The Tutor

by K Larsen

  I step off the bus and stretch. The air is humid but comfortable. I feel a little unsteady as I look around. Almost three months is beginning to seem longer than I initially thought and it’s only been a bus ride.

  “Nora,” Holden’s voice is deep and authoritative. His green eyes pierce mine when they connect. I walk to where he waits. His smile is broad and easy. He takes my backpack from me and puts it in the truck before he opens my door and helps me up. He tells me about how the ranch came into his family as we drive. He says he has a brother that wanted nothing to do with the land and hasn’t visited since his parents passed away years ago.

  Lastly, he tells me about Eve. His ex-girlfriend. About how she snuck off in the night without the decency of saying goodbye to him or Lotte. The drive takes us out of Pocketville, up a twisty dirt road. Twice we stop. Each time at a locked gate with a no trespassing sign attached to it. I watch as Holden pops out of the truck at each one and unlocks the gate, pulls us through, then hops out again to lock it behind us. I feel uneasy at the locked gates. There is no one out here, no neighbors I’ve been able to see from the road or even other driveways. There’s no reason to need locked gates.

  “Lotte is excited to meet you,” he says before grinning at me.

  “I’m excited, too. I brought her a gift.” I jam my hands between my legs, unsure what to do with them. Small talk isn’t my forte.

  “What kind of gift?”

  “Some books I read when I was her age.”

  Holden grins so big, his teeth show. They’re white but not perfectly straight. It gives him character. “She will love that. I don’t bring home enough books for her.”

  “Great. Maybe when we head into Pocketville, I can pick some out for her to read over the rest of the summer.” Holden reaches over and pats my knee while still wearing a big grin.

  “She is going to be over the moon.” I stifle my urge to flinch at the contact. His hand lingers only a moment before he removes it and I shift in my seat toward the window slightly. Holden pulls over at the crest of a gorge. He jumps out of the truck, grunting for me to do the same. I follow his lead. He stops at the edge of the cliff. We’re surrounded by a forest of evergreens, and I hear water rushing in the distance. The big, open sky in front of us at the gorge shows miles upon miles of endless forest, valleys roll all the way down to a turquoise lake to the north. We were at least fifty miles out of Pocketville. The terrain this far was rough but manageable in his truck at a slow speed. How much further out could his house be? “I have nearly two thousand acres,” he says. I look from the land before me to him. “It can be isolating, remote, even, but look at all that beauty.” I nod in agreement, despite a sudden surge of nerves rushing my bloodstream. A sigh escapes me and Holden looks at me.

  “Don’t worry, Nora. All you have to do is help Lotte with her lessons and maybe help out with a meal once in a while.”

  I force a small smile. “Oh, I know,” I say. The way Holden looks me over makes my belly heat. I feel a blush creep up from my chest but Holden looks away and makes his way back to the truck, so I follow. The air feels different here. More peaceful, quiet. The clouds shift. I shield my eyes from the sudden brightness of the sun. Maybe here, in the fresh air, nestled in the trees, things will be better for me. I can heal and move forward.

  We drive another twenty minutes. Holden whistles nonsensical tunes as we go. We drive slowly over a terrifying suspension bridge. My knuckles turn white from squeezing the door handle so tightly. Holden laughs at me and says the bridge is just fine. We pull into a clearing a moment later. The house is a cabin and is rustic at best. He puts the truck in park and gets out. I sit for a moment and stare at my home for the next few months.

  Holden opens my door. Helps me down from his truck, and my feet crunch on gravel as they land. His eyes slide up every inch of me. It sets my soul on fire in a way I’ve never experienced before. He releases my hand and runs his through his long hair. A young girl runs at me. She is all smile and big doe eyes. Long hair streams out behind her as she runs.

  “Hi! I’m Lotte! You must be Nora!” Everything she says is punctuated with enthusiasm. She grabs my hand and tugs. I look to Holden and he laughs. It’s a full laugh. Manly. Baritone. I can almost feel it. I take that as a cue to follow young Lotte. “I am so excited you’re here.”

