by Sarah Hualde
She awakened to the shrill keening of screeching tires and shouting. Jumping up from the couch, she forgot her straining belly and pained back. A searing ache soon reminded her. She crouched on all fours. One hand supporting her belly bump and the other balancing her against an ottoman, Flora panted and cried. The baby rolled and kicked at the upset. It too must have been napping.
“You’re okay, sweet baby, you’re okay. I’m okay, too. We’re just going to lie on the floor until the hurting stops.”
Flora curled up, wedging a cushion from the couch behind her back. She continued to cry while forcing her breath to even out. Knees on the hardwood, she shifted her focus to the television. Whatever had startled her was flashing on the screen.
“… the wreck left her cousin trapped in a coma for two months. Giving up her career, Maven canceled her tour and turned her attention to the caretaking of her cousin." The narrator's voice was deep and smooth and soothing. Flora rested in its rhythm, matching her breath with its cadence.
A gruff and grumpy looking man wearing an outlandish ascot appeared on the screen. He sat in an oversized leather lounger and crossed his legs in protective anger. "The band and I were livid. We tried to understand, but this was the first big chance someone offered us. I did my best to convince Mave to only postpone the tour. Ya’ know, give it a year and then hit the road. She wasn’t having it. She was sure Averie would need her. None of us had any choice we had to move on.”
“He’s a treasure.” Flora, still struggling to center herself, joked with her unborn child. It didn’t help. Again, she zoned in on the narrator’s voice.
“Maven herself did not escape unfazed from the accident.” He said.
“With no other family, except their ailing Grandmother, the girls clung to each other, through high school. When Maven made her break, Averie stayed home and took care of Grandma but was always there to offer Maven solace.”
One lady added. “Then the accident happened, and it forever changed both girls.”
Maven's biography showed a picture of the crash. Something crunched the passenger side flat. The entire car smoldered, charred and blackened. Flora watched, amazed that Maven survived the collision with so few injuries. Averie must've hit her head on the dash to have such a traumatic wound, while Maven walked away.
“A good Samaritan seeing the crash pulled both ladies from the car. There are rumors to who this mystery man was, but no one knows for sure.” The camera pulled away from the wreck and faded to another shot of the accident. In it, a shadowy figure stood by a light post and then with a flick of the frame he was at the car tugging at the passenger door. A tick later and another freeze frame showed him standing over a battered Averie.
“Where’s Maven?”
The next flicker of a photo answered the question. Maven knelt beside a lamppost holding her neck and pointing at the burning car.
The short documentary detailed the collapse of Maven’s career. It highlighted her unselfish choices and the fact she’s never performed publicly, again. As the video closed, Flora’s pain lessened. She pulled herself back onto the couch without much effort. The video disturbed her too much to continue watching. She opted for some music, a cup of iced tea, and a book.
*****
Booths hummed. Last-minute shoppers and visitors hopped from vendor to vendor. Some guests complained about the closure of Lavender Lane and the bee yard. They soothed themselves with drinks and treats. Lydia passed by all the excitement and headed straight for the inn.
Unable to locate Berna, she cruised to the upper floors of the Bed and Breakfast. Olive chattered at Lydia as she passed with her housekeeping cart. Lydia paused just long enough for Olive to divulge which room was Averie’s. Then the maid left, singing to herself as she exited the hall.
Lydia waited for her conscience to quiet and Olive’s footfalls to vanish. She triple checked the hallway and tried Averie’s door. Locked. Lydia huffed. What had she been expecting?
Berna loved antiquities. She decorated her inn with a good deal of aged hardware. They added charm to the B & B and made breaking in much simpler for Lydia. Never having jimmied a lock before, Lydia stood shocked at the ease of her entry.
Lodgers chatted in the stairwell. Lydia hurried into the room. She slipped the cuff of her sweater over her hand and shut the door with stealth.
Averie’s room was lovely and lived in. Berna discouraged Olive from cleaning it. Lydia stopped a moment trying to figure out what to do next.
