by T. R. Ragan
Mom wasn’t drunk, Hayley decided, but she’d probably taken a swig or two from a bottle before coming. Her hands were shaking, and she looked nervous when she asked if she could see Hayley’s room. The question threw Hayley off balance. She wasn’t sure why the question would make her pause, but it did.
“It’s your private space,” Mom said, waving the request away as if it were an annoying gnat, nothing more. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No,” Hayley said, snapping out of whatever craziness was going on inside her head. “Let’s go to my room. I want you to see it.”
“If you’re sure.”
Hayley led her mom to her room. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she watched her mom look at all of the knickknacks on the shelf above the desk. Her mom touched the computer monitor and then picked up a framed picture of the two of them. Lizzy had found the picture among her things when she’d moved Hayley’s stuff from the apartment, and then had gone to all the bother of framing it. The photo was of Hayley and her mom outside, the wind blowing their hair to one side. Hayley figured she was thirteen at the time. She and her mom wore twin smiles.
Mom turned away.
Hayley couldn’t see her face, but her shoulders were shaking. She was crying when she said, “We had some good times, didn’t we?”
Hayley closed her eyes. She wanted to go to her and hold her tight, but she also felt a familiar stab of anxiety and anger. Suddenly, she regretted having her here at all.
Mom set the frame down and continued looking around. “Ms. Gardner and her boyfriend…they’ve been good to you?”
“They have.”
“And you like it here?”
“It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry I never put you first.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Shhh, no, listen,” Mom said, her eyes unblinking as she finally got the nerve to look Hayley in the eyes again. “I’m sorry…about everything. When you were little, I told you that things were going to be different, but I turned out to be just like the rest of ’em.”
Mom was talking about her own family: her parents, brothers, aunts, and uncles—all a bunch of crazy, selfish assholes. “You’re not like them,” Hayley tried to assure her.
Mom’s gaze fell to the picture again. “I messed up.” She moved to where Hayley was sitting and sat down next to her. She used her feet to bounce a little and then patted the mattress. “This is nice.”
Hayley sucked in a breath and forced a smile. She could see bruises on her mom’s neck and arms. She wanted to ask her about Brian, but the words wouldn’t come and she knew why. She was afraid to ruin the moment, afraid her mom would get upset and the air would quickly fill up with bad feelings and resentment, clogging their lungs with past mistakes and making it feel as if they were breathing in secondhand smoke. Mom was trying to change, and that was all Hayley had ever wanted.
“Do you want to spend the night?” Hayley asked. “I’m sure Lizzy and Jared wouldn’t mind.”
“I can’t,” she said. “Jared is going to take me to a shelter after dinner.”
Hayley’s heart nearly stopped. “You’re going to go?”
“You didn’t think I would?”
“No,” Hayley said, stunned. “I didn’t think you would agree to it.”
“It’s time.” She anchored a gray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve thought a lot about what you said when I saw you last.” Her voice cracked. “I made bad choices. I’ve been selfish, always putting myself first. It’s time for a change.”
Hayley swallowed a knot in her throat.
Her mom’s head fell forward. She was crying again.
This time Hayley reached over and pulled Mom closer so she had no choice but to rest her head on Hayley’s shoulder. “It’s OK. You didn’t mean to hurt anybody.”
Hayley wasn’t a dreamer. She knew her mom had a long way to go. But that was OK. This could be the beginning of something good—a fresh start was what she needed. It was what they both needed.
Mom lifted her head and wiped her eyes. She patted Hayley on the knee. “We’re gonna be fine.”
“We are,” Hayley agreed. “I really think we might be.”
Marshall Park, Sacramento
Monday, May 28, 2012
Lizzy arrived at Marshall Park at exactly five minutes past 6:00 a.m. She climbed out of the car, breathed in a lungful of crisp morning air, and stretched before beginning her run. When she’d first started running nine months ago, getting her butt to the park consistently had been a constant battle. Now, regardless of weather, she looked forward to her daily run.
Lizzy never would have thought she had the patience to run one mile, let alone five. Running had become an important part of her life. It cleared her head and gave her energy. She’d grown accustomed to the other runners, paying less attention to her surroundings, at least until all of the recent events. A break-in. An incident with the truck. And the beetles, perfectly placed so that she wouldn’t miss them. And yet no fingerprints had been found, no sign of a break-in at her office. Nothing made sense. She and Jared both knew that the beetles were not a mere coincidence. Lizzy also knew that her freedom, including morning runs like this one, would soon be put to the test. Jared was already in the process of hiring a security guard to watch over her. He would follow her to the office, et cetera. Wherever she would go, he would go.
All thanks to a couple of dead beetles. The Lovebird Killer liked to leave the pine sawyer beetles as some sort of horrifying calling card, letting the police know he’d been there. And yet he wasn’t otherwise consistent. The Lovebird Killer knew exactly what he was doing. He was keeping everyone guessing, screwing with expectations.
