It Ends Here

by Willow Rose

  The phone lit up in the darkness and soon turned on. Then it started buzzing in my hands as it alerted me that I had around a hundred text messages from Sune and many missed calls from him as well. I ignored them all, then opened the GPS to have it show me my location and hopefully show me if there was a road nearby.

  The phone thought about it forever. Then a small sign told me there was poor connection and to please try again later. Annoyed, I cursed the phone, then tapped it harshly to try again, but it didn't work. It couldn't locate me. I was too deep into the swamps.

  I threw it on the seat next to me, cursing myself for my little Thelma and Louise stunt, trying to outrun the police. I should have known better. I should have known that no good would ever come from running from the police. Now, I was stuck out here in the darkness, and I had no idea what direction to go. I stared into the darkness with a deep sigh, then decided it was no use just to sit there and wait. I had to act. So, I turned the car in the direction I believed had to be toward the main road, then cautiously rolled forward. Outside, I could hear all the nightlife, birds tooting and animals crying in the night. I didn't know much about the swamps, but I did know that there were some pretty nasty creatures living out there, and I had to be careful not to run into any of them.

  I had only driven a few yards when something was caught in my headlights. A big fat brownish pig-like creature stood on the trail in front of me, staring at me.

  A wild hog.

  It was as big as a small cow and looked to be about three hundred pounds, so I couldn't just run it down, I figured. Not without risking damaging the truck too. At least I didn't think I could, and I wasn't going to take any chances. It was sort of blocking my way, so I snuck the truck closer, hoping it would get out of my way when it saw me coming, but it didn't. It just stood there and stared at the headlights. I pressed down on the horn and honked at it, causing a couple of herons to lift off from nearby and fly away, making all kinds of strange noises. The hog still stood there like nothing had happened. I honked again, and some other animals rustled nearby, clever enough to run away. Finally, the big pig decided it was time to move on and walked away. I stared at it as it disappeared, then I laid my eyes on something else right next to me, close to the trail, lying in the grass.

  A big fat gator.

  Reminding myself of my last meeting with one and how it had left me with a deep scar in my thigh, I pressed down the gas pedal, then roared past it. Ever since I had almost lost my life to one, I had been terrified of gators, and I kept feeling its teeth as they sank into my skin.

  I hit some thick bushes, then pressed the truck through it, heart pounding in my throat, and ended up in another grassy area. My hands were sweating heavily as I suddenly spotted headlights like small dots dancing in the far away darkness.

  "Human life!" I exclaimed, then floored the pedal and took off toward it. I reached the road a few minutes later and drove up on the asphalt, feeling victorious. My GPS was working now, and I realized I wasn't very far from the cucumber farm. I floored the accelerator pedal again and rushed down the road. Less than ten minutes later, I reached the cucumber farm and luckily had no more police cars chase me down. I drove up to the gate and stopped. I rolled the window down and stared at the intercom, wondering what to do next. If Margot was already there, then no one would open the gate, and she'd know I was on her trail.

  I decided I couldn't risk that, so I drove the truck to the gate instead, then got out, climbed into the back, and from there climbed the gate, then plopped down on the other side and began to run, praying I wasn't too late.

  65

  Panting and sweating in the moist night, I ran up the trail toward the farm. Rows and rows of cucumbers were on both sides of me, and soon I stood in front of the gray buildings where I had recently seen them prepare the cucumbers for leaving the farm. I stood for a few seconds and caught my breath, then ran around them and found the house behind them, where I had been drinking iced tea on the porch with Mrs. Cunningham just a few days ago. Despite the clammy heat, I shivered when thinking about my run-in with Mr. Cunningham and how he had yelled at me, telling me to get out of there.

  I hurried to the front door, then decided to walk around the house and peek in the windows first to see what I was about to run into. In the driveway, a black Mercedes was parked, and I recognized it from Margot Addington's driveway. Standing on my tiptoes, I looked in through a window, and inside the living room, I spotted both of them. Mrs. Cunningham was sitting in a recliner while Margot Addington was standing in front of her, holding a gun.

