I swung the beam around, looking for Claire’s bicycle. In a far corner, something shone under my light. The parts of the bicycle not covered in rust had reflected the light back at me, allowing me to find the two-wheeled vehicle. I gave it a good look, as much as it was possible inside that room, anyway. Although it appeared to be at least fifteen years old, it seemed strong enough to carry me where I wanted to go. The bicycle was stored in a dusty corner of the room, leaning against some suitcases that drew my attention immediately. The luggage looked reasonably new, which made them a beacon of light among all the dark decay infecting Appleton Manor from top to bottom.
“Well, those are the first things in shape I’ve seen in this house since... ever.”
I carried the bicycle outside, lifting it over the steps to the driveway. It had a basket at the front, so I decided to fit my satchel in there. I hadn’t been on a bike in ten, maybe even fifteen years. As I got on the bike, my lack of balance was more than apparent. But if I wanted some form of transportation to gain independence, this would have to do.
Although, perhaps riding downhill was not the best idea. Maybe I needed to walk down the driveway and start from there. Landing face-first on Emerson Street didn’t sound so good. I started down the driveway when something attracted my attention to my right. Despite the gardens―if one could call them that―still being a maze of tall grass, untamed bushes, and wild vines, this specific spot looked like it had been trimmed.
The grass was shorter. A shrub had dried up. And the vines had retreated from the area.
I leaned closer to the right edge of the path to take a better look. The wings were the first thing I saw. They were also the only recognizable parts I could make out of the black blob that lay there, lifeless, in the center of this place. It was a bat, and its small body appeared to be broken.
Maybe an animal had eaten the poor thing. I remembered the noises I had heard the previous night when I was trying to find a phone signal. However, a question arose soon after. I looked up to a sky that, as always, was hidden behind a heavy curtain of mist. Something had to make it descend. Maybe it had hit a tree? That seemed a strange option for an animal that didn’t need a working set of eyes to fly. Maybe it was sick.
That didn’t convince me either, as animals tend to avoid eating other creatures that die of a disease, but I didn’t have time to keep pondering this bizarre encounter. The sun was going down, and I needed to get going.
However, the image of the mangled bat stayed with me. I hadn’t noticed it before, but I had never seen a single living animal up on the hill. Not now and not when I was a teenager. Claire never had a pet. I knew it was a cold winter, but with the amount of vegetation surrounding the house, you would expect the place to be infested with insects. And yet, the silence around me did nothing but denounce the complete absence of birds.
I parked Claire’s bike outside the police station. I couldn’t believe anyone would want to steal that rusted carcass, so I simply left it there and walked in. I was hoping to find Jo still on duty, but if that was not the case, I was prepared to ask for her home address and pedal my way there. I didn’t like that idea; I wanted to talk to Jo as soon as possible and be done with it. Luckily for me, she was still at work. She was having a cup of coffee with a colleague when she saw me. Her facial expression changed drastically, from relaxed at the end of the day to code red.
“What happened?” was the first thing out of her mouth. “I told you to call me from the hill. If something happened, you don’t need to come all the way here. Did you leave Mrs. Appleton alone?”
“Jo, calm down. Nothing happened. I just want to ask you something. Mrs. Appleton is okay. Can we talk”―I looked over her shoulder to her colleague, who was still behind the desk drinking a coffee of his own―“in private?”
“Sorry, it’s a small station. We don’t have much privacy.” Jo squirmed on her seat once we’d accommodated ourselves inside one of the cruisers. Although the seats smelled like perspiration mixed with coffee and cigarettes, there was nothing to apologize for, and I told her so.
“Well, what is it? What do you want to talk about?”
Jo turned on her seat towards me. I couldn’t face her. I knew what I was about to unleash upon her was in part rational, but mostly it had an illogical foundation. I felt as though I was trying to stand strong on moving sands. I kept looking out through the windshield when she asked me again.
“Okay, now you’re scaring me, Althea.”
