by A M Ialacci
“May I, Vanessa?” Cleo asked, gesturing to the microphone.
“No, you may not,” she said, affronted. Will cleared his throat behind her and pointed to Cleo. Reluctantly, Vanessa handed the microphone to Cleo.
First, Cleo addressed the crowd. “Hello, Crimson Falls residents and visitors. I know you’re anxious for an exciting show this evening, and I promise you’ll get one. Just maybe not the one you were expecting.” More murmurs from the crowd. “You see, a friend of mine was murdered this week.” Gasps, and some angry words from parents, she assumed. “And then my best friend, my dog Oliver was attacked and maimed a couple of nights ago.” Her voice broke on Oliver’s name, and she almost lost it. But she glanced at Will, whose eyes were trained on her, willing her on.
“I know this town has a dark history. I know it was founded on a heinous act. And I know these types of acts continue to this day.” She turned to the audience. “I’m not sure how or why you put up with it. Officer Truman says it’s because of the love you have for your families and neighbors. Being new here, I guess I still have a lot to learn.” Cleo turned back to Vanessa. “But there are predators among us.”
Cleo shook the microphone cord out and took a few steps across the stage. “I hope you’ll let me tell you a little story about Crimson Falls from about fifty years ago. You see there was a waitress that rolled into town with her biker husband and his motorcycle club. Except they weren’t getting along too well, and the muckety-mucks in town weren’t too happy that the motorcycle club was here, so… The club moved on, and the waitress stayed here. It wasn’t long before a rich young ladies’ man from town seduced this young woman and got her pregnant.” More indignant shouts from the crowd and some parents were leading their children away from the stage. Cleo continued. “She was unmarried and tried to raise the boy on her own, but they were different times back then, weren’t they? She was ostracized for being an unwed mother, and of course the young man denied any wrongdoing and even involvement at the first whiff of impropriety. She left the baby with the church and ran back to her husband, and back to her life on the road. The boy was placed with a foster mother here in town, Peggy Spalding. Years passed, and the young man took a wife and became an upstanding citizen, a rich business leader and heir to his family’s name. His wife bore him a daughter, and then a few years later a son before dying in childbirth.”
“You shut up! Shut up, you lying bitch!” Vanessa growled, hands balled into fists. Will took a few steps forward, and she heeded the warning.
“The man was not much of a father and was distant with his children. But they knew enough of their family’s history to understand that Crimson Falls belonged to them. It was their birthright, and every October they had the opportunity if not the obligation to remind the townspeople of their superiority. The man grew old and frail, until one day he confessed to his daughter, his oldest heir, that she would not inherit his wealth, as she expected. His will stipulated that it be awarded to his oldest living child, and he told her of the child born to the waitress that had preceded her by two decades, laughing at her surprise and horror.” Cleo heard the guttural noises coming from Vanessa’s clenched throat but continued. “Livid and determined to keep her father’s secret, she met with the man who was her half-brother, to see if he knew anything. Went to the garage where he was staying—her car was seen parked there. And the man didn’t know anything.” Cleo paused, turning to face Vanessa again. “But she found out by sleeping with Travis Brenner that the man had ordered a DNA kit from a genealogy site to find his missing family. And those results came back today, Vanessa.” Cleo paused. “Nicholas Stubbs was your half-brother.”
The crowd gasped while Vanessa seethed on stage. “Lies! You are lying, you stupid old bitch!” Again, Will took a few steps toward her, and again she quieted, but her body was coiled and ready to spring. Time to get to the point.
“You also found out by sleeping with Travis that Nicholas liked to visit Berta’s blind in the woods. You drugged Travis so you could slip out for a few hours without him noticing, Benadryl, I’m guessing, and you took your brother’s crossbow and a pair of night-vision goggles you had bought and waited for Nicholas, lying in a pile of leaves near Berta’s blind. When he climbed down, you shot him in the gut, and then cut his vest off of him with a knife to make it look like a hunting accident.” Cleo cocked her head. “But you weren’t holding the crossbow quite right and you injured your thumb, didn’t you? That’s why you’ve been wearing gloves in public?”
Vanessa crossed her arms to hide her gloved hands.
“He went so far as to carve your initials into his arm to try to tell us, but we thought it was an ‘M’ or a ‘W,’ rather than ‘VV.’ We missed that.”
Vanessa looked for exits.
“You dumped the vest in the river, not thinking it might get stuck in the rocks for someone to find. You returned the crossbow to your brother’s closet and went back to the scene when the police arrived to listen. That’s when you saw me taking pictures. The next morning, you broke into my house and stole my camera and computer. But I had backed the pictures up already.”
“None of this is true. You are making this up! You’re just jealous because I’m successful and you’re a loser, a hack.”
“Then your little brother got charged with the murder. Not at all what you had intended. And you were afraid we would find evidence pointing to you instead of him. You took the same knife you had used to cut Nicholas’s vest off to stab my dog Oliver in my backyard.” Cleo closed her eyes, a fresh wave of pain rolling over her. “Was it to scare me off? To distract me? It worked for a little while, but nobody attempts to kill my dog and gets away with it, you bitch.”
