He hated when she, or his mother, said that. It sounded so...wrong, disrespectful. But they didn’t understand it.
“Finding your best friend's dead body might make you mad enough to smash a window or two.”
“That doesn’t add up. We saw her body in the backyard after you broke the windows.”
“Okay, Charlie. After the accident she just said some stuff to me and I really thought she killed Vivian so I just smashed her window. I wasn’t trying to kill her. It was stupid, I know, but she made me so mad that night.”
“Well what did she say?”
“It’s over with, Charlie. Doesn’t matter. But what does is the fact that I saw Michelle’s body at her house first, before we found her in the yard. It was like someone—or something—moved her body. Almost like something un-human.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Are you sure you didn’t imagine that?”
Kate looked at him like he was crazy.
“No I did not imagine it! And don't you think it's right for me to know who killed my best friend?”
“Listen, Kate. We must be doing something wrong. Everyone around us is dying. This didn't happen before we came. It's like every time we talk to someone, they are dead the next day.”
Kate tried to speak, but Charlie continued.
“Someone has it out for us, and they are obviously good at staying hidden. This is what they've wanted all along- for us to get so obsessed with finding them we forget about more important things in our lives. All of this is out of our hands.”
He had never spoken like that to her, but she had to admit he made sense. The people that have been murdered were closer to them than anyone else. The lights in the room flickered on and off, and Kate’s cell phone chimed. She took a big breath, and walked past Charlie, hitting his shoulder. She walked out of the front door to see Jason waiting outside. She saw him putting something in his pocket, but didn’t ask.
“Hey! I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said.
She got a look at his shiny shoes she hadn’t seen before.
“Are those new?”
He looked down at them, concern spreading on his face.
“Oh, yeah. I just got them. Figured it was time for new ones. Mine smelled like an old prison.”
He gave a genuine-sounding laugh, and so did Kate.
“Ew,” she giggled.
She noticed a watch on his right wrist as well.
“New watch, too?”
He smiled awkwardly and covered it with his other hand.
“I thought it might make me feel better. Have you seen the news?”
Kate nodded. Charlie watched their conversation through the blinds.
“What a shame,” he said.
He looked down at his watch, while Kate glanced over at Victor’s house. He opened his door, a big trash bag in his gloved-hands.
“You okay?”
Victor carefully put the bag into his trash bin, then stared straight at Kate. Jason touched her arm, redirecting her attention.
“Oh, sorry. It’s just...he’s so weird.”
Jason glanced at the man too, now going inside.
“Who is that?
“Victor’s his name. I know it’s crazy, but I think he...” Before she could finish, he looked down at his watch, drowning out Kate.
“What’d you say? Sorry.”
“His name is Victor. He has creepy pictures of my mom...and Vivian in there.”
“What? How do you know that?”
He looked disgusted.
“I broke into his house.”
Jason took it as a joke, and laughed.
“Is that a hobby of yours? Have you broken into my place? Seen what I've got hidden in there?” he said playfully.
She tried to laugh back, not quite telling if he was joking or not.
“No, of course not. I just knew something was up with him.”
Inside, Victor grabbed his phone and rested it between his shoulder and ear. He took his gloves off, and put them into his empty trash bin.
“Are you sure? Did they tell you? Did you tell them?” he said through the phone.
He sighed and squeezed the phone.
“Okay, come over. We’ll talk it about more. The kids will be fine for a few minutes,” he said before ending the call.
Jason looked at the time one final time.
“I better get going. Sorry, I wish I could stay longer,” Jason said.
“Where are you going?” Kate said.
“I’ve got some stuff to take care of. It was good seeing you, again. Bye,” he said.
They hugged and he left. Kate, once she got inside, noticed Charlie on the computer.
“What are you doing?”
He stayed silent for several seconds, but finally turned his head.
“Looking up Meredith. I wanted to see if there were any friends, family, or any connections to her. But there's nothing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Just...I’m sorry,” she said before leaving.
Charlie turned off the computer, and went to the drawer in the living room. He picked up a dusty Bible and took it to his room.
In her room, Kate flipped through a fashion magazine, thinking that would solve her problems. Clare set CJ down in his crib and threw on a pair of jeans. She took everything that Kate had stolen—she made her give it to Clare—and put it in her purse, and then headed to Victor’s house.
“Mom, did you take my green tank top?”
Kate waited a moment, not hearing any response.
“Mom?”
She checked her empty bedroom, and then rolled her eyes at Charlie, seeing what he was reading as she passed his room. Just as she was about to go back into her room, she noticed something outside the kitchen window. It was Clare, or at least it looked her. She knocked on Victor’s house. On top of other thoughts, Kate thought it was pretty dumb of her mother to leave them alone with all that has happened, even if she was a teenager.
“Oh my God,” she said, seeing her mother enter the dim house.
“Mom is with a killer! We have to stop her.”
Charlie stopped reading.
“Stop it, Kate.”
“How can I, Charlie? Mom’s over there with Victor and all you’re doing is reading. We have to help her. Please, I promise if I’m wrong about this I won’t ask you for anything else ever again.