There was no good way to start this conversation, so I just threw myself into it in the hopes that Jo would catch me.
“Did Claire have cuts on her body? Did the forensic report mention anything about her being a... cutter?” I could barely find the strength to call my friend by that name. But there was no other way to get out of this fire than walking through the burning door.
“Who told you that?”
Jo was upset and surprised all at once. So was I. Her question was the equivalent of an affirmative answer, and I did not anticipate it. I had entered that car fully expecting to be proved wrong. Jo did not catch me; I fell flat on my face.
“Why didn’t you tell me that, Jo?” I faced her for the first time.
“Because I wanted to spare you the details, Althea. If anything, I wish I didn’t know them myself. Now, who told you about the cuts?”
I sighed and let myself fall back in my seat.
“Tom.”
“What? That’s great! I told you to stay away from him. Why are you talking to that guy?”
“Because at least he’s not keeping things from me. And because I think he might be right.” Jo’s eyes were piercing me now, like lasers of fury. “If Claire cut herself to alleviate the pain, then it would fit with her being depressed enough to commit suicide.”
“Oh, so you think I left information out to make my hypothesis sound better?”
The silence between us grew thicker and thicker, mostly due to Jo expecting an answer I wasn’t about to give.
“Fine,” she said. “Do you want an explanation? Here it is: I left the cuts out of what I told you at the bar because they don’t fit with the pattern usually seen on a person with self-harm behavior. They are long cuts, and they were made following a logic that leads us nowhere―along parts of the body that would bleed significantly, but always staying away from important veins. Aside from that, someone who is in a deep state of depression and cuts herself is more likely to commit suicide by going deeper into the same practice. Claire was not found with her wrists slashed open. She was hanging from the ceiling. We don’t know how she managed to do it without a ladder. If anything, those wounds that Tom so kindly mentioned to you were done to Claire to hurt her, maybe even to bleed her out. God knows what he had in mind when he did them.”
Jo had not said it, but I was quickly arriving at the finish line she wanted me to reach. She was right, after all. I instantly regretted having those images in my head.
“Are you saying Tom tortured her?”
“It’s possible. It’s one of the two options we’re working on.”
I asked for the other theory. I dreaded the answer, but backing down now would render my trip to the station useless.
“That they were in some form of sadomasochist and/or abusive relationship, and things got out of hand… Those are all possibilities, since we have so little information. Either Claire subjected herself willingly to being injured, or they were performed against her will. Everything boils down to that.”
I went back to looking through the windshield. There were two more things ruminating in my mind. Two ideas that were complete opposites and created nothing but confusion around my own thoughts on Claire’s death. In any case, I would have felt sorry if I didn’t say them, because just like Jo, I couldn’t do anything with that information.
“What are you thinking, Althea?”
Her law enforcement sense of smell picked up immediately that I was withholding information from her.
“I th
ink you need to start considering the, uh, the second theory.” I sensed Jo’s eyes scanning my face for more information. “Tom said that Claire had cuts all over her body. How did he know that? The only option for him to know her so intimately is that they were together.”
“Well, that seems like an important piece of information. Maybe you need to come tomorrow and make a statement― What?” Jo noticed I was still not focusing on her. Cold sweat was running down my back. I could not hide the fact I had more to share. “Spit it out, Althea. We’re never going to figure it out if you don’t tell me everything you know.”
This time the answer came without words. I managed to take off my coat and then pulled up my sweater’s sleeve, exposing my forearm.
“Were Claire’s wounds like this one?”
It was the first time I had seen Jo speechless. She always had an answer ready. Not now. Not today. Jo stretched out her fingers to touch the red line running along my arm with trembling fingers. And when she managed to find her voice again, it sounded as though she had to fish it from the bottom of her stomach.
“How-how did you get this? When…? Did Tom do this to you?”
“No, he didn’t do it. I woke up today like this.”
