by Willow Rose
Ryan pauses. He closes one eye like he’s aiming and pushes the gun closer to me. I stare up at him; I want to beg him to stop, to stop the games and talk to me, but I can’t speak. He smiles as he says the last part, the thing that causes my blood to freeze.
“She will be.”
Ryan hangs up. He is staring down at me, a grin growing across his face. “Guess there’s no way back now, huh? The police will be here in approximately an hour. Maybe a little bit more. They won’t be able to drive fast in the rain and have to be careful when coming up the slippery mountainside.”
“Ryan, you don’t have to do this,” I say.
“Oh, no?” he says and places the gun on my forehead. He leans close to me as he speaks. “But the thing is, I want to. I have actually been looking forward to this part.”
“Ryan, please, think of the children…”
I say the words while clenching my fist. Ryan is so close to me, I can reach out, and I grab his collar, then pull him down while stretching for the gun with the other hand, tearing it out of his grip. The gun slips out of his hand, then slides across the floor, while he pushes me back, hollering, “Oh, no, you don’t!”
I hold onto his collar, using all my weight to pull him down toward me, so he can’t get to the gun. With my foot, I manage to kick it, and it slides even farther away. He presses his hand into my face, pushing me downward, groaning in effort. It hurts like crazy, and I am forced to let go of his collar. He then springs for the gun, leaving my side. I scramble to my feet, then make a run for the sliding doors. I skid on the slippery floors but get back up fast, even though my hand slips on the floor. I grab the doors, then pull them open, Ryan bellowing behind me.
“Come back here! You’re not going anywhere, you hear me?”
I feel his hand grab for my hair, but I am faster than him and jolt outside into the pouring rain.
It’s not easy to run across the wet wooden porch in my bare feet. I am slipping and skating around, falling, getting up, and trying to gain some speed, but end up tumbling forward. I hear him behind me, panting, roaring, bawling my name, trampling after me.
“You get back here, Laurie. You get back here now!”
This time, I feel his hand on my shoulder, pulling me back. I yank myself free, so he reaches down and grabs my arm instead, then pulls me backward. I fall flat on my back, and he’s caught my neck, wrapping his elbow around it, squeezing me, holding me in a tight grip. He has the gun in his other hand, and he places it on my cheek. What scares me senseless right this moment is the fact that his hand isn’t even shaking. There isn’t even a tremble to his voice as he speaks to me.
“I told ya. You’re not going anywhere, Laurie. You hear me?”
He’s holding me tight in his grip. I writhe and worm my body, but he isn’t letting go. I manage to turn myself a little sideways, just enough to get my arm twisted loose. I clench my fist, then land a punch on his face, just hard enough for him to let me go. He screams and curses my name when I jolt out of his grip and spring forward. I jump up over the railing, then let myself fall to the lawn one story below. Only the lawn is turned into a pile of mud, and, as I land, I am covered in mud from top to toe. I can taste it in my mouth and feel it in my nostrils. I look up and see Ryan above me, hollering my name.
Then, I run.
I run, and the mud is splashing up against my legs and my back, while the rain is still pouring down on top of me. I hear Ryan as he runs for the slope next to the house and comes down toward me, avoiding having to jump. He is faster than me, and soon he is running toward me down the sloping backyard, sliding in the mud toward me, his legs first, trying to trip me. He misses, and I continue toward the road I know is there somewhere because I just walked it with Frank a few days earlier. But it’s no longer visible. It’s covered in mud, and big parts of the edge have been dragged into the valley by the water.
Still, I continue carefully so I won’t make a wrong move and get dragged down with the water. It is gushing down the sides of the mountain, making big muddy rivers that I have to jump over and land in the mud on the other side, face-first. I am fast on my feet, though, as I hear him yell behind me. He sounds like a drowned mouse, and the rain soon clears my face and hair, washing away the mud.
I make one more jump across a river gushing down, and slide onto my back on the other side, then get back up and run, panting, gasping for air, when I suddenly reach an edge and stop. I almost don’t see it in the darkness, but as I come close enough, I realize there is no more road. It has been washed down the valley. I turn around and see Ryan coming toward me. He stops running when he realizes I have stopped. He is walking closer, pointing the gun at me.
