Cradle Robber
An Original Novel by
Chris Staron
Sign up for updates at http://www.chrisstaron.com
Copyright © 2016 by Christopher Staron. All rights reserved.
This novel is independently published. Please help spread the word by leaving a comment and telling a friend.
This novel is dedicated to my indispensable brother Nick who read early drafts and labored alongside me on so many previous projects. Let's hope this one works.
“Will you come with me to the mountains? It will hurt at first, until your feet are hardened. Reality is harsh to the feet of shadows. But will you come?”
––C.S. Lewis. The Great Divorce
CHAPTER ONE
Angela yanked her white track and field T-shirt from a pile of clothes and slipped it on for the last time.
The ebbing drone of her graduation party's last attendees echoed from downstairs. Only extended family remained. No reason to stick around.
She pinched her stomach. Time to burn off cake and ice cream.
Angela opened her bedroom window and crawled onto the sloped roof above the garage. Cool June air brushed against her skin raising goose bumps. She knelt on the shingles and peeked over the edge. Aunts and uncles disassembled folding chairs in their luau themed clothes. Tiki torches flickered casting garish shadows across the lawn.
Better sneak out the front.
She stepped to the edge and wrapped her arms around a thick branch of an old oak that hung over the house. The perfect escape.
One step at a time. The branches remained stiff beneath her hundred and thirty pounds. A quiet squeak issued from her shoes as she bounded from branch to branch. Easy. She curled her arms around the last limb and swung below, dangled three feet above the lawn, then dropped. Soft sod welcomed her feet to solid ground. What was that? Fifteen seconds down? A new record.
Angela ducked behind a line of bushes and darted for the street.
The crisp snap of her stride broke the quiet evening. Adrenaline warmed her skin. She turned a corner and headed deeper into the subdivision, rows of houses on either side. One of them might belong to her some day. She’d fill it with kids and a husband and settle in for a long, comfortable life.
College first. Pre-med. She’d cut the bonds of small town Indiana by moving to Boston. Red Sox and hot guys. A girl could do a lot worse. After the mania of her early twenties ended, she might land back in Kitrich to jog the streets once more.
Sweat beaded her forehead, dripping from her eyebrows. Fresh air filled her lungs as she pulled oxygen through her nose and expelled it across her lips.
Slap, slap, slap. One mile. Two miles.
A light in the distance twinkled from her best friend’s house, blazing against the darkness of the night. Ericka’s used Ford sat in the driveway, the best graduation gift ever.
Lucky.
Angela's haul amounted to some dorm furniture and a weak computer. No car and precious little cash. Jealousy tickled her throat.
No. She wouldn't get envious of Ericka. They were pals. Friends didn’t do that. Not adult friends, anyway. Maybe back in middle school—or even high school—but not anymore.
Angela slowed down. The light grew brighter, radiating out of the living room window five hundred feet away. Maybe Ericka would join her for a lap. They could run for hours, burn off the cake and the burger from the party. Ericka left the festivities early, but that hadn't stopped her from binging like everyone else.
Approaching the yellow two-story colonial, Angela’s eyes adjusted to the light from the window. A blue glow from the television flickered on the walls like an erratic pulse. She paused, pulling her right leg behind her, stretching her quad.
Everything in the home sat in its place. Knick-knacks on the fireplace mantle, clean white carpet, glass chandelier by the stairs. Perfect house, perfect yard, perfect life. Angela leaned against the windowsill for balance as she stretched the other leg, glancing inside.
What a peeping Tom.
Something squirmed on the couch. Angela squinted, stepping further into the flowerbeds.
Ericka’s head popped out from underneath a blanket. She lay on her back across the cushions, laughing as her dark hair dangling over the armrest.
Angela started, losing her balance as she stared through the window. Her feet dug into the mulch as she rose on tiptoes. Strange. Ericka’s parents were supposed to be in Hawaii. Was she alone or was someone else….
The blanket slid off Ericka and another head emerged, this one with short, black hair and a square jaw. The young man’s naked back gleamed in the light from a nearby lamp, his muscles creating contrasting shadows across his skin.
Oh no. She saw Ericka having….
Angela's face burned. How embarrassing. She pivoted on her heels, her back to the window. Air entered her lungs in small gasps. Why hadn't her best friend told her about her new boy toy? Everyone knew Ericka was sexually active. But why keep the relationship a secret?
Talk about bad timing. She caught them in the act. Angela crept away from the window, face tingling with embarrassment, careful to avoid drawing attention to herself.
He seemed familiar somehow. Maybe one of the boys from Physics class? Ericka had said she liked Gavin a lot. Didn’t he have dark hair? Yeah, that made sense.
Angela slipped into the darkness of the front yard. She had to get out of there. Keep jogging and get the juicy details in the morning. But for some reason she couldn’t shake the image from her brain. Angela glanced over her shoulder for one last look.
