Chasing Amanda

by Melissa Foster

  Molly eyes grew wide. “I’m not sure, Erik.” She tried to waylay his fears—and her own, “I’m sure it’s nothing. Hannah helped search for her. That’s probably what you saw.”

  “The guy, Mom—you have to find him. I think he’s trapped somewhere. I think he needs to get out. I think he was trying to say something important.”

  “Okay, honey. I’ll do everything I can to find him—and to find Aman—Tracey.” She decided to go one step further, “Erik, did you feel anything when you saw her?”

  Erik didn’t hesitate. “I didn’t feel anything other than being totally freaked out when I woke up—but Mom, find that guy, please. I don’t know why, but it’s really important that you find him—soon.”

  “I will. I promise to hunt him down!” She laughed, heard Erik utter, “Jesus Christ!” and added, “Really, honey. I’ll try—and if I can figure this all out, I’ll call you right away.”

  He let out a deep sigh. “Good.” His voice softened, like the boy he used to be, “Mom, what if she’s…you know…like Amanda?”

  Molly braced herself against the back of the bed. “She’s not, Erik,” she closed her eyes and said, “I’m sorry that you have to go through this. I hoped that you wouldn’t have these…abilities.” Molly’s sadness hung in the air.

  “Yeah, whatever. You’re probably happy that you have a kid who’s just like you.”

  His sarcasm was not lost on Molly, who smiled at his ability to remain positive about something that just might change his entire life.

  Molly unwrapped the bandage from her hand and touched the T which had become a simple scar. She wondered how it could have healed so quickly, but like so many other aspects of her life, accepted it without too much deliberation. She poked at it, curled her fingers into a fist, and stretched them as far as she could—the scar did not tear. It had become as sturdy as the rest of her palm. The T had become a part of her—a constant reminder of the little girl who was yet to be found.

  Molly showered, turning away from her own naked reflection in the mirror, Geez, I look like Mom already, she thought. Molly had always thought she’d be able to outrun the aging process, and as she took in her own image, she realized that age lays claim to a body without any fanfare; a few extra pounds here, a little less muscle there, until one day, in the mirror appears a wrinkled face that seems foreign. She turned away from the mirror to dress and began making her mental to-do list.

  At her computer, she checked her email and found one new message from Newton Carr:

  Hello Molly. I hope you’re feeling better. You looked rather ill the other night. I cannot take you to the Perkinson House. The Perkinson family has requested that only Pastor Lett walk the property. I do apologize, but I must respect their request. Several family members died in their house and with the rumors of ghosts on the property they’ve had issues with curious teens. I’d be happy to tell you all about it, but I’m sorry I can’t take you there.

  Take care, Newton.

  P.S. There is no electricity turned on as far as I know.

  “Great,” Molly sat back in her chair, deflated. “Ghosts. That’s all I need.”

  Molly stepped inside the Country Store, and the familiar bell chimed above the door.

  “Hello!” Jin called from the back of the store.

  Molly poured herself a cup of coffee, “Hey, Jin, how are you?”

  Jin came to the front of the store, “Fine, fine, and you?”

  “Great. Tired.”

  “It’s late for you. What happened?” he asked.

  “Don’t even ask!” Molly laughed. “I was up all night. I’m whipped!” she took a sip of coffee and grimaced at the taste.

  Jin pointed to the cup, “Coffee? No water?”

  “Not today. Today I need some fake energy!”

  “No running?” he asked. Molly had become accustomed to Jin’s clipped sentences.

  The back door of the store opened and closed, and Molly turned to see Edie slip into the office and close the door.

  “Tomorrow,” Molly said, distracted. “Today I’m making sure my ankle is okay.” She paid for her coffee and turned to leave.

  “Rodney. He did not kill that girl.” Jin’s serious tone stopped Molly in her tracks. “He did not do it.”