“This is it, Laurie. End of the road for you. You hear me? This is it, Laurie. You’re done running! Ha! You thought you could just slip away, didn’t you? But that ain’t happening. No, not tonight. Not ever, Laurie. You’ll never get away from me.”
He laughs, walking closer, then fires the gun. It’s probably because it’s so dark that he only hits me in the shoulder. There’s only a little light from a lamppost on the street above us, shining down through the trees. Or maybe he does it on purpose so he’ll get to torture me a little longer because he’s usually a very good shot. It still hurts like crazy, and I fall back into the mud. Ryan is walking closer, grinning, while I am screaming in pain and holding a hand to my shoulder.
He is getting close, hovering above me, pointing the barrel of the gun at me.
“Say goodbye, Laurie. Say goodbye now.”
He has his finger on the trigger, and this is where I think this is the end; this is it for me. I don’t know if it is God holding his hand over me, or what it is, but at this very moment, a wall of water breaks loose from above us, then hits him and washes him away and takes the part of the road he’s standing on with it. He drops the gun, and I hurry to pick it up as it is about to be washed down as well. I can’t see him; I can’t even hear him scream until I finally spot his head sticking out. He is dangling from a tiny branch sticking out of the mountainside, holding onto it for dear life. Water is gushing down the sides and is about to grab me too, but I put the gun in my waistband, then manage to grab onto a bigger branch with my one good arm and swing myself onto a place higher up, where there is still solid ground to stand on. The water is moving fast and fiercely below me now, roaring into the valley below.
“Help! Help me!” Ryan screams.
He is close enough for me to be able to. I can help him if I want to. I can reach out my hand and let him drag himself up to me and save him.
But I don’t.
Instead, I just stare at him, look him straight in his eyes as water and mud gush down on him, and the branch he’s holding onto threatens to break free. I look him straight in the eye, and I don’t do a darn thing.
He is still screaming for my help as I climb upward toward drier ground. I stop for a few seconds once up there, but I don’t look down at him. I don’t dare.
But I do hear as the branch gives way, and I hear his scream as he is pulled down with the mud.
Chapter 56
Laurie reaches for the box of tissues and grabs one. She is trembling as she wipes the tears from her eyes and catches the ones that have rolled down her cheeks, dabbing the skin gently. Jonathan watches her. He realizes he has been holding his breath while she told the last part.
Laurie closes her eyes for a second to compose herself, then looks at them again. Detective Grande is shifting in her seat. Jonathan noticed she, too, was spellbound by the story while Laurie told it.
Laurie exhales and places her hands on top of the covers. “Somehow…I’m not sure how, but somehow, I manage to get back to the cabin. It’s all a haze right now, as I was probably in deep shock. But I remember walking in the rain, crawling through rows of trees, areas of mud piles, and finding the remainder of the road. I remember spotting the cabin in the distance, and I remember getting back up on the porch and coming inside, getting to shelter, then the feeling of great relief w
hen closing the doors. I remember I then slid to the floor and cried. The last thing I did was to crawl up in the chair in the living room and put the gun on the table so the police could see it once they entered. I remember leaning my head back in the chair, pain throbbing in my shoulder, then hearing the soothing sound of sirens approaching in the distance.”
“And that’s where our officers found you,” Grande says. “When they got to the cabin.”
Laurie nods her head. “And that’s the story. Every little part of it. As you can hear, it was all self-defense, and that is the truth. Now, you do what you need to do, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.”
Grande sniffles and wipes away a tear before she glances at Jonathan like she hopes he doesn’t see it. Jonathan turns off the Dictaphone app and looks at his notes. Grande sends him a look and nods. She gets up.
“I think we’re done here. I want to thank you for taking your time,” she says as she reaches out her hand and shakes Laurie’s.
Laurie smiles. “Is that it? You don’t have any more questions for me?”
Grande looks at Jonathan, then shakes her head. “I don’t think so. It was obviously self-defense. I am sure whatever evidence is found up there will support your story. We won’t bother you anymore. I am sure you’re eager to get home to your children.”
Laurie swallows, then nods. “I sure am, thank you, Detectives.”
Jonathan reaches out his hand and squeezes Laurie’s, then smiles gently. “Thank you, Mrs. Davis.”
