by Tom Becker
“The door’s unlocked, anyway,” said Darla. “He’s going to know someone was here. We gotta go – now.”
Leeroy jumped down from the truck, flicking a cigarette end into the dirt and grinding it beneath his heel. As Darla looked desperately around the trailer, her eyes settled on the bathroom door. She ran through into the tiny room and yanked the net drape aside, revealing a small window on a latch. “C’mon!” she called out. “Through here!”
With Sasha still hovering by the door, transfixed by the sight of the approaching Leeroy, Frank slipped past Darla and climbed up on to the toilet seat. Skinny enough to wriggle through the window, he fell headfirst to the ground outside. Darla bundled Sasha into the bathroom, drawing the bolt across the door just as Leeroy entered the trailer. His footsteps were wary, alert to the presence of intruders. As Sasha struggled through the window, the toilet door rattled.
“Who’s hiding in there?” a sly voice called out. “Don’t be shy now – come on out and let Leeroy see you.”
Darla glanced helplessly up at Sasha, willing her to hurry. Outside the trailer Frank reached up and grabbed Sasha’s hands, pulling her clear from the window and sending her tumbling down on top of him. A loud bang made Darla cry out – Leeroy was charging the toilet door with his shoulder. Darla scrambled up towards the window and pushed herself through the narrow space. The door shuddered again, the bolt threatening to spring free. As Darla squirmed she felt something catch. She twisted round. A belt loop of her jeans had snagged on the latch.
There was another bang behind her, even louder than before. The toilet door exploded open.
“Look out!” Sasha screamed.
Darla wrenched her jeans free of the latch and threw herself forwards, plummeting out of the window even as Leeroy dived for her with a snarl. She hit the ground hard, knocking the wind from her lungs. Leeroy’s fists hammered angrily on the glass. Coughing, Darla let Frank pull her to her feet. Sasha had already sprinted away into the trees. As they stumbled after her Darla heard the trailer door fly open, and Leeroy’s angry voice echoed around the undergrowth. Their only option was to head deeper into the woods. Darla focused on trying to keep up with Frank, who was zigzagging along the trails and hurdling tree roots. But her chest was hurting from where she had landed and it was hard to breathe. She wanted to call her friends back but was too scared Leeroy would hear her. Darla glanced fearfully over her shoulder.
And went sprawling to the ground.
Dazed, she lay flat on her back in a small clearing, a half-dug hole inches from her face. A spade was lying across the path where she had tripped over it. Heavy footsteps were stamping through the wood behind her – there was no time to run now. Forcing back a wave of panic, Darla crawled on her hands and knees over to a giant fern and hid behind it. She pulled her knees up to her chest, praying that she wouldn’t be seen.
Ten seconds went by. Twenty.
Every muscle in Darla’s body was tense and ready to spring. Voices in her head screamed at her to run. She forced herself to stay still.
Thirty seconds. A minute.
And then she knew he was there.
“C’mon out, li’l girl,” a croaking voice called. “Leeroy’s got himself this here rifle, and he’s hunted bigger and meaner creatures than you. C’mon out now, before someone gets hurt.”
Darla hugged herself into a tighter ball, willing herself into invisibility. Inches from her hiding place, a twig snapped. Leeroy was so close she could hear his shallow breaths.
Then, on the other side of the clearing, mocking laughter rang out. Leeroy whirled round, and the clearing rang to the sound of a gunshot. Birds erupted from the trees. Darla bit her lip to keep herself from screaming. In the aftermath of the shot there was silence, and then Leeroy’s heavy tread stomped away through the undergrowth.
Darla let out a shuddering breath. She hadn’t even realized she had been holding it. Cautiously she stood up, peering around the clearing. There was no sign of Leeroy – or anyone else, for that matter. She was sure it had been Frank who had laughed; Darla hoped that he was OK. What were they doing here, playing hide-and-seek in the woods with an armed madman? She cursed herself for agreeing to come down here.