  Molly’s shoulders dropped at the mention of his name. “Somehow,” she turned and said to Jin, “I think you might be right, but that doesn’t help him—or Pastor Lett, who has already lost a brother.” Hannah walked in as Molly left the store, breezing by her with a quick hello. Molly sat on the worn wooden bench in front of the store. She set her coffee cup on the ground in front of her and sat back, contemplating the sorrow she felt for Pastor Lett. She thought about the Boyds Boys and how nice it must have been for them to be together for all of those years. The hum of the passing cars and the view of Sugarloaf Mountain in the distance calmed Molly. She relaxed into the bench and began to formulate her plan for the day. Hannah hurried from the store, into her car, and drove off with a quick wave. Molly stood, waved, and climbed into her car. She blew out a frustrated breath and stared at the block-lettered message that was taped to her steering wheel:

  DOWN ON KNEES, SECRETS NEAR

  FIND HIM, IT WILL BE CLEAR

  “What the hell?” Molly said. She tore the note from her steering wheel. Suddenly, she was hit with a stabbing pain that shot through her arms and traveled to her chest. She grabbed hold of the steering wheel, her back as straight as a board, her eyes wide open. The vision hit, sharp and swift—followed by a cold burst that ran through Molly’s body, prickling her skin: Tracey knelt in front of candles, unafraid, peaceful. Next to her, a large woman prayed. The woman turned toward Tracey, her face shrouded in shoulder-length dark hair.

  Just as suddenly, the vision ceased. Molly’s body pitched forward, spilling her coffee. She felt the warm liquid dripping down her leg but didn’t have the strength to wipe it away. A combination of relief and fear settled in her mind—Tracey was likely still alive, but something about the woman with her had appeared unnervingly familiar.

  Molly did not like women who played the part of damsel-in-distress rather than taking their due, but today, she was going to try. The last thing she needed was another parking ticket. She swallowed her confidence and timidly approached the male officer standing behind the front counter of the police station. “Excuse me,” she said in a quieter-than-normal voice, “I have a question.” She laid the ticket on the counter and tried her best to appear embarrassed, lowering her voice to a whisper. “The other night, I stopped my car on the side of the road because I thought I saw a child down by the lake, and it was really late,” she lied. “I ran down to the lake to see if it was in fact a child, and I walked around a little, you know, checking it out. When I came back up, this was on my van.” She pushed the ticket towards the officer, adding quickly, “I was worried, with the little girl missing and all. I thought I’d better not waste any time. I didn’t want to miss a chance to find the poor girl.” She flashed him her sweetest smile and shrugged, all the while, hating herself for having to pull such girly crap.

  “Ma’am, how long were you parked there?” the young officer asked, in a tone that was more like Erik’s than a man’s.

  “Oh, not long,” she eagerly replied. “I ran down, walked around a bit,” she glanced up toward the ceiling, tapped her chin with her fingers, as if thinking, “maybe a few minutes, fifteen or so—not so long.” Behind her back, Molly’s fingers were crossed.

  The officer held the ticket in his fingers and scrutinized it, as if the answer to his dilemma were written there. Molly tried to appeal to his maternal side—everyone had a mother. “It’s just that,” she looked down at the counter, lowered her voice again, “I have a son, and if someone had seen my son who was missing, I would want them to stop and check it out.”

  “Of course you would,” he said kindly.

  Molly surveyed him. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-three years old. She pushed a little harder
. “It doesn’t seem like something I should be penalized for, you know?”

  The officer gave her a pitying look, as if contemplating what he might do for his own mother. He leaned forward and said quietly, “Let me see what I can do.”

  Molly was surprised. “Oh, thank you so much,” she said eagerly. “That’s so nice of you!” Molly’s voice seeped maternal gratitude, which she knew would land in his ears the way a proud mother’s might. She watched him walk away and mumbled, “Please God, don’t get me for this!”

