Night Wraith

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Night Wraith Page 13

by Christopher Fulbright


  “Did you get in touch with Ethan?”

  “Yeah, I caught up with the James kid before he headed to school. He agreed to come in for an interview.”

  Gavin nodded. His daughter had been pining for him to accept Ethan as her boyfriend for as long as they’d been dating, over a year now. As a cop he liked to think he had a knack for reading people, and the few times he’d met the kid, he seemed all right. He also knew Ethan was caregiver for his partially paralyzed mother, and had to break some dates with Carly because of it. That showed a lot of character and warmed Gavin to him a bit, but he was the first to admit that he wasn’t ready to get buddy-buddy and start calling him “son.” Still, he knew how much Carly cared for him, and it hurt him to think that Ethan might be involved with this somehow. Whatever this was.

  He looked up the stairs, expecting the Hill family to come down any minute, not really wanting them to overhear any part of this conversation.

  “I know Carly has been dating Ethan for a while now,” Oliver offered. “You want to be there when I question him?”

  Gavin considered it but then shook his head. “No, I’ll just make him nervous.”

  Oliver nodded.

  The trio of men turned their heads simultaneously as the door at the top of the stairs latched open, and the hinges squeaked. They could see the blurry shadows of three people against the wall of the landing. Their footsteps scuffed the concrete stairs before a nurse appeared on the landing, a man and woman behind her. The man was a foot taller than the woman, his face a haggard mix of anger and grief, shoulders broad like a power lifter. He had one arm wrapped around his wife, who huddled against him, sobbing quietly, slightly bent as if he shielded her from some invisible rain.

  The mostly impassive nurse managed a polite smile as she stopped on the landing and gestured that they should continue on down the stairs to where Ben, Oliver, and Gavin stood. As soon as the grieving parents made their way down the final flight of steps, the nurse left, steps echoing, door slamming up above like a submarine hatch.

  Ben and Oliver exchanged a look. Gavin stepped forward to greet them.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Hill?”

  The man nodded. The woman tried to control herself, but the closer to the morgue she got, the more she trembled.

  “I’m Chief Wagner. This is Sergeant Raines.” Oliver pressed his lips together in a non-smile. Gavin didn’t offer a handshake. From the way that Mr. Hill was holding his wife, it didn’t seem likely he’d take it, and he preferred to avoid that awkwardness altogether. Anyway, it wasn’t a goddamn job interview; they were coming to identify their son’s body. “Ben Jenkins here is the Teller County Medical Examiner. He’ll take you in.”

  Mr. Hill’s jaw muscles flexed and he appeared to be having trouble moving, or having trouble getting his wife to move. Maybe both. Ben withdrew his spectacles from the breast pocket of his smock and put them on. At the same time, he seemed to transform. Ben seemed to shed his hard nature like a shell, he softened with a sad smile that Gavin only saw at times like these and extended his hand to Mr. Hill.

  Brave of you, Ben, Gavin thought. But then again, he wasn’t the chief. He was in this with them, a guide who could come alongside them and help them through it, bearing no responsibility—real or perceived—for the death of their boy.

  Mr. Hill twisted awkwardly, letting go of his wife to receive the handshake. Gavin saw tears film the man’s eyes.

  “We don’t have to go in until you’re ready,” Ben said. He’d affected the consoling demeanor of a funeral director.

  Suddenly, Mrs. Hill gathered herself. She took a few shuddering deep breaths and used a mascara-stained handkerchief to dab perpetually crying eyes. Her puffy face regarded them in the cool hallway, probably beautiful under less ugly circumstances.

  “I’m ready,” she said. She raised her chin almost like a soldier coming to attention, and gripped her husband’s hand like it was the last tether to a world from which she was scared to drift away.

  Ben led them through the office and into the morgue.

  The smell of the finished coffee still wafted from the office. Gavin wandered in and poured two cupfuls, bringing one back out into the hall to Oliver.