  Seeing this, I gasped and fell down with a loud thud. I lay still for a few seconds, fearing they might have heard me inside, then decided to get back up. I rose to my feet and walked out of the bush I had been standing in, then ran to the gray buildings and looked inside for anything I could use as a weapon. I found a shovel leaned up against a wall and decided that had to be it. I had no time to waste if I was going to get in there before Margot hurt Mrs. Cunningham.

  With the shovel clutched between my hands, and nothing but my courage and hoping that luck was on my side, I stormed to the front door and poked it open, careful to not make a sound. I snuck inside and, as I did, Mrs. Cunningham spotted me, but I signaled for her to be quiet and I snuck up behind Margot, then lifted the shovel and swung it through the air, knocking her out so hard, she dropped the gun. I grabbed it and held it up in front of me.

  "I am so sorry, Margot," I said. "But I had to do this."

  Margot groaned from the tiles. Blood soaked her hair as she sat up, holding a hand to the wound. She looked up, closing one eye halfway in pain.

  "What the heck? Rebekka Franck? What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

  "Saving this town from any more killings and saving you from doing something you might regret for the rest of your life."

  "It's a little late for that, don't you think?" she asked and grimaced in pain.

  "If you're talking about your family, I believe you didn't want to harm them. You wanted to protect them from living a life where their mother and wife was stigmatized as a murderer. You wanted to end it all for both you and them. To spare them the pain. You never believed you would survive."

  Margot sighed deeply, and then looked at Mrs. Cunningham, who stared at the gun in my hand.

  "Give me that," she said and reached out her hand. "I'll call the sheriff."

  "That might be a little hard, considering he's dead," I said. "He was killed a little earlier tonight."

  Her eyes grew wide. "Leon? Dead? How?"

  "That's actually what I thought you might tell me," I said and turned the gun to point it at her instead of Margot. "I think you have a lot of explaining to do, Mrs. Cunningham. Or are we close enough now for me to call you Bella?"

  66

  "It was when I read the article on Margot's table that it finally dawned on me," I said. "In the caption of the picture, it said Mark Cunningham and his wife Isabella Cunningham, at their cucumber farm in Webster. And that was when the dime finally dropped. I can't believe it took me so long. Bella Cunningham was Anna Mae Burke's best friend when growing up. You two were two peas in a pod, weren't you? At least according to your teacher. I’ve read through all the transcripts of the interviews that were made with Anna Mae back then and several others who were interviewed about her, among them, her teacher. And funnily enough, Anna Mae didn’t even mention Bella's name once when she was interrogated, but her teacher did. She told the story of Bella and Anna Mae being inseparable, but also about how Bella was a little slow. That was why the police never brought you in for questioning, right? Because you couldn't help yourself; your mind wasn't completely there. Everyone knew it was so, but it was all an act, wasn't it? So people would never look in your direction. Meanwhile, you had Anna Mae so much under your control that she'd do anything for you, am I right? Even keep quiet when asked about the murders she had seen you commit. She'd even take the fall for you, am I right?"

  I stared at
Bella, then down at Margot, who was still holding a hand to her head.