  Molly waited nervously for the officer to return. The thought entered her mind that perhaps his superior would come out and lecture her on the inappropriate behavior of a civically-responsible adult. She was relieved when he came around the corner five minutes later. He settled himself behind the counter and leaned toward Molly.

  “Ma’am?”

  She hurried over, “Yes?”

  “It’s okay, I took care of it.” He smiled, proud of his accomplishment.

  Molly brought her hands together and almost clapped, stopping herself and clasping her hands together instead. “Wonderful! Oh, thank you! You are so kind, really! Thank you so much!”

  “No problem,” he grinned, “but from now on, please park on the correct side of the street.”

  “I will,” Molly said. “I promise,”

  He set the ticket aside, then looked back at Molly. “Thanks for checking out the sighting. Did you find anyone?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

  Her smiled faded. “I didn’t find anyone. It must have been a deer or something. I looked everywhere and didn’t see anyone. I was so bummed.” Molly turned to leave, and then turned back to the young man, “Thank you again. Do you have any news about the missing girl?”

  The officer shook his head, “No, unfortunately not, but we aren’t giving up hope, and ma’am, we would hate for you to be harmed. Please, in the future, notify the authorities if you see anything suspicious.”

  Molly nodded and left the building. She was digging through her purse for her keys when she ran head-on into Officer Brown.

  “Mrs. Tanner, fancy meeting you here,” he said.

  Molly was caught off guard, “H…How are you?”

  “Just fine and dandy, though we’ve got no word on Tracey yet,” he said.

  Molly glanced hurriedly over her shoulder, embarrassed about talking her way out of the ticket. “I know, I just checked,” she said, hoping her cover would negate his need to follow up on her visit with the officer inside. “I’m so sorry that I ran into you!” she said, touching his arm. She quickly reached back into her purse. “I was looking for,” she brought out her key ring and jingled it, “my keys,” she said.

  “No problem,” he smiled in a curious way.

  Molly could feel his eyes on her back as she climbed into her van.

  Molly stepped out of her van and looked around the parking lot of the Adventure Park. She would never have guessed a child had gone missing from the park had she not known. Children played on the equipment, mothers chatted, and no one noticed as she walked down the grassy hill toward the woods. She realized how easy it would be for someone to walk from the woods to the parking lot and vice versa without so much as a sideways glance. It was too easy.

  Molly didn’t hesitate. She moved quickly to the edge of the woods, stepping over the untethered yellow police tape and expecting to be greeted by the force that she had encountered during the search. Instead, the air held a peaceful, almost welcoming quality. Leaves crunched under her feet as she moved branches and walked deeper into the forest. Molly carefully stepped over fallen timber and tried to weave her way around the thorny sprigs that clawed at her from every direction. She was prying a thorn from her sweater when she realized that she was near the site where Hannah had been crouched—where the ground had been warm. Molly removed her pad and looked over the drawings she had made of the area, noting the three rocks that were arranged in a triangular fashion near a lone green bush. She was sure she was near the spot, although something struck her as being different, out of place. She tucked the notepad away in her backpack which she tossed onto a nearby bush. Molly scanned the ground. A lone flower lay on the earth—a white marigold, brown around the edges and wilting. Instinctively, she reached for the flower, retrieving her empty hand quickly as heat intensified beneath it.

  “Pretty flower, huh, Mrs. Tanner?”

  Molly jumped up and spun around, ready to flee or fight, whatever the situation might command. Officer Brown stood just a few feet from her, his heavy hands in his overcoat pockets, a smirk pasted on his face.

  “My God! You scared me,” Molly accused.

  “Well, you scared me, too.” He walked toward her. “What are you doing, Mrs. Tanner?” He lifted his chin toward the flower. “What brings you here?”

  “I…” she searched frantically for an alibi, “I wanted to see if I could find any hint of Tracey.” Yeah, she thought, go with confidence. Molly pulled her shoulders back and steadied her hands. “I know it sounds silly, but I think these woods hold the answers. I mean, where else could she have gone?”

