The Girl on the Stairs

by V. J. Chambers

  She leaned over the couch to look out the window. “It’s really coming down out there already.”

  He twisted to look. The snow was pouring out of the sky. The ground was already covered.

  Yeah, he hoped it had been a good idea to come here. He really did.

  *

  The next morning, Sam found a box of paperbacks in his mother’s room. Most of them were romance novels from the 1980s, before she’d met his father, who thought romance novels were sinful and worldly. Still, there was nothing else to do, so Sam decided he’d give one of them a whirl. There were a few about Scottish Highlanders. Maybe that wouldn’t be too bad.

  He sprawled out on the couch and tried to read.

  It was bad.

  It was bad, but it was oddly compelling, that was the thing. He was midway into The Highlander’s Passion by noon, and he found himself really wondering if poor peasant girl Annie would be able to win the duke’s heart, and whether he would break his engagement and marry her, even though it went against society’s conventions.

  Lola had started reading and discarded about five of the books.

  About an hour ago, she’d said to him, “I can’t believe you’re reading that.”

  “What?” he’d said. “This is the kind of stuff you write, isn’t it?”

  “No,” she’d said. “I write erotica. Not romance. There’s a huge difference, and it’s not just about the amount of sex.”

  “Okay,” he’d said. “What’s the difference?”

  “Romance is about a relationship. Erotica is about an experience.”

  He’d nodded as if he understood. Truthfully, he really couldn’t care less.

  Anyway, at that point, Lola had stopped trying to read and had been messing with her laptop and phone for about an hour, trying to get the Internet to work.

  He eyed her over the paperback. “Any luck?”

  She sighed. “Not even close. I thought I had it for a minute, and I was able to pull up my email, but then it crashed.”

  He went back to his book. “You may as well start reading romance novels.”

  Outside, the snow was still falling in a heavy blanket. There was more than a foot out there. It had covered the ruins of the garage, making it look almost pretty.

  “Ugh, whatever,” said Lola. She got up and stretched. “I’m going to the bathroom. Feel free to try to make it work yourself if you want. Maybe you’ve got the magic touch.”

  She padded out of the room.

  Sam seriously doubted he was going to have any more luck than she had. But he figured he could tear himself away from peasant Annie and the Duke to check it out, at any rate.

  He went over to the loveseat where Lola had been sitting and turned the laptop to face him. There was an email program up on the screen. He tried clicking on a link.

  Page not found.

  He clicked the back button. He’d known that wouldn’t work.

  The email screen popped back into view.

  But something stuck out this time.

  At the top, it read, Welcome, Run_D!

  Sam went cold all over. That was the email that had been used to send messages to Todd in jail.

  Lola had sent those messages?

  But why would she do that?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sam stood up. He checked his pockets for the keys to his car.

  Not there.

  Had he left them in the pants he was wearing yesterday? He went back the hall and opened up his suitcase. He found the pants.

  No keys.

  In the bathroom, the toilet flushed.

  He needed to call Cross. That’s what he needed to do. He wasn’t sure what it meant that Lola had been in communication with Todd, but one thing was sure. She’d wanted him to see it.

  That couldn’t mean anything good.

  Sam threw on his coat and went out the front door.

  Immediately, swirls of snow hit his face. He turned on his phone.

  No bars.

  He began to trudge through the snow. It was coming down so hard that he could barely see a few feet ahead of himself, and his jeans were getting soaked. The snow was deep, coming up to mid calf. Even if he had found his keys, there would be no way he could drive in this.

  Snow pelted his face and head.

  He hadn’t bothered to bring his hat or gloves from the house.

  But that was okay. He’d get a signal, call Cross, and then…

  And then what?

  Even the FBI couldn’t travel in a storm like this.

  Still he watched the screen of his phone as he moved farther away from the house, brushing flakes off of it as they fell.

  Lola had been emailing Todd. Lola had been the person who’d helped Todd escape, who’d been keeping him hidden. Lola and Todd were working together.

  They must have been working together all along.

  That was how Todd knew about Rachel. That was how he knew to go after her.

  Now, it all made sense.

  He took a few more steps. Still no bars.

  No. Wait. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make any sense at all. Why would Lola want Todd out of jail?

  She’s in love with him, idiot, he answered himself. It’s just like Todd said.

  But then why send him to jail in the first place? Why not just run off with him and be together?

  Maybe she was angry with him then. Maybe they made up.

  Okay. Fine. So, why the book? What did Sam have to do with all of this? Why did Lola want him involved?

  Because she obviously wants me involved. She got me out to this house in the first place. She got me stuck out here in a snow storm with no phone.

  Sam checked the bars on his phone. Nothing.

  Jesus. This was about where he was when he got a signal last time, wasn’t it?

  She’s playing me, he thought. She’s been playing me this whole time. Just like she played Nick. Just like she played that foster kid Dwayne. She needs me for something.

  But Lola said that she needed him to keep her safe from Todd.

  But she was working with Todd.

