Haunting the Night

by Mara Purnhagen

  “You don’t have to say you’re sorry,” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But I really wanted us to have a perfect night.”

  “So did I. We’ll just have to wait a little longer, that’s all.”

  He sounded positive, but I was sure I heard a note of defeat in his voice. How many times would we make plans to be together, only to have those plans interrupted? It was like we were destined to never be alone.

  After I hung up with Noah, I checked my message history and was surprised to find that I had one voice mail waiting for me. It was from Zelden. Sort of.

  “This is Casey, Dr. Zelden’s personal assistant,” a woman’s voice said. “He has received your message but would like further clarification about what you need from him. You may reach me at this number within the next twenty-four hours.”

  Angry and annoyed, I snapped my phone shut. Zelden had his assistant call me back? After everything that had happened, I wasn’t worth his time? Annalise picked up on my quiet fury.

  “You okay? Who was that on the phone?”

  I sighed and let my head rest against the window. “Wrong number.”

  Maybe I didn’t need Zelden. Maybe locating Marcus’s grave wasn’t as vital to banishing the shadow creature as I thought. What was I going to do if I located the grave? My plan had been to lay some flowers on the ground and apologize, but that didn’t seem like enough. What was the appropriate apology to give a man whose life you had helped end?

  “I know you’ve had a really long night,” Annalise said. We were approaching the long bridge that would take us into Charleston. “How about we grab some lunch and then you can rest?”

  “Sounds good,” I mumbled.

  After a nice lunch at one of my favorite seafood restaurants, we went to Annalise’s apartment. I really was tired, so I curled up on her bed and took a nap. When I awoke, it was almost dark. My head felt groggy as I shuffled into the kitchen. Annalise had left a note on the counter.

  Running errands. Back by seven.

  I glanced at the clock. It was almost seven. I returned to the bedroom and pulled out my phone, then dialed Zelden’s number. Again, I was directed to his voice mail.

  “This is Charlotte,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “I need you to call me back immediately.” A thought occurred to me. “This is in regard to Marcus. Call me back, or my family’s next DVD will contain some bonus features you might not be happy about.”

  I had never threatened anyone before. I felt badly, but it was an idle threat—I doubted my family would ever release another DVD, much less one that featured Zelden in any way. Still, I hoped it was enough to finally force him to call me back.

  While I waited for Zelden to call and my sister to return home, I unpacked my duffel bag. The sun had set, and I debated slipping on my pajamas, even though I was no longer tired. As I turned to lower the blinds, I glimpsed movement in the dark street.

  Even before I saw it, I knew the shadow creature had found me. It was taller now, more human. I could almost make out the outline of a hat on its head. And although it was standing stooped over, it gaze directed toward the ground, I felt like it could see me, like it knew I was watching.

  The headlights from an approaching car briefly illuminated the shape. When the car passed, the creature was no longer hunched over; instead, it was standing. Despite the fact that I could not see its eyes, I knew it was looking at me,. My rapid breath fogged the window, but still I watched. And then it raised its long, dark arm and pointed.

  I turned my head slightly, in the direction that the creature was pointing. If I followed the street, it would lead to Charleston Harbor. But there were so many places in between the apartment and the harbor, including several old cemeteries.

  Where was I supposed to go? I looked toward the creature again, but it was gone, again leaving behind more questions than answers.

  Chapter Six

  My first day in Charleston did not provide the warm and bright escape I had been looking forward to. For one thing, it was raining. Hard. And my plan to spend time with Annalise fell apart when she realized that the major paper she thought was due in two weeks was actually due in a few days. So I ended up spending the morning after my arrival holed up in Annalise’s apartment, flipping through the channels on her tiny TV, listening to the rain pelt her windows and trying not to think about the one thing that occupied my brain.

  The shadow creature had followed me to Charleston.

  I didn’t want to think about how, but I had an image in my head of it running alongside the car as Annalise and I drove down the rain-soaked highway, an image that caused me to shudder. Of course, that reaction was nothing compared to the moment I saw it outside Annalise’s bedroom window, pointing one dark, foggy finger into the distance.

  Seeing the creature only a few hours after my arrival affirmed my worst fear: I could not escape the thing. Running from it would not work, and there was no place to hide. It wanted something from me, and I needed to figure out what that something was before it became too big to avoid.

  I glanced at the clock. Back at school, it was already second period. I wanted to hear Noah’s voice, though, so I called his cell. It went straight to voice mail, but it was nice to hear a friendly hello. I left a brief message telling him I missed him. It was funny how when I was in class, all I could think about sometimes was what I would be doing after the final bell rang. But when I wasn’t in school, I thought about what I would be doing if I was there, what classes I would be sitting in or who I’d see at lunch. In a strange way, I missed the familiar routine.

  I called Avery. Surprisingly, she picked up.

  “Aren’t you in class?”

  “Hello to you, too, Charlotte. And no, I’m not in class. I’m working on a Prom-related project, so I got out of study hall. Speaking of which, have you changed your mind about coming?”