  “Me too,” I say. She pulls me onto the rickety farmer’s porch, then into the house. At the back of the one long room are two doors. Lotte tells me that’s her room and Holden’s while pointing at each. My room is off the front porch. I think maybe it was a woodshed at one point, since there is no interior door to it in the cabin. There is no electricity. Gas lamps and a woodstove provide heat and light. There is a well with a big cast iron handle attached to it for hand pumped water. There is no plumbing. Unease takes root in my belly but I remind myself that I knew some of this. That Holden had explained to me that they lived off the land.

  Lotte pulls me by the hand to meet Dee the cow. “I named her,” she says. Next I meet the three goats, four pigs and an assortment of chickens running loose on the property. “Did you name all them, too?” I ask after she’s properly introduced me to them.

  Lotte shakes her head. “No, Eve named some of them. And some had names before.”

  “I see. Do you miss Eve?”

  Lotte’s eyes dart around nervously. “Shh,” she says. “We’re not supposed to talk about her. He doesn’t like it.”

  “Who doesn’t like it?”

  “Holden.” Her voice is so quiet, I have to lean in to hear her.

  “Oh. Okay,” I answer but I don’t feel like it is okay. I think it is strange the way Lotte’s eyes look scared at the mention of Eve’s name.

  “Let’s go back to the house,” she says, while reaching out for my hand. I take her hand and let her lead the way.

  When we get to my room, I stop short in the doorway. Holden is laying out my belongings on the bed. “Hey, beautiful, hope you don’t mind.” He calls me beautiful like it’s my name. I do mind but I say nothing. He’s just being helpful, I tell myself.

  “Lotte, why don’t you come with me. Let’s let Nora get settled before dinner.” Lotte pouts but follows direction. When Holden passes me on his way out, his shoulder brushes mine. Bare skin on bare skin. His skin is as smooth and as cool as his voice. There is something about Holden, some kind of electricity I’ve never experienced before.

  I shut the door to my room and look around. The walls are more like wooden slats. Bits of light leak in from the slits and knotty holes between boards. I set my clothes in the three drawers of the basic dresser. I stack my books next to the bed and I set the picture of my parents on the nightstand. I brush my finger over their smiling faces and send up a silent prayer that being here is exactly what I need right now.

  Nora

  “That’s a start,” Agent Brown muses. I look to her.

  “Why are the Feds really on this case?” I ask.

  Agent Brown assesses me for a moment. No doubt deciding if I can handle the truth. “Four teenage girls were taken. Two presumed dead. The media dubbed the perp ‘The Tutor’ after the second girl was reported missing and they caught wind of it.”

  I wrinkle my brow. “I never heard about that.”

  “I recall it vaguely,” Salve says. He’s back with more bottles of water.

  “The first two girls lived hours north of Pocketville. You and Eve are both hours south. It’s a big state. He switched up where he ran his ads after the news ran with the story. Targeted a different location,” Agent Brown says.

  “Why weren’t you monitoring all the states’ tutoring ads?”

  “He doesn’t run them in the major papers. Only the town or community papers. Do you know how many of those there are? We did look for them in all the areas surrounding Pocketville within an hour’s drive, but we didn’t expand our search this far south. And quite frankly, they were missing. We didn’t have any information to go on to lead us anywhere. However, now, with
you and Eve—all having responded to the same classified ad, we’re looking at a serial killer.”

  I stiffen. “He is not a serial killer.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

  “Then what would you call him?” Agent Brown cocks her head at me.

  I mull it over, biding my time, because I don’t know what I would call Holden. “I guess, a serial abductor,” I say on a shrug.

  “You think you would have lived?”

  “If I didn’t do anything wrong, yes.” Agent Brown cringes and shoots me a look full of pity which makes my blood boil. “Don’t do that,” I snap. “Holden is a lot of things but he didn’t enjoy killing. If anything, he wanted someone to love. Someone who’d love him, however they could.”

  Agent Brown looks at Salve. “We need to get a psychologist in here, stat.”

