The Escape

by Jayne, Hannah

  His stomach quivered. Was he back? The guy who did this to him—to Adam? Fletcher swore he could hear everything—the pat, pat, pat of the fire ant’s footsteps. The crackling sound tree bark made as it started to dry and curl. The short, ragged breaths of someone closing in on him.

  He knew he should move, but everything hurt. If the guy was coming back, Fletcher really hoped he would finish him off this time, just like he did Adam.

  And then he saw Avery.

  Not a savior. Not an angel. Just a girl. Her brown hair was pulled into a ponytail. She leaned in to him, and Fletcher could smell her, something faint and fruity—coconut or lime…

  Fletcher sat bolt upright on the bed.

  …Fletcher really hoped he would finish him off this time, just like he did Adam.

  “Oh my God.” His hand flew to the bandage, to the soft ache of the stitches and the cut underneath. “I knew Adam was dead.”

  Dread spread through him. He remembered. His brain had locked up memories and was leaking them out little by little. He pressed the pads of his fingers against his eyes. “Remember, God damn it. Remember something.”

  But all he could see was darkness. He flopped back on his bed, his body suddenly a thousand pounds of lead.

  “Just fucking remember something.”

  Twelve

  It wasn’t Avery’s father who picked her up. It was Deputy Fenster—or Karen, to Avery. She arrived in her squad car and crisp black uniform, her white-blond hair tucked into a bun that sat just above her collar. Avery knew that hair above the collar was a standard part of the Dan River Falls Police Department’s uniform, along with clean, clipped nails and manicured facial hair. She always thought it was funny that facial hair should be “manicured,” and as a kid she imagined men walking around with moustaches and beards painted in nail-polish colors, like Fusion Pink or Ravishing Red.

  “That’s a heck of a shiner you’ve got, kid.”

  Karen had been a part of Avery’s life for as long as she could remember, but ever since her mother died, the deputy was dispatched—or came on her own—whenever Avery needed something her father couldn’t deal with. She showed up for back-to-school shopping and taught Avery how to French-braid her own hair. She drove Avery to buy new bras and tampons. But driving Avery home from a fight was a first.

  Avery tugged on her seat belt. “What did my dad say?”

  “He was worried about you,” Karen said, her eyes flicking from the road for a beat.

  Avery must have looked panicked because Karen slowed the car for a mile or two and went back to looking straight ahead. Ever since her mother’s accident, Avery had been terrified of anyone who dared to take her eye off the road.

  “He wanted to pick you up himself but he was prepping for the press conference.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Karen.”

  Karen made a smooth turn off the highway. “Do what?”

  “Reassure me that my father loves me.”

  Karen raised her eyebrows and her lips quirked up into a half smile. “You’re too smart for your own good, Avery. He’ll probably be home in an hour or so. The conference is supposed to go live at three.”

  Avery nodded, blowing out a long sigh. “Good. That’ll give me enough time to get a helmet and one of Dad’s bulletproof vests.”

  “Honey, are you scared? You’re not in any danger.”

  “I will be when that press conference runs.” She pointed to her blackened eye when Karen frowned. “This? A thank-you gift from Jimmy Jerold’s girlfriend. She knows I was the one who told Dad what he said and got him arrested.” She huffed something like a laugh. “She’s dating a killer and I get the black eye.”

  Karen slowed down the car as they pulled onto Avery’s street. “Oh, Avery, we let Jimmy Jerold go.”

  Now it was Avery’s turn to frown. “What? Why? Didn’t you hear what he said to Fletcher? Even if he denied it, there are two witnesses. Two very reliable witnesses. And the blood. Why did they let him go?”

  Karen pulled into the driveway and pushed the cruiser into park. “Jimmy had an airtight alibi.”

  “He had blood on his shirt, Karen. Human blood!”

  She cocked her head, a chunk of hair falling from her bun. “How do you know the blood was human?”

