by Nicole Hart
To make matters worse, I had to drive him to Sara’s to pick up his truck in complete silence, without even the sound of the radio to fill the space. My thoughts were noisy enough without adding to it.
He never asked any of the details or why his truck was there. I wasn’t sure if he remembered and chose not to speak of it, or if he had no memory of his actions and just assumed this behavior was normal.
But I was thankful of one thing—it was finally Monday morning. I could distract my mind with work and immerse myself in doing my part to help others with their problems instead of focusing on my own.
As I drove through morning traffic, my phone rang, and Sara’s face lit up the screen.
“Hello.”
“Holy shit, dude. It’s a good thing I wasn’t holding my breath waiting for your ass to call,” she scolded into the phone, and I felt guilty for not keeping my word and calling her like she had asked.
“Sorry, I sent you a text.” It was a lame attempt to defend my actions.
“Yeah, well that’s not good enough,” she reminded me. “You agreed to call…a text is not a phone call.”
“I know. I just didn’t feel like talking after what happened. It was embarrassing,” I admitted, still disgusted by the whole situation.
“I get that, but I don’t count. You can’t fucking ignore me. I’ll hunt your ass down.” She giggled, and I knew she was right.
I should have known better than to try and shut her out. “I’m sorry. How’s Mama?” I hoped my attempt to change the subject would be successful.
“She’s okay. I could tell she wondered what happened to you on Saturday. I told her you didn’t feel well, but I don’t think she bought it.”
The thought of Mama knowing what kind of man Jackson had turned into felt like a punch in the gut. Sure, he didn’t beat the hell out of me or torture me like the bastard had done to her, but I knew I didn’t have the life she’d wanted for me. The marriage she’d wished for me. And knowing it hurt her was far worse than the fact that I was actually living it.
“Any more nightmares?” I held my breath for a better answer than the one I knew she’d give.
“Yeah, they weren’t as frequent, but they were so fucking intense. I just wish I knew what they were about,” Sara mumbled into the phone, although we both knew what they were about. They were about the one person who continued to haunt her—had haunted all of us for most of our lives. And it didn’t seem to be close to ending anytime soon.
And I fucking hated him for it.
As I rounded the corner, I saw a crowd had gathered in the parking lot outside of our small office building. I was surprised until I noticed the different types of vehicles, and then dread filled my senses.
“Sara, I gotta go.” I focused my attention on the people scurrying around the building.
“What’s wrong?”
“Um, I don’t know. There are cops and stuff at my job. Shit. Oh my God.” My voice was low and shaky.
“Call me when you can. Love you,” she quipped, and I ended the call once I sent my love back to her.
I pulled into the lot and found the closest spot available. My eyes darted in all directions as I grabbed my keys, but I forgot my purse and lunch inside. I walked closer to the uniformed officers paired with a couple of men in suits. I started to move past them, praying this location was just a coincidence and they weren’t actually here at my job.
“Ma’am, you can’t go in there.” A female officer held her arm out in front of me, halting my steps immediately.
“Um, I work here. What’s going on?” I peered around her, trying to find Amie in the crowd of people.
She owned this building; surely, she knew what was going on.
“What’s your name?” she asked, pulling a notepad from her back pocket and clicking a pen against her thigh while staring at me and waiting for my answer.
“Um, Rachel. Rachel Fisher.” I stumbled over my words, staring at the scratch pad and wondering why she wrote my name down.
I glanced at the men in suits standing in a tight circle and noticed Amie’s husband behind them, obvious distress marring his features. I’d never met him personally but immediately recognized him from the photo on Amie’s bookshelf. He had on khaki’s and a bright-yellow Polo, in direct contrast with his dark skin. A light dusting of scruff covered his cheeks, a little more than a five o’clock shadow. But the pain on his face almost caused me to drop to my knees.
“Is Amie okay?” My bottom lip trembled, scared of the answer she would give me.
“Detective, can you come over here?” The female officer’s voice boomed over her shoulder, and a man in a dark-blue suit headed in our direction. I couldn’t take my eyes off Amie’s husband and the distress on his face.
“You’re Mrs. Fisher? You’re the secretary?” he asked, pulling out his own hand-held notebook.
“Yes, is Amie okay? Where is she? She always gets here early.” My hands began to shake when the realization of what was going on hit me.
“When is the last time you saw Mrs. Brooks?” His tone, coupled with his giving me a once-over with squinted eyes, rubbed me the wrong way. But I tried to ignore what felt like an interrogation and did my best to focus on the fact that he had a job to do.
“Um, Friday afternoon. She let me leave a few minutes early. Is she okay?” I felt like a broken record repeating the same question over and over.
“Mrs. Brooks has been missing since Saturday.” He spoke with a clear purpose and continued to scribble on the tablet of paper.
“What?” I placed my hand over my trembling lips and ignored the tear sliding down my cheek.
“You haven’t heard from her since you left the office on Friday, is that correct?” He lifted his gaze from his notes and raised his brow.
“Yes. We never really talk outside of work. She’s my boss. She’s a good boss, though.” My voice cracked and fear washed over me.