Charlie looked down and continued reading, then took a sip of water. He could tell she wasn’t leaving. Her face was so desperate.
“One more chance, please Charlie,” she pleaded.
He looked out the window once more, the lights in Victor’s house turning low enough for them to hardly see anything. Finally, he stood up. Kate smiled.
“What exactly are you thinking?”
“I’m ending this, once and for all. And saving mom,” she said.
“What if we're too late? Why is the house that dark?”
Kate ignored him and ran to Victor’s house—only to find the hidden key missing from the mulch in the flowerpot.
“What now?”
Kate remembered seeing Victor coming out with a shovel one day. He had dug some holes around his yard; she wasn’t sure what for though. They went around back, not afraid of getting caught since the blinds were, at this point, closed so nobody could see in or out.
“Kate, you’re not going to...”
It was too late. Kate picked up the muddy shovel and thrusted it at the window. Charlie thought about how she had done this to Meredith’s home, and how much he missed her. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Clare’s voice from inside.
“Kate! What have you done? We talked about this!”
Clare and Victor were sitting at the dark brown table, holding a glass of wine each. Clare jumped up in shock.
“Mom, you are with a killer! He has my earring from the day dad died. He killed my best friend, for God's s
akes!”
Charlie cringed.
“Kate, stop it right now.”
Victor stood up and turned on several lights.
“Listen, I’m no killer,” Victor said.
“Take Charlie home right now, Kate.”
Kate refused.
“No, not until this man admits what he's done. He killed my best friend Mom, does that mean nothing to you?”
The vein running through Clare’s forehead became visible, an easy way of telling how tense she was.
“Okay, fine. Kate, Charlie, sit down. I need to tell you this; maybe it will make you change your minds. Victor and I have been seeing each other for quite a while.”
Kate’s mouth went dry, and Charlie didn’t realize his mouth hanging open.
“Seeing each other?” Charlie asked.
“I wanted to tell you.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Kate snapped back.
Clare didn’t say anything, but took a sip of wine.
“Does that have something to do with why we really came back home?”
Victor wanted to try explaining, but he knew how the kids already felt about them. Talking would be pointless.
“The baby that I...lost, belonged to Victor. I didn't know whom to turn to after I lost it. I needed to come back. I needed to tell him in person. That house wasn’t doing anything for us, anyway.”
Charlie suddenly realized how selfish her mother was. She had never cared about his idea that the house was haunted, and she had lied to him all of this time. It sounded so much like...Kate, not his mother.
“So you were seeing him...while dad was, alive? And he thought it was his baby?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“You've been lying to us all this time? Have you known he's a killer? Is that why you wanted us to stop searching—you were scared we would realize it was Victor?”
Kate’s voice was powerful and angry. The house felt like it was shaking as she yelled.
“My God, Kate! He didn't kill anyone!”
“How do you explain him having my earrings from the day dad died?”
Kate knew her mother wouldn’t be able to answer that, unless she lied of course. She wanted Clare to just give up—her mother knew Victor was the killer and there was nothing to say to make it better. Charlie thought, for half of a second, if his mother had helped Victor at all...stop it, he told himself. His own mother would never help a killer—but it seemed like an awful amount of work for one person.
“How about those being a pair he bought me last week? Those weren't the only pairs on the world, Kate.”
“That doesn't matter. He still obviously hated Vivian, and killed her.”
Looking like he was about to explode, Victor finally spoke.
“Way back, Vivian and I dated. She dumped me the night I was going to purpose. I found those pictures in the attic, and only ripped her invitation because I always saw how happy she was at those parties.”
Likely story, Kate thought. Of course he had a script planned for what he would say if he was caught.
“But you still went to the party?” Charlie said.
Kate was surprised Charlie spoke, and figured he was finally convinced enough of Victor to accuse him further.
“Only because your mom wanted me to. And I hadn’t seen her since you all left.”
“Well you stole a knife from Vivian with her initials on it. Were you planning to use that on her?”
“She gave me that as a gift when we dated. I found it in the rest of the stuff from her.”
Victor was acting surprisingly calmer now that he got to get his story—which was total BS, Kate decided—out.
“Come on, what kind of a gift is a knife?” Kate asked.
Now it was official—Victor was lying. The story started to make sense, but Kate knew nobody gave a knife as a gift.
“Wasn't my idea. But how many times have you guys broken in here? That knife's been missing for weeks.”
Kate glanced at Charlie, and him at her. Their minds went to Meredith. She had told the truth about finding the knife there.
“Never mind all of this. Kate, Charlie, we are going home. Apologize to Victor.”
They mumbled some words, but nothing like an apology. Kate wanted to keep talking, but Clare pushed them both towards the door.
“I'm so sorry for all of this. I'll pay for the window,” said Clare.
“Don't worry about it. Focus on them, for now. They need you.”
They exchanged looks before she shoved them out the door. Nobody said a word on the walk home.
