by Jane West
Sara held the door slightly opened. Even still, I saw through the crack two men, dressed in black suits wearing shades, standing on our porch. I strained to listen. The whispers were faint, yet I feared their presence.
When Sara closed the door and turned, her face had paled. She had the look of terror. That night we left with the clothes on our backs, and we'd been running since. That happened ten years ago, right after the death of my father. The creature that had attacked me had a score to settle. My guess, it was with Sara, but then why did he attack me?
Odd as this sounded, the creature hadn't aged in ten years. How was that possible? How was any of this possible?
Could there be a chance these black suited men had a connection to my father's warnings? A sense of peril hovered in the air. I needed to talk to Ms. Noel.
“Stevie, snap out of it! We got to go!” Jen shook my shoulders gently, bringing me back to the present.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I stammered, blinking back.
“Let's get outta here,” Jen urged.
I nodded.
With no time to spare, I pulled out my cell from my pocket and snapped shots of the lockers and the huge dent in the floor. I'd just gotten my new cell yesterday at the feed and hay store. I knew the phone would come in handy. Though, I didn't expect this.
I hurriedly slipped my phone back into my pocket and spun on my heels, until my eyes landed on a small object by my foot. I'd almost stepped on it. I bent down and picked it up, examining it. Instantly, I knew what I had in my grasp, a piece of cloth ripped from my attacker. Now, I had proof!
Luckily, Jen and I got out before anyone noticed. We decided to part ways so we wouldn't drum up any suspicion. I thanked her and headed off to my first class, English.
I'd kept my little piece of discovery to myself. Jen had stuck her neck out enough already. If my attacker resurfaced, I didn't want Jen in the dangerous mix.
Evidence
I warred with myself for about five minutes before I decided to ditch class. I had no other choice. I had to alert the authorities in fear that someone might tamper with the crime scene.
Less than twenty minutes later, I was rolling up to the Sheriff's Department. I rushed past the glass doors and marched up to the front desk.
A scruffy looking officer behind the counter approached me. His badge read, Bob. “Yes, ma'am what can I do fer you,” he drawled with a thick Southern accent.
“Yes, I'd like to report an attempted murder?” I checked my pocket for the cloth and phone. All the evidence I'd needed, I smiled to myself.
He pulled his toothpick out of his mouth and gruffly asked, “Did I hear you correctly?” He looked at me through his thick grayed brows.
“Yes, sir, you did.” I squirmed under his heated glare.
The officer tossed over his shoulder, yelling, “Hey, Bubba! I gotta girl here that wants to report boyfriend abuse.”
Then he cut his beady eyes back at me with the glint of a Pit bull. “Young lady, you can't bust up in her' complainin' about your boyfriend 'cause you caught him with another girl,” the officer yammered. “Now git the hell outta her' before I call your daddy!”
Now he went and pissed me off. Before I could hold my tongue, I fired back, “You have me confused with someone else!” I refused to back down. “I have a legit complaint.” I kept my eyes leveled to his beady eyes.
A tall grayed haired man stepped out from around the corner, tugging on his belt. By his thin lined lips under his thick mustache, no one had to guess his mood. “What the hell is goin' on out her',” he demanded with the same Southern accent.
“This little smart mouth gul is wantin' to make a statement. I think her boyfriend smacked her.” The thick-wasted officer spewed spittle as he ranted.
I stomped my foot, ready to climb over the counter and strangle Bob. “I didn't say, boyfriend!” My face flushed with indignation.
The tall, slender officer held out his palm. “Hold on, miss!” He grabbed Bob by his arm and escorted him to the other side of the counter.
Though they were whispering, I could hear the conversation.
“Look, I know you ain't been yourself lately, but I can't have you talkin' to folks like that, even teenagers, Bob.” The slim officer tugged off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and then he placed his hat back on. “Now, go git a cold soda and take a load off.” He patted Bob on the shoulder.
As soon as Deputy Bob coiled the corner and was gone from sight, the sheriff, Bubba Jones, made his way to me. “Now, young lady, how 'bout we fill out that report.” The corner of his mouth tipped upward.
