Derek starts laughing. He doesn’t seem easily offended by my playful banter. “Mandi, I’ve often thought the very same thing. I’ve just never had the guts to voice that to anyone.”
“Women in that category aren’t interested in passion; it’s about the extras they’ll be able to afford and the security. That’s why you’ll often find a night table drawer full of vibrators and sex gadgets because their dude isn’t tripping their trigger. It’s kind of sick that they’ll sacrifice love and passion for lavish spending. You know, I just want an attractive guy that doesn’t treat me like I’m second-rate; I could care less about his damn retirement portfolio.” Not that anyone would ever stick around long enough where we’d be cashing our social security checks together.
“The money issue has always been a problem because I don’t make as much as they expect,” he states, disheartened. “Basically, I’m too idealistic. May I ask you something about women that I don’t quite understand?”
“Absolutely.” I love that we’re talking like two people rather than the conversation centering entirely on what transpired at Leighton. I also enjoy chatting without feeling the urge to censor myself. Now that we’re outside of that police station, Delaney has loosened up.
“What I have to say has repeatedly proved to be problematic,” he says. Being this vulnerable in front of a lawbreaker must be outside his comfort zone. “Why do most women start off with luxurious hair and then start cutting it shorter each year? That seems to be the evolution of women’s hair in a relationship.”
“That’s not me. I can’t even imagine trimming two inches from the length of my hair, but I’ve known girls that have hastily cut off their locks as if it was the ‘adult’ thing to do. Supposedly, hair is more manageable when it’s shorter. Some women look better in short hair, but it can be a ‘bait and switch’ thing when they purposely used the long hair to attract a man. Once a guy doesn’t care how you look, it can be the first click in a row of dominos falling. If an extra few minutes keeps the fire burning hot, it’s worth making the extra effort. I can’t look ‘however’ and expect him to say ‘whatever.’ That’s why those creepy mug shots freaked me out because I’d never leave the house with my hair pinned-up like that—not even with the flu. Keeping and styling my long hair is a big part of the dance.” I smile at him for his honesty. “Thanks for not dodging the initial question.”
“You’re welcome,” he says. “Do you want to know anything else?”
“I’m good for now, but I may come up with a question along the way. Since we’re in a less conspicuous location, I’ll cut right to the chase about my predicament. After thinking about Robbie playing on a baseball team and this Agnew out there binge-killing, I might be able to make some sense as to what I think may be happening. It will sound like a pile of horseshit, but I promise you it’s not a skewed reality.”
“I’m listening.”
I catch myself biting my lower lip, a habit that shows up whenever I’m about to reveal contentious details. “I believe the only reason this Agnew McAllister exists is that I interfered with the past last night—twenty-five years ago to be exact. I lived through the experience, and what I’m saying even seems nonsensical to me. Are you following?”
“I’m only processing what you are trying to say,” he insists, although his dreamy eyes reflect skepticism. “I’ll stop you if or when I need clarification.”
“That’s fair.” I take a deep breath, hoping whatever I reveal will not backfire. With so much to disclose, I barely know where to begin. “Other than a public intox charge from back in college—and two speeding tickets, I have no criminal record. My convicted uncle was not married nor did he have any kids. You claimed that you have not worked for the police department in Wilkinson Creek, but you were patrolling in front of Town Square yesterday morning. Do you find any of this peculiar?”
“A little.” His remark comes off as a bit sardonic; I can’t expect any less until all the details are presented in order.
“And, yesterday morning, I applied for a job at Leighton Publishing. Following that meeting, Carolyn also had me escorted from the premises, but I was not arrested. That’s why I lost control this morning. I wasn’t about to take her provocation two days in a row.”
“Matthew Leighton claimed that you’ve never applied there before this morning.”
“They would have no recollection of my being there because when I woke this morning, I suddenly had a clean slate,” I explain. “The June calendar hanging in the kitchen even showed Leighton Publishing circled with a Sharpie on the 21st. I was ecstatic because the 20th had been previously circled. How often do you get a second chance at a botched interview? When I arrived, Carolyn had no memory of having met me previously. Life finally came with a rewind button. It made no difference because, as expected, the McAllister name cursed my employment opportunity.”
I’m not going to mention that things were a little off before I took a shower this morning. My bedroom was in a state of disorder; wads of chewing gum were stuck to the headboard, and my clothing was haphazardly tossed all over the floor. I’m never that messy and only chew gum to sweeten my breath after drinking. I figured Trudy was delivering a message about moving out.
“How do you explain getting a second chance?”