She sniffles and nods. “Thank you both.”
Jonathan shares one last glance with Laurie then walks to the door and holds it for Grande. As he is about to leave, he hesitates, then looks back at Laurie.
“Oh, there was one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“There was the matter of Vera.”
“Yes? What about her?”
“We never really got the story of why she died. She was Frank’s sister. Why did he kill her?”
“Oh, really? I never said that? That’s odd. Well, he killed her because she threatened to reveal him, at least that’s what he told me. And also to get back at me, you know. Because I wouldn’t back off.”
“Uh-huh, and what about the truck and the case?”
“He placed them there so the police might come looking for Chip. He bought the truck from Chip two weeks earlier and stole the case from the glove compartment. He used it to get back at him since he played a part in the rape as well. He was the one holding her down.”
Jonathan nods, biting his cheek.
“Listen, I don’t pretend like I know all of Frank’s motives. I just know what I told you.”
Jonathan nods again, then smiles. “Of course.”
He pauses and is almost about to leave when he turns to look at her again. “And what was her last name again? Vera’s? I don’t think you mentioned that.”
Laurie’s eyes narrow.
“I didn’t say that? Huh.”
Jonathan shakes his head. “I would have remembered that. I have a thing with names.”
Laurie pauses. For a second, the two of them stare at one another, sizing each other up. Then her shoulders come down, and she smiles.
“It was Donovan. Her full name was Vera Donovan.”
Jonathan smiles again. “Of course, it was. Thank you so much.”
“Thank you, Detectives.”
Jonathan walks out to Grande, who is waiting in the hallway, shaking her head. “I know I shouldn’t let her go till we have it all verified and have made the calls back home, but that can take days, and I just thought she needed to get back to her children. I, for one, have lost all my suspicion toward her. A story like this, I mean come on, you can’t make that stuff up.”
Jonathan nods and looks down at the small detective. He holds the door for her as they walk out to the elevators. “You’re probably right. You’re probably right.”
He presses the button to the elevator, and as soon as it has arrived and they walk inside, he turns toward her and says, “But I want you to do one thing for me.”
“Yes?”
“The book. The one she said they were reading from while staying at the cabin.”
Grande wrinkles her forehead.
“What about it?”
“I need you to get it for me.”
Grande lifts both eyebrows, and a frown grows between them. “You want the book? Why?”
The elevator dings, and they walk through the lobby and out to their cars. He pulls out the keys to his car.
“Just indulge me with this one, will you?”
She shrugs, then walks to her own police cruiser. “As you wish. I don’t see what you want with an old book, but if that’s what you want, you got it.”
Chapter 57
“Anything else I can get for you, hon?”
Jonathan looks up at Joanne. Her nametag is crooked today, and he wonders if she was in a rush this morning. Maybe she overslept. Her hair looks perfect as always, though, and so does her make up. He tries to imagine her with morning hair and no makeup—just the way God created her. He would like to see her in the morning, would enjoy waking up with her. Jonathan shakes the thought. He had the Mountain for lunch, which is a special Everett Street burger with BBQ pulled pork, onion rings, and creamy coleslaw, and he is kind of full. But the glint in Joanne’s eyes makes him want to buy more. How can he say no to her? He wants to make up excuses to stay longer than just for lunch.
“Any pie today?” he asks.
“I got a key lime and coconut cream pie.”
“Key lime, please.”
“You want some whipped cream on that? I know you have a sweet tooth.”
He smiles gently, feeling his cheeks blush. “Yes, along with coffee, please. And keep it coming. I’m waiting for something, so I have some time to kill.”
Joanne winks. “You got it, sugar.”
He watches her intently as she gets the pie and coffee for him. He puts in some sugar and a little milk, then sips it and eats the pie. A couple enters the diner, and Joanne is busy taking care of them next. He watches her every move while finishing his pie, and then his phone rings.
“Yes?”
“It’s Grande. I have the book you wanted.”
Jonathan smiles. “That was fast. I barely got to finish my pie.”
“Do you want me to bring it to you?” she asks. “I can come down to the diner if you like.”
He takes a deep breath, then finishes his coffee. He leaves a bill, including a huge tip for Joanne as usual. He waves at her and rushes out the door with the phone still clutched to his ear.
