I grabbed her arm, preventing her from lying down. “Mom, I’m not kidding. This wasn’t a dream.”
Mom nodded, but her eyelids were starting to droop. “You have school in the morning. Don’t let your nightmares get you this worked up. Come on, go back to sleep.”
Shaking her until her eyes opened again, I blurted out, “I called the police!”
That got her attention. Mom’s eyes snapped open and she sat up straight as a pole. “You did what?” she asked, staring directly into my eyes.
“I called the police,” I answered, this time my words coming out a lot less confident considering her reaction. “They’ll be here any minute.”
Mom pushed the covers back and got out of bed. I watched her as she bristled around the room, changing out of her nightgown and into a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. As she riffled through her drawers and dug through her closet to change, she lectured me on responsible decisions and how I should have talked to her first, along with how I had some explaining to do. When she was dressed, she took my hand like I was a child and stared into my eyes, waiting for me to explain.
“I saw David burying a body.”
Mom froze, her light brown eyes wide. “You, what?” Now she was listening.
“He was burying a body in his backyard. I saw him. I’m not making this up,” I urged.
Her gaze swept over my face before she enveloped me in a tight hug.
“You believe me right?” I asked as I hugged her back tightly. I was on the verge of tears. My emotions were swirling around inside of me, and for some reason hugging my mom made them even more intense. Mom hugs did that to you.
“I believe you, sweetheart,” she answered in my ear. When she pulled away she said, “Come on, let’s go downstairs and wait for the police to arrive and you can explain to me exactly what you saw.”
I nodded, and proceeded to follow her out into the hallway and down into the living room. I was just happy that she believed me. I don’t know why I ever doubted she would. She was my mom after all.
Together we took a seat on the couch and I proceeded to explain to her how I had been reading before I looked out the window. Then I told her exactly what I’d seen; not excluding or overlooking any small details. My story was short, and by the time I finished, the red and blue lights of a police car were clear through the thin curtains that shielded our living room windows.
Mom stood and went to look outside. “I’m going to stand on the porch, you stay in here,” she instructed as she headed toward the front door, slipping on a pair of shoes from our shoe rack before exiting the house.
As soon as she was gone, I ran to the side window, looking out as two police officers stealthily crept around the side of David’s house. They unlatched the fence, walking slowly and looking at everything as they entered the backyard. I watched them until they were out of sight, and then I ran to the back of the house, going to the kitchen window to get a better view. One officer shone a flashlight on the ground, most likely searching for the burial site, while the other continued around the perimeter of the house. I watched their every movement, wondering what they were going to find. I felt giddy as excitement bubbled up inside of me. This was it. They were going to catch David, lock him in prison, and throw away the key after they found the body. The body would link him to the other disappearances and murders thanks to his signature ‘branding’ and maybe he would be tried right here in Pennsylvania, getting sentenced with the death penalty. Then maybe all of the girls he harmed would finally get justice.
The officer who was searching the ground finished going over the backyard and I wondered why he hadn’t stopped to examine anything. Instead, he exited the backyard, heading back toward the front. I took off running, headed back to the living room window. There I could see that the officers were knocking on David’s door. After a few minutes, the porch light flickered on, and David opened the door. I didn’t know what was being said, but after a moment the officers entered David’s house and I had to actively resist the urge to jump up and down in excitement. They were going to search his house and find out exactly who he really was.
I sat on the arm of the couch, pressing my forehead against the window as I watched the house. I couldn’t see anything, yet I couldn’t peel my eyes away. It seemed like time was dragging on for forever as I stared out the window, wondering what the heck was going on inside of that little house. I pictured the police coming across the pictures of the girls and then tackling David to the ground. In my mind, one of the officers read David his rights while the other pinned him down and cuffed him.
Finally, the house door opened again and the police exited, waving to David. My heart dropped into the pit of stomach as the officers got into their car, turned off the lights, and pulled out. When I realized they were heading to my house, my eyes grew so wide they nearly fell out of their sockets.
It wasn’t long until my mom entered the house, followed by the two policemen. “Claire, these nice officers would like to have a word with you about what you saw.”
Mom walked into the living room, taking a seat next to me and gesturing for the officers to sit as well. One of them, obviously the younger of the two with a headful of shiny, black hair and a clean-shaven face, took a seat, while the older, gray haired officer, remained standing.
“Claire, I’m Officer Archer, and this is my partner, Officer Dixon,” the older officer spoke, introducing himself and his partner.
I nodded, not knowing what to say. Am I in some sort of trouble? I thought, biting my lip and staring at the pair with wide eyes. Did David tell them that I broke into his house?
Officer Dixon clasped his hands together and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Calling 911 is a big deal, Claire. We take every call very seriously. When we come for a false alarm that means that we aren’t out helping someone who may actually need us. Do you understand?”
I frowned, looking between both officers. Then I shook my head. “Honestly, I don’t understand. This wasn’t a false alarm,” I replied, my words coming out slowly. Officer Archer shifted his weight from one leg to the other and my eyes zeroed in on the gun in his holster. I gulped, before averting my gaze to the ground.
