Sarah Before

by Craig Shepherd

  As time passed, the anger was slowly subsiding, but it wasn’t going to go away completely. She knew that. How could she have been so stupid? She should have stuck to her guns last night when she first confronted Jane about her part in all of this. Her anger was certainly aimed at Jane, but equal parts directed at herself for being so gullible and desperate for friendship that she would let herself get dragged into this.

  She wondered when Jane had put together the gruesome scene at the apartment. Had she done it during the night while Sarah slept, or did she have someone working with her? She supposed it mattered little now. The important thing was she had put a stop to it. Not with much tact, granted, but she didn’t expect Jane to be tormenting her any further with these games. Any strange happenings that occurred now, she would know Jane was behind it and therefore had no real cause for concern.

  The obvious question still rattled around in the back of her brain like a loose stone in a shoe however. What was Jane’s end game? What was she gaining by inflicting this highly orchestrated assault of mental torture on her?

  Sarah tried to tell herself this question didn’t matter, but it did. It mattered because the answer could set her mind at ease that she was safe, or put her on guard for any possible danger she could still be in.

  If Jane was after money, she’d come to the wrong place. There certainly wasn’t a windfall to be had by gaining her trust and ransacking her house. The couple thousand dollars she had left in the box at the back of her cupboard wouldn’t go far. No, that idea was too simple. The intricate plans Jane had executed to try and unravel Sarah’s already fragile mind were far too calculated and bold to just get her hands on a little bit of cash.

  There had to be something more, but for the moment Sarah couldn’t expend any more energy on it. She knew that no good would come of over analyzing what had happened. There would be a time for that, perhaps, but it wasn’t now. If anything, she felt a small amount of relief at being done with Jane.

  She moved to her bedroom, and for no practical reason closed the door behind her. She sat on the bed and lay down on her side, her legs feeling like anchors as she wearily lifted them onto the mattress. Despite her anger and disgust for Jane right now, there was still a feeling of despair for the friendship, real or otherwise, that had been taken away from her. She couldn’t shake that feeling of loss as she closed her eyes and wept herself to sleep.

  CHAPTER 19

  The mood in Jane’s apartment was somber. To her, the place seemed emptier than normal, although she was usually the only person there. This was different though. She could count on one hand the amount of times she had been home by herself in an environment so devoid of sound. Even in her down time she would play music or sometimes turn the television on just to wash away the silence. After Joe had gone, the place had felt empty, but even after so long she was still compelled to wrap the soul destroying quiet in a blanket of noise. Anything to stop her thoughts settling on what she had lost.

  Tonight though, there would be no space-filling sound. The atmosphere of the evening almost demanded silence. It demanded focus, the kind of intense thought process that could only exist side by side with complete quiet. Any distraction seemingly a harbinger of disastrous choices (mistakes) that could derail everything. Not just for herself, but for Sarah too.

  She thought about Sarah while she sat at her kitchen counter, her fingers nervously picking at the Formica covering that was already peeling away from the corners. This wasn’t the first time she had found herself here, doing exactly the same thing. But there was an urgency now. Like a runner holding the lead in a marathon hearing the footsteps behind them, almost feeling the exhausted breath of their challenger on the back of their neck. The time had come now where Jane had to find a way to break ahead further, or watch as all she had worked for was stripped from her grasp.

  At the core of this moment was the need to salvage a situation which had slipped unglamorously through her fingers within an afternoon. Her thoughts drifted back to Joe. To sitting at this same bench, crying into her hands as she processed the fact her life as she knew it was coming to a screaming halt, like a road train grinding its brakes along the tracks. This was different of course, and although there was an essence of sadness involved, it was born more from frustration than anything else. Annoyance and disappointment in herself for not foreseeing the trip to Selwood Apartments turning out the way it had.

  The similarity between right now and when she was weighed down by the sadness of Joe’s departure, was the abrupt realization she had failed to plan for this series of events. Just like she had made no contingency plans if her relationship with Joe had gone awry, she had also failed to formulate any way of dealing with a situation where Sarah’s trust in her had broken. She had succumbed to her own naivety.

  A tear fell from her eye, and maybe it was due to her own failure, or the thought of Sarah being scared and alone. She saw her almost as a mouse who was stuck in a closed room with a housecat. No holes to crawl through and nowhere to hide. Perhaps it was a combination of both. The undeniable toll that today’s events had taken on her emotionally.

  Either way, as she brushed the solitary tear away with a limp hand, she was overwhelmed with the feeling that something had to be done. There was no value to wallowing further in her own disappointment, and there was even less to be gained from self-pity.

  Feeling drained of energy, she stumbled her way around the counter towards the sink. She poured herself a glass of water and drank half of it down heartily before lifting her gaze out the window. Staring blankly out of her third story apartment, her sight not really settling on anything particular, she was emotionless. Looking at the scene below her, there was no real connection with the city she lived in. She didn’t even want to be here anymore, but there was little she could do change that right now.