The young man turned. A dimpled smile crossed his face. And her world ended.
Angela’s blood ran bitter cold. A shock rolled across her body and she froze. The hair, the jaw line, his muscles.... So familiar. Alarms rang in her head. No. Not possible. He made a promise to stay true to her. Forever.
She tried to turn away but reality hit hard, locking her in place.
Those muscles, that gorgeous smooth skin, belonged to Carter.
Her boyfriend was having sex with her best friend.
They cheated on her.
Everything crashed down. Angela’s heart stopped in her chest. She ran to the window. No. No. No.
Bam Bam Bam. Her palms collided with the glass, hitting, smacking, punching. Why now? After everything she did for Carter. It didn’t matter if her hand went right through the glass. It had to stop.
The startled lovers jumped from the couch, eyes wild. Carter fell off of his perch smacking the ground in his unzipped jeans.
Ericka jumped to her feet, her eyes connecting with Angela’s. “Angie?”
Angela screamed and pulled at her hair.
Carter.
She’d kept her end of the bargain and he cheated on her a month later. She made the biggest decision of her life in order to hold on to that man. She lied to her parents to cover her shame and that was how he repaid her? With her best friend?
The front door opened. Ericka bolted out, fingers clasping a blanket across her chest. “Angie, I’m so sorry. It got out of hand.”
“Out of hand?” Angela backed to the middle of the well-manicured lawn. “You’re having sex with my boyfriend.”
Ericka’s arms reached out to her. “We weren’t having sex.”
“His shirt’s off, look at his pants. You were kissing.”
The door opened again and Carter exited, pulling a white T-shirt over his back. He pushed past Ericka, avoiding their stares.
Angela kicked at the ground. “Carter.”
He didn’t respond, didn’t look her way. Sure. Just like him: make a mess and wait for someone else to deal with it. Angela whipped her arms in the air.
“Carter, look at me.”
The young man continued d
own the driveway, headed for a rusty Camaro parked at the far end of the street. Angela ran at him, her powerful legs thumping against the ground, pushing her forward. Her cries echoed across the neighborhood. Lights blinked on in nearby homes. Good. Let the world wake up and get an earful. She'd expose Carter's sins and leave him to fester.
“Carter, stop.” Angela darted in front of him, blocking his path with her body. Carter towered over her. His stern face betrayed no emotion.
She struck his chest with her fists. “Why are you doing this to me?”
No answer. He turned away, like a coward. She hit him again and again, beating him with everything she had, though it didn’t move his body an inch.
“Why, Carter? We were supposed to be together. Why?”
Ericka hollered from somewhere to her left, but Angela ignored her. A friend wouldn’t do something like that. She’d pay. They’d both pay.
Blind with rage, Angela slapped Carter’s smug face. He gritted his white teeth flexing the tendons in his cheeks. With a mighty grunt, his meaty hands thrust her to the ground. Angela’s shoulder struck gravel at the side of the road. Searing pain raced up her arm, amping her fury.
“You’re a monster.” She rose to her feet, trembling with cold sweat. “I hate you. I can’t believe I fell for your act. I did everything for you. Everything.”
Angela turned and ran. She heard nothing, not even her shoes, ignoring the words that Ericka seemed to shout from a distance.
Must get away.
She darted down the dark street, hands balled into fists, fighting the world that weighed on her shoulders.
What a fool. Everyone told her Carter would cheat, even her parents. Why did they always get it right? They'd never let her live this down. She should have dumped him months ago before it got complicated. Instead, she let it spiral out of control like she always did. Stupid girl.
Headlights enveloped her from behind, throwing her shadow against the trees at the end of the road.
Ericka’s voice rang against the night. “Angela, come back. Please. I’m sorry.”
Angela pushed against the asphalt with everything she had, concentrating on the pumping, pumping, pumping of her legs. No way was she going to let Ericka catch up. Push, pull. Faster. Stronger.
A crack of thunder rang to the east, shattering the thoughts that raced through her brain. Powerful gusts of wind blew, forcing her to slow, increasing her fury.
The headlights grew brighter despite her efforts. Angela glanced back. Ericka’s bumper hovered a few yards from the soles of her shoes. Escape. She needed to leave the wretched road, to get alone.
A dirt path jutted into the woods to her right. Angela turned and jumped the ditch in a single bound, tearing through the trees. Branches hung low. She ducked and dodged, missing obstacles by fractions of an inch.
Get away. Leave. Go where they’ll never find you.
The path rose and fell, then opened into a narrow clearing. Angela charged up a small hill, reaching the top in a matter of seconds. She crested the rise when her shoe snagged a solid object. She fell, stomach striking an unforgiving, brutal surface.