“This is where it’ll get a bit outlandish.” He’ll think I’m flipping my lid, but nothing aligns with what has happened thus far today. “I will admit that I was a bit loaded last night, but I still remember all that transpired. I don’t care what that website showed, Robbie Woodbury came after me last night. He was about to beat me, rape me, or murder me . . . maybe a combination of all three. Anyway, after I broke away from his grapple in the alley, I hid behind the wishing well in Town Square. I grabbed my—” I hesitate because I know this all has to sound so far-fetched. I suck in another deep breath, reluctant to spin such a crazy tale. “Anyway, as Robbie was closing in on me, I made a wish using this rare Indianhead penny encased in a necklace. Originally, a woman had dropped that same penny on a sidewalk in Chicago. That’s a longer story. Anyway, when I turned around . . . ”
Although my better judgment told me to seal my trap, I recapped the events from last night as we worked through our entrees. My double cheeseburger didn’t live up to the reputation. I need to start eating food that can’t bleed all over my plate. During my summary, I sidestepped the part regarding how Willie was minutes away from being pinched for committing those murders. Instead, I told him that my objective was to remove a personal item from his basement—leaving out that the object was a gun used in multiple, but connected homicides. From the way I omitted this component from the story, he may not have realized how crucial the “personal item” was to the outcome. After this many years, pinning any blame or suspicion on Willie would be senseless.
Upon revealing how Abbey appeared out of the darkness, slowed down time, and escorted me to 1994, Delaney became outwardly dubious. Those details mirrored a lonely career drunk spouting a tall tale to get people to pay attention. After my conspectus of the events, Derek appears to be shrouded in disbelief. I hope his reaction leans more toward wonderment than bemusement. His brain is able to decipher between reality and what had to sound like an irrational hallucination.
“Had Robbie not been so damn obsessed with getting his oversized mitts on me, I wouldn’t have been hiding behind the damn wishing well in the first place,” I conclude. Irrespective of Delaney’s reaction, I intend to hold my head up high. “It probably sounds as if I’m suffering from a delusion. I didn’t expect tweaking a moment in the past would be some type of malediction that would spawn a complete maniac. I just don’t think my wish was detailed enough.”
“With your lexicon of $5 words, I’m surprised you didn’t phrase your request better.”
“I was too terror-stricken—and blitzed—to be concerned with diction.”
Delaney has been patient. I’m not about to allow my case to be torn down by the excluded details about the gun
. If absolutely necessary, I will disclose the truth relating to the weapon.
Delaney’s fingertips lightly touch each other, creating a triangle-shaped space between his hands. Such posturing is said to be a sign of confidence, but I’ll be relieved if it indicates a diminutive degree of belief in anything I’ve revealed. I’m under no obligation to prove what happened, but I hate being labeled a liar when being sincere. Considering that the McAllister name carries little value, credibility is essential to my self-image.
“Do you want my honest opinion?” He takes a sip of his soft drink to buy a few seconds to gather the right words.
“If it’s not too harsh.”
“Your story is quite detailed, and I’m positive that you believe every word,” he admits, running the tip of his tongue under his front teeth. “And you are not the first person that has blamed the wishing well for playing a trick on them. This repose seems a little unprecedented compared to the usual tales I’ve heard. The alcohol may have caused you to lose consciousness for a stretch.”
“What I’ve told you happened exactly in the way I stated. I did not lose consciousness one time. I don’t get how everyone can buy into a four-eyed wizard being transported through a mystical train station wall, but a woman being able to slow down time is too much to fathom!”
“Don’t misinterpret my reaction,” he says, defensively. “I believe in some outlandish possibilities; however, a woman with the power to decelerate time would be able to manipulate everything. Not even the Air Force would stand a chance against a supernatural being with such masterful abilities. And you claim her name was Abbey; sounds a little too cutesy to be so preemptive.”
“That’s the name she used when introducing herself. She didn’t offer up a last name, and a woman’s name hardly dictates her behavior. Who would have thought a girl named Lizzie Borden would have chopped up her family?”
“I’ll give you that one.” He’s mulling something over in his head.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he says, afraid to tell me what he’s considering.
“I’m not playing games, Delaney. We can just end lunch now if you want. You are acting like what I’m telling you is harder to swallow than these soggy fries.”
“Okay, you’re right,” he apologizes. “I’m usually the one dreaming up idiosyncratic concepts. Tell me what you remember about Abbey. You mentioned that she looked to be in her thirties.”
“I could tell she wasn’t much older than I am. She had this flawless skin—almost as if she had invisible pores as seen in a touched-up glamour photograph. This may sound strange coming from another woman, but she was breathtaking in every sense. I wanted to hate her for being that perfect, but I urgently needed her help. She did claim to age slowly—whatever that meant.”
“Maybe she meant that the years have been kind to her.”
“That’s possible,” I admit. “Oh, and she was carrying this yellow and black polka-dot umbrella everywhere.”
“An umbrella . . . that’s interesting!”
“It’s not that interesting. She kept it closed the entire time.”
He chews heavily on this disclosure. “That’s just a strange object to be carrying around on a night with no rain in the forecast.”
“When a woman is offering to grant your wish, you hardly pick apart her accessories. I thought it was a bit odd that she was carrying it late at night.”
He ponders for a moment and says, “Mandi, I’d like to put faith in what you’re saying, but if this is some hoax to skirt around the truth, I want no part of it.”
“I’m being totally on the level. You need to quit insinuating that I’m stretching the truth.”
“I only keep asking because it feels as if someone may have been having a good time at your expense. Are you aware of anyone that has a score to settle with you?”