“In your call you stated that you saw your neighbor, Mr. Greer, ‘burying a dead body in his backyard’, is that correct?” Officer Dixon asked, looking down at a sheet of paper he was holding.
I nodded my head in response.
“A thorough search of Mr. Greer’s property showed that the dirt in his backyard was undisturbed. After our search, we knocked on Mr. Greer’s door who assured us that he was asleep at the time of the call. Just to be sure, we asked to have a look around, to which we didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.” Officer Archer crossed his arms over his chest after he finished speaking. A frown curved his lips downward and creased his brow. “Are you sure you saw what you claim to have witnessed?”
“I know what I saw,” I answered, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t claim to have witnessed anything. I did witness something.” They don’t believe me, I realized.
Mom patted my thigh. “Claire woke up a little startled from a bad dream not long before she called. Maybe she didn’t realize that her dream wasn’t reality,” my mom supplied, looking from me to the officers.
My mouth dropped open at her words. She didn’t believe me either. “That’s not true,” I countered. “I know what I saw,” I repeated for their benefit. Either they weren’t hearing me or they weren’t listening.
Officer Archer’s gaze met mine. “Was Mr. Greer in your nightmare?” He raised a caterpillar-like, gray eyebrow at me in questioning. The way his voice rose in pitch when he asked his question made his skepticism even more evident, if that was even possible.
My frown deepened, and I almost shook my head no in anger to prove that they didn’t have a point, but then I nodded, and said, “Yes.” Was it possible I had been dreaming again? It had felt so real, but so had my dream from earlier in
the night.
The two officers shared a knowing look at my response. I wanted to slap them—scream that I was right and they were wrong—but that would do more harm than good.
I stood up quickly; ignoring the accusatory way the officers and my mom were watching me as I walked into the foyer. I pretended like I was going up the stairs, but then I turned toward the door, flung it open, and ran out into the night.
I ran a fast as my legs could carry me. I heard my mom’s voice shout from behind me, but I was already nearing David’s porch. I banged on the door, happy when it opened soon after. David stood there, shirtless and only wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. A glance behind me showed that the officers were running up the pathway. I shoved past David, ignoring the chill that went through me when my elbow made contact with his chest. I knew where I was headed.
The officers must not have checked the basement. I hurried to the door in the kitchen that led to the lower level, not even having time to get over my fears as I twisted the knob and yanked the door open. I was so extremely grateful that it was unlocked this time. I flicked the switch on the wall and pounded down the wooden steps. The overpowering stench of mold and mildew smacked me in the face as I descended.
When I reached the concrete floor at the bottom of the stairs I called out, “Holly?” as I spun around, taking everything in. My gaze flitted from the rickety wooden shelves against the concrete walls, to the stack of rusty paint cans in the corner, and then to the water stains on the ground. The basement was gloomy and unfinished. It wasn’t what I had expected to see at all.
Officer Archer and Officer Dixon hurried down the stairs after me. Now both of them looked livid.
“Where is she?” I yelled up the stairs to David who stood at the top of the steps with my mom. Her expression rivaled the ones of the officers. “Where is your daughter?” I rephrased.
“She stayed at a friends house for the night,” David answered smoothly. I had to admit, he was good.
“Claire, get up here this instant,” Mom demanded, pointed her finger at the ground.
Taking one final look around, I pouted and began to ascend the stairs, followed by the two officers. They hadn’t found a dead body and didn’t see any signs of someone digging, so I had jumped to the conclusion that Holly was still alive and was being held captive in the basement. None of this made any sense. Where the heck is she?
At the top of the steps, Mom grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the door. Before we exited the house, she came to a stop. “Apologize to David for your behavior,” she demanded.
I glared up at David, who looked uncharacteristically smug.
“I’m waiting,” Mom said.
I frowned, but mumbled, “I’m sorry, David.”
He nodded. Not an ounce of emotion reached his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It can be hard accepting new people into your life. I understand.” His gaze continued to bore into mine until my mom placed her hands on my shoulders and began to steer me away. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then his soul is cold and dead, I found myself thinking, remembering the intensity of his stare and the emptiness in his eyes.
I hung my head in shame as the police officers and my mom escorted me out of the house. I felt the weight of David’s stare on my back as we walked down his pathway. It was like déjà vu from the day we welcomed him to the neighborhood—the day we welcomed a killer into our lives.
Chapter Sixteen
Suspicion
Despite everything that happened the night before, I still had to go to school in the morning. I went through the tasks of getting ready for my day like a mindless zombie, not even thinking about what I was doing as I did it. After we got home last night the police and my mom gave me a stern talking to for my behavior. I was now the girl who cried wolf, and the police even went so far as to insist that my mom contacted someone for me to talk to about my bad dreams before my bad behavior escalated. As soon as the officers left, my mom was on her phone preparing an email to send to Adrianna’s mom, Mrs. Rodriguez, about setting up a therapy appointment whenever she had an available time slot.