“No. I have a better idea. Meet me at the hospital.”
Grande’s cheeks are flushed as she enters the hallway. Jonathan is already standing outside the door to the hospital room when she walks in, holding the book in her hands. She lifts it up.
“It was the only book up there,” she says. “So, I figured this had to be it.”
“Let me guess. Dolores Claiborne?” Jonathan asks.
Grande stops, holding the book mid-air. She wrinkles her forehead. “How did you know?”
She hands it to Jonathan, and he flips through a couple of pages. “An old Stephen King classic. Have you ever read it?”
She shakes her head. “Can’t say I have.”
“I figured as much,” Jonathan says.
“I’m not sure I understand. Are you going to tell me what this is all about? The book? Us being here? I have a lot of work to do.”
“I think you’ll be glad you came here instead,” he says. “Gonna save you a lot of time and effort.”
“Are you all right?” she asks. “You’re kind of talking in riddles here. I’m not sure I completely follow where you’re going.”
“You will,” he says, holding up the book. “In a few minutes, it’ll all be very clear to you. Just follow my lead.”
Laurie is dressed when they enter. She’s standing next to the bed. The technicians have brought her the
suitcase with the clothes from the cabin, and she has gotten her phone back. The jeans she is wearing are too big, and it looks like she’s lost a lot of weight. They’re also slightly too long, so she has folded them at the bottom. Her face lights up, even though her voice breaks a little as she sees them.
“Detectives? I thought we were done? I’m just about to leave.”
“Oh, but we are. Almost,” Jonathan says. “There was just a small matter that I was hoping you could clear up for us.”
“Well, of course, Detective. Anything.” Laurie sits down on the bed and crosses her legs. Her smile is insecure, and she clears her throat nervously. “What’s going on?”
Jonathan holds the book in the air. “We found the book. The one you told us you were reading with Frank while staying at the cabin.”
He places the book on the bed in front of her. Laurie picks it up and looks at both of them, puzzled.
“And?”
Jonathan exhales. He grabs a chair and pulls it close, then sits down, making sure she understands he is in no hurry.
“Well…now, Grande here has never read it, but I have, several times. I even saw the movie, the one with Kathy Bates. I watch almost any movie with her, but that’s not the point. Now, Grande here doesn’t know what it is about, so I thought I’d clarify it briefly. To make it brief, it’s basically a book about a woman telling the story of how she got away with murdering her husband.”
“Oh, really?” Grande asks.
“That is very simplified,” Laurie says. “There’s a lot more to it than just that.”
“But that is the essence of the storyline, isn’t it?” Jonathan asks.
Laurie exhales. She’s biting her lip anxiously. Her shoulders slump, and her face flusters.
“When did you know?”
“I figured it out pretty quickly. At first, it was the thing about you not being used to the heat, when you grew up in Florida. That struck me as odd. You mentioned the weather a lot like it was a surprise to you. Also, the way you described a roach like you had never killed one before. I am a Florida man myself, and when growing up down there, you’re used to roaches, snakes, and even gators roaming the neighborhood. That was the first time I started wondering. But what had me most interested were the names. It wasn’t until you were about halfway through your little story that it occurred to me. I had heard those names before. They are all in this book. All the names in your little story were taken from it. Like…let’s take Vera Donovan, for instance. In your story, she’s your friend and sister to the woman who was murdered in Afghanistan. In the book, she is the woman Dolores Claiborne works for. Her sister Clarice is also the name of Vera’s sister in the book. Lisa McCandless, also called Lotty in the book, was a friend of Dolores, while Chip was her doctor. Frank was a police officer, Sandra someone who used to work for Vera, and Ted Kenopensky was a friend. Do you want me to go on? Because there’s a lot of them. All the way down to the names of the people in your childhood, Mike Stargill and Shawna Wyndham. All are names you can find in this book. The only names that weren’t made up were Laurie, Ryan, Isabella, and Damien. Because you had to keep those real to make them match the driver’s license and the ID of the man we found drowned in the mud. But you made the mistake of thinking that none of us were Stephen King fans and would remember the names from one of his books. But I guess you were out of luck. As I said, I have a thing for names. I tend to remember them.”