothes and toiletries. Then he gathered charging cords and electronics and hiked his backpack onto his shoulder. The envelope went home with the rest of his things.

  He carefully opened the flap and peered inside, seeing the edge of a large white piece of paper. He pinched the edge with his fingertips and pulled it from the envelope. It was a drawing done in pencil. A drawing of Paige. She stared back at him from the rough, white sketch paper. Her eyes were wide and full of fear. Her lips were slightly parted, and she looked utterly terrified.

  Drew didn’t know many people who could render the human face with such precision and expertise. No, the person who had drawn this had taken his time, studied his subject long and hard and had come up with a perfect replica of the real thing.

  There was a signature in the bottom right corner. Drew knew who had drawn the portrait, but the name he saw scrawled there surprised him.

  It read, The Sleeping Beauty Strangler.

  REUNION

  Drew pulled the Mustang against the curb in front of a stately two-story house on Liberty Road. He looked at his phone again to make sure it had taken him to the right place. He’d assumed the address he’d found would take him to a hospital or a clinic, but this was undeniably a residential area.

  Although Woodside Hills was less than twenty minutes away from Asheville, Drew was unfamiliar with the area. Dr. Edith Heath lived just a little outside the city in a town called Candler. Her house was just off the Pigsah Highway in a more remote neighborhood with older homes. The structure had just been dressed in a fresh coat of white paint with pine green trim and sat back off the street with a long stretch of lawn between it and the sidewalk. The front of the house faced west with a two-car garage on one end, and another entry on the other. The front door was nestled inside a deep wraparound porch with empty planters and large multi-colored pots that most likely held blooming flowers and plants in them during the warmer months. The porch was swept clean, and a wooden swing moved ever so slightly on its chains in the cool autumn breeze.

  Drew walked the length of the pathway on the side of the house. He was headed toward the porch and the front door, but as he got closer, the side entry caught his attention. He stopped to admire the tall strips of stained-glass that flanked both sides of the door. Each window was about a foot wide and as tall as the frame. Drew stopped several yards away so he could study the pattern of pine trees, dusky sky and a singular moon in the panel on the right. On the left side, he spied a large bear looking across the door and at the moon on the opposite side. The scene was beautiful and so precisely crafted that he moved forward to run his fingers along a smooth line of lead came. He was confused by this door and wondered why there would be an entrance on the side of the house without a garage. As his eyes moved over the panes of glass, he saw a shadow from inside. When the door opened, he was face to face with a red-haired woman, her light brown eyes wide and inquisitive.

  “Hello,” she said. “I’m Dr. Heath. You’re a bit early for your appointment, but please come in.”

  “Oh,” Drew stammered. “No, I’m not here for an appointment. I didn’t know …” he paused as everything clicked into place. He’d been successful in finding Dr. Heath’s office, he just hadn’t realized that she worked out of her home. “I’m sorry, I know I should have called first. It was rude to just barge in on you like this, but I really need to talk to you about my mom.”

  Edie scrutinized the boy as he spoke, and when he’d finished, she opened the door a little wider. Her expression changed, and Drew was almost sure it was sadness he saw creep into her eyes.

  “Your mom …” Her voice was soft as she continued to stud
y him. “My god. I haven’t seen you in twelve years.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Drew replied with a shy smile. “I probably look a little different now.”

  Edie breathed deep, then sighed. “Yes,” she agreed. “You look just like Willow.”

  Edie invited Drew inside and led him through a large den that had been converted into a home office. They walked through a door that brought them into her home, and as she locked it from the inside, she glanced at the watch she wore on her wrist.

  “I’m not expecting anyone for another hour or so. Can I get you anything? A snack? Are you thirsty?”

  Drew waved her off. “No, ma’am. I’m not hungry but thank you.”

  Edie smiled a sad smile as she watched him, then shook her head and led him into the family room.

  “Are you okay with dogs?”

  The question surprised him. “Uh, sure. Yeah. I love dogs.”

  “Rosie,” Edie called. “Come.”

  Drew heard the sound of padded feet on the wide planked floor, then saw a fifty-pound Siberian Husky round the corner. She was dark gray and white, and her ears stood at attention. She trotted to him, then plopped her furry bottom down on the floor, looking up at him with a big doggy smile.

  “Hello,” Drew said, a feeling of immediate affection washing over him. He noticed that the dog’s right eye was a bright, icy blue, while her left eye was a clear, honey brown. She was a stunning creature. “You’re beautiful, Rosie.”

  Edie chuckled. “Tell her something she doesn’t know.” She directed her attention to the dog. “Rosie, this is Andrew Heath Larsen. He’s my namesake and part of the family, so you’d best treat him as such.”

  “Chuff.”

  “Sassy,” Edie shook her head. “But lovable.”

  Drew followed Edie to the center of the room. He noticed that the house was clean, but lived in. There was a difference between Edie’s living space and her office space. He hadn’t seen much of her office, but it felt warmer here in the heart of the home. The room was comfortable, and Drew’s eyes were attracted to the windows along the front of the house. There were two rows of them; one above and another below separated by about a foot of wall space. The upper windows were all stained-glass, much like the panels in the side entry. Drew stood still as his gaze went from one to the next. Edie watched him, her eyes finding the lines and curves in his face that resembled her best friend’s.