Afterwards, Mom went back to sleep trying to get as much rest as she could before she had to get ready for work, while I laid awake staring up at the ceiling. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I saw or at least what I thought I saw. Maybe everyone was right and I was just hallucinating from my lack of sleep. Maybe I had fallen asleep while reading my book and had dreamt that I saw David in his backyard. No matter how much I thought about it, it just didn’t add up.
When Mom’s alarm trilled, merely an hour after we had lain down, she groaned and then got up to get ready for work. I followed suit even though I usually slept for another half hour. Instead I showered, sitting under a jet of hot water. The water soaked through my hair, only serving to make the inside of my head foggier. I almost fell asleep in the shower, but Mom banged on the door telling me to hurry if I wanted a ride to school. Standing on shaky legs, I switched the water off and stepped out of the shower. Once I had dried off and gotten dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a crew neck sweatshirt, I tackled my hair. I brushed it up into a neat ponytail, letting the curls hang loose in the back since I didn’t have time to do anything else.
Then I grabbed my backpack, slipped on some shoes, and grabbed a cereal bar before heading out to join Mom. The ride to school was silent, and I had a feeling there was something Mom wanted to say, but she didn’t. As we pulled to a stop in the Kiss and Ride line, she reached over to pat my hand.
“Have a good day at school, sweetie,” was all she said before I climbed out, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and heading into school for the day.
The hallways were loud which I was grateful for, because the noise kept me from falling asleep as I walked from class to class. It also made it harder to think. I was so focused on what was happening around me that I didn’t have time to worry about anything else. The hard part of the day was trying to stay awake in each class. It was like my teachers had all gotten together and decided that all of their lesson plans for the day had to be extremely boring. In math I was so bored out of my mind that I actually thought watching lettuce grow would be more interesting.
When lunchtime finally rolled around, my brain felt like one big puddle of mush. I grabbed a water bottle and a pink Styrofoam tray before getting in line. After filling my tray with a slice of pizza, a bag of chips, and a small container of sliced apples, I paid for my lunch and went to my usual table. Adrianna was sitting at the end of the table eating a bag of Skittles. Placing my tray on the table, I slid in across from her.
“Hey,” she said with a smile, her mouth full of candy. She reached up and pulled at the dyed section of her hair, which was now a vibrant purple. “What do you think?” she asked, scrunching up her nose and furrowing her eyebrows as she asked.
“It’s nice,” I answered, twisting the cap off of my water bottle and taking a long gulp.
Adrianna’s face dropped, and her shoulders hunched forward. “I hate it too,” she groaned. She hastily tucked the strand behind her ear, pouting profusely. “I should’ve stuck with pink, but my mom was all, “Don’t you want to try something different?” like a pink stripe in my hair wasn’t already unique enough.” She poured a handful of Skittles into her hand and then angrily shoved them into her mouth. She pouted as she chewed.
A deep yawn escaped as I recapped my water bottle. “No, I actually think it looks nice, Ade,” I said truthfully. “You’re so pretty you could pull off any color.”
Adrianna raised a shapely eyebrow. “Even vomit green?” she questioned, looking disgusted at the mere thought of having green hair.
I nodded, and she laughed.
“You’re a good best friend,” she praised, pulling the strand from behind her ear again and examining it. “Are you sure it looks all right?”
“More than all right. I promise.” My eyes flickered to a table in the corner of the cafeteria. “Someone else seems to think it looks more t
han all right too.”
Adrianna followed my gaze to Ben, who was already looking in her direction. When he notices her looking, a slow smirk slipped onto his face and he waved. Adrianna shuddered and hurriedly turned back to face me. I watched as Ben’s expression darkened, his lips curving downwards into a frown. I was starting to understand why Adrianna was adamant on avoiding him.
In front of me, Adrianna sighed, sitting up a little straighter. “Well, it makes me feel better knowing that you like it,” she said, jumping back into our conversation. “I was already making plans to bleach it and re-dye it.”
I shook my head, raising an eyebrow at her words. “That is so bad for your hair.”
Shrugging, she said, “We can’t all have perfect hair like you do. Some of us have to alter our natural looks to make ourselves look better.”
“That sounds like something a plastic surgeon would say to one of their patients,” I pointed out, before biting into an apple slice. My eyelids were heavy, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to take a nap on the table before lunch ended.
“It does, doesn’t it?” She smiled at me before popping another Skittle into her mouth.
“Is that your lunch?” I questioned, staring at the bag in her hands.
Ade nodded. “I forgot to pack my lunch. Luckily I found this bag at the bottom of my backpack.” She shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’ll just eat something when I get home.”
I frowned at her as I slid my pizza across the table to her. “Have some actual food please.”
Adriana looked down at the pizza then back up at me. “You call this mess, actual food?” I nodded, and she rolled her eyes. Despite her statement and her sassy eye roll, she took a bite. “Thanks,” she said through a mouthful of pepperoni pizza.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, bringing the pizza up to my mouth and taking a bite of my own.
Across the table, Adrianna scrutinized me as I chewed and swallowed. One of her eyebrows was raised as she watched me take another bite, followed by a gulp of my water. Finally, I returned her odd stare and said, “What? Do I have something on my face?” I dragged the back of my hand over my mouth.
The Darkness Within Page 9