by Vivien Reis
“And what if your mom is guilty of trying to kill your dad?”
Ben swept his flashlight again in a wide arc, from one path entrance to another and back again. His blood pumped faster, afraid his flashlight would land on something in the dark, an object, a person, a thing.
“You wouldn't want to ask her yourself?”
"Ask her what?" Of course he wanted to know the truth, but it wasn't his job. The sheriff would deal with that.
He paced around the car, itching to get back inside and lock the doors. He was completely exposed and out in the open. What if his mom came barreling around the corner and tried to attack him?
“What. If. She's guilty?” The voice asked again.
"Then they'll arrest her."
"Son?" Ben jumped, and the flashlight fell to the ground.
"Whoa, easy there. Didn't you hear me calling you?"
It was the sheriff. Ben took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry. Just jumpy." Was it him or were his words slurred?
"Who were you talking to?" The sheriff looked him up and down, feigning concern.
“He's judging you. He thinks you're turning into your mother. Maybe it was you who did it.”
Ben shook off the thoughts bouncing around in his head. "No one. I was just brainstorming out loud." That's totally normal, right? "Gran went that way. She wanted me to wait by the car for you and in case Abi came by." Or our mother.
"Wait here. I'll try to find your grandmother." He called to someone behind him and another officer took off down the opposite path. "We have a tracking dog on its way here. Do you have an article of your sister's clothing?"
"Uh, I think she has a hoodie in the back seat there."
Boom. Ben gasped for air but his lungs didn't seem to work. His head ripped apart, splitting from somewhere deep in his skull.
Boom. He collapsed, but the ground flashed away for a minute, replaced by a different scene. Instead of the dirt parking lot he was in, it was underbrush and tree roots, so dark he could barely make them out.
"Ben?" It was the sheriff, but his voice was miles away.
Boom. The blasting in his ears was his heartbeat. He could vaguely sense himself throwing up. He was somewhere else. Pine. Dirt.
His legs burned, racing, pumping.
They're coming. Oh god, they're coming.
Who? Who was coming? He didn't know. He ran on, jumping over dark debris on the ground, tripping. Falling. Getting back up.
It was dark. It was so freaking dark, but he had to keep moving.
"Stop!" a voice roared. It was close. Too close. A scream was on the edge of his lungs, only held back by the fear of wasted energy.
Run, stumble. You're being too loud.
A bright light passed over him and a different man yelled, "I see her!"
Her?
Run. Faster. Legs heavy, like in a dream. No, like in a nightmare.
He cut to his left behind a large fallen tree and then slid as far underneath it as he could. He would hide. But his breathing was too labored. He covered his mouth, breathing only through his nose. His lungs were on fire, screaming for more air but he held onto his face tight.
There was nothing but the booming of his own heartbeat in his ears. No men running. No shouting. The space between his hands and his face was wet. He was crying. What if they found him?
Maybe they had already run past him.
What was he going to do if they had? How long should he wait?
A bright light illuminated his body.
“Got you.”
Someone grabbed his foot. He yelled and kicked, trying to grab onto something. He screamed, even though it was the middle of the woods, he screamed as hard as his lungs would allow. The leaves and rough ground scratched at his back, hands yanked him away. He kicked again and a dark figure rose above him. Higher. Too tall to be a man. Fear squeezed the scream from his throat. Its form twisted, like a wraith, before a sharp pain erupted over the left side of his face.
Darkness welcomed him.
Beep.
Ben was just coming down the stairs when his sister's phone must have beeped from the kitchen. Bright, yellow morning light streamed in through every window. He took a deep breath, and the air smelled crisp and faintly of old wood—like home.
He rounded the corner and they were all there. His mom looked healthier than she had in years, her hair clean and brushed smooth. His dad was holding her hand from across from the table.
Beep.
Abi didn't make a move toward her phone as it lit up.
"Good morning, son." His dad came around the table and Ben’s heart wrenched at the sight, though he couldn't remember why. He gripped Ben in a big hug and then pointed to the kitchen. A wonderful spread of food filled every inch of the counters. Pancakes, French toast, and scrambled eggs sent tendrils of steam rising above them, platters overflowing with chopped fruit.
Beep.
Abi was still smiling at him, a book half open in front of her. Why wasn't she answering her phone? It was an odd chime, high and quick.
He looked away from the scene, turning again toward the kitchen. He took a jarring step back, bumping into the table.
The beautiful display of food had turned into a rotting mess. Maggots squirmed on top of the blackened fruit platter, the pancakes were green with mold, and the smell hit his nose so strongly that bile climbed up his throat.
This isn't right.
He turned to his family, but they weren't there anymore. Instead, a man in a dark hood sat at the head of the table. The bright sunlight had disappeared, and the man was bathed in a dim gray light.
"Wh-who are you?" His heart thump-thumped in his chest.
Beep.
"I am All."
The man's features were mostly hidden, but when he spoke, the gray skin of his lower jaw stretched taut.
"What are you doing in my house?"
"I came to see you, Benjamin Cole." He spoke slowly, his voice rough from age.