  I wave my hands in the air to get their attention. “Hey,” I say, “I’m not crazy. I lived with him for the past nine months. But if Lotte is Eve’s sister, why did he put an ad in the paper for a tutor? It was just him alone.” At this I feel good. Like maybe I have them stumped.

  “We suspect he wasn’t alone.” At her words, dawning strikes. That clicking sensation returns. Click.

  “Laura,” I breathe.

  Agent Brown nods her head. “Yes, Eve knew Laura. I expect the two of you will have plenty to talk about when you meet.”

  Eve

  Mint chapstick, cigarettes, and three nickels.

  That’s all I have. It’s a shame because I’m standing on the corner of who-knows-where and fuck-my-life in torrential rain. An hour ago, I was dry, warm and had an arsenal of things. A cell, a lighter for aforementioned butts, a purse containing a litany of useless items, but mine nonetheless. I even had cash.

  I’ve learned life is a funny thing. It’s frigid and I wrap my arms around my body to keep my heat. Agent Brown called me a little over an hour ago. ‘Possible lead, Pocketville Hospital,’ she said. I’d stood so fast, I knocked the waitress’s tray out of her arms. In the commotion of glasses breaking and food flying, I’d fumbled my cell. It practically leaped from my shaking hands directly into a glass of soda. So much for that. I’d like to say I was mugged or perhaps kicked out of somewhere—anywhere, but I wasn’t.

  I was stupid. I yelled at the waitress in frustration, told her the money in my purse would cover my meal and ran out of the restaurant. I was approximately thirty minutes from the hospital, which meant thirty minutes from Charlotte—maybe.

  I started jogging. The sidewalks made it hard. Patches of ice and sleet puddles made me slip more than once. I stopped to look around and realized, in my frenzy, I was nowhere near where I thought I was.

  I glance at the dark sky and curse the day I was born. Tears threaten to fall but I will them away. I haven’t survived this long to break down now. I will not give up hope. I walk another block until I see a street I recognize, gain my bearings and push forward. Charlotte’s smile in my mind, urges me on. I can almost hear her laughing at me. Teasing me about going in the wrong direction. Chastising me for leaving her for so long on her own.

  Quick staccato footsteps carry me toward the hospital. I will wrap my arms around her and never let go. I will smell her hair. I will hear her heartbeat. I will fix her if she needs it.

  That’s what family does.

  Agent Brown

  “Eve? Are you there?” I pull my phone from my ear to check the screen. The line’s dead. I sigh and tuck my cell into my pocket. She is a rash one. If she had stayed on the line long enough, I would have told her Charlotte is still missing but now she is probably on her way to the hospital full of hope. I shake my head and suck in a deep breath. Since the day she surfaced, she’s made it her life’s work to wear down law enforcement until she finds her sister. I don’t blame her but the information she was able to give, gave little to go on. It’s been over a year since she escaped and we’re no closer to finding Charlotte. The Tutor is a ghost. He doesn’t exist. One of those off-grid, hill people. I pinch the bridge of my nose to ward off the headache I feel coming.

  I tried to send Eve home months ago but she refuses to leave Pocketville. She works a part time job and rents a hotel room by the week. Can’t blame her though. She’s nothing if not persistent.

  Eve

  What’s taking so long? I stare fervently down the faintly lit corridor. Waiting. For the shadow. Certain he’s coming. It can’t be this easy. Twenty-four hours after I woke, I was not chatting with detectives. I wasn’t chatting with anyone. My windpipe was nearly crushed, preventing me from speaking. I wrote on a whiteboard—well—scrawled. My fingers were bandaged and swollen as I tried to convey what happened.

  But that was then. That was before. Now there is a real chance. A lead. Something to go on. I had escaped but I had also nearly died of exposure after days of hiding in the woods and slowly moving in the direction of town. Only when it was safe. Only when I couldn’t hear him. Or at least the direction I thought town was. A hiker found me passed out. When I woke, I was in the Pocketville Hospital.