“You don’t know it wasn’t him, Althea. Maybe he found a way to get into your room last night. He probably knows all the ins and outs of that house.”
I shook my head, remembering the first conversation I had held with Tom earlier that day.
“No, he doesn’t come into the house. Tom said he made a promise to Claire.” Jo objected to this, rightly stating that just because the gardener said it, it didn’t automatically make it true. “Besides, I didn’t wake up when it happened. If he had been there, I would have woken up. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe there’s a loose nail or something protruding from the bed and I scratched my arm. Perhaps I’m freaking out over nothing.”
I felt myself recoiling from my initial vow to tell Jo the truth. Why was I refusing to share what I really thought? Why didn’t I want to let her know that I believed there was an otherworldly presence in Appleton Hill?
“You don’t know that! Maybe he found a way to drug you and you didn’t feel a thing. You need to get out of that house. Both of you. I’m gonna take you there right now, and you’ll get your stuff. And we’re going to tell Mrs. Appleton to get a few things of her own. You’re spending the night at my place.”
I was already shaking my head before Jo finished her proposal. I didn’t even stop to analyze it. All I knew was that leaving was not an option; it made my stomach turn.
“No, that’s not necessary.” I scratched the back of my neck and then rubbed my face. I was sweaty and itchy. The enclosed environment of the car was getting to me. “We’re fine. Besides, Mrs. Appleton will never leave her house. She’s waiting for her sister to arrive.”
The sweat down my back turned cold, and a shiver took over my body. I fixed my sleeve and started to put my coat back on. Why was I refusing help? Was it because I wanted Claire all for myself? Maybe it was because I feared even more rejection from Jo. After all, what could I possibly say to a rational policewoman? Hey, forget about the real murder. What we have here are some demons roaming about the house. What dispatch code is that? 666?
No, keeping her in the loop was not a viable option. I opened the cruiser’s door. I suddenly had the urgent need to be away from Jo. She didn’t get it, and I didn’t want to explain myself. She’d have to be up there to understand.
“Wait a minute, Althea. Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry about us, we’re fine. Tom won’t be back on the hill for a few days. If anything weird happens, I’ll call you. I’ll lock the door tonight. Don’t worry, really, Jo. I’m sure this whole thing is nothing but a big coincidence. Goodbye.”
I stepped out of the vehicle quickly without giving my former classmate the opportunity of a rebuttal. I was flustered and overwhelmed by the clash of emotions welling up inside me. I felt silly and embarrassed about my ideas, and at the same time, I had the distinct sensation of not wanting Jo up on the hill again. Hearing someone else making the decision of removing me from Appleton Hill had produced in me an instinctive rejection, like a reflex.
I leaped towards the bike and pedaled away while I heard Jo calling out my name. I never looked over my shoulder to check up on her. I wanted to get back to the hill. I needed to get back to the hill. Something inside me was aching for it.
Chapter 19
The evening had flown by. I didn’t realize how long it had taken me to get to the police station, but by the time I closed the cruiser’s door behind me, the sunset was mutating into night. The mist had turned thick as cotton once again, continuing to press down on Ashwell. After a few days, I was feeling as if I was being suffocated with a pillow.
I was eager to return to the hill. The incipient night plus the fog didn’t seem to be an equation that gave positive results.
I was riding that old bike down Emerson Street when my cell phone rang. It startled me. It was amazing how in a few days I had managed to disentangle myself from that powerful device, something that in other circumstances I thought to be an impossible achievement. I had to stop to answer the call. I spotted a driveway entrance at the back of a shop, and I parked there.
“Lena,” I read on the screen. “Of course.”
I didn’t want to waste a lot of time on the conversation, but I knew I had to put her mind at ease, something that in Lena’s case was a nearly impossible task. Reluctantly, I answered the call.