"How do you know my name?" Ben clenched his fists hard against his thighs. This man was an intruder.
Beep.
"We're old friends, you and I." The man's bony fingers lifted the hood up and off of his head. Bright red eyes shone back at Ben, highlighted by the dull pallor of the man's skin. No, not man. Thing. "I've been waiting a very long time to see you again."
The thing snapped its fingers and Ben's vision gave way. Everything was pitch black and his hands automatically came up, feeling for anything near him. His hard breathing was the only noise for a moment and then a whoosh exploded all around him.
Something touched his back. Then his left arm, slimy and cold. He spun around. It touched his right leg and then it was all over him, squeezing him tighter with each exhale like a snake.
"Benjamin." An inhumane growl surrounded the word, becoming one with it as Ben fought for his life.
Flames. His eyes were enveloped in flames. He cringed against something bright and turned his head, the effort like moving mountains. He tried to raise his hand to block out the light, but something tugged at his arm.
Ben focused and saw a tube going into his arm. An IV.
The air was sharp with cleaning products and latex. Quiet beeping sounded to his right.
His eyes were adjusting to the brightness, a headache lingering at the corners of his mind.
He was in a hospital.
"Gran?" Ben's throat was so dry it only came out as a whisper. He turned his head, looking around the white room. Gran was asleep in a chair by the window. It was dark outside.
The painful light had come from a lamp all the way on the other side of the room. Gran had a book laid across her chest. The lamp cast odd shapes over Gran's face, distorting it.
A cup of water was on the tray next to his bed and he reached out, hand shaking. Every minuscule muscle in his body screamed, muscles he didn't even know he had. He gulped the water, spilling some down his front.
"Gran?" he tried again, stronger now.
She jumped like she had been electrocuted. Her eyes met his and relief flooded over her. She rushed to him, her book clattering to the floor, and squeezed his hand in hers. He grimaced.
"Oh, honey, I am so sorry." She pushed Ben's hair out of his eyes. "You had me so worried."
"What happened? Everything hurts."
"They're saying a severe migraine. They thought you were having an aneurysm when they first brought you in." Her voice broke.
"An aneurysm?" What did that mean? He racked his mind, knowing this was a word he knew.
"Do you remember anything after leaving the house?"
Ben's words moved with slowness. "We were trying to look for Abi. I was in the woods...I think." His brain supplied flashes of him running, of trees, but that couldn't be right. He hadn’t gone in the woods.
A peppy nurse came in. She was short and Ben thought she was barely old enough to be in high school.
"Oh, you're awake! I'll take your blood pressure and then tell the doc you're up."
The pressure cuff squeezed Ben's arm. The nurse scratched something on to his chart, checked the machines, and then left.
"Where's Abi?"
Gran's face fell. "We don't know, Ben. The police are trying to find her."
The machine's beeping quickened.
"How long have I been out? How long has she been missing?"
"You've been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours."
"She's been gone for twenty-four hours?" Ben tried to raise himself up but his arms were too weak. "She was in the woods. The tracking dog. Why haven't they found her yet?"
Gran sat on the edge of the bed. Her skin was pale and her eyes bloodshot. "The emergency operators never received a call from Abi's phone. They have two theories: one, Abi found your mom, and either went somewhere with her, was taken or injured...or Abi ran away."
"What? No, she wouldn't do that. That's not like her." But Ben had heard the conversation between Abi and Cora. Abi had said something about wanting to leave. Hadn’t she? Was that the conversation Ben had imagined?
"I know. But the sheriff doesn't know her like we do. They're still searching, which is all they can do right now."
"Have they found anything yet?"
Gran nodded. "They found her phone in pieces. And there were tire tracks going away from where her trail disappeared. They think she got into a vehicle."
"With mom?"
"They don't know. The dogs haven't been able to pick up on her trail at all."
"So, they think she’s lying about mom?"
She shrugged.
"That's not like Abi. We have to tell them. We have to help find her." He flung back the white blanket and tried to push himself up again.
Gran stopped Ben with one hand. "Benjamin Alexander. Don't you dare try to get up out of this bed."
"But Gran—"
"But nothing. You need to rest. No more stress. Doctor's orders."
How could he possibly abide by that order? His entire life was a building tower of stress.
"Abi's out there somewhere."
"And the police are doing their jobs. Another search party is being organized."
Even though Gran's tone was still commanding, her eyes misted over. She was trying her best to hold this family together, and the world was working against her.
He nodded, collapsing against the bed. Abi wasn’t supposed to have memories like this. Your high school years were supposed to be fun, not a nightmare. And now she was missing.
Gran stared out the window for a minute, her silver hair pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. "Abi's a tough girl. A young woman." Gran turned to Ben with a weak smile. "They'll find her. She'll be okay."
Ben didn't believe that. He wanted to but he couldn't.
"I want you to get some rest now, Ben. They're keeping you for one more night and then we can go home."
Home. Gran looked down at her feet. His home didn't exist anymore.
Gran shuffled to the chair and reclined it. Just as she clicked the light off, there was a knock at the door.
Sheriff Belmore stuck his head through the opening.
