A Soul To Steal

by Rob Blackwell

  “Well,” Holden said. “I’m just saying, I think it is about time to put together a section like this.”

  “I don’t know if that is a good idea,” Rebecca said.

  “Well, I do,” Holden said, and banged his hand on the table. “I do think it is about time. We need to move on from this. I want a special Halloween section on my desk by next week. That’s it. No more debate.”

  “Mr. Holden…” Laurence began.

  But Holden stood up.

  “I bid you all good day,” he said stiffly, and walked out.

  Laurence put his head in his hands, and Rebecca glared at Kate.

  “Kate, you are new here, so maybe you didn’t know,” Rebecca said. “That was Ethan Holden, our publisher. Don’t talk to him that way. Ever.”

  “Why not? His idea is going to bring up a lot of pain for everybody,” Kate said.

  “It’s just a Halloween section, with ghost stories and a couple pumpkin carving tips, where is the harm?” Laurence asked.

  “I happen to agree that it isn’t a good idea,” Rebecca said, still looking at Kate. “But he is the publisher of this paper. If the man wants a special section, he’ll get one.”

  “Fine,” Kate said.

  Everyone else sat in stunned silence.

  “In fact, I can tell you right now who is going to write it up,” Rebecca said. “I think we will start with Kate and Quinn. Mostly because they interrupted what should have been a private conversation between Mr. Holden, Laurence and me.”

  “I don’t think you’re being fair,” Quinn said.

  “Newsflash, Mr. O’Brion: Life is not fair,” Rebecca said. “I’ll cut Kate some slack because she is new, but I don’t want to hear another word from you. Laurence and I will brainstorm assignments and hand them out today. You will both get your stories done. That’s all there is to it.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t test me,” Rebecca said and Quinn shivered involuntarily.

  And that was that. The rest of the meeting occurred in near silence. When Rebecca dismissed them, everyone rushed to leave the room.

  By the time Quinn got out, he could already see Kate exiting by the side door. He hurried to catch up with her and got to her outside in the parking lot.

  “Kate?” he asked her.

  She wheeled on him.

  “Don’t follow me,” she said.

  “Whoa,” Quinn put up his hands. “What did I do?”

  “I don’t need your help,” she said. “That man was an idiot. A goddamned idiot.”

  “Are you mad at me or at him?” Quinn asked.

  Kate glared at him and then paused. She sighed.

  “I should leave,” she said.

  “Well, I’d stay out of Rebecca’s way,” he said. “She is not exactly peaches and cream when she is pissed off.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she said, shaking her head. “I should leave for good. I should have never come back.”

  “Hang on,” Quinn said, and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Look, it’s just a little fight. It will blow over. Come on.”

  “That’s not why. I don’t know why I’m here, Quinn. I was just begging for that kind of outburst. Everything is so…”

  She clenched her fists into balls. She wanted to scream or hit something. But instead she let her fingers slowly curl back out again.

  “Let’s go somewhere,” Quinn said. “Let’s go talk this out.”

  “I don’t think…”

  “Come on,” he said. “Please. You’re upset. I’d like to help.”

  “You can’t,” she said. “You can’t.”

  “How do you know?” he responded. “I don’t think I can make it any worse.”

  She paused before finally sighing. “Okay, let’s talk. God knows I need to talk to somebody.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked him when they were in the car. They had been driving in silence for 10 minutes.

  “You haven’t guessed?” he asked.

  And it was then she knew. They were heading back to the cemetery.

  “Okay,” she said. “Perfect, actually.”

  They rode the rest of the way quietly. He parked by the front gate and they both got out.

  “This is as peaceful a place as there is,” he said. “And private to boot.”

  “It is,” she said. “I should come here more often.”

  “Yeah…”

  “Not for the reasons you think,” she said and started to walk briskly. “Follow me. Remember how you said I had been here before?”

  Quinn nodded, as he and Kate walked down the cemetery’s main road.

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  “Just a vibe,” he said.

  “Like you had seen me before?”

  “No, although I’ve felt like I do know you from somewhere,” he said. “But I knew I had never seen you before. I would have remembered.”

  “Well your guess was right,” she said.

  “I gathered that from your reaction,” Quinn replied.

  She stopped in front of a grave. It took a moment for Quinn to realize this had been done on purpose.

  He looked at it. It was a simple marble slab with the inscription, “Here lies Sarah Blakely.” There were some dates below.

  He looked at Kate quizzically.

  “The name doesn’t mean anything to you?” she asked quietly.

  “Should it?” he asked.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t come across it in your research,” she replied as she stared at the headpiece. “Sarah Blakely was killed 12 years ago. She was the Loudoun serial killer’s fifth victim.”

  There was a pause before Kate said anything more. But Quinn had begun to feel a sense of dread.

  “She was also my mother,” Kate said simply and turned away from the headstone.

  She started to walk down the path. Quinn hurried to keep up with her.

  “Jesus,” he said and wondered what more he could say. “I’m so sorry…”

  “I was born here, Quinn,” Kate said. “I even attended Leesburg Middle School.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Laurence that?” he asked.

  She stopped.