  That girl knows where my sister is. She knows it and Salve—per usual—is just wasting time. I went above him finally, after months of nothing, to the FBI. There’s a little girl with that monster, for Christ’s sake. Instinct tells me to run, run, run. Every day, all day. But my heart screams for my sister. I thought I could escape-without her- so that I could get help. Save us both. I couldn’t escape with her. I couldn’t guarantee success and if it came down to one of us dying, it was going to be me. I was no good to her dead and that was decidedly the direction my life was headed. I left to save her. But there is no trace. The mountain roads too treacherous to travel now. Drones show nothing lurking under the thick canopy of trees. I know what happened. I know he’s out there. I know my sister and I survived out there. The cabin exists. But there is no proof.

  My foot taps the floor nervously. The smell is so strong in here, it feels physical, like I can touch it. I hate hospitals. Is my sister okay? Is she even alive? Questions pummel me and I need answers. I need to talk to the woman. With trepidation, I stand and cross the hallway.

  “Can I help you with something?” I whirl around. An orderly. His eyes take stock of my forearms. I pull my sleeves back down.

  “Nope.” I crack my neck as he walks by. I think of Holden. Of how he looked so very ordinary but he felt like a tangled mess of shadows. My forearms are riddled with scars from him. Permanent rope burn on my wrists. Twig like scars from small, well placed cuts. His domineering emerald eyes glaring at me.

  A door cracks open down the hall. My head snaps in the direction of the sound.

  Nora

  I do not like waiting and I do not like being pressured into speaking. It is no one’s business what happened to me and my story will not help Charlotte. Holden is not stupid enough to remain at the cabin and I don’t know where else he would go—except to find me or the Clarks. I am scared to meet this other woman. Holden did not speak of her fondly and I did not think about what his life was like before me. Denial is a magical thing.

  Agent Brown saunters into the room. I don’t think I like her but I also don’t trust Salve. I need someone to help.

  “Is she here?” I ask. A single bead of sweat trickles down Salve’s throat and into the open neck of his white shirt. I watch as his hand absently tries to wipe it away. He must be under a lot of pressure because it is chilly in this room and yet he sweats. Maybe he is nervous. I cock my head as I watch him.

  “She’s outside.”

  I am not up for this yet. My heart pounds. Sweat forms at the nape of my neck. His other woman is here. Waiting. To see me. What am I to tell her? I am better than this. I am strong. Holden would want her to be punished. I cross my arms over my chest and swallow past the knot in my throat. “Bring her in.”

  Did he love her? Did she love him? I want the comfort of Holden’s arms in this moment. I want his guidance on how to behave and what to say. It is a sick, twisted thing but that does not
matter. It is simply how I feel.

  Him

  It took two hours to trudge back to the cabin. The girl and I both are sopping wet and chilled to the marrow. I toss her from my shoulder onto her bed. She barely makes a squeak.

  “Lotte,” I say.

  Nothing.

  “Lotte,” I demand. She groans, her little face tinged a deep pink. I tug off her boots, followed by her clothes. Her small fingernails claw at me feebly. When she’s in only her underwear, I grab the blanket from the chair and add it to her comforter over her. Checking her over, there are a few spots that look like mild frostbite but they should heal. She will live.

  In the main room, I build a fire. When it’s blazing, I strip and sit in front of the flames, while wringing out my hair.

  The first night she was here, when she lifted her tank top to change for bed, in the moment before her red hair fell over her body like a cloak, I saw them, all of them, and I sucked my breath in hard. Freckles, perfect and varying in size, peppered her milk white skin. I wanted to trace them. Connect them. Make her skin mine. To make it art. She half turned and in the lamp light, her nipples, brown and pert, called to me but I couldn’t do a damn thing about it but watch.

  Eve

  I rush through the doorframe at Salve’s urging, but I’m not prepared for what I see. The girl before me is marked. Marked more than I am. Her leg is in a cast. Her hair is chopped short. She’s pale. Thin. Her arms are too thin. Her eyes sunken in—lifeless. She looks like a walking corpse.