Wicked Girl (THE FIRE Book 1)

by Mcebo Michael Metfula

  At least, the dining room did give my feet a break; it had no crumbs. And the sneaking was less painful. The only problem was the cold. My feet were still frozen; I still couldn’t feel them but the house was warm. Even my nose didn’t enjoy any break. The fish had captured the entire first floor.

  The small bookshelf drew my attention. I thought, probably, she put things like journals there. But why would she put a private item in the open?

  “Oh God!” I whispered and sneaked back to the kitchen. I had messed up. I had forgotten my key in the door. If Karen had seen it, she would have known I was there. She would easily recall she gave it to me when her ex-husband was still with her – beating her. She had told me to come in when I heard strange noises. Very often, I would hear her scream and rush in. Kevin would come down when I begged him – man to man. After all, he was also a good friend of mine – a good husband and father, even – the only enemy was the alcohol.

  When people advised Karen to involve the police, she blatantly refused for she loved him. She would say, “Kevin is a good man. The only problem here is the wine, not him.” I almost asked her why she wanted to cheat on him with me if she loved him, but a voice within me said, “Don’t.”

  I glared at the door hating the tedious, delicate process I had to repeat. In fact, I hated the amnesia syndrome. I also feared it. What if it hit harder, and I even forgot where I was and switched on the television, thinking I was in my house. Or worse, run into the bedroom and slide into Karen’s bed, thinking it was my bed.

  Slowly, I opened the door. Still, my hands trembled. I avoided moving out but pulled out the key whilst inside. I couldn’t afford to wet my feet again. I closed the door and tiptoed back to the dining room.

  I doubted if the mission would be successful in the end. My ankles were already excruciating, yet, I had been tiptoeing for a few minutes. I wondered how they would be after an hour. A crazy idea hit my head. I thought what was stopping me from ending the sneaking and grabbing the bull by its horns. Why not just walk straight to Karen’s bedroom and make her confess where she hid my wife? Borrow gangster methods and have my wife back in a few minutes. But I quickly pushed the idea away. I counseled myself that shortcuts are usually the longest when you factor in the consequences fused with detrimental results.

  I gazed at the bookshelf and thought I was wasting precious time. The wild part of me pushed me to start in her bedroom whilst it was still a little dark. I swallowed some saliva as my heart gave one strong beat that made my chest and arms warm.

  It was crystal clear – getting caught wasn’t an option. It wouldn’t dare happen. If it could, God forbid, she could blackmail me – coerce me to sleep with her – have kids with her and later marry her. If Grace resurfaces, she could convince me to kill her. But that’s when I would comply no longer. For Grace, I would do anything – go to prison – kill – or even die.

  Knees and ankles quaking, I climbed the steps. My cell phone, which I used to light the steps fell from my hand. I bent fast and grabbed it before it hit the steps. I realized when it was securely in my hand that I had stopped breathing. I snorted quietly for some time before proceeding.

  Unfortunately, her bedroom door was shut. I hoped it wasn’t locked. My hands still shivering, I twisted the handle gently. Then I held my breath and pushed it bit by bit and softly. I sneaked in with defrosted, relatively warm feet.

  Surely, my nose was free from the stale fish, but the bedroom was stuffy. It was dark too. Worse, it was quieter than I had imagined. The humming fridge wasn’t helpful anymore. It felt like Karen would even hear me breathe.

  I recalled that I had forgotten the recording device for spies. Jesus! I had planned to plug it under her bed so I could gather her conversations. One tear moistened my right eye. It felt so painful to be me. I missed the days when my brain performed like a machine. The 3.9 GPA brain. When I forgot nothing. More especially spy gadgets in crucial operations. I shook my head and wiped the tear.

  I ignored the pain and disorientation and tried to focus. I also ignored my hurting and quivering ankles and took the first step towards her closet. But I almost wet my pants and collapsed on the carpet when I saw a pair of bewildered eyes staring at me from the bed.