  "She told me she'd kill me too if I didn't," Margot said. "She was my best friend and the only one I had. I would do anything for her. So, I took the blame like she told me to. That was why she carved my initial on Benjamin Black's skin. To make sure I looked guilty. I let them think I had killed those two boys. I knew enough for them to suspect me. I had seen her commit both murders. I was there when she lured Timothy to come with us by telling him she had candy for him if he dared to go with her into the old abandoned house. All the kids in town were afraid of that house. No one dared to go in there except Bella. So, she told him he would get a lollipop if he did, and the kid fell for it. Then, once we were in there, she told him she believed he had a sore throat and told him she'd love to massage it for him. Then she grabbed him around the neck and started to rub her thumb against his skin. I had no idea what she was up to, and I just watched, thinking she was fooling around as usual. Then she started pressing, and I could tell the kid couldn't breathe. I told her to stop, but she wouldn't. Bella was freakishly strong and could beat me up any day, and she would. She would make me do all these things, like force a girl from our school to eat sand. It was all her idea; I just did as she told me. I shouldn't have, of course, but when you're ten years old, and the entire town already hates you because of your mother, you cherish the one friend you have. You don't say no to them; you don't risk losing them. I should have stopped her, I know I should have. So many times, while in prison, did I think about what I could have done, regretting just standing there in total apathy. I could have tackled her. I could have attacked her or thrown rocks at her. I could even have run for help, but the fact was, I didn't. And that makes me a murderer too. I felt like one and believed I deserved to go to jail. I was a weird child, and I was deeply fascinated with death, which later led me to write my novels. Back then, I had no idea how to act toward people because of my childhood, growing up with a mother who constantly tried to kill me or sell me to her clients, and the way I acted scared people. When I rang the doorbell of Mrs. Peterson's house, it wasn't to frighten them or even torment them. I wanted to pay my respects; I wanted them to know that the boy was missed, but it all came out the wrong way. And I was so interested in all aspects having to do with death that I wanted to see the boy again. It was strange; I can understand why they'd think that, but that's just how I was. They all thought I was being creepy and cruel, so they threw me away, and the town took it the wrong way. They decided I had to be the guilty one."

  "They framed you, didn't they?" I asked. "The fibers. I went through the court files and noticed that the fibers weren't added till the very last day of the trial when the Chief Medical Examiner brought them in. He stated that they had been in the lab and that was why it took so long to get the answers, but no one had mentioned anything about carpet and sheet fibers being found on the bodies earlier on."

  "I can't blame them," Margot said. "For thinking it was me. I knew where Benjamin Black's body was because I had helped Bella throw it into that well after doing the same to him as she did to Timothy. I wanted them to find him. That's why I made that drawing that led them to him. I had seen it all happen, and I had no idea how to tell the world. I had hoped my Aunt Carol would understand, that she would protect me, but I was wrong. She ended up giving them the fibers that they placed on the bodies. She was the one who really framed me."

  "Along with Allan Cunningham and Leon Travers, am I right?" I asked. "They ganged up on you and gave the fibers to the Chief Medical Examiner, who made sure they became evidence overnight. He lied in court and said the fibers were found on the two boys’ bodies when they were brought in, which they weren't. Now, the Chief Medical Examiner died ten years ago; I know since I have tried to locate him for my article, so we'll never get the truth from him. But the others could still have spoken. That's why they were killed, right?"

  I turned to look at Margot, who nodded. Tears were now rolling quickly down her cheeks, and she wiped them away. Bella stood like she was frozen.

  "Twenty years of my life I spent in that hellhole," Margot said, crying. "Just because of you. And now I have lost everything once again because of you."

  "What I don't get," I said pensively while realizing that Mark Cunningham had nothing to do with any of this like I had believed. It was all his wife's doing. He had just gotten angry at me because I had said that his son was murdered and not killed by accident. He just wanted to believe it was an accident, maybe because he too suspected that it wasn't?

  "I don't understand who killed the sheriff and the old Cucumber King and then tried to frame me for it. At first, I was certain it had to be Margot because they were the ones who framed her, but now I realize she's no killer. You are the killer," I said and pointed at Bella. "You killed them, didn't you? To keep the truth from getting out? You knew that if it was somehow revealed that Anna Mae was framed, then chances were that people would soon begin to ask more questions, and at some point, you'd be exposed. That's why you decided to get rid of them, and probably Margot next. Am I right?"

  I stared at Bella Cunningham, the gun vibrating in my hand. Margot looked at her too and had risen to her knees now. Bella smiled, then rose to her feet.

  "Stop right there," I said. "Or I'll shoot you."

  She chuckled, then shook her head. Then she looked like she was about to sit back down, but what Margot and I couldn't see was that she reached down next to her recliner and pulled out a shotgun, then pointed it at Margot's head, pressing it close. Then she reached out her hand toward me.

