by Jane Suen
I tossed in my sleep, flinging my arms to the left and to the right, frantically trying to touch the men, to warn them. I kicked out, aiming at their outstretched legs as they lay down. I couldn’t seem to touch them. I screamed, yelling until my lungs felt like they’d burst. Please wake up. I was crying now, pleading with them to wake up. My tears streamed down as I kneeled in front of each man, helpless as I watched the drops land on their faces and chest, to no avail.
A fright seized my chest as I huffed and heaved. I knew what would happen, yet I could do nothing to save them from the group of strangers who would brutally murder them in their sleep, leaving a bloody carnage. I glanced at the young sandy-haired kid, barely a man, soon to be robbed of his life ahead.
I woke up, finding my whole body on top of the bed covers, the sheets twisted around me, my legs entangled. My pillow teetered on the edge of the bed, about to fall on the floor. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. I was in my motel room, the late afternoon sun still coming through the solitary window. I shivered, my body convulsing.
I freed my legs, got up, and stumbled to the bathroom. Bending over the sink, I peered in the mirror. I looked like hell. My eyes were red, puffed, and swollen. The folds of the sheets had dug into my cheeks, creating a pattern of crisscrossing lines. I splashed cold water on my face, not waiting for the temperature to warm.
My body ached. The feeling I had been there with the men was stronger than ever before.
Chapter 42
SALLY WASN’T HOME. I walked around her yard, the tiny piece of green posing as her front lawn. It was a far cry from the grandeur of the Madison mansion. I kicked an empty beer can in the yard, probably tossed there by someone driving or walking by. A piece of tissue fluttered, carried by a gentle breeze before it settled on the grass. Weeds had pushed their way between the cracks of the walkway and the steps of her front porch.
I looked around her neighborhood. It was quiet this time of the day. I felt the perspiration trickle down my face. Hot and humid. With nothing else on my mind, I walked down the road, kicking up dust from the gravel.
I could see the railroad tracks were about a hundred feet away. It was close. I shuddered to think how thunderously loud it would be when the train whizzed by, rocking the foundations of the homes so close to it.
It wasn’t long before I ran into two little boys playing by the tracks. My heart beat faster. I rushed over to them. “You’re too close to the tracks.”
One boy, a scrawny kid with a trace of snot smeared across his nose, looked up at me unfazed. “There ain’t no trains coming now.”
“Do you know how fast they come?” I said as my breaths came in huffs. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to play on the tracks?”
The other boy who was shorter stood up now, watching the two of us.
“You’re not my mother.”
“Kid, what’s your name?” I hissed.
“Me, I’m Joey,” he said. Tossing his head toward the taller boy, he said, “And this here’s Tommy.”
I calmed down. “I’m Eve, glad to make your acquaintance.” I extended my hand for a shake.
Joey pumped my hand with quick energy. I shook Tommy’s hand next. He barely touched mine, and it fell limp as soon as I let go.
“You kids live around here?”
“Over yonder,” said Joey, pointing to a ramshackle house down the road.
“What do you like to do around here?”
Joey shrugged his thin shoulders. “We play ball, and we hang around the railroad.”
“Look, I’m sorry to have yelled at you, but the railroad tracks are a dangerous place,” I said.
“It don’t come around at this time,” said Joey.
“So, when does it come?”
“Oh, real late at night and in the mornings.”
“Does it wake you up?”
He shook his head. “I’m used to it. I sleep through it.”
“Well, you boys be careful now, will you?” I asked. “Promise me?”
Joey grinned. I could see the merriment in his eyes, probably over the fuss I made over them.
I asked them if they knew Sally, pointing to her house.
They looked at each other, then made yucky faces.
I raised my eyebrows as if to say, So what did you think? “Do you know when she gets home?”
They shook their heads. Joey said, “She’s a mean one.”
“What does she do?”
“She chases us if she catches us on her porch or in her yard. Thinks we’re gonna do somethin’ bad, I guess.”
“But why is she so mean?”
“I don’t know,” said Joey, shrugging. “But they say something happened to her.” He made a circle with his finger around his head.
“You mean loco?”
“Uh, huh.”
I hadn’t heard. I mean, maybe she drank too much, but she didn’t sound or act crazy when she was talking to me.
“She doesn’t like kids,” said Joey.
“Or any of us,” Tommy added.
“That’s no reason to call someone names. Some people just plain don’t like kids. Well, I best be going. You kids watch yourselves and stay off the track,” I said again, looking as stern as I could. I wasn’t old enough to be their mother, but maybe their older sister.
I parted ways and walked back to Sally’s house, turning around once to see if they were still there. By then, they had left and were on their way home. I sighed with relief.
I trudged up the steps to Sally’s porch once more and again knocked on her door. Hearing no response, I turned around and left.
Chapter 43
I WOKE UP before my alarm went off. Maybe I didn’t rest easy, or I was feeling anxious about leaving and going back to the city to talk to Clint. I called Mike to give him a quick update and let him know I was leaving. I didn’t mention the part about Clint or what I came across on Lacey’s work records.