Vanessa had to either go through Cleo or Will to get off the stage, and she chose Cleo. She rushed toward her as if to barrel her way through and shove Cleo off the stage, but Cleo was ready for her. When Vanessa was close enough, Cleo grabbed her outstretched arms, and yanked them to her left, upsetting Vanessa’s equilibrium while redirecting her momentum. Vanessa fell onto her outstretched hands, but as Cleo rounded on her, she scrambled back to her feet and dashed for the exit as the crowd gasped. Vanessa’s black Audi was parked ten yards away and Cleo and her bunny slippers were no match for Vanessa’s long legs and athletic prowess. As Vanessa threw her car into gear and stepped on the gas, Cleo pulled her phone from her coat pocket, pressed the screen, and said, “It’s time.”
The four streets that bordered the park were choked with cars and people, but as Vanessa tried to take the first right, Kiara and several of her friends rolled up to the intersection on their bikes, blocking her way. Vanessa braked and then gunned it for the next street. Imani was waiting in her car, and when Vanessa tried to get around her, Imani backed up to block her way again.
The last right Vanessa could possibly take was the one where Cleo had parked the night of the murder. A patrol car was parked on her left, and Will had just managed to get his patrol car to the intersection on Vanessa’s right. Cleo was in the Mini behind Vanessa now. Effectively trapped, Vanessa let out a howl inside her Audi and then floored it to try to get around Will, who simply put his patrol car into reverse and angled the wheel. The Audi smashed into the rear quarter panel of the Ford Taurus, and Vanessa’s head came to rest on the steering wheel. Will scooted across to the passenger side of his vehicle in a flash, and exited, gun drawn.
“Step out of the car, Vanessa, with your hands up.”
She turned her head at the sound of his voice, knowing the other officer was behind her with his gun drawn, as well, and began to laugh. Cleo came to stand behind Will and to his right. Vanessa raised her gloved hands from the steering wheel, still laughing, blood running down from her nose and staining her perfect teeth. Her hair and clothing were disheveled, and the photographer in Cleo recognized the perfect shot for the lead story. But the human in Cleo recognized that Vanessa had been an innocent little girl once, now a monster. That transformation was enough to scare and sad
den anyone, and pulled Cleo out of the shot and into the present moment.
The second officer came from behind Vanessa as she exited the Audi and cuffed her while Will’s gun remained trained on her. Will read her her rights, and the second officer placed her in the back of his patrol car. Will re-holstered his weapon, and turned to Cleo, pulling her into a hug. For a millisecond, Cleo resisted, but then realized she needed it, and wrapped her arms around Will. He kissed her head and whispered, “Thank you.”
She didn’t look up or respond, and didn’t release Will either. After a moment, he said, “I’ve got to go,” but held her by the shoulders and looked into her face. “Go home, and I’ll be there in a couple of hours, okay?”
She blushed and nodded, then returned to the Mini. She had done enough for the day.
CHAPTER FORTY
A monster was at her door.
Bang, bang, bang. That familiar sound of knuckles on the aluminum storm door.
Cleo pushed the sleeves up on her sweatshirt and got to her bunny-slippered feet.
“I’ve got this one,” she said.
She pulled open the heavy oak door to a hearty, “Trick or Treat!”
Will was behind her, craning around her shoulder to see the costumed child at the door. And Ollie stood gingerly behind Will, tail wagging as he balanced on his remaining three legs. Cleo grabbed a handful of small candy bars and dropped them into the proffered bag. “What a great costume!” she said.
“I’m a Chupacabra,” the child said.
“Best one of I’ve seen tonight,” Will added.
“Happy Halloween!” the young boy shouted, running back across the lawn to the sidewalk and a waiting parent who waved. Cleo and Will waved back then shut the door.
“You know, because you’re here, the neighborhood kids have one less house at which to stop,” she pointed out, kneeling to rub Ollie’s head.
“But you’re giving each of them an entire handful of candy, so I think they’re actually making out better this way.” He laughed and sat on the couch.
“I’ll give you that,” she said. “Milky Way?”
“Throw me a Twix if you have one,” he said.
Cleo rooted around in the bowl, grabbed two, and threw him one. “I see Buttons has allowed you to sit on his throne.”
“Is that why this thing is covered in cat hair?”
“It’s his,” she said and shrugged.
“I suppose it’s good to have boundaries.” Will chuckled. “Jimmy Stubbs will be sentenced for burglary in a couple of weeks.”
“And Berta?” Cleo asked.
“Berta was turned over to US Fish and Wildlife this week. Her case goes to court next month.”
“I heard Vanessa’s been moved to solitary.”
“Seems she can’t get along with her fellow inmates. She’s going to have a long road ahead of her,” Will said. “How many more do we have left?”
“Just these two.” Cleo pointed to the two remaining boxes left to be unpacked from when she had moved in six months prior.
Will positioned the closer box to him so that he could run the box cutter horizontally as Ollie settled into his fluffy dog bed in the corner once more. “Did you even attempt to label these?”