As Jared and his crew had recovered evidence inside and outside her office and carefully documented the scene, she had feigned indifference, but felt anything but calm inside. Even this morning, her instincts had cried out, telling her to stay home and hide out for a while, but she refused to do anything of the sort.
Been there, done that.
Someone was playing with her. One of Spiderman’s friends, perhaps? She had no idea why another asshole might be toying with her, but she refused to hide away and change her routine. She was done with sick bastards who had nothing better to do than fuck with her.
Up ahead, she saw one of the regular runners at the park sitting on a wood bench lining the parkway. The woman had taken a shoe off and was examining her bare foot.
Lizzy stopped. “Do you need some help?”
“I’m fine,” the woman said. “New shoes, new blister.”
Digging into her belt pack, Lizzy pulled out a Band-Aid. “This should help.”
“Thanks.” The woman took the Band-Aid and then offered her hand. “My name’s Erica.”
Lizzy shook her hand. “Lizzy.”
“I’ve seen you here before. Have you been running for long?”
“Nine months now.”
“Five years,” Erica said as she took care of the blister and then slipped her shoe back on. She waved at a man as he passed by. “That was William. I tried using him the other day to challenge myself, but he’s too fast for me. I need to pace myself.”
Lizzy watched William disappear around the bend.
Erica stood and jogged in place. “Perfect.” She pointed to the path ahead. “If you don’t mind, I’ll run with you to the next cutoff and then I have to get to work.”
They ran together for two minutes before Erica took the path to the right. “It was nice meeting you,” she called out. “Thanks again.”
“No problem. See you later.”
Lizzy continued on. It wasn’t long before she could hear another runner coming up from behind. He passed and she followed behind. He wore a dark hooded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. He was five foot ten, thin build. He slowed.
She slowed, too.
Her heart rate picked up a notch. Her gaze darted from one side of the path to the other. A copse of trees to her left—th
e woodsy center of the park—no cutoff path to the main street for another half of a mile. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed a small can of Mace.
Her jog became a fast walk. She was about to turn and head the other way, when he suddenly twirled around and lunged for her. All she saw was a fist coming straight at her and smashing into her nose. Staggering backward, she hit the ground hard. Blood spurted from her nose.
He didn’t hesitate to come at her again.
She raised her hand, pressed the button, and sprayed him with Mace.
He grunted and cursed, wiping his face with his sleeve, but his damn sunglasses had stopped the Mace from doing much damage.
As she scrambled to her feet, he came at her again with incredible speed. She ducked. He missed, but then he slammed his knuckles across her jaw and she hit the ground hard.
He hovered over her.
Afraid she might lose consciousness, she tried to get a good look at his face, but it was no use. Between a hood and aviators, she couldn’t see a thing. He grabbed hold of her feet and began dragging her to the area in the middle of the park that was thick with trees and brush.
No fucking way was she going to let him drag her into the woods. She kicked and shouted. Every pebble and divot in the pathway cut into her backside. She lifted her neck to keep her head from hitting concrete. Over a decade of teaching self-defense and yet she felt helpless. Fuck him. She tried to wriggle free of his grasp. It was no use. She kept screaming. Her attacker was determined.
Twigs and pine needles bit into her skin as he dragged her along.
She grabbed hold of a good-sized branch on the ground and held it close to her side. When he finally stopped, he put a foot on top of her chest, pushing hard, crushing her ribs. “You should have learned by now to mind your own business.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m the darkness when you’re afraid. I’m the screams you hear in your sleep. I’m the creak in the other room when you’re all alone.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said through gritted teeth. “You’re the fucking pimple on prom night and the asshole every girl avoids at Uncle Bob’s Christmas—”
His foot crushed down on her chest, stopping her from finishing.
Every lesson she’d ever taught came roaring to life, exploding within her head like fireworks. Fight. Bite. Kick. She swung the branch, hard and fast, hitting the side of his face.
Caught off guard, he fell to the ground.
Crawling on all fours, Lizzy grabbed his leg and bit through fabric and into his flesh, drawing blood and making him squeal like the pig he was.
The fucker was not going to get away with this.
His kicking motions became frantic—like a kid trying to keep his head above water as she climbed on top of him, straddling him and then slamming her open palm into the bridge of his nose, hitting gold. Blood sprayed across his face.
She reached for his aviators, intent on seeing his face, but he bucked her off, jumped to his feet, and grabbed the branch she’d used on him. He raised the branch above his head, ready to strike.
“Hey you! Get away from her!”
Her attacker looked up, tossed the branch, and took off through the brush.
Lizzy pushed herself to her feet and headed back for the trail.
It was William, the same man Erica had waved to earlier. “I called 911,” he told her.
“Thanks.”
He reached out to help her. “Maybe you should sit down.”
Panicking, she pushed his hand away and then jogged toward the open path. She couldn’t breathe. She tasted blood. She needed air.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” William said as he followed her out of the brush and onto the pathway. “My name’s William.”
“I know.” She kept moving, walking faster, trusting no one. She staggered more than walked, but she couldn’t stop.
“You know my name?”
“Erica told me.”
