Secrets Can Be Deadly

by Nancy Roe

  Mason waited five minutes before calling the police station.

  “I need all available units at 555 Walnut Street. Possible abduction.”

  Mason walked to the end of the driveway. He had already disturbed evidence by putting the groceries away. Too many thoughts were going through his head—he needed fresh air. What if his dad had been getting threatening letters? What if Samantha came by the house and took him? What if he was already dead?

  “Mason, Mason.” The next-door neighbor came running down the sidewalk.

  “What’s wrong, Mrs. Phillips?”

  “Oh my. I’m not in very good shape.” Mrs. Phillips stopped to take a breath. “I was on the phone with my doctor. You know how hard it is to actually talk to a doctor on the phone.” Another pause, deep breaths. “I was supposed to deliver this to you when I saw you. The nice lady said you would be coming by today.”

  Mason took the envelope from Mrs. Philips. OFFICER PIERCE. “The nice lady that gave you this envelope, is this her?” Mason took the bank photo out of his pocket.

  “Oh, yes. She and your father left an hour ago. I saw them through the window. I thought it was odd he didn’t wave. He always waves when he drives by.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Phillips.”

  Two squad cars pulled up in front of the house.

  “Is something wrong, Mason?” Mrs. Phillips asked.

  “We’re going to be looking around my dad’s place. Go back home and let the officers’ do their job.”

  “Okay. Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

  Mason opened the envelope. WALTER OR SOPHIA. YOU CHOOSE. COME ALONE.

  He walked inside and used the kitchen phone to check on Sophia. A woman at the bank told him Sophia wasn’t at work. Mason demanded to talk to the bank manager.

  “I thought I told you not to let Sophia leave without me.”

  “Your dad called. He said he was coming to pick her up.”

  “And you let her walk out of the bank.”

  “I watched her get in the back of the car. Your father was in the front seat. They drove off pretty fast.”

  “Who was driving? Describe the person.”

  “Short brown hair. Had on a hat and uniform just like yours.”

  “What kind of car? Do you remember the license plate?”

  “White Ford Tempo. Didn’t look at the plates. Is something wrong?”

  “I’ve got to go.” Mason hung up.

  Mason had no idea where they were going. He didn’t want to think what his sister might do to Sophia or his dad. His sister was out for revenge. He couldn’t lose either of them.

  If his dad was able to call Sophia, then maybe he left a clue. Mason sat in the chair by the phone and pretended to be his dad. He looked at the notepad. A number was written in his dad’s handwriting—335‑6270. Mason dialed the number. It was no longer in service. It was a message. He felt it—just didn’t understand it.

  “How you holding up?” George said.

  “I have to be strong for Sophia and my dad. The note said I’d have to choose so I believe they’re still alive. I’ve no idea where Samantha would’ve taken them.”

  “I guess the phone number was a dead end?”

  “It’s a message. I just have to figure out what it means.”

  “Me and my best friend in junior high used to leave notes for each other. We’d replace each letter with the corresponding number on the phone dial. If we got caught passing notes, the teacher couldn’t read it.”

  “You’re a genius.” Mason replaced the numbers with letters. DELMAR and OPERATOR. Mason’s dad taught him when he was little to call the operator if he ever needed help. “They’re headed to Delmar.”

  “That’s out of our jurisdiction. We need to contact the local authorities.”

  “No. I’m going to Delmar and end this. You can’t tell anyone.”

  “Are you crazy? You’ll lose your job. I’ll lose my job.” George looked around.

  “We never had this conversation. Okay.” Mason was nodding his head to make George understood. “I’ll deal with the consequences once my dad and Sophia are safe.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll think about that while I’m driving to Delmar. They have a three-hour head start. I need to go.”

  “What do I tell people when they ask where you are?”

  “You don’t know anything. Remember. Tell them you last saw me at my dad’s house. It won’t be a lie. Now go back to the station.”

  Mason took his dad’s car and headed to Delmar.

  51 Wednesday, March 12, 1980 (Sam)

  My plan was working perfectly. The drive to Delmar had been tiring, but I had what I wanted—Walter and Sophia. They looked so peaceful sleeping in the back seat of the car.