“No one other than Robbie; he’s too much of a dolt to piece together something so intricate.”
“You claimed that he was immobile. Theoretically, he could have been playing a part in the charade.”
“I kicked him in the balls twice,” I remind him. “He didn’t even flinch; it wasn’t theater. In addition to Robbie being frozen in place, the only clear sound was Abbey’s voice. How could anyone pretend to move me back in time? The dark of the night changed to dusk.”
“If you were under hypnosis, you may have been tricked into believing that you went back in time. During a hypnotic episode, a powerful suggestion can make you visualize a tiger standing in the same room. I’ve recently had some experience with hypnosis.”
“This was not hypnosis,” I state firmly. “Agnew McAllister was not a living person yesterday. A criminal of that magnitude is not the result of being under some mind-altering spell. By that logic, I would have been under hypnosis since I began grade school to have ignored such a crucial fact. You saved my life about a year ago with no memory of it. Wouldn’t you agree that maybe—just maybe—what I did last night could have altered the present in some drastic way?”
“Just for argument’s sake, let’s say that I did save you but have no memory of the event. In theory, the present could have been altered by tweaking a moment from the past—one that was quite significant from what originally happened.” Delaney chews on his last bite of burger to mull it over, creating an awkward silence. After the brief pause, he says, “Back to Abbey. Tell me how she dressed.”
“She wore one of those tilt hats that society women wore back in the ’30s. Actually, she was dressed entirely in garb you can usually only find in a costume shop.”
“Didn’t you find it particularly odd that a woman of that caliber would appear at the precise moment you needed her?”
“Without question,” I admit. “Especially considering how I came to possess that penny in the first place. I dropped the coin, made the wish, and then she showed up—a paradox from a penny. I relaxed a little upon the realization that she was the woman that had originally lost the necklace in Chicago.”
“Wasn’t it a little peculiar that the very woman you saw lose the necklace would be the same woman approaching you?”
“A familiar face felt less suspicious than that of a complete stranger. Had it been some old creep with a hunchback, I would have been less inclined to be trustful. Admittedly, I was a damsel in distress searching for a solution, and she showed up.
He isn’t saying anything. I’ve never been comfortable with pockets of silence during a conversation.
I continue. “Anyway, her voice was so cheerful; it almost sounded as if a smile was lodged in her larynx. After being treated scornfully earlier in the day, I felt compelled to follow her. Since she could freeze Robbie like a mannequin, I put some faith in her unusual abilities. What she was proposing didn’t sound that extreme.”
Delaney may not be able to relate to the type of struggles I’ve faced throughout my life. I’d love to leave the topic of Abbey behind and come up with a plan to stop Agnew, but we’re too immersed in the discussion for Delaney to let me off the hook. Actually, it’s all one-sided at this point.
“I was trying to get disentangled from the bad breaks that have followed me around since preschool,” I add, playing the sympathy card. “When you don’t have shit, there isn’t much anyone can take.”
“I understand that, but you still must have been doubtful.”
“Naturally. Anyone would have been wary of such an offer. Just removing me away from the danger of Robbie was worth letting down my guard. If someone handed you a winning lottery ticket, you wouldn’t look at it under a black light to see if it had been printed with disappearing ink.” I take a sip of my drink to take a breath. “I may have been a bit impetuous, but when you’re sinking, you tend to trust the hand offering to pull you to safety. Do you believe any of what I’m telling you? I’ve explained everything to the best of my recollection as you demanded.”
“I’m more apt to believe your story full of vigorous details than one that lacks reasoning.”
“Thank you. I need some assurance right now.” It would be best just to remain silent while he considers all the facts. This has to be a lot to digest—on top of the undercooked beef we both choked down.
“Mandi, what isn’t gelling is if this woman possessed the power to take you back in time, there had to be a reason you made the leap to that particular night in 1994. What was so significant about removing an object from your uncle’s house? Agnew would not have been conceived yet; I’m not seeing the significance.”
I explain that Willie’s legal problems have been an obstacle throughout my entire life. By removing an item from his house, it was supposed to remedy that hindrance. Naturally, Delaney tells me that Willie has not been arrested for a single misdemeanor—not even a domestic abuse call. I clam up because men typically pretend to listen to me and commonly drift off when I get wordy. Well, other than when a guy wants to screw me; they sure act all engaged while waiting for my pants to come undone. Delaney has obviously been actively listening to every detail of last night’s misadventure. “It was just, well . . . ”
“What is it?”
“If I tell you, I’ll be guilty of tampering with evidence.” I pause to consider how many details I should relay. “At the time, I merely thought I would be making a change to my life. I figured that a flood of new memories would overwrite the old ones. I had a foolish conception of how a better tomorrow might look. I didn’t expect these repercussions to spring up. I’m an authority on what to do after I’ve made a mistake but never before it happens. I’m too impulsive, I guess.”
“First off, you need to relax,” he says, reaching across to hold my hands. I instantly calm down upon feeling his gentle touch. “I highly doubt that anything you would have removed from his residence would make you guilty of a crime today.”
In Dark Places Page 17