“It’s... I think it’s...” she squinted toward the turn. “Is there a street sign?”
Jimmy slowed. “I don’t see one.”
“There. In the trees. Esker Road. Left here.”
“Left it is.”
Jimmy turned and sped up.
“All the way up, on the right,” Ashley said.
She focused out the windshield as they drove, determined not to space out again.
Trees hugged the road on both sides. As they progressed, the forest thinned. Half a mile in, the occasional single-story modular homes appeared in cleared-out sections. Ashley wondered what kind of life decisions you had to make to end up in one of those.
“This must be the bridge,” Jimmy said. It came into view around a curve.
On his side, the bridge still had its original stone wall, reinforced with steel slats bolted along its length. On Ashley’s side, though, most of the stone wall was crumbled into a deep ravine. She’d guess fifty feet, at least. Construction barrels lined the drop, wrapped generously in yellow “caution” tape.
“Jesus,” Jimmy said. “Somebody did a number on that.” He slowed the car as they neared and came to a stop on the bridge. He pushed himself up and leaned over Ashley to look down into the ravine. She refrained from shoving him back into the driver’s seat. He gave a low whistle. “Was that from an Earthquake? How deep to you think it goes?”
Ashley’s pulse raced. Dad had dived from here. She couldn’t see the bottom, but the sides were lined with rocks. They’d been the last things her father had seen, and now Jimmy wanted to gawk. “I don’t know,” she said. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“How’d the bridge break in the first place, Ash? Did your father ever talk about it?” Thankfully, he settled back into his seat.
“It was an accident earlier this year,” she said, trying to remember the tale. She hadn’t paid close attention when Dad told the story, and now he wasn’t around to tell it again. “I don’t remember. Some couple were on their way home. Had a fight and crashed through. He survived; his girlfriend didn’t.”
“Ouch.”
“He walked back here a few days later. Two and a half miles. Moved the barrels aside and took a header into the ravine.”
“Really?” Jimmy said. “And you don’t want--”
“No. I don’t. Get me to the house. I want to take a nap.”
Jimmy sighed. He looked out the windshield for a moment, then sighed again. He slipped the car into gear, but didn’t move them off the bridge. “I’m just saying.”
“Can we go?”
He still didn’t drive. Ashley looked out the windshield. From here forward, a stockade fence ran along the road. Dad had told her his junkyard was completely fenced in, but one section of fence was missing along the ravine, where it ran up into the woods. In that space, she saw rows of cars, each of them stripped to various degrees. Dad’s Pick Apart.
Dad owned five acres of land stretching back into the woods. Well, she owned them now. It was a smallish plot, as these things went, but situated as it was near the edges of three small towns, it did a fair amount of business. According to Dad, he’d started drawing customers from towns further away. He’d joked that the place was keeping him in cat food.
“Is she supposed to be there?” Jimmy asked.
Ashley focused. She’d started to space out again. Jimmy was staring at the missing section of stockade fence. She didn’t see anyone.
“Is who supposed to be there?”
“Her. Wait. I thought someone... must have been a shadow.” He eased off the bridge and sped up. They travelled in silence for a moment before the stockade fence ended. Jimmy stopped in front of a driveway gated with a section of highway guardrail. Hanging from it was a hand-lettered sign. Dale’s PICK APART. “The gate’s closed. You have the key?”
Ashley looked at him.
“The key? The lawyer gave you the key.”
She remembered the fat man handing her something.
“You put it in your purse.”
She opened her purse and looked inside. One small key ring sat on top. Even holding it before her eyes, she couldn’t remember seeing it before. Six dirty golden keys on a simple metal ring. “Maybe it’s one of these?”
Jimmy took them and got out of the car.
Her attention wandered to the tiny house built on an incline at the edge of the property, not much larger than a trailer. Another modular home. Figured. She’d just been looking down her nose at people who lived in these. Of course, Dad had always referred to it as his “palace,” which called up grandiose images in her mind. Another lie.
She heard a scrape. Jimmy dragging the gate aside. She watched him pocket the keys and rub dirt off his hands as he returned to the car. He dropped into the driver’s seat, then slipped the car into gear and drove through.
No lights shone inside the little house. She wondered if they’d turned off the electricity. If that was the case, she and Jimmy might end up doing what Rollo wanted and going back into town—
Jimmy stopped the car and got out.
“Where are you going?”
“To close the gate,” he muttered.
Ashley heard the annoyance in his voice. She wasn’t giving him the responses or attention he wanted; wasn’t itching to delve into the mystery of why her father dove into the ravine, especially now that they knew the boy who survived the original accident had returned to do just that. Well, tough shit. She would grieve her own way. If he wanted to fight about it, he was out of luck. She hadn’t driven through three states to deal with him, either.
The driveway was large enough for six cars to park side-by-side. Jimmy ignored the spaces and pulled alongside the front of the house. “We got here just in time,” he said as he killed the engine. “Sun’s almost down.”
Ashley opened her door and stood.
What Dad had called a “palace” brought only one word to her mind. “Squat.” Thankfully, she only had to sleep here one night. After the funeral tomorrow morning, they’d be most of the way back across three states before the sun set again.