  “Would you?” she asked. “If I had mentioned that I had lived here, there would have been more questions. There are always more questions when you are a reporter. Where did you live? Why did you leave? Do you know Joe Smith, or Judy Doe, or whoever? Sooner or later, it would have been clear who my mother was. And I didn’t want that out there.”

  “Kate, I have no idea what to say,” Quinn said. “I lost my parents, so I know what it feels like.”

  “No offense,” she replied and looked back in the direction of her mother’s grave. “But it’s not exactly the same. Your parents died and it’s a tragedy. They were young, you grieve, but you can tell people about it. They can help you. But who helps you when your mother is murdered and the killer is still out there? You can lie, certainly, but that feels like a betrayal. You can tell the truth, but then you can’t just leave it at ‘murdered’ really. It is something that begs for more background.

  “So you push it away, because it isn’t something you want to talk about. And pretty soon your mother isn’t dead anymore, she has been systemically erased. I saw photos of you with your Mom and Dad at your apartment. I have almost none. She died when I was 12 years old-late enough that I can still remember her, but it’s fading. If you don’t talk about someone, they fade away like an old photograph."

  “I’m sorry,” Quinn said again.

  “So you can see why I was a little upset with the Holden plan,” Kate said and laughed. It was not a pleasant sound.

  “I can,” he said.

  “I’m not the only one who will be,” she said. “There are more people than me who would just as soon the entire affair stay buried. And that’s the real thing. Because Loudoun associates that stupid holiday with the sick bastard who killed people, they can’t help but think of him when you start trying to get
them to celebrate it.”

  Quinn was not so sure. Maybe she was right, or maybe it was time for people to move on. For them to see that Halloween didn’t equal a literal bogeyman. But he did not think now was the right time to debate this.

  They had walked to the edge of the graveyard, where they had sat nearly a week before. It felt like longer ago, Quinn thought. A breeze came across the pond and made him shiver.

  “My dad and I left not long after,” she said, looking at the pond as well. “And I really never thought I would be back. My life felt like it began at age thirteen and that was that. Some people asked about my Mom, of course. But nobody knew. It was easier to let them think that maybe she had abandoned us. Of course, it never occurred to me I would head back here.”

  “Then why are you here?” Quinn asked.

  She laughed again and turned to look Quinn in the eye.

  “That’s the thing, Quinn,” she said. “I really don’t know.”

  She walked forward and found the bench to sit down.

  “I was there, you know,” she said.

  “Where?” he asked and sat down next to her.

  “I was in the house when he murdered my mother,” she said calmly.

  “My God,” Quinn said.

  “I didn’t know it, of course,” she said. “But he did. He knew I was there.”

  “How?” Quinn started.

  “I remember the whole day,” she said and her eyes had a distant look. “It was a Thursday and Mom was supposed to be home. The front door was wide open. I yelled upstairs for her, but she didn’t respond. In fact, I thought maybe she was out, that the door had just been accidentally left open.”

  “But it wasn’t,” Quinn said.

  “No,” she said. “Her keys were on the table. And the mail was scattered there. I remember I glanced at it to see if there was anything for me. But did I know something was wrong? No. I just shut the door and yelled for Mom again.”

  “I heard nothing. But I was a little worried. I started to climb the steps. I thought maybe she was in the bathroom or something and couldn’t hear me. I got to the top and called again and still didn’t hear anything. It was then I thought something was wrong. I can remember the hairs standing up at the back of my neck. But I was twelve and I didn’t listen to my instincts. I called her again.”

  “I walked down the hallway to my parents’ bedroom. Then there was a large crash and I turned and ran right to it. It sounded like something had smashed in my room. I was so startled I actually went to look in there and saw that the lamp next to my window had fallen. The window was open and the curtains were swaying in the breeze. The next part I remember in slow motion. I looked out to see a figure run around the side of the house. I think I screamed. I don’t remember.

  “But what I saw clearly in my mind was that the front door was still unlocked. I had shut it, but I hadn’t locked it. In my head, I could see it swinging open again and maybe him coming back up the stairs.”

  “Jesus,” Quinn said, but Kate did not seem to hear him.

  “But he had already done what he came to do,” she said. “I didn’t know that. I actually ran into my parents’ room as comfort. I thought I would be safe in there. It didn’t occur to me…”

  She stopped and looked at Quinn.

  “At that age, you feel immortal,” she said. “But more than that, your parents seem immortal too. They will always be there to help you, to rescue you. They will know what to do.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “And I just thought-I’ll be safe in there,” Kate said and looked away again. “I remember I could not move fast enough. In my head, he was coming through the door, on his way up the steps, and my feet were made of concrete. I walked into their room and I saw her…I thought she was alive, Quinn. I didn’t know. She just seemed to be staring at the ceiling. But then I saw the blood and I…”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to finish.”

  “I think I do,” she said. “I’ve never talked about it. Not with boyfriends, friends, therapists-even my father. I wouldn’t. But the truth is that I don’t remember much else. There was blood everywhere. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it when I walked in. I know I screamed. I screamed for days, it felt like. He’s coming back, I kept thinking. He’s coming back for you. I went to the phone and somehow there was blood on my hand. I thought it was mine, I didn’t know…”

  She stopped and took a long breath.