  "Your gun, please, or she dies. She means nothing to me, remember that. As a matter of fact, I would be more than glad to see her go. She is kind of the only one left to tell what I did. I wouldn't mind wiping her off the face of the Earth."

  Knowing she was right, I dropped the gun, then kicked it toward her. Bella picked it up and put it in her pocket, then she turned toward me and smiled.

  67

  "Oh, my, how the tables have turned, huh?" Bella said as I stared down the dark barrel of her gun. I was kneeling on the floor as she had told me to.

  "To answer your question from earlier, no, you are not right. As a matter of fact, you couldn't be further from the truth."

  Margot was kneeling behind me as I made sure to keep my body between her and Bella. The shotgun rested steadily in her hands, and she showed no sign of nervousness or even fear. My guess was a girl like her had been brought up shooting by her parents and holding a gun came naturally to her.

  I glanced around for a weapon or something I could use as a shield. I couldn't run and leave Margot defenseless. Bella wouldn't hesitate to shoot her and then come after me, shooting me in the driveway or as I ran for the road. She could then call the police and tell them we had broken into her property and tried to kill her. They would believe her, and she might even be praised for having killed us both, especially me, whom they probably believed had killed both the Cucumber King and the sheriff. No one would question her explanation, and she'd get away with everything.

  "What do you mean when you say I wasn't right?" I asked.

  Bella leaned closer. "I mean that I didn't kill the sheriff or my father. Not that I didn't want to get rid of both of them, but it wasn't me."

  "You're lying," I said. "Just like you lied to everyone back then."

  "What do you know about anything?" Bella yelled and pressed the gun closer.

  Margot whimpered behind me and cried. I wondered if I could somehow grab the gun, and get it out from between her hands, but realized it was too risky. My heart was pumping hard and my chest felt tight, making it hard to breathe.

  What do I do?

  "Please," I said. "I have children who need me to come home to them. No more people have to die today."

  "You should have said that to Anna Mae before she came bursting in here holding a gun. She's the one who should have stayed away. She didn't have to come here in the first place."

  "I just w
anted you to tell the truth," Margot suddenly yelled from behind me. "I never meant to hurt you. I wanted you to admit to your guilt; I wanted my name cleared."

  As she spoke, Margot rose to her feet. Sweat dripped down my back as I feared for what Margot was up to now.

  "Margot," I said, "don't do anything stupid."

  She shook her head. "No. No more. I am sick of keeping quiet. It's all I have done my entire life. I kept quiet about my mother and what she did to me; I kept quiet about Bella and what she had done. All because I was told not to say anything, but not anymore. You have taken everything from me. Shoot me if you will, Bella, but you can never bury the truth. It will surface anyway somehow."

  Bella stared at her, then lifted the gun, so it pointed at Margot's head. "You're a fool, Anna Mae. You always have been. I’ll make sure it's written on your tomb, Here Lies a Fool."

  I stared up at Bella, who spat the last words out, holding the gun to Margot's head. I had a few precious seconds to try something, but what? Bella was a lot bigger than me and a heck of a lot stronger, but I had to at least try something. It was my last and only chance.

  68

  I kicked Bella's knee with my heel. Her knee collapsed, and the gun went off, the shot missing Margot above her head, then hitting the ceiling above us. Bella fell, nearly toppling on top of me. As she fumbled to regain her composure, I reached over and grabbed Margot's gun from Bella's pocket, then cocked it and fired while Bella lunged at me. The bullet grazed Bella's shoulder, ripping her shirt and a sending a mixture of blood, bone, and fabric into the air. Bella screamed in pain and was pushed backward. For one unforgiving second, I turned my head to see if Margot was all right when Bella lifted the shotgun toward my face and fired. I saw it happen because of Margot's reaction. As she saw the gun lifted, she leaped into the air, yelling, then landed on top of me, taking the bullet that was meant for me.