Air escaped her lungs. She'd knocked the wind out. Gasping, she beat her chest, willing the oxygen to enter. Rain fell, first in a drizzle, then a downpour as Angela lay prone on the train tracks, trying to catch her breath.
In and out. One precious breath at a time.
Low rumbles of thunder shook the pines as Angela rose to her feet, sopping wet. Blood dripped from her knees and elbows. Tears mingled with the summer showers. Sobs choked out the air she’d worked so hard to regain.
How could Carter do that? She’d never tell her parents. They raised her better. Could they understand what she went through? No. Their world operated in black and white. They couldn’t grasp the gray cloud that hung over her.
Lightning illuminated the tracks. She walked down the narrow lane, loping from tie to tie.
How could she ever look in the mirror again? She'd lost her self-control, her purity. She’d never get that back. Stupid girl. And the abortion…. You don’t kill someone and move on, you just don’t.
Slowly, as if appearing from heaven, a light enveloped her from behind. The ground shook. Rocks danced across the tracks. Rain slashed at her, beating her back and head in waves.
She shielded her eyes, peering through the bright light. A train. A train was coming.
She couldn’t move her feet off the tracks. They stayed there, as if held down by supernatural hands.
This could be the answer.
The train burst into the night, screeching, squealing. Yes. A fitting end for a murderer. Poetic. She deserved this. She’d done her best to hide, but her sins caught up with her. The train bore down. She remained on the tracks.
Angela looked up, head high, and waited for death to come.
CHAPTER TWO
Ten years later
Tom Grierson ate breakfast in his slippers, staring into the yard behind his two-story house. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows. After his second cup of tea and a skillet full of bacon and eggs, he got around to personal hygiene.
The cool tiles of the bathroom floor greeted him as he stepped in front of the mirror. Hmm. More gray hair than black. He pushed around his thick mane, searching for a younger way to style his hair in another vain attempt to shave off a few years.
No such luck. Fifty-five was coming and he could do nothing about it. He pulled on a clean button-up shirt and sauntered back to the breakfast nook to sulk with his orange juice.
Fifty-five. Where did the time go?
He drew in a deep breath and scanned the backyard. Birds swirled around the feeder. A chipmunk bounded across the grass. He could get used to this kind of serenity.
Still, two acres, two floors, and a finished basement were a lot for one person. The halls used to echo with so much joy. Angela played with dolls on the kitchen floor while his late wife, Barb, fixed dinner. Pots banged together. Soon the phone rang off the hook with all of the boys who courted their teenage daughter. The house functioned like an elaborate ballet of people running in and out. This breakfast nook once held their family dinners. They laughed together, cried together. They'd joined hands to say grace.
Now he relied on the television to make it seem like he wasn’t so alone.
Tom shook his head and cleared the dishes. He couldn’t go back there. No use thinking about Angela. She died so long ago, but he still talked himself down every morning. It had been easier to deal with Angela's death when Barb was around, before the aneurism.
The house wasn’t too big. His family was too small.
Tom fought back the lump in his throat.
He focused on the spring leaves fluttering in the wind. Enjoy the moment. Embrace the quiet. Don’t go back there.
The front door opened with a familiar creak, a welcome disruption.
“Fifteen seconds.” Linda’s happy voice echoed from the foyer. “I cut fifteen seconds off the last mile.”
Linda walked into the kitchen and wiped beads of perspiration from her forehead. Blonde hair in a tight ponytail, cheeks red—people often asked if she was his daughter instead of his fiancé. They were only a year apart in age, but he preferred the couch to his gym shoes. She ran like a horse, sprinting to his place whenever she came for a visit. When was the last time she drove instead of ran? Four miles to see him—one-way. Tom didn’t even like to walk to the mailbox.
He removed the place mats as she pulled supplies from the cabinet and spread them out on the table—a stack of envelopes, stamps, pens, and a list of names. With everything in place, she stretched her muscles, leaning against the granite counter tops, one leg bent at the knee, the other out behind her. He stole a kiss.
Head up, she sniffed at the air. The smell of greasy bacon still lingered.
“Someone build a Denny’s next door?”
She had caught him. She never let him live down a good meal.
Tom tickled her side. “It’s
the new cologne I bought. Ode de la Breakfast.”
She scrunched her face. No fooling her. “What about that oatmeal I bought you? Remember? With the wheat germ and those nuts you like?”
Oh, yes. The oatmeal. It came in a brown paper bag with dark stains on it. The label was written in black permanent marker. No FDA approval there. She got it from a hippie store on the town square that sold organic honey and seaweed.
“You can’t really fry oatmeal. But the birds love it.” He pointed to the feeder. “The cardinals are especially regular. You should see what they’ve done to my car.”
Cradle Robber Page 1