With no interior lights shining, she looked around. She wasn’t sure why she was standing in a stranger’s hotel room. Why was she messing about in the last known whereabouts of a victim of assault? Was she really interfering in the private life of a stalked woman? One whose stalker knew where his victim was staying?
The gravity of her choices battered Lydia's mind and rested uneasily on her gut. She would not be the helpless snoop. Lydia would not become that woman. She would leave things as they were and scoot before someone caught her.
Resolute in her retreat, Lydia pivoted on her heels. Her eyes caught sight of Averie’s favorite teacup. The same one she’d used in her recent honey video. Drawn to the object, Lydia forgot her senses and inspected the china cup. Smarter than to leave fingerprints, Lydia again used her sleeve to pick up the delicate cup. Remnants of tea and honey sloshed in the bottom.
A clear teapot sat on the desk. No tea remained in the pot, but crushed leaves, seeds, and flower petals stuck to its sides. They rested there shriveled and stinking. Lydia did not have to raise the pot to her face to sniff the mixture. Slow rot wafted from the lidless pot.
Lydia took out her phone. She snapped pictures of the pot and cup before deciding to take pictures of Averie’s entire room. Her fear of discovery faded, and she clicked away. Five minutes won’t make much of a difference. She excused her so-called crime.
In the bathroom, she found an empty envelope. Averie’s name graced its face. Lydia reasoned someone left it at the front desk for Averie. Tiny purple, hand drawn hearts decorated the corners. The pen with purple ink sat next to the envelope.
Lydia walked out of the bathroom and knocked into a familiar face. She swallowed a scream as Shane Mons placed a hand over her mouth. “What are you doing in here?” He questioned, shaking his head. ‘You shouldn’t be in here. You don't know what’s going on!”
With wide eyes, she watched Shane pace about the room before he bolted out the door. A hesitant second later, Lydia charged after him. She hurried down the hallway determined not to lose sight of the man.
Olive’s cart blocked half of the second-floor landing and Lydia knocked her bruised hip against it. “Biscuits!” She limped as she followed Shane through the lounge and out into the festival crowd.
Shane weaved through the families and spectators. He launched over the Lavender Lane closed signage and into the field. Lydia cut through the bee court hoping to catch him on the other side. She skirted the corners of the fence only to plummet face first into a damp patch of mud. Stalker man was long gone.
Lydia pushed herself up, crunching something beneath her left knee. She sat back on drier earth and pulled the solid object from the mud. There dirty, wet, and in a cracked case was a cellphone. Smudging the mud splatter to a paler brown mud splotch revealed three retro stars. “Averie?”
CHAPTER NINE
W hat happened to you?” Kat opened her door without a greeting.
“I fell.”
“In what?”
“Guess.” Lydia held up her treasure. “I need to take this to Ethan. I believe, he’s back at the hospital.”
"Okay, I'll go with you. Kevin dropped Ivy and Scout off with Flora. You can borrow some of my clothes. But I don't think we wear the same shoe size." Kat's eyes landed on Lydia's once fashionable but now grungy boots. "I've got your gym bag in my car, from yesterday. I bet you're running shoes are in there. Change and we'll go." Lydia obeyed, using the Miller bathroom to clean up.
Kat sped down the highway.
She chatted, via car speaker, with Thaddeus, filling him in on her whereabouts. She checked in with Ivy, who informed her both Flora and Scout were snoozing on the couch. Lydia palmed Averie’s cellphone. She used a paper towel to wipe the mud from the screen.
“Plug it in.”
“Ethan will not like that.”
“I don’t think the mud did it any good and with you smearing it all over the phone I don’t think they’ll be any prints or anything. If that’s what you’re thinking?”
Lydia shrugged and plugged in the phone. It beeped in response, accepting the charger. The screen flickered. "Why’s it doing that?”
"It must have been in the middle of something when it shut down."
“My phone never does that.”
“It doesn’t? Randomly, my phone will play a song I’d been listening to earlier. Averie must have had an app running.”
“I don’t think she was playing games in the middle of the field.” Lydia watched the screen and Kat pulled off the road.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to see this, too.” They curled around the center console watching the video play in the passenger cup holder.