  “Thank you,” the sergeant said. The heaviness of the parents’ emotion lingered like an uncomfortable chill in the hallway.

  Gavin took a sip of the coffee.

  “Oliver, this may sound a bit out of left field, but how long has it been since we checked around to see what happened with Davis Crowley?”

  “Crowley? The guy who disappeared after Beth died? Worked at the metaphysical place?”

  “Yeah, worked with Vanessa Maeveen before she shut the place down.”

  “I remember.”

  “How long has it been since we checked with Miss Maeveen to see if she’s seen him turn up?”

  Oliver shrugged and regarded Gavin with careful eyes over the rim of his steaming coffee cup. He took a drink. “It’s been over a year probably.” A lot was said by the way Oliver stood, the way the big man regarded his boss and friend.

  Probably since the last anniversary of Beth’s death, which was the last time I thought about this.

  But he gave himself more credit than that. Yes, he still wanted to know what happened to Crowley, wanted to know where the son of a bitch was, to question him thoroughly about what exactly he’d been doing to “treat” his wife before she killed herself. It would have been bad enough to have done so back then, but now, years of absence spoke volumes to Gavin about the man’s guilt, and though Beth’s depressions had been deep and crushing, he still blamed Crowley’s tampering with her treatments for the end result.

  “You thinking of going up to Washington Hill today, Chief?”

  “I think I’ve got a good excuse with the link between her and the dead kids since they apparently egged her house—or planned on it—before they ended up mutilated in a field.”

  “Getting egged isn’t exactly cause to mangle teenagers.”

  “Well, not for us anyway. Still, it’s a link, and if the McGrath kid says that’s where they were, then it’s possible she was the last person who saw them.”

  “If she saw anything at all. If, for that matter, she’s even there anymore. The place looks abandoned.”

  Gavin nodded. “Then again, it’s looked that way ever since they closed up shop there.”

  “True,” Oliver fished the last donut out of the box and took a bite. “Want me to go with you?”

  A grieved wailing that could only have been the sound of a mother who’d lost her child echoed from the morgue. The terrible sound settled around them, dissipated in the far corners of the corridor and drifted up the stairwell to God’s ears.

  “No,” Gavin said. He took the last drink of his coffee. “No. I’ll go alone.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Abi and Carly headed straight to Sutter’s Books and Coffee after school.

  The sun had been out all day and thawed most of the roads and sidewalks. It did a lot to cheer them up to see some blue sky and feel the warmth of the sun; school had been a somber event with news of the four guys from the football team dying in last night’s accident. Still, Carly thought Abi had the right idea about going to the coffee shop to finish their homework instead of going straight home. She knew it would be a while before Dad would be home, so finding a table in the café section of the store and doing espresso shots sounded like a fine idea. It wouldn’t help her forget the open-ended conversation she’d had with Ethan this morning, nor her worry that she hadn’t seen him anywhere in school the rest of the day, but it was something to do until he called her later tonight.

  Sutter’s Books and Coffee was in one of the historic buildings on Midland Avenue, right next to the Hungry Bear restaurant. Since it was just a five-minute walk from the high school campus into
downtown Carson Lake, it was pretty crowded with students this time of day, especially during the winter months.

  They went through the glass front doors, surrounded by the smells of fresh, stout coffee. The old building was big inside; the bookstore section was divided from the café by a half-wall. The bookstore side was renovated with carpeting and drywall, but this side, where the baristas worked, was a counter hearkening back to the pioneer days, when Carson Lake had been nothing but a lumber shipment stop for the railroad. The coffee shop had wood plank floors that announced a visitor’s presence with hollow thumping footsteps, and wooden pillars and stairs in back that had probably been there since the 1940s.

  They stared up at the chalkboard menu for a minute until the cute guy with sideburns took their order. Carly ordered a triple white chocolate mocha with an extra shot of espresso on the side, and Abi got a chai tea latte. They went into the bookstore and claimed one of the tables lined up against the half-wall. They dropped their backpacks, unloading books and Abi’s laptop.