  The top halves of businesses in South Calston caught her eye, their shopfronts obscured by the single story houses closer to her. She felt disconnected. Not just with the town, but with what her life had become. Could she just leave? She thought of Sarah, how she had just left one day, never to return. But she knew deep down her life was worth nothing if she abandoned all of this now.

  As she floated her gaze over the run down suburb beyond the glass, the broken fences and rooftops missing tiles, Jane began to feel anxious about having no idea where to start if she was to get things with Sarah back on track.

  She knew in her heart she wasn’t finished, but felt like a frightened child staring at a wall of trees, knowing safety was nestled beyond the forest but unable to find a pathway through. It was just then she noticed smoke pouring from the chimney of a nearby house. It flowed skyward in a burst of thick grey, like an upside down waterfall in the sky. As she watched the smoke rise and disintegrate, the thought came to her.

  “The fire,” she announced to the empty kitchen.

  CHAPTER 20

  Jane stared at her laptop as the light of day began to fade outside. The sunlight had drained from the sky and she was like an insect hovering greedily near the phosphorescent glow of the laptop. The darkness had crept up on her and she was yet to turn the lights on in her living room. She got up and did so, pulling the curtains closed, and resumed her place on the couch. Picking up the laptop again, she continued searching. She had a multitude of windows open – Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Instagram – every social media platform she could think of as well as more general search engines. Despite this, she was yet to find any concrete links to Sarah’s friends from her hometown of Pokona.

  Ever thankful for her impeccable recall abilities when it came to names, Jane had first focused on Melissa Helbrecht for no other reason than the uniqueness of the name when compared to Sarah’s other close friend, Josie Simpson. She realized ‘Helbrecht’ would be a married name and Melissa could be divorced and using her maiden name. Or even remarried and using a totally different name, but she figured there would still be some record.

  So far her search had com
e up cold. The only connection she found was a letter to the editor of the Pokona Herald newspaper from 2012 under Melissa’s name. The post called for the council to act on the growing number of vehicle-on-pedestrian accidents occurring in the main shopping strip and warning of worsening incidents if something isn’t done. Nothing that gave Jane any lead to follow whatsoever. She didn’t seem to have any social media accounts, which Jane found remarkable for a mother. Rightly or wrongly, she had a preconceived idea that aside from teenagers, mothers were probably the most likely people to be heavily involved in social media. Finally, something that mothers and teenagers have in common, Jane thought to herself.

  However, in this case, her generalization had been squashed and she felt exasperated. She moved on to Sarah’s other friend Josie. Even with everything that was going on, she felt a certain hesitance to involve Sarah’s friends, but the other option caused her even more discomfort. Sarah’s parents. Who knew if they were still alive anyway, and if they were, this could be enough to send them to an early grave. Jane figured they’d had enough heartbreak, having lost a son-in-law and two grandchildren along with their disappearing daughter. There were enough cuts in their flesh to last a lifetime, and she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of dragging them into this and bringing them more pain.

  Finding Josie proved to be far easier than she had expected, and she cursed herself under her breath as she saw the multiple search engine results for josie simpson pokona. Despite her annoyance at the time she wasted searching for Melissa, she was relieved to now have a clear and easy point of contact. It showed Josie to be a member of the sales team at First Choice Realty in Pokona. A realtor with a number of listings, it would appear. Each one of them showing her phone number and email address.

  She’s pretty, Jane thought, as she scrolled through the real estate listings showing headshots of Josie smiling for the camera, her dark hair neatly styled to give her the look of a woman you could trust the sale of your biggest asset to. Jane considered how different turns in life can lead down such varied paths. While Sarah looked tired and defeated, her appearance having sprinted ahead towards her fifties, her friend of the same age could have passed for thirty.

  Jane was certain she had found the right person. Despite the youthful appearance of the photo smiling back at her, she was unwavering that this was the Josie Simpson she was looking for. Pokona wasn’t a bustling metropolis either, so her chances were good.

  There was only one way to find out, and that was to contact Josie, but as quickly as she reached her hand out for the phone, she pulled it away again. She had no idea how to approach this call. What did she really expect Josie to be able to do for her? What was she trying to achieve here? She quickly thought about sending an email instead, but shook the idea off immediately. There just wasn’t time.

  She couldn’t risk having Josie take days to respond, or worse, not reply at all. First, she would need to confirm this was even the right Josie Simpson. Despite being almost certain, almost wouldn’t be enough.

  Nervously she fumbled for her phone and transposed the number from one of Josie’s property listings. ‘Expansive Home on Acreage’ was the last thing on Jane’s mind as she tentatively prepared to hit the call button. Taking in a full breath of air and trying to clear her mind, she called Josie Simpson of First Choice Realty.

  After the third ring she considered giving up. The butterflies in her stomach were trying to control the situation, but after a further ring she was greeted by a vibrant, friendly voice.

  “Hello, Josie speaking.”

  Jane thought she was well and truly in sales mode. In another time she would love to require the services of such a professional realtor. “Hi, um, Josie Simpson?” Her voice wobbled as she spoke. Fail to plan, plan to fail was the old saying nagging in her head.