  Officer Brown walked around Molly, stopping only a foot from the heated ground. He turned and bent over from the waist, his large rear end too close for Molly’s comfort. She held her breath and stepped backward.

  He straightened back up and turned toward Molly, twisting the flower’s stem between his fingers.

  “Pretty,” he said, handing the flower to Molly.

  “Y...yes…it is,” Molly managed, suspiciously accepting the flower. “I guess someone must have dropped it.”

  “Hmm,” he nodded his head, turned, and walked across the spot where Molly had encountered the heat. Molly stared, mesmerized. “What do you think you will find here, Mrs. Tanner?”

  Molly swallowed, answering quickly, “I don’t know. A path? A lead of some sort?” she walked to her right, trying to steer him away from the area. “It seems to me that Tracey must have come this way. I mean, her mother and sister were walking away from here, so they would have seen her if she had walked toward the parking lot,” she shrugged. “So that leaves the woods.”

  “But why these woods,” he pointed toward the woods on the side of the park, “and not the ones over there?”

  “They would have seen her. Someone would have seen her, don’t you think?” she asked.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he moved closer to Molly, stared into her eyes.

  Molly held his stare.

  “Mrs. Tanner, do you know that most abductors come back to the site of the abduction shortly afterward?”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” she said, taking a step backward. “Good to know,” she looked down. Then she turned her eyes back to his. “Surely, Officer Brown,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster, “you don’t think I’m a suspect?”

  “Never said that,” he quipped. “Just thought it was interesting that you came by the station this morning, asked questions about leads, and here I find you at the same spot as the abduction, that’s all.” He picked up a twig and set it between his yellowing teeth, like a toothpick. “Now, why are you here?” he asked.

  “Jesus Christ,” Molly said, with a frustrated sigh, “I am looking for leads, okay?” She stepped away from him, raised her voice, “I think we’ll find them here. Why in God’s name would I abduct a small child? I mean, look at my life, it’s pretty full, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. You seem to have time to wander around the woods during the day,” he said in a patronizing way.

  Molly was angry. “No! I make the time. There is a difference,” she said, strongly. “I can’t believe this. Do you want to arrest me? Or maybe you can’t find leads and you feel badly, so you need someone to hang it on? Well, keep dreaming, sir,” she said with sarcasm, “because there is no correlation between me and Tracey Porter besides my own desire to help find her.” Molly put her hands on her hips, accentuating her firm stance on her innocence. “By the way,
” she retorted, “have you considered consulting a psychic? Someone who might be able to see where she is?”

  He laughed a hearty, condescending laugh and kicked at the leaves on the ground. “Oh yeah, and we’ve invited the Mickey Mouse Club, too,” he chuckled. “We thought maybe they could do a dance, and the abductor would magically appear.”

  For a split second, Molly had considered telling him about her visions, but decided firmly against it the moment the laugh had left his lips. Thick-minded ass. “I’m being serious, Officer Brown,” she said. “There are people who might be able to help you find her,” she pleaded. “Tracey’s time must be running out—if she’s even still alive.”

  “Well, statistically speaking, yes, you’re right. Her time is running out,” he said coldly.

  “So? What now? Just walk around hoping to find her and accusing innocent people?” she spat the words angrily. “Oh, am I like Rodney Lett now?” she asked. “Well,” she said as she turned away from him. “I won’t be your scapegoat, Officer Brown. I have an alibi, and I have been instrumental in trying to find her.”

  “Calm down, Molly,” he said, spitting the twig onto the ground. “Calm down. I’m not saying that you are a suspect. I’m simply wondering why you’re here and letting you know that the abductor usually visits the crime scene shortly after the crime.” Officer Brown watched Molly’s back as she stopped walking. “Yup, there have been cases when killers have actually been at the scene while the police were investigating, within hours of the murder.”