  I laughed. “Why? Are ticket sales slow?”

  She scoffed. “Hardly. In fact, we sold out. But I reserved two tickets just in case you change your mind.”

  “Thanks, but that wasn’t necessary.” Even if I wanted to go, it was too late. Annalise was so busy with school that she wouldn’t be able to drive me back home and return in time for her deadline. And Noah wouldn’t have time to rent a tux. I wasn’t going to Prom, and that was final. A cheesy dance featuring bad lighting and mediocre music was not the venue to make lasting memories. I wasn’t missing anything. I was simply avoiding a long, sentimental evening.

  So why did I keep thinking about it?

  Avery filled me in on the daily gossip, which basically involved who was going to Prom and the melodramatic meltdowns taking place in the girls’ bathroom.

  “The entire sophomore class should be committed,” she said. “They’re desperate for a date, and every day they wear less and less. I swear, it’s like a bathing suit competition over here.”

  “Their desperation means that you’ve put together an event people are dying to go to,” I said. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “I guess.” She sighed. “When I decided to serve as chairperson I didn’t think it would come with all the drama. I thought it would be about selecting main courses and table decorations.”

  “You sound really stressed.” I wanted to be there for my best friend the same way she had been there for me. But I was over a hundred miles away. There was nothing I could do except listen to her justified complaints.

  “It’s a dance,” Avery said. “I keep telling myself that: it’s just a dance. But people have such high expectations. They don’t see it as a dance. They see it as a defining moment in their lives.”

  I almost smiled. Did people really believe that a defining moment was one that was meticulously planned? Weren’t the truly important moments of our lives the ones that happened almost accidentally, without any preparation? I wasn’t ready for my mom to get hurt. I wasn’t ready for my first kiss with Noah. Those were defining moments, and I had stumbled into t
hem without planning my outfit or bringing a camera.

  “In the end, it will be a great evening,” I reassured Avery. “People will remember it. They’ll talk about it for years.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she admitted. “If it’s great, I’m happy. If it’s a train wreck, I’ll have to endure a legacy of organizing the worst prom ever.”

  “Is it bad if I tell you that no one will really remember ten years from now?”

  “But they will!” I could almost see Avery shake her head. “They’ll remember how they felt that night.”

  “You can’t control that. Whether or not they have a good time is up to them. All you can do is make sure the decorations are perfect and the food is hot.”

  “Yeah.” Avery was quiet. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I can’t fix everything.”

  “Focus on the things you can fix,” I said. “Make it beautiful. That’s all you can do. And trust me, you’re good at making things beautiful.”

  She laughed, and the sound was a relief to me. “Deal. Thanks, Charlotte. I’m glad you called.”

  “Bye, Avery. Have a great day.”

  “See you on Monday, Charlotte.”

  Frustrated with my television options, I turned off the TV. Outside, the rain showed no sign of letting up, and although the weather was a good excuse to stay inside, I had work to do. If Zelden wanted to ignore my calls, I would have to track him down some other way. And I knew the one person in town who could help me.

  I searched the closets for an umbrella then figured that if my sister had one, she had taken it with her to class. I settled for a ball cap and a wrinkled yellow poncho I found stuffed behind her winter gear. No one would accuse me of good fashion sense in the getup, although there was a chance I would be mistaken for a crossing guard.

  Luckily, I didn’t have to walk far. Annalise had pointed out the library to me when we drove through campus the night before. Three blocks and one soaked poncho later, I arrived at the building. My wet shoes squeaked across the shiny floor, causing students to look up from their tables and glare at me. I ignored their disapproving looks and hurried to the main desk. “I’m looking for the genealogy room,” I whispered to the student reading behind the counter. He barely looked up.

  “Upstairs, end of the hall.”

  Relieved that he didn’t ask me for a student ID and not wanting to attract more attention to myself, I took the elevator. The quick ride gave me a chance to wring the water out of my baseball cap. It left a dark puddle, and I hoped the serious-looking students who got on when I stepped out didn’t think I’d peed the floor.

  The genealogy room occupied a small corner at the end of the hall. It was decorated with old photographs showing the construction of the library in its different stages. I was the only one in the room, so I spent time examining each of the framed black-and-white pictures until a woman walked into the room.

  “May I help you?” Her question was marked with both surprise and suspicion. I guessed not many students visited the place.

  “I’m looking for Mills Davidson,” I said. “He’s kind of helping me with a project.”

  “He’s in the basement right now. Perhaps I could assist you with this project?”

  I wasn’t planning on this. Mills was the only one I trusted to help me. Anyone else might think I was a stalker.

  “Um, do you know when he might be available?”

  The woman frowned. “I could call him for you, I suppose, Miss?”

  “Charlotte Silver.”

  A smiled replaced her frown. “Are you Annalise’s sister?”

  I nodded.

  “She’s been talking about your visit! We adore Annalise here. She brings us bagels every Monday.” The woman went to her desk, hit a button on the phone and asked Mills to come upstairs. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, dear. My prayers are with your family.”