“I’m going to leave my card with you. If you think of anything that might be helpful, please contact me.” He slid the card into my shaky hand before walking away.
“You can go ahead and leave, ma’am. We have your information if we need you,” the female officer informed me before retreating to her co-workers.
I returned to my car, but peeked over my shoulder numerous times along the way.
He did this.
I wanted to tell them. They needed to know. But fear kept me moving.
I’d left a man to die in a ditch.
And now he was coming after me.
It wasn’t just the lookalikes anymore.
He was here.
He took Amie.
And I was next.
I couldn’t suppress the trembling that took over my body. My hands shook uncontrollably as I gripped the steering wheel, trying to get far away from this place but riddled with guilt for not running back to tell the police the truth.
I knew it was the right thing, but I couldn’t force myself to do it. Part of me believed I was just a child back then, the police would understand my reasoning for leaving him there. The other part of me knew better. I fled an accident and left a man for dead.
As I sped down the highway, unsure of where I was going, reality struck me right in my line of sight.
It was him.
An old, blue truck passed me on the highway, and the copper hair was a dead giveaway. A whimper escaped my lips
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Panic rose inside. Praying. Begging. Struggling. My car began to jerk from the way my quivering legs were unable to control the gas pedal.
I glanced in the rear-view mirror, and through unshed tears, I noticed the tapping of brake lights on the beat-up blue clunker.
I forced my foot on the accelerator a little harder, pushing my car well over the speed limit as I grabbed my phone. With trembling hands, I scrolled down my contacts and dialed the one person I could talk to. At least that’s the way it should have been.
“What, Rachel? I’m a little busy
here.” Jackson’s cold tone was like a punch in the stomach. I could hear lawnmowers in the background, so I assumed he was at work and obviously didn’t care enough to take a few seconds out of his day for me.
The realization of my marriage hit me once again. We weren’t the couple we used to be. Jackson wasn’t the husband he used to be. He wasn’t someone I could count on anymore. I didn’t even know why I bothered with him.
“Never mind, Jack.” I could hardly force the words from my lips, my teeth clenched together tightly, before I ended the call.
I drove as fast as my compact car would take me—careful to make sure I wasn’t being followed—while I headed to the one place I knew I could turn to. The one place I felt safe.
“Where’s Mama?” I whispered as I flung Sara’s front door open without knocking.
“Shit, you scared the hell out of me!” Sara jumped from the table she was dusting and clutched the cloth she was holding close to her chest.
“Sorry.” The tears I’d been holding back started to fall, and my lip began to tremble.
“What? What’s wrong?” She dropped the rag onto the table and rushed to my side, putting her arm over my shoulder to guide me to her sofa. I darted my eyes around the room, searching for anyone else in sight.
“She’s asleep, it’s okay. She’s okay. What’s going on?” Her voice was now filled with fear as she forced me to take a seat on the sofa.
“I have to tell you something. Please don’t be mad,” I begged through tears, kicking myself for waiting this long. Sara was my person, and I shouldn’t have kept this from her.
“You’re scaring me.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I let out a ragged breath and tried to gather my composure. I needed to get this out before I changed my mind or broke down completely.
“I saw him that day,” I confessed and stared into my lap as the tears fell onto the hem of my dress.
“What? Who? I’m not following.”
I glanced over and noticed the confused expression on her face. I stared at the little wrinkle that formed between her brows. It was the same look she’d had for as long as I could remember when something was thrown at her that she didn’t quite grasp.
“Him.” I emphasized that single syllable, and recognition crossed her face.
“The day he wrecked?” Sara cocked her head at me, waiting for more of an explanation.
“Yeah. Jackson and I were out riding bikes, and we saw him in the ditch.” I waited a few seconds before finishing the confession I’d been holding onto all these years. “And then we left him there.”
“Damn.”
“So all of this is my fault. People are dying because of me. Now Amie is missing…” The last sentence was too much for me to speak without losing it. I wept into my hands, and my body trembled from the emotions consuming me.
This is all my fault.
“Your boss?” Her eyes were wide as she placed her hand over her mouth.
I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded.
“This isn’t your fault. We don’t even know for sure if he’s the one doing all this.” Her tone didn’t imply the same confidence that her words insinuated.
“I think I just saw him,” I whispered, hiccups causing my head to throb.
“What did you just say?” Her voice sounded calm, but I could tell there was rage bubbling inside her.
“I saw him. When I left the office. I know it was him.” I glanced up at Sara, ignoring the salty tears that stung my raw cheeks.
“You’re sure?” She grabbed my chin and forced me to make eye contact with her.
“I’m pretty sure.” And I was.
It was a quick glance, but there was no one else on this earth that looked the way he did—the red hair that was always frizzy and wild, sunken cheeks that brought out the evil green in his eyes. The snarl that he wore like a second skin. I replayed the moment, trying to see his face clearly. I’d always tried to avoid taking in every feature he had, but now I needed to be sure. The memory was fuzzy, probably from my state of panic and the tears that caused my vision to blur.