“She’s in the yard,” Jimmy said. He stood beside the car, his door open, staring toward the stockade fence enclosing the Pick Apart. Ashley noted the double swing gate. When opened, cars could be driven in and out. A heavy chain, fed through holes drilled in each door, secured them with a padlock. To the side, out of the way of the gate, stood a storage shed, which she imagined housed the cash register Dad used and a chair or two for the hours he opened the yard.
“She’s in there,” Jimmy said.
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s singing.” He walked toward the gate. “I can hear her.” He fished the keys out of his pocket as he reached the gate, then went to work on the chain.
“Jimmy,” she called. She heard the click of the lock opening. Felt dumbfounded as he started to open the gate. “JIMMY!”
He turned toward her.
“At least give me the keys so I can get our stuff inside,” she said.
He lobbed them at her and turned away before they clinked on the ground two yards short of her feet.
An industrial bong rang in the stillness. “You didn’t close your door,” she told him. Jimmy didn’t respond. She stepped forward and picked up the keys. “Jimmy?” Exasperated, she walked to the trunk and jabbed the release button under the lip. It popped open with a dull sprong. She pulled out her overnight bag and turned.
Jimmy stood in the open gate of the Pick Apart. The setting sun reduced him to a silhouette.
“You’re really not going to help me with these bags?”
“She’s lost, Ashley. She needs help. Can’t you hear her?”
Ashley listened. “All I hear is your ‘door open’ chime.”
He stepped to his right and disappeared completely.
“Unbelievable.” Ashley shouldered the strap of her bag and walked around the car to slam Jimmy’s door. She watched the entrance to the yard, but J
immy didn’t return. With the light getting dimmer, she made her way to the house. It was almost too dark to see, but she got the screen door open and managed to find the keyhole. The second key opened the door. She found four light switches on the inside wall. The nearest turned on the bulb over the door, easing her fears that the electricity had been shut off. The light illuminated the six-foot by twelve-foot landing outside the door, the single folding chair, and the artificial grass rug. She dragged her foot on it and it scratched like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Palace,” indeed.
She leaned into the house and flicked the next switch. Two exposed light bulbs came on over a round dining room table just inside the front door. Above the four-switch panel, she found a stretch of eight more, all in the “off” position. These must turn on lights in the junkyard. Since she had more than enough light to get the bags into the house, she left them off. Jimmy could feel his way around in the dark.
Ashley unshouldered her bag and dropped it on the table. Straight ahead, toward the back of the house, was a stove and sink. The refrigerator stood to the side. Directly to her left, Dad’s green leather couch sat in front of an old tube-style TV set. She could make out the indentation in the back cushion where he’d rested his head during his off hours. A hint of his cologne lingered in the air, but it didn’t mask the mustiness. Two pictures hung on the wall above the TV. The first, her parents’ wedding picture, made her miss Dad so much she crumbled a little inside. Mom had died far too long ago for her image to affect her. The second picture was her graduation photo. Not the formal one, the one snapped right after the event. Ashley had a big smile, a bouquet of yellow roses, and one hand on her graduation cap because the wind had been grabby.
As much as she wanted to explore the rest of the house, she pocketed the keys and decided to get Jimmy’s bag. Typical guy, he’d finish whatever he was doing and come right inside, assuming she’d done all the menial labor. He was already acting annoyed with her mood, as if dealing with her father’s suicide and being unexpectedly saddled with the junkyard didn’t provide reason enough for her foul attitude.
His toothbrush would be going in the trash when she got home.
Ashley turned for the car. Her breath stopped when she saw the face watching her through the screen door.
“You need to get away from here,” Rollo said.
Ashley stepped back and bumped the table. Her fear morphed into anger. “Why?”
Rollo looked at her, then shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“You’re probably right. Tell me anyway.”
“The girl. Mary Bedigian.”
Ashley just blinked at him.
Rollo made a noise like a cat upchucking a hairball. “I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” He turned to leave.
“Who is she? I have no idea who you’re talking about. Was my Dad seeing someone?”
Rollo turned back to her, incredulous. “Seeing someone? As if.” His crooked smile made her wonder if he’d recovered from a stroke or suffered from Bell’s Palsy.
“Then who is she? Did she try to sue him or something?”
“She was killed, girl. When her boyfriend’s car went over the bridge.”
Great. This guy was crazy, and she was alone with him. Only the flimsy screen door kept them apart. It wasn’t even locked. Rollo could be inside as soon as he decided to be. Ashley would run to the kitchen and grab a knife if he tried to come through the door.
“She doesn’t know she’s dead,” Rollo said. “She wants someone to bring her home. I told your Dad to stay away from there, but he didn’t listen to me.”
She sighed. “You were right. I don’t believe you.”
Rollo grunted, obviously frustrated. “Your Dad and I were playing cards the night it happened.” He pointed at the table. “We heard the crash. I ran outside while your Dad called for help. I climbed into the ravine. The boy was banged up, but Mary was dead.”
Ashley nodded. “Dad didn’t say much about it.”
“They dragged the car up into the yard after the accident. That same night. Took down part of the fence and your Dad never replaced it. Then he went and let them leave the car in the Pick Apart overnight. I told him not to, told him it was bad luck, but he didn’t listen.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Month.”