  Avery’s stomach dropped. “I—it just—wasn’t it Adam’s? Or Fletcher’s?”

  “Fletcher’s T-shirt is at the lab right now. They’re running tests, but all we know is that it’s blood. Jimmy handed over his clothes too, and those are being tested.”

  Avery felt bile itch in her throat, and for the first time since the incident, she felt real fear. “So whoever did this could still be out there?”

  “It’s beginning to look that way,” Karen said, apology withering her voice.

  Avery looked out the window. This was her town: the Buy Rite, the gas station, the Buzz Biz, her elementary school. She had biked through every parking lot, hung out at every strip-mall yogurt shop. It was a town where everyone knew everyone else and she should have felt comfortable, but now it was tainted. Behind the pleasant facade, evil lurked. Someone had killed once and was probably waiting to kill again. Was anyone safe?

  A tremble of fear, cold like the breath of a ghost, snaked through her body.

  “Do you want me to stay with you until your dad comes home?” Karen asked as Avery got out of the car.

  Avery glanced at the “safety” light on in the living room and back at Karen. Fear still pricked at the base of her spine, but she shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

  Nothing in the house is going to get me, she reassured herself.

  Avery waved at Karen, then hurried to the front door and sunk her key in the lock.

  “Nothing is going to get me,” she repeated out loud.

  The house was exactly the way Avery and her dad had left it that morning—blinds partially drawn, unread newspaper still rubber-banded on the dining table, her father’s glasses perched on top as though he were about to read but had gotten distracted. But something inside felt off.

  Gooseflesh rippled the skin on her arms and neck as Avery dropped her backpack. Her ears pricked, waiting for the squeak of a shoe, a rustle of clothing, a door being closed too carefully.

  The lace curtain over the sink fluttered with a gust of wind, and Avery slammed the window shut. She couldn’t remember ever opening or closing that window. Neither she nor her father ever touched it. She scrutinized it. The window was small, but still large enough that someone Avery’s size, or even a bit larger, could slide right through. She inched it open again and brushed her palm against the screen. It seemed to be secured, but that didn’t mean anything. Had her father opened the window?

  The tiny, empty vase that usually sat on the windowsill was knocked over, shattered blue glass in the sink.

  Did someone crawl through?

  Blood rushed through Avery’s ears.

  It was the wind, she scolded herself. The wind blew the vase over.

  But who had opened the window?

  “Hello?” Avery called—then immediately slapped her palm against her forehead. “Oh my God, I’m like every stupid girl in a horror movie. Hello,” she sang out again, “I’m a lonely, unarmed girl. If you’re here to kill me, please start your chain saw!” She laughed off the tension in her muscles, but she didn’t feel any better. Jimmy Jerold had been freed. Someone was still out there.

  She clicked on every downstairs light, even though it was the middle of the afternoon, and turned on the television, relishing the obnoxiously loud commercial for some blue kid’s drink. Once it ended, the news popped on. The two anchors were coifed and positioned to look stiff and serious as a thunder of music rolled in the background.

  “And now we go to Chief Effron Templeton at the Dan River Falls Police Department with the latest on the homicide in the Cascade Mountain area and the daring escape of one of the young victims.”

  The camera panned the American flags in front of the police department
and the Dan River Falls Police sign before settling on her father. He looked stern faced behind a podium, flanked by an information officer and Officer Blount.

  The chief introduced the incident, running quickly over the details. Avery could practically give the speech with him, she’d heard it so many times. Then he went on.

  “It is true that we had a suspect in custody.”

  The news reporters and community members in the audience murmured their interest.

  “That gentleman had an alibi and is no longer considered a suspect or person of interest in this case. Once again, all of our officers are working around the clock to find Adam Marshall’s killer and bring him to justice. But we implore you, the community, to stay in contact with us. If you hear anything or may have seen anything, even if it seemed unimportant, please bring it to our attention. Parents, you may have heard your kids talking about a run-in with someone or possibly some trouble at school. Let us know. Again, we are doing everything we can to find the person or persons responsible—”

  “Chief Templeton!” A woman in a maroon suit shoved her hand in the air. “Would you consider the people of Dan River Falls in any danger? There is, after all, a killer on the loose, and you said yourself the police department has virtually no leads.”