  “Thank you.” Her words were kind, but they also made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Thankfully, Mills arrived a moment later.

  “Charlotte!” He gave me a quick hug. “Tired of being cooped up in the apartment, huh?”

  “Yeah.” The woman was still at her desk and I needed to speak with Mills alone. I lowered my voice. “Actually, I need your help with something.”

  “Sure.” He looked over at the woman. “Sue, I noticed a problem downstairs. Someone is stacking the census reports instead of shelving them.”

  “What?” Sue got up from her desk. “How many times I have I told them not to do that?”

  She rushed out of the room, muttering something about careless student workers.

  I smiled. “You certainly know how to clear a room.”

  Mills shrugged. “One of my many gifts. Let’s sit down and you can tell me what’s going on.”

  We sat across from each other at the wide wooden table in the center of the room. “So, I know you’re an expert at research and finding people online,” I began. “And I need information about someone. The thing is, I really don’t want anyone to know about this. Not even Annalise.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t keep secrets from your sister.”

  “I know.” I looked down at my hands. “But it’s not exactly a secret. I just don’t want you to tell her yet.”

  “Why don’t you explain what you need, and I’ll let you know if I can keep it quiet for a little while.”

  “Okay.” What I wanted was simple. Asking for it was not. “I need to know where Marcus is buried.”

  “Marcus?”

  “Marcus Archer, the guy I—the guy who died.”

  “I see.” Mills took off his black glasses, inspected them then put them back on. “Charlotte, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  His reaction was a possibility I had considered, so I had my rationale ready.

  “I can’t stop thinking about him, about who he was. And I don’t think I can move on until I know more.”

  “How would that help?” Mills asked. “What if it makes you feel even worse?”

  I looked at him. “I can’t feel worse. Please believe me, Mills. I cannot. Feel. Worse.”

  My words had an effect. He frowned, but I could tell he was thinking about it. “I’m guessing you’ve already done a basic search online?”

  “I found his obituary, but it doesn’t say where he’s buried. But it did say that Zelden held a memorial service at his house. So I was thinking you could track down Zelden for me.”

  I explained that I had tried calling numerous times but hadn’t been able to get through. If Mills could find out where Zelden was—I thought he might be holding one of his seminars somewhere—then I could call his hotel and let him know that I wasn’t giving up.

  Sue returned from the basement and sat down at her desk. Mills glanced at her then turned back to me. “Charlotte, I don’t like this.” His voice was soft. “Before I agree to help you, I want you to answer me this: what do you want to accomplish?”

  I wanted to make the shadow creature go away. But that wasn’t the answer I gave Mills.

  “I’m hoping to find closure.”

  I thought it was the right answer, the one Mills would respond to. But he didn’t say anything for a while.

  “So,” I prodded. “Will you help me find Zelden?”

  “No.” Before I could say anything else, Mills stood up. “But I’ll take you to Marcus.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Courtyard Café looked like I remembered it. The small yellow building was surrounded by a wide porch and leafy bushes of blue hydrangea. For some reason, this surprised me. I had changed since my last visit here—shouldn’t the place have changed, too?

  I followed Mills onto the porch. He had insisted we have lunch together so we could talk some more. I was still trying to figure out how he knew where Marcus was buried, but Mills wasn’t saying anything yet.

  Once inside the Café, I was pleased to discover that it was quiet, with only a few tables occupied. A perky waitre
ss with a thick southern accent showed us to a small table. It was next to a window, which I liked. I removed my cap and ran a hand through my still-wet hair, scattering rain droplets on the menu.

  “Get anything you’d like,” Mills said. “My treat.”

  I already knew what I wanted. There was only one thing I craved when I visited Charleston: shrimp and grits. Mills ordered the same.

  While we waited for our food, I watched the people on the street. Black umbrellas seemed to sail down the street as anxious tourists rushed to their destinations. People tried to snap pictures without getting their cameras wet, which was awkwardly funny.

  “Do you remember your first visit here?” Mills asked.

  I turned my gaze away from the window. “Yes.”

  It was the previous summer. My family was working on a new DVD, and my sister and I were helping. But our experience at the Courtyard Café was an unsettling one. Nothing had been the same since.

  “Does it feel different?”

  It didn’t. There was no echo of the chilling cold I had once experienced, no remnants at all of my encounters in this place. It was a strange relief.

  Our food arrived. Mills and I ate in silence, and I liked to think it was because we were both enjoying the food so much. But I knew he was getting ready to tell me what he knew—and why he knew it. After all, Mills had never met Marcus—or Dr. Zelden, for that matter—so how was he connected to either of them?

  “I attended the memorial service,” Mills said. I looked up, surprised. “For Marcus,” he clarified. “I was there, at Zelden’s estate.”

  His statement was so unexpected that I could do nothing but stare at him, my brow wrinkled in confusion.

  “After everything that happened, Zelden began calling your house. Sometimes three, four times a day,” Mills went on. “He was really worried.”

  “Only about himself,” I muttered. He sure wasn’t in any rush to answer my calls.