“And they haven’t rebuilt the bridge yet?”
Rollo chuffed. “Have you seen this area? This town? The board ain’t gonna spend money on that.”
“Tell me why you didn’t want the business.”
Rollo’s lips moved, but he hesitated.
“And what did you and my Dad fight about?”
“We never—”
“Stop lying. Dad told me you abandoned him.”
Rollo shook his head, his mouth agape in a crooked semblance of innocence and surprise, but he saw the expression on her face and deflated. “I saw her the next night. Mary.”
“You saw her.” She couldn’t believe she was hearing this.
“Standing on the street by the bridge. Looking lost and afraid. I felt like I needed to help her. Then I remembered I’d seen her dead. I ran up here. Told your Dad. He didn’t believe me.”
“So, you and Dad had a falling out over a ghost?”
Rollo shooed a moth fluttering around the outside light, his quick, unexpected movement almost stopped her heart. He put his hand on the handle of the screen door. She readied to run to the kitchen, but his expression grew confused. He looked left, then right, then turned to look over his shoulder.
“There was a boy with you. Where is he?”
Ashley swallowed. “He’s around.”
Rollo looked at her through the screen door. “He’s in the yard?”
She shrugged.
“He saw her, didn’t he?”
She shrugged again.
“You’ve got to go get him.” He glanced toward the yard, his hand playing at the base of his throat. Then he looked at her again. “When the police come, I was never here.”
He turned and raced off the porch. Ashley stared at the empty screen. A moment later, she stepped up to the door and saw Rollo swinging a leg over the guardrail gate before running up Esker Road, away from the Pick Apart.
Ashley opened the door and looked toward the yard. The house was higher than the stockade fence, but although she could see most of it from here, it was too dark to make out anything but shadows and blackness. She reached toward the panel of eight switches. Each one she flicked turned on another pole light in the yard, revealing car bodies with missing doors and hoods. The last switch turned on the pole in the corner nearest the bridge. It illuminated barely enough for her to see Jimmy, only Jimmy, standing with his back to her.
She looked around for a flashlight. There was no reason for her pulse to be hammering. Ghost stories were bullshit. Lies. She’d heard so many of them from so many men today she was acting silly.
Ashley stepped onto the porch, nearly cried out when the plastic grass crinkled under her feet. She didn’t want to walk to the edge of the ravine without a flashlight. She saw the rental car and smiled. She had all the light she could need.
She stepped off the porch and jogged around the storage shed to open double swing doors of the Pick Apart wide. She jogged back to the rental car, shutting the trunk on the way by. The keys hung in the ignition where Jimmy had left them.
It started right up, giving her none of the crap her own car would have. She turned around and drove into the Pick Apart, turning right, toward the road. Dad had arranged the cars in rows with plenty of space between them. This made it easy for him to replace the junkers after they’d been picked clean. She had no idea if the cars were arranged in any kind of order. It didn’t look like it. She saw sedans next to Jeeps next to sportsy models.
She turned left at the last row. The pole lights weren’t nearly bright enough. It took a moment to find the high beam controls, and when she did, she sighed with relief that Jimmy still s
tood where she could see him. What the hell was he doing?
She drove up behind him slowly, trying not to let the movement of his huge shadow on the trees beyond freak her out. She stopped the car a few feet behind him and waited for him to react. He didn’t. She gritted her teeth, then leaned over and opened the passenger door.
“Get in,” she called.
He didn’t move.
“Jimmy!” A tiny movement of shadow told her that Jimmy was talking. To who? There was no one else here. “I can’t hear you.”
He didn’t turn. Made no effort to speak louder.
Ashley cursed, then opened her door and stood. The door chime bonged, so she stepped aside and closed it.
“Jimmy?”
Jimmy was gone.
Ashley stepped toward the space, her gaze intent on the ravine. Someone had tried to keep the gap in the stockade fence secure by stapling a stretch of chicken wire between the poles, but now it was only attached to one side. The wire mesh dangled into the ravine. The headlights exaggerated her shadow’s movements, making her dizzy. Near the edge, she stopped. Looked down. She saw only darkness.
“Jimmy?”
“I’m here, Ash.”
His voice rose from the abyss.
“Where are you?” she asked. She felt cold. She leaned forward, peered into the ravine.
“Over here.”
Jimmy stood on the street, between the construction barrels and the broken bridge wall. He must have moved while she was getting out of the car.
“Jimmy, come back over here. You’re making me nervous.”
“No.”
She blinked. Hadn’t expected that.
“Jimmy, please.” He’d made her come all the way down here to fetch him. Wasn’t that enough affirmation for him? What more could he expect? “Come back to the house with me.”
“She’s down there, Ash.”
Ashley bit her lip. She’d assumed Jimmy was playing with her, getting her to the lip of the ravine so she would talk about why her father had killed himself. He didn’t seem interested in that anymore, though.
“She needs help.”
Ashley’s shallow breathing echoed in her ears. “You’re scaring me, Jimmy.”
Wicked Haunted: An Anthology of the New England Horror Writers Page 19