There wasn’t much to pack. I threw my clothes, backpack, and pocketbook in the car and checked out of the motel in no time at all.
The drive back to the city was uneventful. I made it without stopping except for once. I had left a message for Clint inviting him for lunch, and he called me back right away. He had suspected nothing. I didn’t have any plans yet on what I’d say when I saw him.
I made good time and arrived early. Clint had chosen a quirky Salvadorian place that served savory home-cooked meals. The place was colorfully decorated with dyed handwoven fabrics and paintings. Latin American music played over the speakers. Clint introduced me to the menu, and the bilingual waitstaff quickly took our orders. He had the lunch special, steak with onions, Bistec Encebollado. I ordered the fried plantains and beans, Platano Frito con Crema y Frijoles, with a side of rice. We both had a pink, fruity drink.
The food was delicious, and I became full quickly. It was a good choice. Living in the city had its pluses, and authentic ethnic food was one of them. I watched as Clint cut the last piece of his greasy steak and wolfed it down while I sipped my drink.
He finally finished, wiped his mouth with the napkin, and threw it on the table.
“Great suggestion, Clint,” I said.
“I couldn’t turn down lunch with a lovely lady,” Clint said, all charm. He had aged some compared to his looks in the newspaper clippings. He’d gained some weight and the jowl on his chin jiggled as he chewed. But his personality was bubbly.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, pushing my plate out of the way as I dug into my backpack and pulled out the newspaper articles. “I’m glad we talked yesterday.”
He leaned closer to look at—no, rather to admire—the articles, pointing to one with a very flattering photo of him. “Man, I haven’t seen these in years.” He grinned so broadly I could see the gum line of his teeth.
“These are preserved in the annals of newspaper history,” I said seriously. I sat back, watching as he took his time reading them, wearing an expression of delight and awe as he admired himself in each one. B
y the time he was done, he was grinning nonstop.
“May I?” He was holding the stack against his chest, reluctant to return them.
“Why don’t I make you a copy after we leave?” I said graciously. I fluffed his feathers and watched him puff out more. I could tell he was elated. I gently tugged the papers out of his hands.
His eyes traveled with them, watching me put them back into the folder. “Don’t worry,” I said, patting the folder. “They’re all safe here.”
He relaxed and leaned back in his chair.
“You said after you and Lacey left the pizza place at about one in the morning, then you went your separate ways?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you ever see Lacey again after that?”
“Nope.”
“That was the last time?”
He nodded. “If I had known it would be the last time, I would have done something.” His voice trembled. I couldn’t tell if he was a good actor or sincere.
“Did Lacey have any enemies, anyone who would want to harm her?”
He thought for a moment. “Well, I don’t know if I should say this,” he ventured, then hesitated.
“Go ahead.”
He lowered his voice. “I overheard a conversation at the pizza place once. She and Sally were talking. Rather, it seemed like they were arguing.” Then Clint got apologetic. “I mean, I wasn’t listening or spying on them. They were talking so loud I couldn’t help overhearing.”
“What was the argument about?”
“From what I heard, they mentioned money.”
I knew Lacey was paying rent to Sally, so I wasn’t surprised. “Anything else?” I said, trying to sound excited and interested.
“Well, they were talking about someone else, a guy.”
My ears perked up. Hmm, arguing about a guy. This could be real interesting. “Who was it?”
“One of the Madison boys, but I couldn’t be sure if it was Jeremy or James.”
“I see.” But that didn’t explain why he lied to me. Okay, time to confront him.
“You know, I spoke to the Madison boys earlier.”
He raised his eyebrows.
I went on easily, “Travis Madison III died. I was at the funeral.”
Now Clint looked surprised.
I twirled my pencil, watching it spin on the tablecloth. “Are you positive Lacey worked with you the entire shift to midnight?”
He squirmed in his chair and cleared his throat before he whispered. “Sure I am.”
“If not, you could be an accessory to murder,” I said calmly as I pierced him with a steely gaze.
“Murder? That’s absurd,” he mumbled. “Lacey’s body has never been found. She’s missing.”
“I believe it’s just a matter of time,” I said confidently.
He was silent.
“You knew she left early that night, didn’t you? Yet you covered that up,” I said.
Clint shook his head.
I pressed him, “You lied, because you knew whoever she left early to meet was the killer, didn’t you?”
“Oh no, no.” He cried out, shoulders trembling. “Please don’t.”
“Even if you didn’t know who, you lied to cover this up. And you lied about her timeline.” I pressed on, pushing him hard.
“I’m sorry,” said Clint, looking panicky.
I glared at him. “You’d better come clean—now.”
Clint looked resigned, taking a breath before exhaling slowly. “I had to lie back then. I got a phone call … heard a muffled voice, a guy’s. He said for me not to tell anyone she left early.”
“He threatened you?”
“Well, not exactly. I asked what’s in it for me, and he said five hundred bucks cash.”
“So he bribed you.”
“I … I took the money—but that was before I found out she went missing.”
“And you’ve regretted it ever since?”