  I pulled up to Frank’s house. He’d been my lab partner in high school a few times. I called yesterday to verify he was still at this address.

  I opened the screen door and knocked. A three year-old girl opened the door. “You’re not Momma.”

  A little girl was not what I expected. But, it might work better. “She’s in the car. Come on.” I stretched out my left hand and the little girl grabbed it. With my right hand, I held a chloroform rag over her face. She struggled slightly, then I picked her up like a rag doll.

  “What are you doing with my daughter!” Frank shouted.

  “Frank, I didn’t know you had a daughter. A lot changes in three years.” I smiled. “It’s Sam. From high school.”

  “What are you doing here?” His words were slurred.

  “Have you been drinking, Frank? That wouldn’t go over well with momma, now would it?” I sneered. “I need your help, Frank. Your parents here?”

  “Mom stays in bed most of the time. Alzheimer’s. Doesn’t remember squat. Dad died a year ago,” he said. “What kind of help?”

  “You help me tonight and I don’t kill your daughter.”

  “Her mother will be here in a few minutes to pick her up. You better have a good story why she can’t have Lexi.”

  “Does she have a drinking problem like you? Drugs, maybe?”

  “Yeah, she drinks. Smokes a little. Why?” Frank asked. “Oh, no. There she is.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Sheila.”

  “Now this is very important. Look scared and go along with everything I say. Otherwise, your daughter dies.”

  I watched Sheila walk up the sidewalk, puffing on a cigarette. When she saw me holding Lexi she started yelling. “Who are you and why are you holding my child?”

  “First, keep your voice down unless you want to wake Lexi. Second, my name is Samantha Rothschild. I’m from Family Services. And third, you’ll both take a drug and alcohol test. If it’s clean, you can have her. If there’s the slightest trace of alcohol or illegal substance, then I’ll have you arrested.”

  “Well, do we have to take the test?” Sheila asked. “Can you just bring her back tomorrow?”

  “I could do that. That is, if you return home right now and no more fuss.” I was trying not to smile. This woman clearly cared more for herself than her daughter.

  “I can live with that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “You can pick her up after eleven-thirty.”

  Sheila turned, lit another cigarette, and walked to her car.

  “Good job, Frank. I need to put my car in your garage.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll go back my car out.”

  “Don’t try to be a hero and do anything stupid like contacting the authorities. I’ve killed before. Killing your daughter won’t be a problem.”

  “Please, please. Don’t hurt Lexi.” Frank was almost in tears. “I’ll do only what you tell me. I promise.”

  “I don’t like people who lie to me. If I find out you’ve been lying, I’ll have to kill you, too.”

  I drove the Tempo into the garage, Frank closed the door. He helped me move Sophia to the front seat, lay Walter in the backseat. I estimat
ed they’d be out another eight hours.

  Frank and I went inside and I laid Lexi on the couch.

  “Frank,” I said. “Listen carefully. This is what you’re going to do for me tonight and tomorrow…”

  52 Wednesday, March 12, 1980 (Mason)

  Mason arrived in Delmar at ten. He drove past his old home and parked a quarter mile away. No buildings stood on the property, but this is where the secrets began and thought Samantha might bring Walter and Sophia here.

  He cut through the field and entered from the back of the property. He looked around—no car, no people.

  Walking past the spot where the house had stood, he thought back to his childhood. The fun times he and Samantha had playing in the front yard, the times they’d snuck out of the house in the middle of the night to catch fireflies. He had loved his sister. Now, she was a killer and kidnapper.

  Mason shone his flashlight down the driveway. Fresh tire marks.

  He slowly walked to the end of the driveway and looked in both directions. No cars. He noticed the mailbox lid was open. He walked over, looked inside. An envelope. OFFICER PIERCE. He searched the area before opening the envelope.

  GO TO THE NIGHT LIGHT MOTEL. YOU ARE EXPECTED.

  He had no choice but to follow the clue. Samantha was in control now because she had Walter and Sophia.

  Mason turned to look where the house stood one last time. He’d erase all his happy childhood memories. This place was full of secrets and lies. He never wanted to see this place again.