  Avery watched her father stiffen before sliding right back into his controlled public persona.

  “We believe that this was an isolated incident and that the people of this community are in no imminent danger. That being said, always be aware and alert. Lock your doors. Act in a safe manner. And with all due respect, ma’am, I didn’t say that the police department was without leads. By clearing our suspect, we’re one person closer to the perpetrator. That is all.”

  The reporters broke into a frenzy like sharks circling their prey. Avery could almost hear their snapping jaws as they clamored to get their questions answered before her father disappeared into the police station.

  When the woman in maroon ducked out of the frame, Avery sucked in a shocked breath.

  Fletcher was at the press conference.

  He was on the periphery of the swarm, the bandage on his head half hidden by a baseball hat pulled low and the yellowing bruises on his face shaded by the bill of his cap.

  While everyone around him hummed with excitement at the chief’s comments, Fletcher just stood there. And as the camera panned out, he threw his leg over his bike and rode away.

  • • •

  Fletcher’s heart pounded like a kettledrum as he rode his bike, and he made a mental note to google if stress could give a kid a heart attack. That’s what it was, right? Stress? He didn’t want to admit that he was scared by the vision he kept having.

  In it, the sun shone through the redwoods, and he and Adam were alone. Fletcher could feel something take over his body, making his muscles stiffen and hum. He watched his own hands curl into fists. He could feel his arm lift, but he couldn’t control it. He couldn’t control the recoil or the punch. As the vision grew clearer, he saw each punch as it landed on Adam. Smack! But he never saw more because he always started panting, his arms aching.

  Normalcy. That’s what he craved. A day where every moment was linked to the next with clarity, where every moment was actually lived, not under cover of blackness or accompanied by the scraping ache in his head.

  He rode down the main road. When he looked up, he saw Avery’s house was at the end of the block, yellow lights blazing from every window. He considered stopping until he saw Chief Templeton’s black GMC round the corner. He didn’t want to talk to the police again.

  • • •

  The smell of mu shu pork wafted through the door with Avery’s father. He held up the paper bag and grinned.

  “I cooked.”

  Avery took the bag from him and began removing the takeout boxes. “Ah, your very best recipes. Did you bring hot mustard?’

  He flipped a handful of yellow packets from his coat pocket. “Bam!”

  “Full-service chef.”

  He frowned, taking Avery’s chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Looks like I should have brought a steak. Karen told me what happened. Are you okay?”

  Avery shrugged and did her best mean expression. “Does it make me look tough?”

  “No, it makes me nervous.”

  Avery stuck spoons in each of the boxes and set out two plates. “Don’t be. It was Jimmy Jerold’s girlfriend—I think. But since the school has a zero-tolerance policy, she’ll be expelled.”

  “What do you mean ‘you think’?”

  She began heaping fried rice onto her plate. “I know she was the one who pushed me, but I’m not completely sure that this”—she pointed—“came from her.” She pressed her cheek closer to her father. “Want to dust it for prints?”

  “Avery, this is serious. You were in a fight.”

  “With a girl who’s dating a murderer.”

  “We let him go, Avy.”

  She handed her father a plate. “I know.” She paused. “Are you sure he didn’t do it though?”

  “He had a virtually airtight alibi and no motive for killing Adam or attacking Fletcher.”

  “Couldn’t his motive be that he’s an asshole?”

  Chief Templeton cocked an eyebrow. “Language.”

  “Couldn’t his motive be that he’s a psychopath?”

  “Sure, but given his alibi”—he stretched out the word—“he didn’t do it.”

  A tremor of fear rushed through Avery. “So, no leads, huh?”

