Frantic

by Mike Dellosso

  “Is this where my dad lives?”

  “He’s not our dad,” Esther said. “He fathered us, but that doesn’t make him a dad.”

  William’s eyes continued to roam over the house and property. “And you think it’s a good idea to go to him for help, Esther? To get us away from Gary?”

  Marny shared William’s concern. He didn’t understand Esther’s reasoning, what brand of logic she was using.

  “I don’t want to, but”—she glanced back at William—“for our sake I think we have to. He’s our only hope.”

  Marny could tell she wasn’t so sure about her declaration either but wanted desperately to convince herself that it was true. He turned and looked William right in the eyes and tried again. “William, do you have any feelings about this place or about your father?”

  William remained silent for so long, his eyes taking in every tree, every shrub, every corner of every building, that Marny thought he hadn’t heard him.

  Finally he said, “No, Marnin.”

  “Okay,” Marny said, “it’s officially hot in here. Can we go check things out?”

  They all exited the car and approached the house. Marny had the same feeling he used to get as a kid when he’d go to a haunted house at Halloween, a queer mixture of fear and anticipation.

  On the way up the sidewalk William said, “Do you think he’ll know who we are, Esther?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he will.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “You’re pretty unforgettable, little brother.”

  Marny stepped up to the door and rang the doorbell. They waited, but there was no answer. He rang it again.

  “Let’s head around back,” he said. “See if he’s by the fire.”

  They rounded the side of the house, following a thirty-foot-wide strip of freshly mowed lawn that passed between the house and the forest. Around the back, in the left corner of the property, was a burn pile of twisted limbs and broken branches belching dark gray smoke into the sky. And before the fire, breaking a long, straight stick over his knee, was a man, his back to them. He was a big guy, at least six three, with broad shoulders and thick arms. His short, dusty brown hair was mussed and windblown. He wore faded jeans and a simple green T-shirt.

  Esther held William’s hand and had a strange look on her face. Marny couldn’t tell if it was fear or remorse or regret or a little of each, but he immediately knew this man was her father, Harold Rose. And she was having second thoughts about this, wrestling with reason and logic. He almost expected her to turn and give the signal to abandon the mission, but she didn’t; she held tight to William’s hand, pulled her shoulders back, looked at Marny, and nodded.

  Marny cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”

  Harold spun around, tense, and looked at Marny, looked at Esther, looked at William. He was an attractive man with chiseled features and deep-set dark eyes. Those eyes went to Esther, then to William again, holding on each for a few prolonged seconds.

  Finally his shoulders relaxed. Without saying a word he turned back to the fire, broke a stick over his knee, threw it into the flames. He rubbed his hands together and said, “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

  Chapter 31

  ESTHER WAS NOT prepared for the gust of emotion that buffeted and nearly knocked her over at the sight of her father.

  “It’s good to see you too,” she said. She was sure the edge to her voice was unmistakable. Memories came storming in from as far back as she could remember. Good ones, special times, laughter, holding hands, playing catch, building models. Times when he was her dad and she was his Squirt. Tears pressed at the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them come. Not here, not like this.

  Harold turned completely around and faced all three of them. Esther noticed he kept his eyes on her, didn’t even glance at William.

  “It’s been over ten years, Esther. I walked out on you and your mother. You expect me to just welcome you back and act like the past decade never happened?”

  The tension was like a concrete wall between them. Esther pulled William forward a step. “You have a son too, you know.”

  Reluctantly Harold nodded at William.

  William didn’t say anything but kept his eyes on his father, studying him as if he were a rare insect under a magnifying glass.

  Harold narrowed his eyes, tilted his head back, and put his hands in his pockets. “Why did you come here?”

  “Are you still a state trooper?” Esther said.

  “Nope. Retired last year. Now I make cupolas.” He pointed to the barn’s roof.

  “And that pays the bills?”

  He shrugged. “Between that and my retirement check each month I get by. People ’round here like cupolas.”

  “Is there a new wife?”

  Harold ignored her question. “Why did you come here, Esther?”

  “You didn’t answer me. Did you replace Mom?”

  Her attitude and questions didn’t seem to faze him. He had been one tough cop. Hard to rattle. “I’m not married.”

  “We need your help.”

  Harold gave Marny a look that would mean bad news if he was in uniform, then said to Esther, “You get yourself pregnant or something?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not quite.”

  “Then who’s he?”

  “Marny. A friend.”

  Harold picked up a stick, broke it in half, and tossed it on the fire. “You’ve gotten along just fine for ten years. Why do you need my help now?”

  Esther released William’s hand. She pulled her shoulders back and tensed. “Do you even know what we’ve been through?”

  If Esther hadn’t been looking closely and if she didn’t know this man standing before her, she would have missed the shadow of sorrow that flitted through Harold’s eyes.

  “I tried to stay out of your life. I know Angela … your mother moved you in with Gary. I know she died four years ago.”

  “Our life with Gary has been a prison. He’s obsessive, possessive, and completely insane. Mom’s death was no accident, and now he’s after us. That’s our life in a nutshell.”