“Ahh. She’s a nice gal.”
Lizzy wanted to ask William to please shut the fuck up for a minute so she could think. Instead, she pulled out her cell and was about to call Jared when she remembered that he was on a plane headed for Los Angeles. He hadn’t wanted to go and he was adamant about her skipping her morning run. Shit.
She tucked her phone into her pocket and tried to ignore the guy as he rambled on about how lucky she was that he’d heard her screams, wondering what she would have done if he hadn’t come.
The pain was excruciating; her skull throbbed as if somebody were stomping on her face. She could hear sirens in the distance, but she had no intention of sticking around. Too bad her body and her mind were not on the same page. Her legs wobbled. Her knees quivered. She was going down, right into William’s arms.
Sacramento
Monday, May 28, 2012
Hayley walked with her arm extended and her thumb pointed at the sky. Ever since Tommy had replaced her ankle bracelet, she’d been free to roam, but a lot of good that had done her. Every time Jared left for work, Lizzy seemed to find a reason to stay at the house. Then Lizzy would leave and Jessica would stop by to check up on her. Between the break-in, the weird car accident, and her mom’s visit, nothing had been going as planned. But today, Hayley didn’t care. She’d left a note on the bedroom door that said she was sleeping. If she was found out, so be it.
The first place on her list of places to go was My House, the shelter for battered women Lizzy had lined up for her mom. Hayley wanted to see how she was doing. She’d thought about stopping by her mom’s house first—to see if Brian was there—but after mulling over the idea, she’d decided she didn’t care if Brian lived the rest of his worthless life in that house. Not too many good memories had come from inside those walls.
Keeping her arm stretched outward, she breathed in a lungful of unsullied air after a night of rain. Up ahead, gravel spewed every which way as a faded red Volvo pulled to the side of the road.
As cars passed by in a blur, she noticed that the driver looked familiar.
Shit.
Here she’d been worried about a cop pulling over, but not once had she considered that Jessica might be the one to catch her out of the house. As cars sped by on the opposite side of where she stood, Hayley stooped over and looked into the open window on the passenger side of the vehicle.
“What are you doing?” Jessica asked.
“I’m hitching a ride.”
“I can see that. Are you crazy?”
Hayley straightened and was about to continue on, when Jessica said, “Would you please get into this car before a police officer pulls over to see what’s going on and realizes I’m aiding and abetting a fugitive?”
Hayley opened the door and climbed in. She couldn’t help but smile at the fugitive remark. Jessica was still staring at her. “Jesus,” Hayley said. “What now?”
“Could you buckle up? It’s a law, you know?”
She located the end of the seatbelt tucked between the door and the seat and snapped the belt in place. “Happy?”
While Jessica merged onto the highway, Hayley took a good look at the inside of Jessica’s car. There was wall-to-wall shag carpet and it smelled like moldy cheese. “Nice car,” she lied. “Where did you get it?”
“Craigslist.”
“What happened to the Mustang?”
“I returned it to the original owner.”
“Did he give you your money back?”
“Not yet, but he promised me he would before the end of the month.”
It was quiet for a moment before Jessica glanced toward Hayley’s feet. “Where’s your ankle bracelet?”
“It’s there,” Hayley said.
“It’s a fake, isn’t it?”
“Yep.”
“How could you risk so much after everything Jared and Lizzy did to get you out of that place?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“I don’t like being confined.
If I could have found a way out of the detention center, I would have left that place, too.”
“And if you were caught, you would spend the rest of your life behind bars.”
Hayley shrugged.
“Don’t you have dreams and goals?”
Silence.
“I realize we’ve never seen eye to eye, but for some weird reason I sort of like you. There are a lot of people in this world who care about you.”
“So, you think I should let the past go and become a model citizen?”
“That would be great, but that’s not what I’m saying.”
Having no interest in what Jessica had to say, Hayley bit her tongue and tried her damnedest to tune her out.
“What I’m saying is that life is short.”
“Got it.”
“I’m not done.”
Hayley clenched her jaw. Fuck.
“You are intelligent. Your mom must be an incredible human being to have managed to raise such a smart daughter—against all odds. Surrounded by druggies and rapists, the worst kind of scum, and yet she is still trying to overcome ridiculous obstacles in her life.”
Hayley had nothing to say to that, but she didn’t like the tightness she felt in her chest.
“Your mom,” Jessica continued, “after years of neglect and mistreatment, has not given up. She’s trying to make a better life for herself. She’s an inspiration, and maybe just for her, you should try to change things around, too.”
Hayley watched the scenery outside—gray and dreary.
“Are you running away? Is that what you’re doing?”
“Just getting some things done.”
“So, your plan is to run around for a few hours and then return before Lizzy gets home?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I was just at the house to pick up some files. I saw the note on your bedroom door and figured you were sleeping.”
Hayley wasn’t listening. She pulled out a piece of paper. “I’m going to My House, a shelter for battered women, located at Center Street in Sacramento. If you’re going to the office, you can drop me off at the exit.”