I nodded and followed his lead as he took me back to his desk. My eyes dropped to the dozens of case jackets piled high on his desk. I thought about Dad and his cold case and I frowned. I imagined Dad's file sat on a shelf in a dark room, forgotten.
The Sheriff pointed to a chair placed at the side of his desk. I obliged, taking the seat.
My nerves were off the hook. To keep myself from fidgeting, I clasped my hands in my lap. I reckoned after this, Bane would blow his cap. Considering he'd gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. To put it simply, he lied. I'd like to see him backpedal out of this one, now that I found proof backing me.
Then a thought bore its ugly head—what if Bane knew my attacker. It made sense, why else would he'd lie?
Sheriff Jones settled in his seat behind the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a report form. He tossed his hat over to the side, gave a brief run with his fingers through his gray hair, and focused back to me. “Sorry for my deputy back there. He and his wife are going through some problems. It's got him a little testy.” The corner of his mustache dipped upward, hinting at a smile.
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“Okay,” The sheriff sighed with a pen in his hand and a long document in front of him. “Let's start with your name and address, please.”
“Yes, my name is Stephanie Ray, and my address is—” I gave him exactly what he asked and waited to move to the details of the crime. A knot in my stomach told me I might have to do some convincing.
“Tell me what happened.” His face bore no signs of any preconceived opinion, unlike Bob. He was thorough and to the point, probing with questions.
I started from the beginning, down to the last minor detail of my attack. How mind boggling, I found myself thinking, to have such a clear memory of the assault when only minutes ago, I had no recollection. I gave the officer a thorough description of my attacker, even the style of shades he'd worn.
Once I finished spilling my guts, the sheriff looked up from the report and asked, “Is there anything else you'd like to add to your story, miss?” His voice came across as flat.
“I almost forgot.” My eyes orbed. “I have evidence. I snapped some pictures of the crime scene.” I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the saved snapshots. Stunned, I looked up, at the Sheriff. “I don't understand. I took pictures! I had them right here on my phone.”
“Maybe the shots didn't take. It happens.”
“No! I double checked.” My voice grew to a shrill. “They were here! I saved them.” I scrolled through my pictures again and cut my eyes back to him. “I know they were here!” I shook my head, pointing to my phone. My heart raced in my throat.
“Easy now,” he attempted to calm me. “Take a deep breath. I'm sure they're still there. Just keep lookin'. I can get the snaps later.” He furthered the report, “Anything else?”
“Oh, wait!” I dug into my pocket and drew out the tiny fabric. I opened my palm revealing my treasured find. “Here!” I handed it to him. At least I had this for evidence.
He held it up under his desk lamp, examining it. “What is this?”
“It came from my attacker's suit. I think I ripped it off of him.” I sat there quiet, wringing my hands, feeling like bundle of nerves.
His face twisted into a frown. “I wish you hadn't done that. Tampering with evidence isn't going to help your case
.” He scolded me.
“I'm sorry! I-I didn't think!”
He leaned over snatching up a clear baggie. “Try not to worry.” A cursory smile played across his face as he shoved the tiny cloth in the bag. “I'll keep this,” he stated as he held it up, “I need to log it in for evidence. Of course, my men and I have to inspect the crime scene. I'll get back to you on our findings. Where will you be later today? I may have further questioning.”
“Yes, you can find me at home.” My foot shook, knowing he'd be heading to the school shortly.
The sheriff gathered to his feet. “I have your number and address, Miss Ray. I'll be in touch,” he promised, extending his hand.
After I'd left the Sheriff's Department, I went straight home. I reckoned it was best if I steered clear of the school. I'd give anything to be a fly on the wall when the sheriff sees the closet. Once I had solid proof, I intended to confront Bane.
My mind churned with confusion. What gain would Bane have lying to me? I shook my head, swirling around all the sea of what-ifs. Grrrr! I wanted to scream to the mountaintops! I pounded at the steering wheel. I hated my life! I hated Tangi, and I hated Sara for insisting that we move to this godforsaken town.