  Harold was quiet for a long time. He put his hands back in his pockets and stared at the grass in front of him. “What do you mean he’s after you?”

  “That’s why we need your help.”

  “Esther, what do you mean, he’s after you? Does he know you’re here? Is he dangerous?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, yes, he’s dangerous. More so than anyone you’ve run into before, believe that. And I don’t know if he knows we’re here or not. I don’t see how he could, but he’s full of surprises.”

  “Why is he after you?”

  Esther pulled William closer and put her arm around his shoulders, a motherly act. “He wants William.”

  “What’s so special about him?” He didn’t ask it with any kind of disgust or revulsion. It was simply a question.

  She hesitated. She didn’t want to give too much away. If she’d trusted this man at one time, she no longer did now. “He has something Gary wants.”

  “So what can I do to help?”

  That was the question, wasn’t it? What could he do to help? Gary was like a freight train barreling down the tracks toward only one destination: William.

  Esther dropped her eyes to the ground. “We need you.” It pained her to acknowledge that fact. After ten years of abandonment and hurt and fear and death, she’d come full circle back to the man it all started with, and she had to admit she still needed him.

  “For what?”

  “Protection.”

  Chapter 32

  MARNY WASN’T COMFORTABLE with the way things were progressing.

  Nor with what and who was approaching.

  If Esther was right, and Marny had no doubt that she was, Gary was coming, and with him, he would bring Marny’s curse in a new-and-improved package.

  “Sorry,” Harold said. “I can’t help you.” He turned back to face the fire.

  Esther d
ropped William’s hand and took a couple steps toward her father. “Can’t or won’t?”

  Harold crossed his arms.

  “You ran out on us once, abandoned us, and now you’re willing to do it again without a thought. Just like that. Brush us off like some strangers knocking on your door looking to sell cheap windows.”

  Still Harold didn’t respond.

  “We’re not strangers.”

  “Go away, Esther.” Harold spoke as though he were addressing the fire. “Nothing good will come of this.”

  “Nothing but good can come of it.”

  “You’re wrong. Take your brother and friend and leave. You shouldn’t have come here.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Go.” Harold’s voice rose a few decibels. “You don’t know me anymore.”

  Marny cleared his throat. “Esther, maybe we should—”

  Esther held up a hand to silence him. She took another step forward. She was almost close enough to reach out and touch her father, something she hadn’t done in ten years. “I came to you because you were the only one I could think of who could help us. You. My father. Please, we need you. We have nowhere else to go.”

  Harold looked to the eastern horizon as if watching for the arrival of rain clouds. Maybe he could sense the same approaching storm that Marny could. He stood like that for a full minute, eyes shifting back and forth slowly, gears in his head churning, churning. He turned and looked at Esther, glanced at Marny.

  “I have a cabin up in the Green Mountains, maybe a half hour from here. Not much, it’s a hunting cabin, but it’ll do. Sooner or later Gary will figure out that you came to me. It’s not hard to find where I live, but there’s no way he can know about the cabin.”

  Marny wasn’t sure about that. A secluded cabin in the woods wasn’t his idea of protection. Harold was a cop, trained in confrontation. But knowing what Marny knew of Harold Rose and his history of avoiding confrontation, the fact that he’d choose flight over fight was no surprise. He’d done the same thing ten years ago.

  Harold must have noticed the look of uncertainty on Marny’s face. “Look,” he said. “I don’t know this guy or what he’s capable of. Let’s go to the cabin, get our heads about us, come up with a plan. It’ll buy us some time. If you want my help, this is what I got. I’m calling the shots.”

  Marny looked at Esther and was about to voice his concern about the seclusion of the place when she beat him to it. “Okay then,” she said. “The cabin it is.”

  “Good.” Harold brushed his hand through his hair. “Let me get some supplies and we’ll get going.”

  Marny watched Harold cross the yard and disappear inside the house. He turned to Esther. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “No. I’m not sure about anything right now. But Gary’s coming. Can’t you feel it?”

  Of course he could. The storm. He was surprised she felt it too.

  “What about you, William?” Marny said. “You okay with this?”

  William shrugged. “I don’t know, Marnin; how do you feel about it?”

  “I asked you first.”

  He looked up at Esther. “How do you feel about it, Esther?”

  “Answer for yourself, William.”

  William looked at the house for a long time, then looked north, toward the Green Mountains and Harold’s cabin buried somewhere deep inside the forest covering them. It was too bad seeing into the future wasn’t part of his gift. “I guess it’s okay.”

  It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was all they were going to get out of him at the moment.

  Marny walked to the burn pile, picked up a stick, and tossed it into the flames. A sense of uneasiness chewed at his stomach, but then again, they had a killer stalking them; uneasiness came with the territory. “Do you trust him?” he said to Esther.

  There was no hesitation in her answer. “I don’t have any reason to. But we don’t have much of a choice, do we?”