As I imagined, my producer was worried because she had not been able to get ahold of me and I wasn’t on a plane back to LA yet. This―paired with the fact I had very specific wardrobe and lighting requests for our upcoming feature―made my presence necessary back home. Lena kept blabbering about how we needed to make certain decisions, how we couldn’t keep holding back the production process. And how my delayed departure from Ashwell also affected the date we had set for principal photography to start, which in turn would cost more money. Her list of reasons was endless. I wanted to kick myself for choosing such an intricate project.
“Also, you have to be here to talk to―”
“I am needed here too, Lena!”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?” I was now mirroring Lena, shouting my reasons at her. I couldn’t believe the lack of sensitivity my business partner was showing. How could Lena not see it? “The woman is in a wheelchair!”
“Althea, doesn’t she live on an estate?” Lena retorted. “I don’t understand why she can’t hire a nurse to care for her.”
“Listen, I’m not going to explain her financial situation to you because it’s none of your business. I’m here and I can help. She needs me! This place needs me!”
“We need you here too, Althea.”
I shook my head in frustration. I was fuming. I regretted telling her about Appleton Hill and how important it was for me. Just like Jo, Lena didn’t understand.
“I owe Mrs. Appleton everything that I am today. I can’t walk away!”
I heard Lena sighing in exhaustion on the other side of the line.
“Listen,” she finally said with the calmest voice she had used yet. I knew that tone of voice and I felt the rage boiling up inside me. This was the tone she used to manage people, people she deemed trouble. “I don’t know what has gotten into you, Althea. I don’t know if going back to your hometown has messed with your priorities, but you’re being disrespectful to the people you left hanging here. You better get yourself sorted because I am not waiting forever. You have until next week to get your ass back here. If you don’t, I’m shutting down production.”
“Lena! Lena!”
Nothing but a dead line was what I received. Lena had hung up on me. I was not going to let that ultimatum be our last exchange. I dialed.
“Trouble in Lalaland?”
I turned to the side, ready to bite off the head of whoever had decided to choose that moment
to mock me.
“June?” What was my mother doing there? “Are you following me now?”
“Of course not, Althea. I work here.” She pointed to the flower shop behind her with a sign that read “Winter’s Blooms.”
“It’s my day to close the shop. How are you doing? I didn’t know you were still in town.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Appleton’s sister hasn’t arrived yet, so I’m staying with her until then.” I stored the phone back in my satchel, now an amorphous lump in the basket. “Apparently, having compassion is not allowed when you have a career.”
My mother tilted her head to the side and crossed her arms in front of her.
“It didn’t sound like you were very compassionate to your coworkers.”
“Excuse me? Lena was overreact― No.” I stopped myself before I continued down the path of justifying my actions to a woman I hadn’t spoken to in fifteen years. “I am not going to do this with you. Not here. Not now. Not ever. What do you know about compassion, anyway?”
I set myself up again on the bike to start pedaling.
“Alcoholism is a disease, Althea. And if you ever picked up the phone when I called you, you would’ve heard my apologies years ago. That is all I ever wanted to do with you. Apologize. Make it up to you―”
“I’m not talking about that, June. Why didn’t you go to Appleton Hill after Claire’s funeral? Do you want to talk about compassion? Answer me that.”
My mother uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips. She looked down. It was evident she was carefully choosing what she was about to say. I could understand the sentiment. It wasn’t such a big leap to go from where we were standing to a full-blooded discussion. Lena’s ultimatum had certainly left me at the edge of rage. One little push and I could fall headlong into it.
“I don’t like that woman, Althea.” I protested, but June put her hands up and stopped me. “I know you think it’s because I’m jealous of her. You’re wrong. If anything, I am grateful to her. I am grateful she was able to be there for you when I was nothing but the ghost of what a mother should be. But that doesn’t erase the fact that I do have an opinion on Beatrix Appleton. She managed to isolate her daughter from everyone and everything, God knows for what reason. Because we common folk have struggles that the Appleton clan never had. Claire has…”
The Haunting of Appleton Hill Page 11