Then I had a thought. I had enough cash to make it back to Texas. I still had friends there. My brow arched, on second thought, I hadn't bothered calling either Beck or Laurie since I left Sweetwater. I exhaled a sharp sigh. I knew I owed them at least a call, but I couldn't bring myself to it. I stood my friends up after they went through great lengths of giving me a birthday party. I knew how I'd feel if I got stood up. Guilt riddled my heart. My life sucked!
Once I got home, I slowly climbed the stairs to my room. I went to my bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. “Ah, good!” I took down the ibuprofen and twisted the lid open, shaking out two pills. I popped the tiny pills in my mouth and drank from the faucet.
Returning to the bedroom, I grabbed my book from my book bag, Macbeth, and settled in under the covers. I cracked the book open where I'd left off. Not exactly my favorite read, but an English assignment.
I never understood the big deal about Shakespeare. The language was out of date, and the stories were unrealistic. Take Juliet and Romeo; neither one ended well. They both lost their lives and for nothing. It was such a sad tale. While every girl in class sobbed, I rolled my eyes. Now we were studying Macbeth, a better choice. Still not my fav, but it was better than a miserable romance. Unhappy endings, I despised.
I must've fallen asleep. My eyes fluttered open, startled. After a few seconds, the cloud of sleep lifted. The doorbell was pounding in my ears. Some irate person was holding down the doorbell. “Holy crap!” I bolted up in bed, annoyed at the loud visitor. “Who's tearing up my door?” Then it hit me, Sheriff Jones!
Throwing my feet off the bed, I darted downstairs, taking two steps at a time. I swung the door open.
Immediately, my shoulders slumped, and my smile morphed into a frown.
“What the hell! Are you stupid,” Bane spewed curses under his breath as he stepped into my crawl.
I blocked the doorway, preventing him from entering.
“Excuse me!” My green eyes clawed at him like talons.
“Why didn't you come to me with your findings?”
Surprise yielded quickly to fury. “Why would I do that when you've been lying to me?”
“Stevie, you don't know what you've done.”
I scoffed. “I don't know?” I pointed my finger at my chest. “I was assaulted! You purposely hid that from me.”
Bane roughly raked his fingers through his thick curls and blew out a burst of exasperation.
I eased back, looking away. His face was a glowering mask of rage.
“You have put me in an awkward situation!” He threw his arms out. “Of course, how could you have known?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Never mind,” he cut me off. “The harm's done. I'll just have to take care of it myself.” He bit out the words as if this was my fault.
“You'll take care of what, Bane?”
“Don't worry your pretty little head. I got it,” he snapped. “In the meantime, you needn't utter a word about this to anyone.” He stepped up, grabbing my arms, roughly, only an inch from my face. “Do I make myself clear?”
I screeched, “Let go of me,” I hissed.
“I can't believe you have put me in this situation,” he repeated with contempt.
“Hold on buddy! I was the one attacked. Unless…” I suddenly bit my tongue. Bane was behind my attack! Why else would he stand here in my face, angry? It all made sense. Whenever the suit was near me, Bane wasn't far behind. A string of emotions surged; anger, fear, my heart breaking.
“Unless what!” His voice swirled with acidity.
“Let me go!” The sting of tears welled in my eyes.
“Fine,” he dropped his hands to his side, “But I'm not leaving.” Bane stood back, arms folded, fuming with abhorrence.
I lashed out. “I'm done with your lies!” I threw my arm out, pointing to his car. “Leave my house!”
Bane leaned in and opened his mouth to speak, and then he stopped. Unexpectedly, the crunching of tires rolling over gravel snapped both our heads up, halting the argument.
A sudden feeling of relief flickered through me as the sheriff turned the ignition off and opened his car door. I withdrew a long sigh, wiping the moisture from my eyes. Bane glanced over his shoulder then back at me. His jaw twitched as we exchanged a silent glare.
Bane and I quickly scattered. The liar went to the swing on the opposite side of the porch. I stayed just outside my door.
Mr. Frosty the Smug Man, Bane, sat swinging back and forth with his hands laced behind his head. It was as if he didn't have a care in the world.