  “That’s me, how can I help you?” Josie responded.

  “Hi Josie, you don’t know me but my name is Jane Monaghan. I hope I have the right person,” her voice received a quick injection of confidence, probably owed more than anything to the friendly and helpful disposition of the person on the other end of the line. A brief pause, but not enough to let Josie cut in, “I believe you may know a friend of mine, and I was hoping you could spare a few minutes to talk to me?”

  Jane was the one in sales mode now, and she cringed when recognizing the voice she was using. It was the tone she had used in college while juggling a part time telemarketing job. It hadn’t really been marketing as such, despite the misleading job title. Her main job had been to conduct surveys with people who wanted to be doing anything except talking to her. She would gather information which in turn would be passed on to companies who would convert it into carefully plotted marketing campaigns. That voice, professional and confident, yet dripping with just the right amount of honey.

  “Sure, I’d be happy to help if I can. What was your friend’s name?” Josie sounded unperturbed by the question. Perhaps Jane’s nerves had risen for nothing.

  “Her name is Sarah Laurent, and from what I can gather you probably haven’t heard from her in a long time.”

  Josie made a humming sound, indicating she was running the name through her mental records, the way you do when a name sounds familiar but you can’t quite put a face to it. “No, it isn’t ringing any bells I’m afraid. May I ask what this is regarding?” She still maintained a friendly demeanor, but her words were now delivered with more intrigue. Jane knew she should tread carefully, but still speak directly. She didn’t take Josie for somebody who would beat around the bush, or have much tolerance for others doing it.

  “Well, Sarah is originally from Pokona, and she mentioned your name. She isn’t well right now and I was hoping to track down some of her old friends,” Jane spoke truthfully, but there was no need to let everything spill out of the bag in one go. She needed to maintain some level of control.

  “Hmm, well I’m really sorry I can’t help, but the name just doesn’t sound familiar to me,” Josie’s response triggered a line of thinking for Jane, but she didn’t want to linger on it just yet.

  “The other name she has mentioned is Melissa Helbrecht,“ Jane kept probing carefully. “I did try finding her but came up empty.”

  “I do know Mel, but I’m not surprised you can’t find her. She’s very private, even more so since-“ Josie stopped herself abruptly, coming to realize she was about to give out more information to a stranger than etiquette required. Almost a win for Jane’s telemarketing style. She continued, “For a long time now.”

  “This is really confusing then. You know Melissa, and Sarah seems to know both of you, but you don’t remember her? Your children all used to play together in the park, and Sarah made it sound like you guys had been friends since school,” Jane was incredibly thrown by what she was hearing, and a mixture of alarm and confusion had crept into her previously calm voice. She was also aware she had slipped up by mentioning the children. She instantly expected Josie to baulk at a stranger, whose mysterious questions had now become invasive enough to mention her children.

  There was frustration in her voice now, but Josie remained polite. “I’m really sorry again, but I can’t help you.”

  Jane heard more than frustration. Josie had been caught off guard, and she spoke like a therapy patient who had been tricked into exploring part of their memory they would rather steer clear of. Jane was now convinced she did know Sarah, and she knew this was her last chance to reach in and drag something more from Josie. “There was a fire. Her family died in a fire.”

  Silence, but no disconnection.

  Jane felt a surge of confidence, almost like adrenalin, rushing through her blood. Like a fighter who had struck the winning blow, she was standing above this phone conversation, looking down at her opponent in triumph. Josie’s silence pierced through the phone line, an inaudible white flag.

  After what seemed longer than it surely was, Josie spoke. Quietly now, defeated. “I can’t help you, I’m sorry.”

  The c
lick and dial tone followed immediately. There was a sadness in those last words, and Jane believed they had been spoken on the verge of tears.

  Putting her phone down, Jane sat quietly for a few minutes, pondering the call. She went over it in her mind a few times, recalling Josie’s words and rapidly changing disposition. The lamenting way she had spoken before hanging up. It was almost sorrowful. A voice of mourning. She wondered exactly what memory she had conjured up to initiate such a response. Obviously it was Josie’s realization she knew who Jane had been talking about, but she couldn’t quite comprehend the way it had floored her. It had sounded like the ground had been pulled from underneath her, sending her into darkness.

  Jane understood Sarah’s sudden departure, especially under such tragic circumstances, must have left a closet full of unanswered questions for her family and friends, and there would be a certain sense of loss that came with it. But so many years on, would it be so traumatic for an old friend to be reminded of someone who had simply left town with no forwarding address?

  Something didn’t seem right, but more prominent in her thinking needed to be the current situation with Sarah. She’d put all of her efforts into possibly involving someone from Sarah’s past, and with the door closed on that room now, where did she turn next?

  No sooner had she walked into the kitchen to pour herself a drink, her phone rang, and what followed left her wishing she’d been quicker to reach the bottle of bourbon.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Jane, its Josie Simpson.”

  Gone was the confident realtor who had greeted her ten minutes ago. This was a different person. Shaken, nervous, and unsure what to say.