  5:52 AM

  My heart threatening to rip open my warm chest, I put my index finger on my mouth, warning Dave, Karen’s youngest son not to dare open his mouth. He nodded innocently. That was good but not good enough. I held my chest, trying to calm myself. But there was no way I could trust a two or three-year-old. What if he said, “Wake up Mom, Uncle Elijah is here to visit us”?

  I only got courage from Karen’s loud, obnoxious snore. For some reason, she started snoring after turning towards the wall. She snored like a drunk, old man. I even drew closer to her head, not believing it was her. The darkness had not faded much and the curtains were still sealed, but I established it was her.

  I was surprised such a beautiful lady snored that horribly. She had even drooled on the bed since her mouth was wide open. Even her body under the blankets was wildly spread all over the bed. It was only the little Dave who slept neatly. But he was still staring at me, following me with his tiny eyes. I felt awful he was costing me a lot of focus.

  I thought the best I could do for me, for the investigation, for Grace was to just leave and come back some other time. Even her bedroom was messy. It was extremely easy to kick one of the lumps of clothing, shoes or whatever and fall over them onto the bed.

  My heart slowed down, but Dave’s eyes made me extremely uncomfortable. Instead of working, I kept glancing at him. I even doubted he would forget everything. I feared he would recall everything and tell his mom that “Uncle Elijah” came to their bedroom.

  Karen stopped snoring and turned.

  I paused breathing for a while. I hid behind the bed, lying low on her carpet. Unfortunately, my nose was close to what looked like a wig – a dirty one; I almost suffocated.

  I almost exploded when I heard the bed sounds suggesting she was sitting on the bed. I stopped breathing and shuddered. And my head produced no quick plan.

  Later, I rose gradually, looking at her through one eye. I sighed softly when I discovered she was still sleeping. She was facing downward – both hands folded under her head. Even Dave was fast asleep too. The only problem was that I had no assurance anymore because Karen had stopped snoring. The bedroom was dead quiet. I was scared to even take one step to the closet to open and search. Even the closet could squeal.

  “You climbed in to sleep with Mom again, sweetheart,” Karen said, caressing Dave’s hair with her left hand.

  My eyes almost fell out. My chest froze. I tiptoed towards Karen. I picked up her cell phone from the sideboard and dropped it in my pocket. I sneaked towards the door, praying she did not sit up before I was out. She coughed. Softly, I pushed the door with my shivering hands. I moved out and left the door open. I dashed through the short hallway and down the steps. Even though my breathing was fast and loud I was relieved.

  But having her cell phone in my pocket worried me. What if she always woke up to it like most people? To see the time, chat, update her statuses and all. She would look for it and quickly realize it was taken by somebody. Even Dave, when asked, could tell his mom that Uncle Elijah was there – “He must have taken the phone.” Or what if she had hidden CCTV cameras. She could watch them and see me sneaking like a witch into her house. Besides being blackmailed, she could play her cards anyhow. She could even claim I wanted to rape her. Or I raped her. Or her daughters. Obviously, that would finish me, my reputation and my business. I would be forced to relocate like we did when my dad died.

  Again, I hated myself and my mind when I realized I couldn’t execute the master plan. Taking her cell phone was completely unexpected and stupid. Only the recording devices I bought for $400 would bring results. There was no way they would fail to collect vital information since one would be in the bedroom, another in the living room and another in the kitchen. I would ga
ther almost all her calls and conversations in real time.

  “Stupid me.” I wasn’t as worried about not making noise because the quiet and dark hours were gone. The sun was taking over, so people and cars were already on the road. Even trains hooted from a distance.

  When I paced through the dining room, somebody knocked. I had no idea on which door. I drifted back and opened the door nearest to me.

  “I’m coming,” Karen shouted from her bedroom.

  6:31 AM

  I descended the worn wooden steps into the dark, still shaken. Besides being rugged and cracked, the basement floor was as cold as the snow. Certainly, my feet would become two blocks of glass again. Even the darkness was intense. The sun was taking over outside and the basement gained a little since it had tiny, grimy windows at the top, close to the roof. I gazed at them as possible exits but I couldn’t picture how. They were too small for a big man. Also, they were awkwardly high from the floor. It would be very difficult to use them without making noise.