There was no telling where her friends were now – all Darla could do was try to get out of the woods alive. She left the clearing with its half-dug hole behind her and tiptoed away through the trees, until her ears picked up the sound of running water. Presently Darla came out on the banks of the creek, her shoulders sagging with relief at the sight of the slow-moving water. The creek would lead her home to safety. As she picked a path along the bank Darla listened out for shouts and further gunshots but there was only birdsong and trickling water. Maybe Sasha and Frank had managed to double back to the pick-up and drive away. If Leeroy really was Natalie’s killer, the thought of what he might do if he caught up with them was too terrible to contemplate.
The creek rounded a bend and Darla recognized the houses from her lane. She broke into a stumbling run, suddenly desperate to get home. As she crashed through the bushes she heard a voice call out.
“Darla? Is that you, honey?”
Annie was standing at the bottom of her yard, peering down towards the creek. It looked like she had been working on the House of Narcissus: she was wearing her heavy-duty gloves again, and her clothes were flecked with white paint.
“Goodness, you had me worried for a moment!” she said. “I heard all this noise and I wondered what was going on, thought there might be an intruder. What are you doing down there?”
“I… I was…”
Darla trailed off, aware that she was close to tears.
“I just had a call from the school,” Annie told her gently. “I’m afraid there’s been some more bad news. Have you heard?”
When Darla nodded, Annie came over and gave her a big hug.
“What a terrible thing,” she murmured. “Ryan was in my art class – such a charming boy. And TJ too. It’s just a tragedy.”
The artist led Darla past her house of mirrors and up on to the back porch, where she sat her down in a swing seat.
“Now, honey,” she said gently. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Darla’s story came out in a hot tumble of words. Annie let her talk, watching her carefully and occasionally nodding. The Plain Girls website, the murders, Leeroy Mills … everything that had happened since she came to Saffron Hills. Well, almost everything: Darla didn’t say anything about the photograph of her mom, and she wasn’t ready to share her visions with Annie just yet.
“That’s quite a story!” said Annie, when she had finished. “I’m glad you’re safe but you’ve got to promise me one thing – no more private detective work, OK? You could have got into all sorts of trouble in that trailer. What if this man had tried to hurt you? You leave people like Leeroy Mills to the police, you hear me?”
Darla nodded.
“I’m guessing you haven’t told Hopper any of this.”
“He wants me to stay out of it. We’re just getting settled and … he worries.”
Mostly that the police would end up discovering his criminal record and bring him in for questioning, but Darla didn’t say that. Thinking about her daddy reminded her that she was already late – she got up from the swing seat.
“I gotta go,” she told Annie. “Hopper will be wondering what’s happened to me.”
“Tell him you were here with me, and we lost track of time,” said Annie with a smile. “I reckon he’ll forgive you.”
Darla nodded. The light was beginning to fade now, the last rays of the sun slicing in through the window of the House of Narcissus and bouncing off the mirrors, filling the little house with dazzling light.
“It’s nearly finished,” Annie told her, a note of satisfaction in her voice. “Just a couple more days, I reckon.”
“It’s looking neat,” Darla said politely. “I was kinda wondering, though… Out of everything you coulda built it out of – why
mirrors?”
“Why do you think?” Annie shot back.
Darla shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not an artist.”
“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
Darla hesitated. That wasn’t an easy question to answer. She saw a small room with a killer inside, surrounded by photographs of screaming faces. Horrifying glimpses of the future.
“Nothing I like,” she said truthfully.
“I know that feeling,” said Annie. “I was a teenager too, remember. And some girls at that age can be so pretty – almost like they’re from another planet, like they’re… I don’t know…”
“Angels?” suggested Darla.
Annie laughed. “I guess that’s one way of putting it,” she said. “But you listen to me: they ain’t got no wings on their back or halo on their head. They’re flesh and blood, just like the rest of us.”
“Then how come this town gets so excited over a beauty pageant?”
“That’s a complicated question. Put it down to a little bit of misplaced civic pride and a whole lot of money. Over the years Miss Saffron has become one of the most prestigious pageants in America – all kinds of hair and beauty companies have got sponsorship deals. If it turns out the pageant can’t go ahead because there’s a killer on the loose, what do you think they’re going to do?”