Averie, standing in the middle of the lavender, spoke to the camera. She ran her palms along the tops of the stalks as the air twisted her bubble gum hair. Lydia could almost feel the wind around her and smell the blossoms. “She’s wearing the same outfit I found her in.”
“She must have been reviewing the video or something before she dropped it. Where did you say you found it?”
“Near the bee gate.”
“And you found her?”
“On the other side of the bee yard.”
Kat leaned closer to the phone blocking Lydia’s view. “I’m not going deaf, am I? There’s no sound.”
Averie’s smiling face spoke to the viewer, but no voice resounded. The ASMR artist turned toward the field and swept her arms up to the sky. The scene faded and returned with Averie seated on a round yoga mat in the middle of the 5k track.
"This must be her Twilight Yoga video,” Lydia said to herself. "And no, there's no sound. But that doesn't make sense. Her whole business is sound. Why would there be no sound?"
Kat looked in her mirrors and pulled back onto the highway. “Beats me. Tell me when something interesting happens.”
“Wait!” Lydia yelled. Kat jerked the wheel, swiping a fence post in her nervous overreaction. “Pull over.”
Kat slammed the emergency brake and parked. “What is it?”
"I'm not sure. I think we're witnessing Averie's attack."
Kat grabbed the phone and backed up the video. “All I see is the lavender. Wait, now it’s the horizon.”
“Yes, just hold on.”
The image rustled, and the camera faced Averie. Her face contorted in terror. She looked both scared and scary as she gestured at no one.
“Whoa, she’s going crazy.”
“That’s not all.”
A second shadow joined the ASMR artist. Averie appeared to be screaming at the unseen body. Her expressions morphed from rage to confusion and obfuscated from terrified to hopeful. As perplexing and nerve-wracking as it was to watch Averie talk to a shadow, both Lydia and Kat stopped breathing the moment she released a silent scream and ran.
The camera picked up spots of earth, a flicker of the fence, bare feet charging across a worn path, and a pursuing assailant. Lydia imagined the phone gripped in Averie's hand as she tried to escape. A moment later, the phone went black, dark as the mud in which Lydia discovered it.
“That’s it we’ve got to find Ethan.” Kat peeled away and hustled toward the hospital in a frenzied recklessness.
*****
Ivy chatted with Flora over popcorn and flavored water.
“Averie was the driver.”
Flora averted her eyes as Ivy watched the crash video for the third time. This time she'd made her turn off the sound. It was getting to Flora. She'd have nightmares if she had to witness the accident again. She wasn't sure how Ivy could manage the gore and drama. But, Ivy was more robust than she looked. She'd survived a lot more than any of the homeschool mamas knew.
“You keep saying that. I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, Averie was the driver. The wreck was her fault. That's one reason it's so amazing that Maven stayed by her side. Averie caused the whole thing. But by these pictures, I don't understand how Maven walked away, and Averie was the one in a coma. I mean look at that." Ivy gestured toward the TV.
“I’ve seen it, thanks.”
“Here let me show you something.” Ivy switched on her tablet and pulled up Averie’s channel. “A few months ago, Averie posted her story. You know, one of those videos where the star draws on a whiteboard and tells you pivot points of their life?”
“I guess so. I think I’ve seen one before. In church. Except they use cardboard to declare pieces of their testimonies.”
“Right! Like that, just longer and more detailed.” Ivy scooted closer to Flora and held up her device for each woman to watch.
*****
Ethan spotted Lydia before Lydia saw him. He glided up behind her and hugged her around the waist. “What are you wearing?” He asked laughing.
"Kat's clothes, it's a long story. That's why we're here."
“Kat’s here, too?” Ethan took his wife’s hand and led her over to a couch in the staff lounge. He sat inviting his wife to join him. Ethan’s gleeful eyes puffed from lack of sleep. A haggard image of Lydia reflected from his chocolaty irises. He removed a clump of mud from Lydia’s hair clip.
“She’s in her car. On the phone with Thad.”