  “Good God, I don’t think I could have spent another minute in that damn school today. Talk about grim.”

  Carly nodded, still preoccupied by thoughts of Ethan. But really, she had to admit she was generally ill at ease about everything. The murders, the accident, the strangeness at Abi’s last night with her dad, and now her growing suspicions about Ethan and Sadie. This on top of the usual pressure of school and the impending anniversary of her mother’s death ... she just didn’t feel well.

  “Girl, you look like crap.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What the heck is eating you, anyway? You’ve been weird since we got up this morning.”

  Carly swallowed her espresso shot and chased it with a drink of the white chocolate mocha. The sweetness of it was like a drug, bringing her a moment of euphoria that she enjoyed while it lasted.

  “Sorry, I guess it’s just been a rough week. And so much weird stuff going on at school, and the thing with Ethan this morning. I mean, good grief, couldn’t he have just told me whatever it was instead of leaving me in suspense like this? Come on, you know?”

  Abi shrugged, pulled her laptop out of her pack and opened it up. “Seemed like he didn’t want to talk in front of me.”

  “Yeah, and why? It doesn’t make any sense. It’s not like you’re some spy for the enemy camp or something. Like he doesn’t think anything he’s going to tell me I’m going to talk to you about anyway. You’re my best friend, for crying out loud.” Carly gave a frustrated sigh.

  “He’s a man, and all men know is that they have a prick, and they want to stick it in you.” Abi’s face was expressionless as she logged in to the bookstore’s Wi-Fi network and checked Facebook.

  The words hit Carly like a slug in the gut. The statement came from Abi so jaded, and yet other than a couple of short-lived summer flings, she hadn’t even had a boyfriend. A vision came to her, of Mr. Holman approaching her in the dark hall last night, grabbing her breast through the thin cotton of her nightshirt ... Abi, he’d said, reeking of liquor.

  He thought I was her. His own daughter.

  Still she still couldn’t bring herself to speak it aloud, didn’t know how to put this awful knowledge to words and drag it out into the open.

  “Oh, Abi, it’s not like that. Ethan’s different from them. I know he is. I just wish....” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence, so she let it die and shook her head. She’d just have to wait and talk to him tonight.

  Carly was digging through her backpack for her Algebra book when the sound of her phone went off saying she’d gotten a text message. Her heart leaped for joy. She scrambled for the phone, a smile already spreading across her face. It had to be him. A simple “luv U” maybe, or “thnkng of U.”

  “Whoa, don’t hurt yourself,” Abi said, pulling off her stocking cap and setting free her flow of black curly hair.

  “Shut up,” Carly said in jest.

  The screen of her phone glowed. The text there said “1 new message.” She selected Inbox, and looked at the list of messages there. The From field just had a phone number, so it wasn’t from anyone in her Contacts list. The truncated message preview said “Ethan and Sadie last n ...”

  Carly’s heart lodged in her throat. Something like dread tingled from her hollowing chest through the rest of her body. On the phone’s display, the little envelope icon had a paper clip next to it. A picture was attached. She paused, not wanting to open it, afraid of what she’d see. And yet a force stirred inside of her, prompting her to highlight the message and then press OK.

  The picture displayed. It was small enough she couldn’t make out a lot of detail, but it was big enough that she could see Sadie, all legs and smiles, on Ethan’s lap, and he didn’t exactly look to be fighting her off.

  “Oh my god.”

  “What is it?”

  “This can’t be real.”

  Abi stood and came to Carly’s side of the table, looking over her shoulder at the image. They shared a quiet moment before Abi said, “Send it to my e-mail address.”

  Carly did. A moment later they viewed the picture on the screen of Abi’s laptop and now there was no mistaking that it was real, and it was definitely Ethan and Sadie. The dark background of Shakee’s Pizza Parlor, Sadie in a skirt, her long bare legs all over Ethan, her head thrown back, blonde hair dangling, red lips and eyes shining like a laughing Marilyn Monroe. Ethan, looking more interested in what was happening with his hand, which was clearly all the way up Sadie’s skirt, thrust between her legs. Sadie’s hand was down there, too, as if she was reaching down to remove it, or maybe to help.