“It was blood money, tainted,” he whispered.
Somebody went to the trouble of luring Lacey out and making sure no one knew she left early. How could I know if Clint was telling the truth this time? I was irritated at him, at his sniveling face and dishonesty.
“Clint, when did you realize Lacey was missing?”
“The next day when she didn’t show up for work. I called around looking for her and talked to her roommate. Sally didn’t know where she was.”
“Had she seen her?”
“Not from what she told me.”
“Do you have anything else to tell me?”
“Just find poor Lacey and get us all some peace.”
Clint sounded sincere at this point.
“If you remember anything else that night … well, you have my number. Call me.”
Chapter 44
MY PHONE WAS on silent during our lunch. Leaving the restaurant, I checked my messages. I had one from a number I didn’t recognize, so I called back.
“Hello,” a female voice answered.
“Hi, this is Eve Sawyer calling you back. Who’s this?”
“I’d rather not say. I saw your ad in the newspaper. I have some information for you.”
“I’m walking to my car, just give me a second.” I closed the driver’s door and grabbed my notepad and pencil. “Okay, I’m all ears.”
“Well, we got to talking, with what’s going on with the funeral and all …”
“We?”
“Me and my boyfriend, Randy, and he was talking about old man Travis and all, and Lacey. I thought, what’s he talking about?”
I gripped my phone, holding it closer to my ear.
“He let slip he heard Travis had somethin’ to do with it.”
I gulped, keeping my voice down. “Do … with what?”
“It just didn’t sit right with me.” She paused. “He said somethin’ like the old man was afraid Lacey was going to spill the beans.”
My heart thumped faster, beating rapidly against my chest.
“What did he do, the old man?” I whispered. “Did he … kill her?”
“Randy said he paid someone big bucks to scare her off.”
“Did he say who?”
“Travis was drunk, but he said nothin’ about who it was.”
“How?” I stuttered, feeling my stomach knot up. “Did he hurt her?”
“He, ugh … beat her up.”
I gulped, my trembling fingers turning white as they gripped the phone. “He roughed her up a little?”
She paused at the other end. A long pause.
“He messed up her face real bad. Then he delivered the message to Lacey to leave town and never come back.”
Chapter 45
AFTER THE CALL, I sat in my car feeling numb, my body frozen. I clutched my backpack tightly to my chest.
I couldn’t still my thoughts; they were swirling like mad. The old man was dead. He did that to Lacey. But was she still alive?
I didn’t know how long I stayed still, stuck in the driver’s seat, my muscles stiffened. I finally started my car, and I headed back to Murder Creek immediately. My mind was working on overdrive, putting the pieces together.
Lacey wouldn’t have left work unless it was somebody she knew. Who had betrayed her?
It was late afternoon when I arrived in town. I had called ahead and asked Jeremy to meet me. He sounded surprised I was back so soon.
We met at the church parking lot. It was Tuesday afternoon and quiet. Jeremy was already there when I pulled up. He was pacing back and forth. As soon as he saw me, he rushed up to my car.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I waved him off and got right to the point.
“Jeremy, the last night Lacey worked, did you talk to her?”
He blurted, “I had talked to her earlier in the day, before her evening shift.” He frowned. “What’s this about?”
“She got a call from somebody she knew that evening. It wasn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t call her at wor
k.”
I knew where I had to go next. There was someone else she trusted.
I drove to the mansion to see Jim. He met me at the circular driveway, but this time he didn’t usher me into the house.
“How about we sit and talk?” I said.
He gestured to the chairs on the porch “Back so soon?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair.
“Seems like I overlooked something.”
“How can I help you?”
“You called Lacey that night, didn’t you? The night before she disappeared.”
He turned away, shifting in his seat.
“What did you call her about?”
He worked his jaws, clenching and unclenching his teeth. Then he stopped moving and just stared down with a defeated look on his face—like a child who did something wrong and was caught. Mixed with relief or some weirdness I couldn’t make out.
“I called because I wanted to see her,” Jim said.
“But she was working and wouldn’t have just left.”
“I told her it was urgent.”
I felt the tingling down my spine and shivered.
“So, she rushed out right away to see you …”
“Yes,” he whispered. “To meet at our usual spot at Murder Creek.” I had to move closer to catch his whisper. “But it wasn’t to do what she thought.”
I stared at him, this man who tricked the woman he said he loved.
“And then?”
“Then I left and let Ray Moore do his thing.”
I gasped. “The sheriff? So you knew what he’d do?”
He hung his head and looked down at his hands. His whispered “Yes” was almost inaudible.
“And you left her there alone with him?” I felt the sour bile in my throat and I almost threw up. “Why?” I rasped.
He sat there staring at his hands, turning the palms up, then over again. “My old man.” He slumped into the chair. “He said he was afraid she’d spill the beans, you know, ruin everything. He wanted to beat her to the punch.” He laughed dourly. “So, she got punched.”
I snorted, spitting my words out. “But why?”
“You know she moved out of her home,” said Jim. “She confided in me, told me why. I told my dad.”