by Dan Alatorre
The white van drove off. The parking lot appeared normal.
Mallory eased the cart down the next aisle. Sophie grabbed miscellaneous items as they passed. Tomato paste, toothpaste—it didn’t matter, any colorful box or bag would do. The package merely needed to look pretty to Sophie. Mallory didn’t care. She robotically took each item her daughter offered to her, dropping them into the cart while doing her best to keep her eyes fixed on the windows at the front of the store.
Outside, the parking lot slowly descended into darkness.
“We need to go.” Mallory pushed the cart toward the checkout lanes. With one hand on the cart, she raised the other to her lips and bit her nails.
The cashier said something to her.
“Hmm?” Mallory tried to refocus on the lady.
“I asked if you were cold.” The cashier eyed Mallory’s hands. “You’re shaking.”
Mallory looked down at her quivering hands. She opened and closed them a few times to relax. It didn’t help.
As she handed the money to the cashier, their fingers brushed.
“Ooh! Like ice.” The lady smiled. “You need to warm up!”
Thanking her, Mallory pushed the cart over to the doorway and stared out through the glass into the dark lot. Overhead, the parking lot lights flickered to life in a dim, yellow-white glow.
A few customers walked between the rows of cars. No sign of the man who had been watching her.
She wrapped her arms around herself and clutched her purse as Sophie jumped on and off the side of the cart.
We’ll wait. We’ll wait, keys out, ready to run to our car as soon as somebody else leaves. We’ll walk out with them. He won’t try anything with other people around. Will he?
Pretending to look for her keys, Mallory rummaged in her purse until another customer finished checking out. Then she pushed her cart through the exit doors right behind them, following them onto the sidewalk and toward the lot.
Sophie squeezed her mother’s hand. “Look both ways!”
Her heart pounding, Mallory was doing a lot more than looking both ways. She looked every way.
They strode across the driving lane to the cars. She could see no sign of the crazy man. It didn’t matter. The lot had fewer cars than when they arrived, but there were still plenty of cars for someone to hide behind.
Ahead, her convertible stood under the light. The cars on both sides had left, as had the one in front of her. With no other vehicles around hers, the convertible now seemed eerily alone and vulnerable.
She swallowed hard.
Just get in as fast as you can
Juggling the cart, they car keys, and her daughter’s hand, Mallory approached the convertible’s trunk. “Stand by the door, sweetie.” Mallory checked in all directions. Sophie obeyed.
Across the lot, something caught her eye as it moved. Then a hard gust of wind blew, shutting her eyes against the dust it threw at them.
She looked again. There was nothing there.
“Okay, let’s go.” Mallory opened the passenger door. “Get up into your car seat and buckle yourself in. Mommy will come check in a minute.”
She peered over the car roof to re-check the lot.
Sophie playfully crawled into her seat. Mallory took a deep breath, gripping and regripping the keys. “Honey, let’s move quickly.”
Pressing the trunk release on the key fob, she stepped to the rear of the convertible and shoved aside a blanket and folding stroller to make room for the groceries. “How are we doing, baby?”
“Fine.”
Mallory loaded the bags and slammed the trunk lid.
There he was.
She jumped backward, gasping. The man was about five rows away, but his cold, hollow eyes pierced Mallory’s insides. He stared right at her, unflinching.
Mallory rushed to the driver door and threw it open, jumping in.
Keys. Where are my keys?
“Mommy, aren’t you going to buckle me in?” Sophie held up the unfastened seat belt. The passenger side door was wide open.
The man came toward them.
Stretching between the seats, Mallory fumbling for the child restraint straps.
Sophie grabbed the buckles. “I can do it!”
“Let me do it!” Mallory yanked the straps form her daughter’s hands. Twisting around to see, Mallory peered over her shoulder as the man moved closer. A wave of fear jolted through her. She shook her head. “No, no, no!”
A delivery van drove between them, momentarily blocking the man’s way. As soon as the big vehicle passed, he stepped towards Mallory’s convertible, increasing his speed with every stride.
She jerked away from the windshield with an audible groan, slapping at her pockets for the car keys. Shoving a hand into her jeans, she grabbed the keys and hauled them out, flipping through them to find the ignition key.
They slipped through her fingers onto the dark floor.
“Mommy!” Sophie held up the dangling buckles.
The man was almost to them.
She grabbed the keys and jammed them into the ignition, stomping the gas pedal. The engine roared to life. Slamming the transmission into drive, Mallory mashed the accelerator, lurching the car forward and causing the doors to slam shut.
She slapped the steering wheel, hand over hand, squealing the tires as the car raced through the lot. Without slowing, she swung the car sharply into the street.
“Mommy!” Sophie’s toys flew everywhere.
The convertible bounded into the traffic with a bang, slamming the undercarriage onto the crowned pavement of the street. Car horns blared as other drivers swerved to miss them. She pressed the gas pedal again to leap ahead of the oncoming cars, missing a sedan by inches. Then she immediately hit the brakes.
Red light.
She swung her head around as the smoke from her tires drifted past the windows. The store lot appeared vacant of any people. The man was gone.