  However, the most persistent problem wasn’t the cold or the dark. It was some rotten rat that stung my nose pitilessly. Even the air was musty and sickening.

  “Coming, dear,” Karen shouted again. She grabbed the cluster of keys from the table and opened the door for her visitor.

  The rat odor caused me a slight headache, but I pushed myself to forget about it. I moved carefully between old furniture tickled by networks of spider webs. Clearly, Karen had changed the basement into a morgue for her furniture like most people. Cabinets, cupboards, tables, coffee tables, couches, chairs, piled up boxes, everything was there.

  Eventually, I reached what used to be a couch and sat. But it stunk terribly. Dust odors combined with the awful smell of a wet, dirty dog. I recalled that Kevin, Karen’s ex-husband, loved to spoil his dogs with any form of luxury there was. Karen, on the other hand, didn’t want any dog on the couch. She hated dogs. No one was surprised she didn’t even fight for them in the divorce settlement.

  “Anything wrong?” Karen said, terrified.

  “No friend,” Jane said.

  “Okay great. I’m relieved then.”

  The living room door clicked shut. They pulled chairs and sat down in the dining room.

  “It’s just a bad dream I got, so – ”

  “You’re freaking me out. A bad one?”

  “Yeah, that’s why I came this early. Friend, I don’t know, but you have got to be careful.”

  “You’re scaring me right now.”

  “Probably, it’s nothing, friend. I dreamed an intruder was in your house. I couldn’t see his…her face properly.”

  “His or her?”

  “Yeah. I ain’t sure if it was a guy or a lady. At the beginning of the dream, clearly, it was a guy, but towards the end when he killed you, it’s like it was a lady.”

  “He killed me!?” Karen screamed.

  “Calm down. Don’t take it seriously, friend. It’s not like you were killed for real, I just dreamed it. It could be nothing or a warning, you know.”

  “Yes, but the problem I have is that it’s you who got the dream. If it was somebody else, probably, I wouldn’t care.”

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Your dreams are accurate. You remember you told me you dreamed my wedding gown burned to ashes. That was a month into my marriage. With great confidence, I told you it was just a dream, but you said you had a feeling it meant my marriage wasn’t going to work. I screamed ‘never’ and started avoiding you. Stupid me. I literally believed you were jealous I married a rich guy. But when he lost his great job, he became devastated and started drinking and abusing me. Then we called off our six-year-old marriage. Your dreams are accurate; I’m telling you.”

  “I don’t know but let’s hope it has nothing to do with death, just a warning about something. Or, maybe, it has to do with our friend, Grace.

  I jumped to my feet and paced to the steps.

  “Grace?”

  “Yeah. I mean she is missing. We don’t know where she is.”

  “That would be great. Not that I want her to die, but I don’t want to die yet. At least, Grace was a saint.”

  I almost climbed the steps to beat Karen.

  “Is.”

  “Oh yes, is. You’re right. We aren’t sure she is really dead.”

  I pushed away the urge to climb the steps. They didn’t even know I was in there. I wasn’t even supposed to be there, in fact. Going up there to tell them off and hit them for not valuing Grace’s life was cheeky and stupid.

  “Yeah. You know what? Let’s forget this dream thing. I only wanted you to be aware I dreamed something like this.”

  Karen sighed. “Hmmm. Yes.”

  “Oh, friend. One thing I forgot. This person killed you whilst you were asleep in bed. She kind of grabbed your neck and choked you until you died.”

  “But you said let’s stop talking about it!” Karen shouted. “You’re scaring me. He strangled me?”

  “Sorry friend, I forgot that bit.”

  My cell phone rang aloud. I hadn’t put it on silent mode. I hastily pulled it out of the pocket and terminated the call. It was Chloe calling. I hurried back to the couch, my head spinning. I pinched my thigh. I was in trouble. Karen and Jane heard the cell phone clearly. It was loud enough.

  7:09 AM

  “It must be Samantha’s phone. Her friends want her up and online,” Karen said.

  “But it’s like the sound came this side,” Jane said.