“I see. So, what does you wearing Kat’s clothes have to do with this unexpected visit?” He held her hand. Lydia could tell he was drawing encouragement from her presence. The day before strained the sleepy sheriff.
Lydia held out the cell phone. Ethan glanced at the device as a white coat called his name. He hustled. Lydia watched the men converse. She couldn't tell what was being said. She was nervous for her husband. He needed more than a couple stolen hours of rest. He needed time off. But Ethan would not pause until Averie was safe.
Lydia stayed out of Ethan’s work business, as best as she could. On Saturdays, she read the Honey Pot news blotter that detailed the emergency reports of the week. Shooter, a rambunctious lab shepherd mix made at least two reports. He ran away from home, often, and sat outside the elementary school waiting for his children to return. Sometimes he dug up a vegetable patch or flower garden on his route, but he always ended up sprawled on the lawn outside the school gate. The school left water out for him in the summer. In the winter, they left out a blanket.
Other days the blotter, held news of domestic altercations and thefts. Ethan would confirm the reports with a grunt and a grin over his coffee mug and Lydia would read more.
Those times and a few random platters of treats to the station were Lydia’s idea of involvement and support. She knew Ethan wasn’t free to divulge information. She also knew he preferred leaving work at the station.
There were days when work stalked him. Files followed Ethan home, and phone calls with Gus echoed down the stairwell. Lydia cataloged these events and sometimes offered her husband advice. Once, maybe twice, her perspective was beneficial to their investigation. With Joan away, Lydia listened more intently to these random slips. She discovered a new inquisitive side to herself. She enjoyed hunting down leads.
Still, she knew Ethan didn't want his wife snooping. So, she tried her best to stay clear of his job. Lydia wasn't sure if it was God leading her on a new path or if it was her empty nester hormones driving her to meddle. She wasn’t strong enough to resist the pull of a mystery when it dropped clues in her lap.
Without inner debate, Lydia turned on Averie’s phone and emailed herself the video from the lavender field. She thanked Heaven the waiting room cell reception was working.
The hospital consumed Ethan's time. He waited for Ashton
Police to ask him the right questions or send him out looking for more information. She wanted to be ready to help him if he needed her. She also had the strangest twinge of foreboding about Averie and Maven. Something was not right. She could not settle her stomach about the matter.
Who was the Shadow Man? Was Shane Mons the stalker? Why was Shane in Averie’s room? Was he the shadow chasing Averie through the lavender field?
Ethan flashed an apologetic grin at Lydia before the doctor pulled him away. The two men vanished inside a room. Lydia checked the time on her cellphone. 4:30 pm. In Honey Pot, in summer, the sun could stay shining until 10 pm. Though it was June, it would be one more month before it would set so late. In four more hours, the day would end.
Lydia's stomach whined. She had foregone lunch to speak with Berna. She missed talking to Berna to chase Shane Mons. Then there was the mud, the cellphone, Kat's house, and the drive to the hospital. Lydia calculated she had not eaten for 14 hours. No wonder she was having trouble focusing. She tried to flag down Ethan. Though she trekked the hallway, she lost all track of him. His voice didn't seep from any room, and she couldn't see him anywhere. She texted Kat and hunted for a vending machine.
*****
Mid-video, Ivy’s phone chirped, and it replaced Averie’s life story with an avatar of Emily Prior. “Sorry,” Ivy said to Flora, “She won’t stop calling until I respond.”
“Not a problem, I need a bathroom break, anyway.” Flora swung her arms back and forth for balance and Ivy pushed on her upper back to help her get to her feet. “Thank you.”
Ivy slid a finger over Emily’s picture. “What’s up, Em?”
“Where are you?” Emily’s voice was beyond irritated.
“Flora’s, why?”
“When should I tell people to arrive for the vigil?”
Ivy didn’t remember agreeing to a vigil. She, certainly, did not discuss it with Lydia. But for Emily, unless you said no repeatedly, she always assumed a yes. If Ivy didn’t fix this situation, pronto, Lydia’s lawn would swarm with strangers armed with lit candles. She dialed Lydia and was sent to voicemail. She needed Flora’s planning and help.