“I guess they’ll take their money somewhere else,” Darla replied.
“Damn right they will. And they won’t be back.”
“But people are dying, Annie. There’s no way they can hold it, right?”
“Anywhere else, maybe so. But if I know Saffron Hills, the pageant will happen all right.” Annie glanced over at the House of Narcissus, as the sun dropped below the horizon and the light dimmed. “No matter what the cost.”
Chapter Sixteen
News of Ryan and TJ’s deaths broke over Saffron Hills like a rain of cold ash. One brutal murder had been shocking enough, but now with two more teenagers dead – more rich, good-looking young people from the mansions in the hills – no one could hide from the truth any longer. There was a killer on the loose.
For the second time in a week, West Academy students filed into the gym to hear a special address from Principal Bell, his face graver than ever. It was clear, he told them, that someone very dangerous was targeting local teenagers. The police were pursuing lines of enquiry but in the meantime he warned everyone to take extra special care: not to go anywhere alone, to keep an eye out for strangers and to report anything suspicious to the authorities, no matter how small. Until the killer had been found, a town curfew of 10 p.m. would be in operation for all teenagers. The principal announced that a candlelight vigil for the three victims would be held outside the Presbyterian Church the next evening, led by Pastor James. The students listened in numb silence, but as Darla studied the pale faces around her she thought she could detect another emotion lurking beneath the shock and sadness: a guilty thrill of excitement, running through the bleachers like an electric current.
And she wasn’t the only one.
“This school makes me want to puke,” muttered Sasha, as they left the gym. “I mean a full-on Exorcist-style puke-fest.” She pointed at a sobbing girl being comforted by her friends. “Look at Heather Brodie! Ryan and TJ didn’t even know she existed, and now she’s wailing like they were best friends.”
Whatever she might have thought deep down, Darla wasn’t in the mood to agree. “People have been murdered, Sasha, OK?” she snapped. “It’s upsetting. Just because you don’t care about anyone apart from yourself.”
“Hey! What was that for?”
“Forget it.”
Sasha caught her arm. “Forget what? Are you still pissed about the trailer?”
“It was one thing you made us go down there, even though I said it was a bad idea,” Darla said accusingly. “But you coulda at least called to check I made it home alive afterwards. Frank did.”
“I know Frank did! Because then he told me you were OK.” Sasha blew out her cheeks. “Jeez, I thought you’d be happy.”
“Happy? Why?”
Sasha’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Because now we know who the Angel Taker is! Frank phoned the cops anonymously last night to tell them about Leeroy. One look at his Creepy Trailer of Horrors, and he’ll be headed straight for the nearest maximum security prison – and it’ll all be thanks to us!”
Darla wished she could be so sure. Everything they had seen in the trailer in the woods – the weird shrine to Miss Saffron, the box of Natalie’s selfies – pointed to Leeroy being the Angel Taker. And yet… Darla had been inside the killer’s skin, and she had sensed a savage and fiendish intelligence that she wasn’t sure Leeroy possessed. But how could she tell Sasha that, let alone the cops? They’d probably end up arresting her, for wasting their time.
“Maybe,” she said.
“You know I’m right. And deep down half the people here will be sad when Leeroy’s caught, because I’m telling you, secretly, they’re loving every minute of it. Natalie and Ryan and TJ are dead and they’re not. It’s a buzz!”
“A buzz?” Darla echoed dubiously.
“Admit it,” said Sasha. “What can make you feel more alive than to be surrounded by death? Killing is like the world’s greatest extreme sport.”
“Maybe someone should phone the cops and tell them about you,” Darla said.
Sasha grinned wickedly. “I believe I would make an exceptional serial killer.” Heather Brodie looked up, shocked. Sasha glared at her. “What? Don’t make me add you to my list.”
She made a stabbing motion with an imaginary knife.
“Ugh, God!” said a voice behind them. “You are so grotesque, Sasha.”
Darla didn’t need to turn round to recognize Gabrielle’s voice. It felt like the Picture Perfects were constantly stalking them, just waiting for the right moment to pounce.