Mallory reached back and buckled her crying daughter, then turned and gripped the steering wheel. Her eyes stared straight at the red light, her shoulders heaved with every rapid breath.
Cars pulled up next to them—regular traffic. Regular day.
She collapsed forward onto her hands, fighting back tears.
“Mommy, what’s wrong?”
She didn’t look. She couldn’t.
A car horn honked behind her, snapping her from her breakdown. Back to reality. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly drove off.
It was all she could do to keep the car in her own lane and move with the flow of traffic. She shook her head in silence. She wouldn’t be telling Doug about any of this.
They took the long way home. The very long way.
Mallory drove by the mall and Target, the Polo store—all without going in. Sophie eventually drifted off to sleep.
Even with wind gusts batting her car, she could not bring herself to go into any of the shops. She pulled into the parking lots, eyed the stores, and drove on.
Too dark. Too many trees. Too many other cars.
Not enough other cars.
After more than an hour of driving around, she gave up. Nothing could dispel the fear and paranoia gripping her insides.
It just wouldn’t go.
Chapter 24
I stared at the storage area in the back of my car and frowned, shaking my head.
I had no idea what to take to my meeting with Tyree tonight or the planned trip to Ybor City tomorrow night.
A flash light? A Bible?
A little of everything?
I had no clue. The Navigator was big, though, so even after I had loaded some stuff, it still looked empty. That made me feel even less prepared.
Mallory’s headlights lit up the garage as she came up the driveway. I shut the tailgate on the Navigator and waited for my girls to pull into the garage, debating what to tell my wife about my plans for the evening.
I didn’t get the chance. As my wife parked, I saw Sophi
e slumped over in the car seat, asleep. How kids can sleep in such awkward, uncomfortable positions is beyond me.
On nights when Sophie fell asleep close to dinner time, it was a coin toss as to whether or not to wake her up to feed her. Usually, we decided sleep was what her growing body needed at the moment, so we let her have what she needed.
I lifted my daughter out of the car seat and carried her off to bed. In the dim glow of the princess night light, a gentle tug removed each shoe, allowing me to tuck her under the pink Pooh blanket. Grabbing the proper stuffed animals, I arranged them next to her.
Brushing the hair from her face, I kissed her forehead. “Night, night, termite.”
Mallory came in behind me and slipped her hand into mine. We stood there, gazing at our beautiful sleeping daughter.
“I love her so much,” Mallory said.
I gave her hand a squeeze. Then we crept out of the room and eased the door shut behind us.
Like all parents, Mallory and I had long ago figured out how to eat dinner without waking a slumbering child. If Sophie was really down for the night—and it seemed like she was—a brass band wouldn’t wake her before morning. Still, we kept our voices low and tried not to make too much noise. Neither of us was too hungry, anyway. Whatever could be microwaved out of the fridge would be fine.
I clicked on the TV. The forecaster updated us on the path of the hurricane. The weather would get rough pretty soon, but we knew what to do. We’d been through hurricanes before.
From the sunken expression on my wife’s face, I could tell she was tired. The shopping trip didn’t lift her spirits the way I’d hoped.
She seemed to have something on her mind, but history had taught me to let her bring it up. I waited, poking at my food, while she poured a big glass of wine and sat down.
“So how was the shopping?”
Mallory took a long sip. “Don’t ask.”
“That bad, huh? Was Sophie misbehaving?”
“Sophie was great.” Mallory sighed. “I was a mess.”
There was a lot in that statement. I held my breath and waited.
“My mind is all caught up thinking about everything that’s happening. It’s ridiculous. It’s like I’m going crazy.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“You’re not going crazy.” I reached across the table and took her hand. “You’re overwhelmed. We both are. A lot of information has been shoved down our throats and we’re trying to figure it all—”
“I almost ran over a homeless guy at Alton’s because I thought he was an attacker!” Mallory threw her hands in the air. “He probably wanted some spare change.”
“No, no, that’s perfectly . . . okay, yeah. That’s crazy.”
She chuckled, wiping her eyes. “Don’t do that. This is serious.”
“Hit and run is pretty serious, too.”
“Stop.”
“Leaving the scene of an accident . . .”
She threw a piece of bread at me. We laughed.
“Look.” I set down my fork. “There’s a lot going on. People who find out that their kid is possessed or something, they—”
Mallory glared at me. “She is not possessed.”
“Right. She isn’t.” I took a deep breath and stared at my plate. “But whatever’s going on, if it’s, um, an exorcism or whatever, nobody is going to believe us. Nobody. Anybody who heard what we had to say would think we were insane, or under a lot of strain from work or something. But nobody would believe the truth. Would you?” I looked her in the eye. “A few weeks ago, if one of your friends had told you a story like this, what would you have thought?”
Mallory shook her head. “I’d say they were looney.”
“Yeah, so . . . I went to places I thought might not think that way. The church, for one.” I shifted on my seat. “And I found this guy on the internet . . .”
“The internet?” She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God.”
“I know, I know. It sounded bonkers to me, too . . .”
“What is it, a psychic?”
No that’s tomorrow in Ybor City.