I torpedoed green shards at him, willing him to leave. I couldn't think of anyone right now that I hated more.
He flashed a pearly smile my way.
I frowned.
Once the sheriff reached the porch, his eyes cut to Bane and then to me. I got the impression by the sheriff's pinched face and his precise movement that he knew he'd stepped into a hornet's nest.
“Good afternoon, Miss Ray.” He politely tipped his hat to me, and then to the liar, “Mr. Bane!” The sheriff's voice lightened with surprise. “What a surprise to see you her', sir. I forget this is one of your rentals.” The sheriff stepped up, extending his hand. Bane followed his gesture by gathering to his feet and complying with a hardy handshake.
“Yes sir, Sheriff. I was collecting rent for my parents.” Bane smiled as if the day was just peachy.
I stood there, tongue-tied. I couldn't believe my ears, Bane was my landlord. That explained why Sara wouldn't fork over any information. I glared over at him, thinking this another unrequited mystery to add to the growing list.
Sheriff Jones cleared his throat nervously. He faced me, and his mood shifted quickly. He fiddled with hat, rubbing the ring counter-clockwise. “Miss Ray, I thought it would be best if I talk to you in person,” His accent appeared more evident. “Hmm… I'm not sure how to say this other than to say it,” he paused, “I went down to the school and took a good look at the crime scene or where you claim the attack occurred.”
“Where I claim?”
“Yes ma'am. There wasn't any damage to the lockers or the floor that you attested to in the report.” He gave a short laugh. “I've seen my fair share of closets back in my day playing b-ball, and I didn't see anything backing your claims.” A faint tug at the corner of his mouth suggested a smile. “Unless you have further evidence, I'm afraid this investigation is at a dead end, ma'am.”
My face glazed with shock. “That-that can't be possible!” I stammered. “I saw that closet only two hours ago!” My voice was on the brink of screeching like a lunatic.
The lines on the sheriff's forehead deepened. “The cloth you gave me comes from one of the basketball uniforms. Dr. Vann showed me the torn uniform. I'm afraid
the fabric didn't belong to your attacker. I'm real sorry, ma'am.” He continued to fumble with his hat.
I held my hand out, “May I have the cloth back, please?” The spark of hope quickly extinguished. Nothing was adding up. I knew what I saw. Jen saw it too!
“I'm sorry, ma'am but that little piece of fabric is the property of the school's. Dr. Vann has it in his custody now. I'm afraid you'll have to speak with him concerning the cloth.”
“What about my friend, Jen Li, she saw the closet too?”
“Well, ma'am, I'm afraid since there's no evidence backing your story, that your friend's testimony would be only hearsay.”
I merely nodded. After I'd managed to choke out, “Thank you,” I spun on my heels and darted inside the house. I heard Bane's murmur addressing the sheriff as I rushed upstairs to my bedroom. I flung myself on my bed and collapsed into a ball of tears, trembling as I sobbed.
I couldn't say how long I'd been in a state of a meltdown when I heard a voice through my tears. “Princess,” a soft voice penetrated my mind like a small flicker of light in a dark tunnel, “Come here.” The musical male's voice sang. “Bane,” I barely mumbled. The fight in me had drained, and even if I ordered him to leave, I doubted he would've listened.
I held my eyes shut as he stretched out on the bed alongside me, drawing me tight, flushed against him. My head rested in the nook of his embrace. Like a fool, the gate of tears opened once again, and I quivered from the surge of pain.
Aidan kept tenderly stroking my hair and kissing my wet cheeks. It wasn't sexual, yet I trembled under his touch. I didn't understand his gentleness. He hated me.
After the clock's hand had spun a few more times than I cared to count, I was able to speak without stuttering. I needed to get this off my chest. “I know you lied,” I blurted it out, leaving my fate in the hands of destiny. “I saw the closet.” I stalled briefly, gathering courage. “What I don't understand is how I survived. The locker looked like a rocket missile had plowed through it, and the crater in the floor, with the dry pool of blood,” I clenched my gut. The vision rendered me. “The impact should've crushed my skull.”