Ben's monitor pinged faster. He didn't want to see this man, not ever. He only brought bad news.
"Evening. I just wanted to update you on some things." Belmore took his hat off, spinning it around, addressing Gran and not Ben.
"What happened? Did you find my sister?" This conversation felt like déjà vu, except the sheriff wasn’t there to tell him his sister was a killer.
Belmore held his breath, waiting for Gran to say something. She finally caught on.
"We can step outside." She started toward the door.
Ben lurched upright. "Hey! I deserve to know whatever you have to say."
"Ben, it's okay. We'll talk for a minute and I can tell you what he says, okay? You should rest."
"Like hell." His eyes burned and his voice broke. "She's my sister."
Silence stretched through the room, wrapping around Ben. Gran nodded and the sheriff continued, his voice low.
"You both know she got into a vehicle. We now believe that to be an SUV based on the width between the tire tracks. In total there are three sets of footprints, one of them matching Abi's, two consistent with male boots—" he looked at his notepad "—sizes 10 and 12."
"So Abi didn't get into the car with her mom?" Gran looked like one more blow might crush her.
"No. Still no evidence she was present in the woods at all. The dogs traced Abi into the middle of the woods but caught no scent of Mrs. Cole. Now when I say that, I mean deep into the woods. We had to hike quite a ways before the scent veered off and eventually looped back to the vehicle. There was no sign of Mrs. Cole at any point on the trail."
"Was there a struggle?" Ben imagined two men picking Abi up and shoving her into their SUV.
"Other than Abi's phone being broken, no. The footprints weren't distorted, meaning she wasn't dragged into the SUV or running at any point up to it."
"So it could be some friends of hers?" Gran added, standing across from Belmore. Ben felt weird lying down between them. He wanted to get up.
"It's possible. Now I don't want to upset you, but I want us to be realistic. The footprints are consistent with those found inside the Cole residence."
It was the men that had broken into their house. They had come back for Abi. "Did they do it? Could they have attacked my dad and tried to pin it on my mom?"
"We don't know."
"Did you find anything else?" Gran asked.
"There doesn't appear to be any other evidence left behind at the scene. Someone went to great measures to see to that. We're lucky the ground was soft enough there to leave the footprints."
So they have a great deal of nothing. Ben turned away from the sheriff. His life was a never-ending list of bad news. Over and over. More every day. He inhaled a slow breath, tension building along his spine.
"There's also something else. When we accessed Abi's phone records, we found that she had called the police like you had said, Mrs. Cole. But there's no record on our end of that conversation. Her call lasted four minutes, so someone definitely talked to her."
"What does that mean, Sheriff? You lost the record of it? How does that happen?" Gran crossed her arms, squaring up to the man.
"Look, I'm trying to find out about it without turning any heads. This doesn't just accidentally happen."
"You mean you think someone at the dispatch office is lying?" Gran’s voice shook, not like she was afraid, but like she was restraining herself.
Why would anyone that took the call be involved? This sounded like a mystery movie. A murder mystery.
No, not Abi.
Four minutes was a long conversation. How could Abi have dialed 9-1-1 but not gotten through? Was it possible someone had deleted the record?
"I'm not sure, but something isn't right." The sheriff gathered his hat and stepped to the door.
"Sheriff Belmore, we really appreciate you keep
ing us in the loop." Her usual persona was back, one Ben hadn’t seen in what felt like weeks.
"You're welcome, Mrs. Cole. I know how much you helped my mother when she was passing, so I truly care about what happens to your granddaughter. I know it feels like we're not doing much, but we'll find her."
What? When had Gran helped the sheriff's mom? He stared at Gran until he remembered—she used to be a nurse. A hospice nurse. How had he forgotten that?
"Do you mind if I have a word with you really quick?" the sheriff asked, regarding Gran.
Ben stiffened. What did he have to say that Ben couldn't hear? Was there more to the story?
"Sure. Ben, I'll be right back."
Before he could protest, they were gone.
Meredith followed the sheriff to the end of the hall, away from the nurse's station and Ben's room.
"Look, I didn't get a chance to talk to you yesterday after they took Ben to the hospital. I mentioned this to the paramedics, but I wanted to make sure this got passed on to you." He took a deep breath and Mer felt her skin warming. This man had a terrible habit of building tension when he didn't need to.
"Ben had a fit. And when I say a fit...now I'm not a religious man or anything. But what he did looked an awful lot like what you see in horror movies. I don't know if it was a seizure or a what."
"The doctors say that's possible."
"I don't mean to get into your family's business any more than I already am, but could he have what your daughter-in-law has?"
Schizophrenia. Mer stared at him. How dare he ask such a question, no matter how probable.
"The reason I asked," he rushed to add, "is he was talking to himself. In this deep voice and then answering himself when I drove up. I thought he was on the phone at first but he wasn't."
"Well, I talk to myself too—that doesn't mean there’s anything wrong with me."
"Mrs. Cole, I'm just telling you what I saw. I want you to know in case you haven't seen it yourself. Maybe he needs help. More than a medical doctor can give him."