  “That bitch!” Carly’s face burned. Her jaws clenched. She began to breathe hard, but instead of exploding with more curses, her eyes filled with tears that stung, her nose tingling, and the last thing on which she focused before her vision blurred completely was the look on Ethan’s face in the picture—not exactly joyous, but the awestruck look of a boy who’s just met his hero and finds he’s more powerful than he ever imagined. No matter how ridiculous he looked, it was clear he wasn’t exactly fighting the urge to explore Sadie’s nether regions, and Carly felt the last remnant of hope that sustained her through this past week—her love for Ethan and her hope for their fairy-tale future together—was ruined.

  As the tears came, she felt her knees go weak. She tried to sit down and only caught the corner of the chair. Abi caught her just in time and helped her balance. Carly covered her face with her hands and let the tears come, sobbing, drawing the stares of two geeky guys who were hovering near the magazine stand leafing through an issue of Maxim.

  “Mind your own business,” Abi said with force, the tone of a someday mother. The boys’ heads snapped back to the pages of the magazine. Abi slid her arm around Carly and held her while she cried. She leaned against her friend, burying her face in Abi’s shoulder, smelling the scent of her laundry soap in the raspy sweater she wore today.

  “I’m sorry, Care-bear.”

  “Oh God, I can’t believe it.” Carly sobbed. And at the same time she felt ridiculous for letting herself come apart like this, but it wasn’t just this. It wasn’t just Ethan. It was everything—and this was the final straw. Still, despite the ache that now filled her, the crushing sadness as she remembered her and Ethan just a few nights ago and their promises in the dark, she managed to sit up and dry her eyes on the sleeve of her coat and control the flood. It still wanted to come, but through a sheer force of will, she pulled herself together to avoid being seen like this, here in the bookstore where so many other students frequently came. Later, she told herself, and she wished that she was there now, in her room, at her vanity, where she could talk to Mom’s picture and hold her favorite bear Jambi and just let it all out. And then to sit on the couch next to Dad, so they could hold onto each other, like they had so many times after Mom died, just them toge
ther on the couch, braced against the pain, braced against whatever else the cruel world might bring them.

  “You know,” Abi said, starting at the picture on her screen. “I hate to say it, but he doesn’t really look like he’s—”

  “Close it, Abi. Please.”

  “Okay.”

  Abi made the picture disappear.

  Carly gripped her mocha in both hands. She removed the top and stared down into the drink as if something she might see there could ease this pain. The betrayal cut too deep. With the receding tide of sadness, she felt her anger rise. She breathed heavily through her nose. She wanted to curse Ethan, and yet her heart still loved him and all she could think was why?

  She abruptly picked up her phone and held it in her hand, then opened the inbox and pressed the button to call the number from which the picture had been sent. It rang seven times before it went to voice mail, and a perky voice came on that sounded like the girl was smacking gum while she recorded her message.

  “It’s me, Christine, the girl of your dreams. Leave a message or get a clue. Laters!”

  Carly inhaled deeply, as if taking a breath before diving deep, but stopped herself just short of leaving a furious string of curses on the little bitch’s voice mail. She violently pressed the red button to end the call and held it in her hand, staring at it fiercely. Her hands went white where she gripped it.

  “Who was it?” Abi said.

  “Christine,” Carly said through clinched teeth.

  “Christine Gamin? She’s a friend of Sadie’s. One of the cheer-leaders.”

  Carly worked on breathing again. She struggled not to give in to her next impulse to call Ethan, knowing that he was with his mom and her new nurse, part of her not caring one damn bit. Focus. Relax.

  Abi shook her head and leaned back in her chair, studying Carly. “It’s time for Sadie’s curse, Carly.”

 

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