  “I made the call, but didn’t see it,” she said.

  “See what?” he asked gently, when she stopped again.

  “The note,” she said calmly.

  “Lord Halloween’s calling card,” he said, mostly to himself.

  “Yes,” she replied. “But I didn’t know that. How could I? My parents had kept any news of the murders as far away from me as they could. I didn’t know what I was looking at. I can still see it in my mind. I’m scared out of my mind, dialing 911 and there’s this post-it note stuck right by the phone. I didn’t even think about it. I was screaming into the phone to the operator and then I read it.”

  She stopped again and Quinn felt compelled to ask.

  “What did it say?”

  She looked at him.

  “It said, ‘ Happy Halloween. Your father can’t protect you and you are now on my list. Like mother, like daughter. See you soon, Trina.’”

  “My God,” he said again.

  “He even knew her name for me,” Kate said. “I still don’t know how he knew that. She was the only one who called me that. Everyone else called me Kate, but my full name is Katrina, and she said Trina.”

  “What did you do?” he asked.

  “I screamed some more,” she said. “The operator had no idea what was going on, but they sent the police. I didn’t wait for them though. I was certain he had come back in, that he had been waiting for me to find the note. Even then, with my mom’s body a few feet away, I started thinking in terms of my own survival. The police found my mother with little difficulty. But it wasn’t until one of them checked the attic later that they found me. When the cop came up, I felt certain it was him. I started screaming as soon as he saw me and it took my father picking me up before I stopped.”

  “Jesus,” Quinn said.

  “My whole world shattered,” she said. “I sometimes wonder who I would have been if that day had never happened. I see her sometimes-in my mind-this different woman who thinks about a career and a life. But you never know, do you? It wasn’t just my mom’s murder, of course. That would have been enough. ‘See you soon, Trina.’ That was what did it.

  “We left town days later. My dad was a cop. He knew the force would be out there trying to avenge his wife. But he had a daughter to protect and I was beyond hysterical. He did not do a large funeral. He was too scared. His wife had been murdered and his daughter threatened-he slept by the side of my bed with his gun every night. By then we were at the Leesburg Hotel, checked in anonymously, of course.”

  “You were worried the killer would find you?” Quinn felt like an idiot asking.

  “I was not worried, Quinn,” she said. He noticed her clench her fists together and put them on her thighs. “No, I was certain. Certain he would find me. That it was just a matter of time. My father couldn’t convince me I was safe. The police could not convince me I was safe. Nothing could. I just saw the words ‘See you soon, Trina’ in my head. I have ever since.”

  “Even when you moved away?”

  “It helped,” she said. “It took time, but I felt like it worked. I had dreams of course-the most common of them was him standing behind me as I read the note. I feel his hands around me and then I wake up. But those dreams became fewer and fewer. I thought maybe some day I would be over it.”

  “Then why…?”

  “Why come back here?” she asked. She shook her head. “In October of last year, the dreams started up again. But they were more intense than ever. And they grew stranger.”

  “Strang
er?”

  “I could hear my Mom calling me,” Kate said. “In the dreams, I would be walking around-at work at the paper even-and I would pick up the phone and she would be at the other end of it. ‘Trina, it’s time to come home,’ she would say. And I would argue with her, tell her I couldn’t go back. But I’d be afraid to tell her why.

  ‘Why can’t you come back, Trina?’ she would ask, over and over again. But I don’t want to tell her.

  ‘Is it because of me, Trina? Are you afraid, Trina?’ she’d say.

  I tell her, ‘Please, Mom. ‘I’ve got work to do, he’ll find me. He’s waiting for me.’

  ‘He’s coming for you there, Trina,’ she says. And by then in the dream I’m already home, in her bedroom, and her voice is there, but the body is lying on the bed motionless.

  ‘He’s coming for you, Trina’ she says again. ‘He’s in the house.’

  In the dream, I can see it, Quinn. The door is opening, he is coming through and walking up the steps. And I’m on the phone again, screaming for help. But it’s just my mom on the other end.

  ‘See you soon, Trina,’ she says.

  And then her voice is gone. Another male one, much deeper, takes her place and I hear it and it makes me want to vomit.

  ‘Your father can’t protect you and I will find you,’ he says. ‘See you soon, Trina,’ And then he’s laughing. And I can see him coming down the hallway at the same time.

  And then I wake up.”

  Quinn shivered.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ve had nightmares in my time, but that’s…”

  “Horrible?” she asked. “I fought it off last year. The dreams kept coming, growing worse and more real every single day until Halloween came. I thought I was going crazy.”

  “And then?”

  “It stopped,” she said. “Just like that. November 1 came and it all ended. And I felt so relieved, like it was gone for good.”

  “But it wasn’t…”

  “No, it wasn’t,” she said. “It started sooner this time. It was August when it began. And I could feel it building in my brain. I just could not take it.”

  “So you came here?” Quinn asked in disbelief.

  “I had to, Quinn,” she said. “Something in my brain is telling me I needed to come back here. I don’t think it’s my Mom, but…”