“Ryan’s dead and you’re making jokes about it?” said Carmen. “Even for you, that’s pretty low.”
“Carefully polishing that halo of yours, Carmen?” Sasha shot back. “You don’t want the Angel Taker sizing you up for a new pair of wings.”
Gabrielle stepped forwards and jabbed her finger into Sasha’s chest.
“You think you’re so smart and funny, don’t you? Hear this, girl: you’re just the same as this sicko murderer. Just another jealous, inadequate loser. Enjoy your fun while it lasts.”
She made a sound of disgust and spun on her heel, stalking down the hall. Sasha smirked triumphantly but for once Darla could understand Gabrielle and Carmen being angry. Three of their best friends had been murdered, and Sasha was turning them into punchlines. Was she really that callous, or was it all part of her rebellious image? After their narrow escape from Leeroy’s trailer, and the nightmarish chase through the woods down by the creek, Darla was beginning to doubt the wisdom of hanging out with Sasha and Frank. Annie was right: Saffron Hills was dangerous enough without inviting trouble by playing private detective.
The Angel Taker’s shadow had fallen over the whole town, reaching all the way to their house by the creek. Darla was starting to worry about Hopper. He was preoccupied and restless, had barely even noticed that she had returned home late the previous day. Darla had seen this mood before – usually before Hopper went out on a drinking binge. At night she lay awake in bed, dreading the creak of the screen door and the Buick’s engine revving into life. But the house stayed quiet, keeping its secrets close to its chest.
The next night, Hopper surprised Darla by taking her and Annie to the town’s candlelit vigil. As far as Darla could tell, her daddy and the artist were just friends – which was unusual for Hopper, who only seemed capable of having one kind of relationship with women. Secretly Darla was delighted. She needed all the help she could get keeping him sober and on the straight and narrow.
They parked the Buick on the street and walked the short distance to the Presbyterian Church, where a large circle of people had gathered in front of
the steps. Candles flickered in the breeze. Everywhere Darla looked she saw groups of West Academy students, their faces pale and drawn, but there was no sign of either Frank or Sasha. In a way, Darla was relieved. People had come here to share in their grief and sorrow, and the last thing she wanted was anyone whispering sarcastic one-liners into her ear.
She took a candle and stood at the back of the circle next to Annie. Pastor James was speaking at the top of the church steps. He was an imposing man, tall and bespectacled, and younger than Darla had guessed. His congregation stood in front of him, nodding in agreement with his rich baritone. Closing his eyes, the pastor led a prayer for the murdered teenagers, commending their souls to heaven. When the prayer reached its resolute “amen”, Gabrielle Jones stepped forwards from the congregation. She was dressed in a roll-neck sweater and a long skirt, her skin glowing in the candlelight. Gabrielle began to sing – a gospel number, “Jesus Promised Me A Place Over There”, which Darla recognized from a talent show she used to watch. Gabrielle had to fight to control the emotion in her voice, tears glistening on her cheeks as she sang. All around Darla people were snuffling and crying, clutching hold of one another.
Click.
Darla flinched as a bright light went off next to her. She whirled around, but it was only a little girl taking a picture of Gabrielle on her phone. The girl checked her screen and gave Darla a gappy smile. All around them, people were taking photographs of Gabrielle, training their cell phones and cameras on her as she sang. An icy shiver ran down Darla’s spine. What if Leeroy was innocent, what if the Angel Taker was somewhere in this crowd, taking secret delight in the suffering they had caused? Or photographing the beautiful girl singing on the church steps?
Finally the last mournful note spiralled away into the night air, greeted by a hushed chorus of ‘amens’ from the crowd. Pastor James put a comforting arm around Gabrielle, who was openly crying now, and led her gently back to her parents. With the vigil coming to a close, and the curfew due to start before long, the crowds began to drift away. Hopper spotted his boss at the music store and went over to talk to him, while Annie had taken out her camera and was taking shots of the flowers people had left at the bottom of the church steps. Alone, Darla turned and looked through the crowd – and caught a glimpse of Luis Gonzalez.