“It’s just some guy, honey.” I swallowed, trying to think of a way to make it sound less ridiculous. “I think he used to be a priest. And I . . . I think he might be able to help us.”
“What makes you think that?”
It was a good question. I wasn’t a hundred percent certain what had switched me over from being skeptical to being open minded about Tyree.
But I couldn’t tell my wife that. Gazing at her puffy, red eyes, I knew she wanted a solution. She wanted to feel safe again.
“I talked to him on the phone and he seemed like a straight shooter. And he won’t take any money.”
She sat in silence, watching me with sad, blue eyes. Across the room, the weather forecasters rambled on about barometric pressure and categories of storms.
I leaned forward on my elbows. “It’s just one option, sweetie.”
Mallory took another sip of her wine. “Where are you meeting him?”
“Not here,” I said quickly. “He was across the state this morning when I called him. He offered to drive over, so I’m meeting him up off of highway 54, at the international beer garden place.”
“Ugh.” She set her glass down, pressing the stem between her fingers and causing the glass to turn. “Don’t drink too much.”
“I’m not going to drink at all. I don’t think he drinks, either. It’s an easy spot for him to find, and . . .”
She raised her eyebrows. “And?”
“And it wasn’t here at the house. I didn’t want to bring somebody like that here, a stranger from the internet. Not with everything that’s been going on.”
“How do you know if you can trust him, or if he’s—”
“I don’t. But I think I’m a pretty good judge of character. If he’s not a good guy, I think I’ll know. I’m only exploring options. In fact . . .” I turned around and squinted at the clock on the oven. “I should get ready. He’s going to call when he gets off the interstate. That’ll be any time now.”
She stood up and walked around the table. I thought she was going for more wine, but she slid her arms around me and laid her head on my shoulder. “Be careful.”
“I will.” I nodded, stroking her arm. “Look, you can go on to bed whenever. I’ll call or text as soon as I’m through talking with him, if you want. The bar is a public place. There will be lots of people around.”
It didn’t sit well, I could tell. I squeezed her. “Nothing’s gonna happen.”
“I’m nervous about you meeting this stranger. And I’m nervous about not meeting him.” She sighed. “But I’m more worried about what happens if we don’t start doing something.”
“Do you want to call your mother and go over there?” I asked.
She was quiet for a moment.
“No.”
It would have been an admission of weakness of some sort. Strength was what was needed right now.
I leaned back to look in her eyes. “Okay, then?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
I kissed her, then I checked the time again. Whatever additional preparations I needed to do, I should start doing them. I got up from the table and headed out of the room.
“I just want our old life back.” Mallory’s voice quivered. I turned to see her standing, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other wiping her eye. “Our plain, boring life.”
“I know, honey.” I went over and gave her a hug. “We’ll get there.”
I went to my computer and typed a short note while Mallory went upstairs.
Meeting a man called John Tyrone Reed at the international beer house on highway 54. If anything goes wrong, here is his contact information.
I left the document open on the screen. Mallory wouldn’t normally go into my office and use my computer, but if something happened to me, this is what she needed to know.
I wondered what, if anything, I should tell her about my plans to go down to Yb
or City tomorrow. If she was concerned about this plan, she definitely wouldn’t like that one.
My cell phone rang. It was Tyree calling.
I went to say goodbye, but she was already in bed. The cell phone screen cast enough light to see she’d crawled into bed with all her clothes on, pulling a sheet over herself and laying on her side facing away from the door.
I pulled the bedroom door shut and stood in the hallway, deciding not to bother her. She’d had enough for one night. I slid my phone back into my pocket and reached for the handrail.
Through the door came the muffled sounds of sobbing.
Chapter 25
I immediately regretted my decision.
I pulled up to the beer house, but the TV meteorologist had been right. No rain. Barely even any wind. Unusual for a tropical storm, but that’s how they are—unpredictable—and the break in the rain drew the bar patrons out in force. The street side parking was all taken. The side lot was full, too.
I knew there would be plenty of open spaces in back, so I pulled around and parked.
That part of highway 54 was all new construction, so the bar was surrounded by a restaurant and some offices, none of which had been there two years ago. The rear lot had a few overhead lights, and an open view across an undeveloped patch of ground that would be a bank or dry cleaner. Beyond that stood a Hilton that was fairly busy, but overall the back lot was a dark middle ground.
I got out to stretch my legs while I waited for Tyree.
Sometimes, a thing will just look out of place. The self-defense lectures taught by off duty cops will tell you to pay attention to those things. Be aware of your surroundings. Things like that.
But I wasn’t a cop. I wasn’t a tough guy. I was a regular guy who was already out of his comfort zone by being in a dark parking lot late at night.
I paid attention when we took those security awareness training classes at work. Enough light reached me from the distant street pole to barely make out a couple of guys in the shadows standing next to a blue Mustang. It was a warm night, but one guy was in a long sleeve flannel shirt and a stocking cap. The other wore jeans and a white muscle T-shirt that showed off his thick arms. There may have been somebody in the back seat. They had the hood up on the car, and they kept walking back and forth to look at the motor. In the dark.