24
Charlie VS. The Darkness
Thunder pounded in the air as Clare led them inside their house. They spent the first hour home all doing different things: Charlie read The Bible, Kate blasted music and rehearsed what she would tell the police about Victor—she decided by the end of the night she would call and report him as the killer of Vivian, Michelle, and Meredith, and knew she had to have her story straight—and Clare searched her wallet and bank accounts, trying to find a way to pay for Victor’s windows. The last thing she wanted to do was see Kate, as awful as it sounded. Never in her life was someone so disrespectful. She went back and fourth, thinking about making Kate pay for the windows.
Clare thought about how the way she would have liked to tell them about her and Victor, but there would not have been a good way. The outcome would have been the same. She made a mistake, and had to pay for it.
After finishing a verse, Charlie knocked on Kate’s door. He had to wiggle the locked doorknob since he figured she was listening to music and wouldn’t hear him.
“Just say it,” she said once she opened the door.
“What?”
“I don’t know. Something about me messing things up again. I still think he killed them though, Charlie.”
“I feel a lot better than I did an hour ago,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
I don’t know, I just feel like everything will work out.”
By the confusion on Kate’s face, Charlie decided to jut give up. She didn’t understand.
“You must have not been in the same room I was. Our mother had an affair and didn't tell us, and possibly helped Victor kill all of these people. But whatever, Charlie. Shut the door on your way out,” she said, too busy thinking of calling the police to worry about Charlie’s motivational speeches.
In the backyard, two muddy feet moved through the rain. The figure grabbed the shovel still on the ground where Clare left it, and began to dig.
On the way to his room, Charlie noticed Clare.
“I’m sorry again, Mom.”
“I know it wasn't your idea, Charlie. You're better than that. I'm the one who should be apologizing.”
“Trust me, I should apologize for a lot more. Do you mind if I take the Bible that was in the counter drawer?”
Clare gave him a look that said I could care less.
“No, not really. Why?”
“No reason, thanks.”
Clare patted his shoulder and Charlie went back to his room. He couldn’t help but think about how they hadn’t told Clare about Mr. Jones. It started to feel like a huge lie not telling her what they did. Maybe that’s what Meredith's note meant. The next Bible verse he read was Job 24:25, which he recognized easily. He pulled out his note from Meredith—the message matched the verse. He pulled his curtains aside, taking a good look at Meredith’s house, which was dim and empty. He took his jacket from his blue desk chair, and made up his mind. He knew what he had to do.
Outside, a shadowy figure dug in their backyard, behind the closed blinds of the home. With the shovel, they finally dug enough around the patches of bushes and trees further back to uncover a body—which they were certain was Mr. Jones, Vivian’s husband. His rotting head no longer rested in dirt but on the grass, visible for everyone to see. The being took something from their pocket—Vivian’s necklace she wore to the party—and placed it next to his corpse. By the ti
me another crack of thunder roared they were in the bushes, once again hidden.
Charlie made his way up the steps to Meredith’s porch. He touched the cool wood against the front door.
“Goodbye, Meredith,” he said, swallowing hard.
It didn’t feel right to not say goodbye, and it felt more sincere being at her house, even though it was hard for him. It was crazy, and probably just in his head, but it even smelled like Meredith. It was like her spirit was still there, following Charlie. He would never forget her. It was insane to think how his first impression of Meredith differed from how he felt about her now. He wanted to stay longer, but knew in the matter of seconds Kate would probably figure out he was missing. He gave the front door one more touch, for the last time, then turned around for his house. As he turned, he noticed a light through the curtains of her house. He swore the house was pitch dark when he got there, unless the lamps were motion activated, but that didn’t seem like the answer. As Charlie blinked, the light flickered off. Behind him the door squeaked halfway open, just by his touch, he assumed. There wasn’t enough wind to open the door, but why wasn’t it locked? It had just opened by Charlie touching the middle of it, not even the handle. Light flickered once more, this time from a lamp in the living room. He reached for the doorknob to close the door, the thunder scaring him. He heard something other than the creaking of the aged door.
He pressed his ear in between the crack in the door, listening hard. His heartbeat began to pound in his ears, but there was something else to be heard. He couldn’t tell if there had been a television left on or what, but the faint sound of a human lingered in his ear, almost like a chanting of some kind. The door, almost on command, shut on Charlie’s ear, the crunch of cartilage echoing through his mind. There had been a gush of wind a few seconds before, so it must have slammed the door shut. At the sound of the crunch he hurled the heavy door open, getting it away from his ear.
“Hello?”
The first thing he noticed on the ground, near the kitchen, was the basket of bread next to the wine stain on the floor. The house looked smaller without all the usual lights that had often heated the room with their brightness. He bent down at the bread, steam rushing from the basket. The bread was fresh, which made no sense to him. What the heck is that, he thought. As he bent down, there was a strange object under one of the kitchen chairs to his right. Something gravitated him towards it, and he wished he didn’t look. Next to him was a doll with two heads. One of them had a Halo drawn on it, while the other had devil-looking horns coming from the top. Along the middle of the doll were dark segments drawn in black crayon that started at the bottom of the stomach and continued up the throat. They looked like train or tire tracks. The doll’s temperature resembled an ice cube, and Charlie dropped it as soon as he attempted to pick it up.
The Girl That Was Obsessed With Murder Page 9