  Mason pulled into the parking lot of the Night Light Motel. No sign of a white Ford Tempo. He parked the car close to the front desk door. Quiet.

  He walked inside. No one behind the counter, but he could hear the faint sound of a TV. He rang the bell.

  “I’m coming,” a voice yelled.

  Mason waited.

  “Sorry. Was in the bathroom. You Officer Pierce?”

  “Yes.” Mason felt someone was watching.

  “Been expecting you. You’re in room eighteen. Top floor, last room. Park your car in the last space. Room is twenty-five dollars.”

  The man picked up the phone and dialed. “He’s here.”

  “I’d rather have a room on the bottom floor,” Mason said.

  “Lady was specific. Frank’s waiting in the parking lot. He’ll take your car keys once you park. Make sure to take everything you need with you.”

  “How do you know Samantha?”

  “Long story.” The man paused. “You’ll be getting a note, later tonight.”

  “You know I could arrest you for obstructing justice.”

  “I have my reasons why I’m doing this.” The man lowered his head.

  Mason took twenty-five dollars out of his wallet. In return, Mason got the key to room eighteen. The man never raised his head.

  Mason got in his car and drove to the end of the lot. He saw a figure heading towards him. Must be Frank, he thought.

  He opened the trunk and got out a backpack. Mason had one in his dad’s car, Sophia’s car, as well as his own. He was prepared in case he ever needed a change of clothes. He learned that lesson the third month on the job when he’d chased a man through an alley in the rain.

  “You Frank?” Mason asked.

  Frank was shaking. He reeked of whiskey.

  “Yeah. Keys, please. And your gun.” Frank held out his hand.

  “Will I be getting these back?” Mason asked. He dropped the keys in Frank’s hand.

  “Gun, too. No funny business or someone dies.” Frank bit his lower lip.

  Mason pulled his gun from the holster and put on the safety. He handed the gun to Frank.

  “When I get a phone call, you get the keys. Not before.” Frank looked at the ground. “You need to go to your room now.” Frank turned and walked into the room directly below room eighteen.

  Mason decided Frank was there to keep an eye on him. In a way, he was proud of his sister. She was clever. She’d have made a great detective. On the other hand, he wanted to kill her. She took two people he loved, and was now playing games with him.

  Mason walked up the stairs, entered room eighteen, turned on the light. He put the bag on the bed and sat next to it.

  Mason thought about Sophia and his dad. He was going to marry Sophia when this was over. He’d fly her to Las Vegas and find a little chapel. He would spend the rest of his life making her happy. Mason loved his dad, but his dad had lied so many times. He wasn’t sure their relationship could be repaired.

  Mason would kill Samantha if it became necessary. He felt bad he never got to know his sister. If she tried to hurt Sophia or his dad, she would die. He wouldn’t hesitate.

  Mason looked around the room. An alarm clock and light were on the nightstand. A small table and two chairs stood in front of the window. A small chest with a TV was across from the bed. An alcove held a countertop and sink. To the left of the sink, a small closet. To the right, the bathroom.

  Mason grabbed the backpack and took a hot shower. The water felt good even though the pressure was low. He put on jeans and a shirt, neatly folded his uniform, put it in the backpack. He would sleep fully clothed so he’d be ready to move at a moment’s notice.

  At ten-thirty, a knock. Someone pushed an envelope under the door. OFFICER PIERCE. He took a deep breath and opened it.

  TIME FOR SLEEP. TOMORROW WILL BE A BIG DAY. FAMILY SECRETS WILL BE REVEALED. SOMEONE WILL DIE.

  Someone will die. That meant Sophia and his dad were still alive. Samantha might be a killer. But she always told the truth.

  53 Thursday, March 13, 1980

  By six-thirty, Mason was up, pacing, peering out the window. At seven, he saw Frank.

  “Here’s breakfast. Hope you like sausage biscuits.”

  “Sure.” Mason scanned the parking lot as he took the bag from Frank. “No envelope. No keys,” he said sarcastically.

  “Not yet. Just breakfast.”

  “Well, you know where I’ll be.”