  My eyes bulged. I knew she pointed towards the basement. I squinted around for a hideout – just in case Karen bought Jane’s version, and they pushed back their chairs.

  “I think your ear picked the echo. She can’t leave her phone in the basement. In fact, the only time it’s not in her hand is when she is sleeping or bathing. But even when sleeping, it has to be close to her ears.” They giggled. “These kids and technology.”

  I sighed, relieved. I was even surprised my nose was used to the pitiless rat. I was lucky Karen had a teen daughter; otherwise, they would come to the basement and search until they found me hiding under the old, filthy carpets. In my head, I saw policemen shoving me into their car – handcuffed at the back.

  Again, I blamed my useless mind. Putting the phone on silent mode had to be the first thing that came to mind before setting my feet into Karen’s house. With sourness in my heart, I appreciated how Grace was important to me. When she was around, I even forgot I had amnesia. I never missed a meeting, appointment, meal, prayer, party or even my kid’s school games. She was, indeed, my brain. I ended up thinking the blight of the condition had died down. But I was wrong. Grace was so helpful to me. It was all clear now. She was indeed my mind. And she never got tired of it. When we clashed, it was about other things, Mila, probably, or Karen, not my condition.

  “Teens. They are –” Jane said.

  “A huge headache. I wish I could add ten years to Sam’s age and she wakes up twenty-four,” Karen said.

  They giggled again.

  “If wishes were horses, girl,” Jane said. “You know they –”

  The sour feeling that I wasn’t doing enough to find my love swept through. I felt like I had come only to eavesdrop on the two women when I had my precious wife’s life at stake. I gazed at Karen’s cell phone on the stinky couch and thought I should start working and forget I was trapped. After all, she would naturally be looking for her phone as soon as she discovered it was not with her.

  I shook my head as I recalled I had not turned her iPhone to silent. Quickly, I set it to silent mode. Then I tapped on the Gallery. I thought photos and videos could give me some clues. I tapped on Images and then on the Selfies Album.

  Most of the selfies were her own. Her lips were pouched in almost all of them. Then, I saw selfies she took with her kids. My eyes almost fell out when I saw the ones she took with Grace. One that caught my eye was when they were dressed like children in a circus. I guess it was someone’s baby shower. Most of the
women including Grace and Karen were dressed like babies, and they were crying. Mimicking it.

  I could almost hear her cry in the photo with her low-pitched voice. The difference being she was genuinely crying now, not mimicking a baby. Without thinking, I kissed her. I was careful enough not to kiss Karen though. The kiss felt real. When my mind started wandering out of control, recollecting great moments I had with my love, I reminded myself I needed to stay focused if I wanted to kiss the real Grace, not her photo in other people’s cell phones.

  I continued going through the Selfie Album. But I couldn’t find anything interesting except other selfies of the three of them: Grace, Karen, and Jane. Others were group photos with ladies I had never met. Others with men. In one Karen was kissing some man. Not her ex-husband. I couldn’t recognize the man. I used the Bluetooth to transfer all the photos with Grace.

  I opened another folder entitled My Man. My eyes widened when I saw that the folder had my photos. She was obviously stalking me. She took my photos in different places downtown alone and with different people including Grace. She also had dozens she took probably, from her bedroom window where she captured me either leaving or coming back home. In some, I was in the yard or at the gate. There were about ten where I was with Grace. I frowned because they were taken in L.A. Grace and I had flown across the country to attend a Bloggers Association Conference. I couldn’t process it in my head that she followed us to L.A. Why? I overheated when I realized that Grace’s face was crossed in a photo where I gave her a “thank you” kiss in front of all the people applauding her for pulling off a surprise birthday party for her husband.

  My cell phone blinked. Chloe was calling. I terminated it.

  Moments later, Karen’s cell phone started blinking too. It was Chloe calling. I almost smashed the cell phone against the wall for I couldn’t understand why she called her. I feared she would walk to Karen’s house and ask if I wasn’t with them. I couldn’t understand why she could not stay put. I was an old man who could take care of himself. Why should she follow me around like a toddler?