“No. I just packed my shit and left,” she said, remembering the weight of the realization that there was no going back. She had known she needed to leave, but that hadn’t made it any easier at the time. “Besides it’s more fun to unpack when every box holds a surprise.”
Will smiled. “That’s an amazingly positive spin from you.”
“Not only am I a nice person, I can be positive sometimes, too,” she said.
“Especially when wearing bunny slippers.” Will pointed with the box cutter.
“Yeah,” she said. “After chasing down a perp in these, they make me feel kinda badass.”
“You don’t need to feel badass, you are badass,” he said with a wink. “Oh, look…a bottle of bourbon! And a few packages of microwave popcorn.” He held them aloft for her to see.
“I knew I had another bottle around somewhere,” she said, grabbing it. “You’ve just found dinner!”
He laughed and grabbed them back as another knock on the storm door and a chorus of voices rang out. “You get them. I’ll get this.”
Ollie dutifully followed her to the door, where she gave candy to a vampire, a basketball player, and a princess. Cleo returned to the couch as Will brought in a bowl of popcorn and two short glasses with bourbon on the rocks, and Ollie rested his head on her knee. They settled in on the hairy cat-couch with Buttons, propping their feet up on the last unopened box, and started their Netflix marathon. Cleo glanced at her companions and realized she understood now why people stayed in Crimson Falls. Of course, going to Greece for the month of October would work, too. But Will wouldn’t be able to leave for the month, especially not the month of October. She patted his leg, and he covered her hand with his.
So, I’ll stay, too. No more running. It’s hard to do in badass bunny slippers, anyway.
THE CRIMSON FALLS NOVELLA SERIES
READ ALL EIGHT:
Original Sin by Greta Cribbs
The Last Dupont by Rachel Renee
All the Dark Corners by Emerald O'Brien
Flawed Plan by Amabel Daniels
Returned Home by Julie Strier
Sight in the Dark by AM Ialacci
The Stranger in the Woods by Kiersten Modglin
Little Girl Lost by Laurèn Lee
Join the Crimson Falls Reader Group on Facebook for more behind the scenes details, exclusive information, and a community to discuss all the novellas in: https://www.facebook.com/groups/CrimsonFallsReaderGroup/
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
After I re-ignited my love affair with writing six years ago, I had to practice my craft in secret. My passion wasn’t supported in my own home, and I resorted to writing only when everyone else was asleep.
Two years ago, my circumstances changed. As my world crumbled around me, I realized my limitations were crumbling, too.
I want to thank my mom and my dad, Linda and Bob Ialacci, for always being there, not only to pick up my pieces, but also to slingshot me toward my dreams.
I want to thank my son, Aidan, for being a better kid than I could have ever hoped for, and for inspiring me with his imagination, humor, and talent.
I want to thank my friends who have supported me from day one, doing everything from cheering me on, listening to me prattle on about the details, and even beta reading my work. There isn’t room enough to list you all, but if we’ve talked or messaged since this project started, this is for you. Special thanks to Midge Silver, Colette Barth, Adeline Rivero, Joel Francis, and Chrissy Lessey.
To The Crimson Falls Eight: This would not have been possible without you ladies, and I want to thank you for taking a chance on me. Emerald O’Brien, thank you for opening the door to such an amazing opportunity. Amabel Daniels, thank you for being a stellar (and patient) editor, slashing commas like a ninja. Kiersten Modglin, thank you for being a formatting goddess who carried my worries away into the night. Rachel Renee, thank you for being a steadfast beta reader. And to Julie Strier, my mentor, my friend, who beta read for me, tutored me on the publishing process and all things techie, and helped me work through anxieties, fears, and at least one existential crisis. Your friendship is the icing on this enormous cupcake of an experience.
When I decided to take full advantage of my newfound freedoms, there were several mentors along the way who provided encouragement and told me my writing was worth pursuing. I want to thank my cohort in the Wesleyan Coursera NaNoWriMo Creative Writing course, Fall of 2017, Mimi Herman and John Yewell from Writeaways, and Jonas Steger and Jessica White from 10 Minute Novelists & the 365 Writing Challenge.
Finally, I’d like to thank Shannon Henry of Grandmaster Dong’s Martial Arts in Morehead City, North Carolina, for making sure my Tae Kwon Do references were accurate and believable. Big thanks to Bea Ham
ilton of Misplaced Mutts Dog Rescue of Carteret County, North Carolina, who helped me raise Oliver from the dead (you miracle worker, you). And thank you to Amber Renwick of Amber Ren Photography for my professional photos, the first piece of this puzzle that made this feel real.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Growing up on a steady diet of Murder She Wrote and Nancy Drew, it wasn’t until Anna left her twenty-year teaching career that she realized she might be able to write her own mystery. Single mom to a teenager on the autism spectrum, and living in a multigenerational household, she loves the beach, reading Scandinavian crime fiction, and binging on Netflix. Anna is the winner of the Occasions, Just Write Writing Contest 2018, and a runner up in the Writer’s Domain One Sentence Story Contest 2018.
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