“Shit. I think so. Dammit.” I was angry for second-guessing myself. I wanted to be sure. Although, it didn’t really matter. Whether I actually saw his vile face or not, I knew he was responsible for this.
“It’s okay. Stop. Just calm down.” She rubbed my back with the palm of her hand, trying to soothe me.
“Okay. Okay.” I let out a rushed breath and wiped the tears from my cheeks.
“He won’t get any closer to us. I promise.” She stood and went to her front door to secure both of the locks and then returned to her spot beside me. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was soft, but the pain embedded in her words was like a punch in the stomach.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. You were so young. Jackson and I made a promise to take it to our graves and never tell anyone.” I tried to explain my reasoning, but when I said it out loud, I wanted to kick myself for hiding it from my sister. “But I can’t even talk to him anymore. I’m sorry, I should have told you before now.”
I reached over and pulled her close to me, trying to bridge any gap between us this may have caused.
“Don’t apologize again. It’s done. I’ve got your back. I always will.” She pulled away just enough to look me in the eyes. “But don’t fucking keep any more secrets from me. Fuck that shit. We don’t work that way.”
I nodded. “No. None. I promise.”
“I love you.” She wrapped her arms around me again and held me tight.
“I love you, too.” I finally felt like a weight I’d been carrying all these years had been lifted off my shoulders. I should have told her a long time ago.
“We’ll get through this. I promise. I’ll take that motherfucker out myself if I need to.” Her voice was stern and serious.
I knew either one of us would do whatever was necessary to keep Mama and each other safe.
He forced us to live in fear under the reign of his ways for most of our childhood—and many years of my adulthood if I were honest. But we weren’t kids anymore.
I sat in the rocking chair, watching over Mama as she slept, exhausted from another nightmare. My thoughts raced as I sat in her room, the serenity of my surroundings doing nothing to calm my mind.
My first priority was to protect Mama and Sara, that was a given. But I couldn’t shake the other issue that weighed so heavily on my mind. Over the last year, it was a passing thought, but now I knew it was inevitable.
When I was sure Mama was sleeping soundly, I made my exit from her room and met Sara in her office/craft room. I silently watched her for a moment as she organized different sized ribbons in a bucket. It was obvious she was deep in thought. I didn’t want to disrupt her, but I had to get my own thoughts out in the open and get her opinion.
“Hey.” Taking a seat on the floor next to her, I grabbed the hot glue gun and wrapped the cord around it tightly before placing it next to the glue sticks in the woven basket.
“Hey,” she repeated, tossing the roll of ribbon into the bucket next to various plastic pumpkins and pine cones. Then she organized them so they lay in perfect order.
“I think I want to ask Jackson for a divorce,” I blurted out, unable to keep it to myself a moment longer.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she picked at the chipped, black polish on her thumbnail.
“Hello? I could use your input.” My voice came out a little snippy, which wasn’t my intention.
“I think it’s about damn time.” She shrugged and then crossed her arms.
“You do?” My voice became softer, and I realized maybe this decision wasn’t out of left field after all.
“Well, yeah. Listen, I know he was your first love, and he’s all you know. But damn, you deserve better than the bullshit he’s put you through. He’s fucked up these days, Rach. And if he can’t get his shit together, then it’s time to let it go. Life is too fucking short to live it the way you have been.”
Her points were all valid, and she was absolutely right.
“I mean, there’s someone out there who will treat you so much better than what you’ve been getting.” She lifted her left brow and stared at me.
“I’m not interested in getting with anyone else. That’s not even on my radar. I think I’ll be fine being alone—happy, even.” When the words came out of my mouth, I actually believed them.
“Well, you’ll never be alone. You can’t get rid of me.” She smiled big, sticking her index finger in the dimple on her left cheek that she was blessed with.
“I know that all too well.” I giggled as she stuck her middle finger in my direction while sticking her tongue out at me.
The muffled ring of my cell began to sound from my purse in the living room. I stood and went to grab it, worried it was Jackson. I knew I would talk to him, I just needed to wait until the right time. And right now wasn’t it, not on the phone. And definitely not at Sara’s house.
I grabbed my cell and saw a number I didn’t recognize scroll across the screen. Part of me didn’t want to answer it, and fear leaped into my throat. But I slid my finger across the screen anyway.
“Hello?” I tried to hide my anxiousness as I made my way back to the craft room.
“Yes ma’am, is this Rachel Fisher?” A strong, prominent Southern accent rang in my ear.
“It is.” I glanced down at Sara who was still sitting on the floor and gave her a nervous look, immediately thinking it was the police ready to interrogate me.
“Hello, dear. This is Wanda, Amie’s sister-in-law. I understand you work for her.” Her voice was soft, but there was pain latched to it that caused a lump to form in my throat.
“Yes. Is she okay? Did her husband find her?” My stomach was tied in knots waiting for her answer, which took way too long. I needed to know she was okay, that she just took off and she hadn’t been caught up in this whole evil mess.
“They found her.” Her voice came across raspy and emotional.
No. No. No.
“She’s okay?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.