  “We’re working on a few. You really should get some more ice on that.” He set his plate down and crossed the kitchen, handing Avery a bag of frozen peas.

  “I’m scared, Dad. Someone killed Adam and tried to kill Fletcher. Are we safe?”

  Chief Templeton took the peas and the plate from Avery’s hands and pulled her into a hug. “You’re always going to be safe as long as I’m here, honey. I will never let anything happen to you.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “I know. But—”

  “The whole town is on high alert. Everyone, except you and Fletcher apparently, is taking the curfew very seriously, and I’ve got every officer working this case. You know Karen and Blount, Malloy and Howard—you’re top priority for them.”

  “Yeah. Officer Blount went to see Fletcher in the hospital.”

  “We’re doing everything we can. And we’ve got leads coming in by the dozen.”

  Avery brightened. “Anything good?”

  Her father took a bite of an egg roll. “Depends what you mean by good. We’ve heard about aliens, forest trolls, and a bear with a mean right hook.”

  “Not funny, Dad.”

  He put both his hands on Avery’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “We’re doing everything we can.”

  Suddenly, the smell of the Chinese food made Avery’s stomach turn. She remembered the last time a police officer told her they were “doing everything” they could. It was a week after her mother died. She and her father were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, staring at a Highway Patrol officer who was assuring them that they would find the driver responsible for hitting Avery’s mother, for running her off the road.

  They never did.

  Avery was sure she was going to be sick.

  “We’re bringing in a guy who says he remembers seeing Adam and Fletcher at the trailhead. We’re following up on a lead about a makeshift dwelling about two miles from where the boys were—a couple of people mentioned that someone is living out there. Sounds like the same guy who freaked out a couple of college kids in town about a month ago.

  “We’re going to find the person that did this, Avery. I promise.”

  Thirteen

  Avery and Fletcher were sitting at a corner table in the coffee shop, books spread out in front of them, the remains of a plate of french fries between them. Fletcher didn’t need to study, but when Avery suggested they hang out, he agreed, not wanting to spend any more time at home. His mother had gone from fawning ov
er him to constantly watching him.

  When she wasn’t, she was on the phone—with his father, Fletcher guessed—murmuring, then falling silent whenever Fletcher walked in the room. Sometimes he heard her talking to Susan, his sister, and guilt pulsed through him. The conversations with Susan never lasted long because if he was there, his mother always hung up the phone.

  The press conference and the release of Jimmy Jerold did little to bolster the town’s morale. The community outrage and camaraderie that Adam’s murder and Fletcher’s escape had inspired were waning as suspicion and fear took hold.

  Two old women walked by their table, engrossed in conversation, their eyes darting around as they took in the other patrons.

  “I don’t know what this town is coming to,” Avery heard one old lady say. “Just yesterday I heard the Morgans’ car was burgled. I’ve lived here twenty years and nothing like that ever happened before.”

  “That’s because crimes against cars aren’t burglaries,” Avery huffed under her breath.

  Fletcher looked up from his biology book. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” Avery waved at the air. “It’s just that it’s not burglary if it has to do with a car. Burglary is breaking into a dwelling; larceny is for a car.”

  Fletcher smiled. “You sure know a lot.”

  Avery felt her cheeks warm and her stomach flutter. “Sorry. It comes from being the daughter of a cop.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s kind of cool. What else do you know about?”

  “It’s illegal to plow your field with an elephant in North Carolina, and the only two things you can legally throw out of your car here are water and chicken feathers.”

  Fletcher nodded, impressed. “Helpful tidbits for North Carolina farmers or Californian chicken carpools.”

  “I also know that crime isn’t really going up around here. Everyone is just talking about it more since…” Her eyes flicked to Fletcher’s, then returned to her notebook. “Well, you know.”

  Fletcher’s fingers went to his forehead. He didn’t have to wear the bandage anymore, but he still found himself absently touching the scar on his forehead.