  No, they didn’t. The way Marny saw it, they had three choices: stick with Harold and flee to the mountains; keep running from Gary, which showed no end in sight; or go back to Maine and confront Gary on their own. None of the choices thrilled him. He didn’t trust Harold. In Marny’s opinion, any man who would leave his family because he was afraid of responsibility, afraid of a challenge, had proven himself untrustworthy for life. Running from Gary would only end badly. If what William and Esther both said was true, that Gary would keep coming, then there was no running from him, only prolonging an inevitable collision. The longer they prolonged it, the worse it would be. And as far as Marny was concerned, there was no confronting Gary on their own. Marny was no fighter, no handler of weapons. And he was certainly no hero, no matter what Esther thought. Their only chance would be William’s gift, but Esther said it didn’t work that way.

  “What are you thinking?” Esther said. “Your face is one big question mark.”

  “I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling about this whole cabin thing. Makes me uneasy being hidden away in some woods, no one knows where we are, with a man none of us trusts.”

  “He’s our only hope.”

  “Yeah, you said that before.”

  For Marny, of course, there was a fourth choice: leave Esther and William with Harold and return to Maine. This wasn’t his concern, not really, and now that he’d gotten them to help, his services were no longer needed and he could bow out of the picture. That had been his plan all along, hadn’t it? He didn’t need to stick around and put himself in jeopardy anymore. He’d done his duty. Besides, it’d be best for them if he did make like Harold and flee. If he stayed, eventually things would turn bad.

  But there were two problems with that choice. One, he’d grown somewhat attached to Esther and William. Actually, more than somewhat. His feelings for her had escalated. He didn’t want to leave her; he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. And two, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was involved now, and Gary knew it. Marny had done his part to tick Gary off both at the house and on the interstate, and the monster wouldn’t soon forget that. When he was finished with Esther and William, he’d come looking for Marny with a thirst for revenge. Confrontation would find him no matter where he hid.

  He’s our only hope. Marny supposed Esther was right. They really didn’t have a choice now. Harold had weapons, he had experience with types like Gary, and he had a plan of sorts. It was more than Marny could offer.

  Marny nodded. “Okay. I’m with you.”

  Esther smiled, and he could see the relief in her eyes. And that’s exactly what he wanted to see.

  The storm door of the house slammed shut. Harold emerged around the corner of the house carrying a large duffel bag over one shoulder, a rifle case over the other, a cooler in one hand, and another duffel bag in the other. “You ready?”

  Chapter 33

  FOR MARNY, MEMORIES were unwelcome guests, tinkering with the locks on the door of his emotions.

  Billy Tillman’s parents moved to Mississippi where his grandparents resided, said they couldn’t stand living in Maine, too cold. Marny knew they weren’t just talking about the weather. A couple weeks later the Williamsons moved in next door, and Marny found himself with another friend, Sarah, age eleven.

  Sarah was what Marny called a know-it-all. Too smart for her age, she knew everything about everything, or at least acted like she did.

  It didn’t take long for Marny’s curse to catch up to her.

  It was February 13, and it had already snowed a good two feet. Add that to the two feet of white stuff already on the ground, and you had no school and a day of fun in the snow. With the flakes still falling by the bucketful, Marny and Sarah bundled up and high-stepped into the hardwood forest next to Sarah’s house to build a fortress. They’d been learning about the French and Indian War in school, and Marny wanted to construct a replica of Fort Necessity. Sarah said that was a stupid idea because George Washington surrendered the fort to the French. She said something
about scouting the area out for a better location and wandered off into the woods.

  Marny got to work on the fort, building the walls high and thick and clearing the snow out of the middle. He didn’t think about Sarah again until the sun dipped in the western sky and the shadows got long and thin.

  Sarah was gone, nowhere to be found. Her parents and Janie and Karl scoured the woods, calling her name over and over, and soon the neighbors were involved in the search. The police were called and an official search party assembled, but with night falling and the temperature with it, there was only so much they could do and too much ground to cover.

  Marny lay awake all night listening to the wails of Mrs. Williamson next door. The whole neighborhood could hear her. Mr. Williamson and Karl were out most of the night. Their voices echoed through the woods like the bugle calls of a funeral dirge. Marny kept thinking if the soldiers of the French and Indian War could find a way to survive the cold winter nights, so could Sarah.

  One day passed, then two, then three blended into four, and eventually the search was called off. The dark clouds over eastern Maine had dumped another two feet of snow. Karl said he overheard Chief Munson say that Sarah probably wandered off, got lost, and was now buried in the snow. They might not find her until the spring thaw.

  Spring did eventually come, and with it warmer temperatures. The snow melted slowly and in spurts, as it does in Maine, and mid-May Sarah was found. She’d tunneled under the snow from the edge of the woods back toward the house. At some point the tunnel collapsed, trapping her, and there she’d perished.

  She was no more than fifteen feet from the house.

  Marny felt the weight of responsibility for Sarah’s death, as though he’d somehow caused it or even enabled it—like he and death were in cahoots, planning, conspiring the demise of anyone who came into contact with him. And he hated that feeling, wanted to run from it, hide, shake it any way he could, but it was a shadow that clung to him wherever he went, a constant reminder of the price people paid for associating themselves with Marny Toogood.