  Mason threw the bag in the trash. In its place, he ate a granola bar from his backpack.

  He turned on the TV and watched the morning news. The clock crawled. Mason kept imagining what Samantha was doing with Sophia and his dad. None of them were good thoughts.

  At nine-thirty, a knock. Mason expected Frank. Instead, a little girl. Looked about three.

  “My daddy says thank you for obeying the rules.” She held out her right hand and dangled the keys. In the left hand, an envelope.

  “Thank you, young lady.” The little girl turned and skipped down the aisle. Mason closed the door and opened the envelope.

  HAVE YOU DECIDED WHO LIVES AND WHO DIES? SEE YOU AT THE BARN.

  Mason grabbed the backpack and headed out the door. He sped out of the motel parking lot. He was sure he remembered how to get to the barn.

  Mason slowly drove in the driveway and parked the car so it was facing the road in case he needed to make a fast exit. He left the keys in the ignition, got out of the car. He saw the Tempo parked by the garage. He walked slowly to the barn door, surveying every inch of the farm as he walked.

  Mason opened the barn door. It was dark. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust.

  “Hello!” Mason yelled.

  “Come up to the loft and join the family,” Sam said.

  Sam tightened the ropes on her dad’s wrists. “Family secrets are hard to hide,” she whispered. “I wonder what Mason will think of the last family secret you’re going to tell him.”

  Walter jerked his head.

  “Now, now. Don’t move too much or you’ll hurt yourself. Or I’ll hurt you.” Sam devilishly smiled. “Either way, you’ll tell Mason the story about the last time you saw my mother. Your wife. Mason’s mother. I don’t think Mason will be very happy with you.” Sam gave a quiet, evil laugh.

  Mason climbed the ladder. Bales of hay stacked six high surrounded three sides of the opening. He walked around the bales of hay and that’s when he saw Sophia and Walter. He was terrified.<
br />
  “Why are you doing this?” Mason shouted.

  Sophia stood on a folding chair atop three bales of hay. Sophia’s hands were tied behind her back, her legs were tied together with twine, a noose around her neck. The rope ran over a beam in the ceiling, tied around Sam’s waist. Ten feet away, Walter was in the same situation. Sam stood on four bales of hay between Sophia and Walter, ten feet behind them. Sam held a gun in her hand. It was Mason’s service revolver.

  “You can stay right there,” Sam said. “Oh, just to let you know, big brother. If I should fall off this hay, then your precious Sophia and father will be hanged. You’ll probably be able to save one of them before they suffocate. If you think fast, that is.”

  “Just let me know what you want and leave Sophia and my dad out of this.”

  “My dad,” Sam laughed. “How about our dad?”

  “You’re right. Sorry. What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t want you to do anything. Just listen. Daddy has something he wants to tell you. Don’t you, daddy.” Sam pulled on the rope. Walter stood on his tiptoes.

  “Dad, be careful.” Mason’s heart was racing. “Just tell me. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”

  “Yeah, Dad. We wouldn’t want you to fall,” Sam chuckled.

  Walter cleared his throat. “I just wanted you to have a happy, normal childhood, Mason.”

  “Daddy didn’t care about his daughter.”

  “You were in Mason’s room in the middle of the night with a butcher knife. You were eight years old. You said you wanted to see him bleed. I had to get him away from you.”

  “I don’t believe you!” Sam screamed. “Now tell him the story about mom.” She pulled on the rope again.

  “I staged our deaths. Red helped. I had to get you away from your mother and sister. They were crazy. The only reason I married her was because she got pregnant. I told you that.”

  Walter stopped, cleared his throat again. “Red found a man and son hitchhiking and killed them. They were the two bodies found in the house that were supposed to be you and me. Red also got the social security numbers changed on the death certificates. You and I moved to Sheldon and started a new life. Two weeks went by and then your mother showed up on the doorstep. Best I can figure out is that she snuck into Red’s house and found a letter I’d written him. She was yelling at me. Said she’d kill me. That’s when I hit her. She fell on the coffee table. It was an accident. I drove out in the country and found a junk yard. I dug a deep hole and buried her.”