  Sam didn’t know what to think. But he knew that he didn’t trust Lola. If he was honest with himself, he’d never really trusted her. Something about her had always rubbed him the wrong way.

  But he’d pushed it aside, assumed that it was only because she’d been abused and hurt in her past. Like Hannah. He thought she was twisted like her, twisted by the things that other people had done to her. But now Sam was pretty sure that Lola was the person who did the fucking twisting.

  And something really bad was going to happen out here.

  He kept walking, willing the phone to get bars.

  His legs were starting to go numb from the cold. The wetness was seeping up his jeans, crawling up to his knees.

  Nothing. Nothing.

  Desperate, he tried to dial Cross anyway.

  The phone wouldn’t do it, just popping up to say that it didn’t have service.

  Sam tried calling 911.

  That didn’t work either.

  He took a deep breath, staring around at the snow falling around him.

  Okay. Okay. The phone wasn’t going to work. And anyway, no one was getting out here. So, he was just going to have to go back into the house and confront Lola. It was just the two of them, after all, and he was pretty sure he could take her in a fight if it came to that.

  Teeth chattering, he went back to the house.

  *

  Lola wasn’t in the house when he got there. He checked everywhere. He looked in the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, both the bedrooms, the hall closet. And then he finally checked the other bedroom.

  He threw open the door to look.

  And it was empty. Completely empty. Nothing there at all. Nothing to remind him of Hannah. Nothing at all.

  And Lola wasn’t there.

  Sam looked again.

  Where the fuck had she gone?

  He changed out of his w
et clothes, putting on a new pair of pants. Then he went into the kitchen and began going through the drawers.

  He found himself a nice, big knife. He wasn’t sure how sharp it was, but it looked sharp.

  And then he went into the living room, sat down, and waited, clutching the knife.

  It was quiet.

  Sam couldn’t hear any noises except the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

  He stared straight ahead, looking at the wood paneling in the living room. When he was ten years old, his mother had decided that it was dark and depressing, and so she’d had them paint over it. He remembered doing that, remembered using the roller to cover over the dark wood, his father snapping at him to go up and down instead of side to side.

  And Hannah had—

  No.

  He wasn’t going to think about her. Just because he was back in this house didn’t mean he had to be reminded of her every single second.

  He clenched his teeth.

  He shut his eyes.

  And all he could think about was her burnt, lifeless body. The way her skin had… flaked off when he’d tried to pick her up.

  He shuddered.

  “Sam!”

  He turned.

  Lola was coming in the door, shaking snow everywhere.

  He stood up, pointing the knife at her. “Stay back, Lola.”

  “What?” She took a step towards him.

  “Stop.”

  She stopped. “Sam, Nick’s out there. I saw him. He chased me. I ran. We have to—”

  “Stop it,” he said. “I can’t believe you’re trying to sell me on this after you practically forced that email account under my nose. You wanted me to see it.”

  “Email account?” She shook her head. She fumbled with the lock on the front door, her hands shaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are there other doors, Sam? Is there any other way into the house?”

  “The email account. Run_D. It’s you. You were in communication with Nick.”

  “Oh.” She shook her head. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Sam. It’s not like that. I was trying to get into that account. After Cross told us about it, I thought that if I could crack the password, I could figure out who it was. Sometimes I’m kind of good at that stuff. And I did. I got in, but I couldn’t figure out who it belonged to.”

  Sam laughed. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.”

  “Sam, Nick’s out there. I swear to God, I saw him.”

  “What’s your game, Lola? What do want with me?”

  Lola looked at the door, then back at Sam. “Please put down the knife. You’re scaring me.”

  “Drop the act,” he snarled, gesturing with the knife. “Tell me what the hell is going on here.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “How did you hack into an email account when you’ve had precisely two seconds of Internet connection since we found out about it?”

  Lola chewed on her lip. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Okay, I didn’t think that through. I thought you’d be more scared of Nick. He is out there, Sam. Aren’t you worried?”

  Sam faltered for a second. Had she just…?

  “Sam, is there another fucking door or not?”

  He shook his head slowly. “No.”

  “Good.” She let out a breath.

  Sam raised the knife again. “You’re working with him. You and Todd are doing something together.”

  Lola shook her head. “No. Not really. Nick thinks I’m helping him out, but I’m really not. I can’t stand him. At all.”

  “What the hell, Lola?”

  “Well, it’s kind of complicated, Sam, but the point is that Nick is here, and he is pissed. And he’s probably going to try to kill you. So… you think you’re going to do anything about that?”

  Sam twitched. “Answer me one question, Lola. Did you help kill your parents or not?”

  “Oh, come on, Sam. Don’t be an idiot. You’ve known the answer to that question for a long time. Of course I did. I wanted those uptight assholes dead.”

  He was starting to shake. “You bitch. You dragged me here. Why did you drag me here?”

  “I think we’re really getting away from the main point here, which is that Nick—”

  “Fuck Nick.” Sam picked up his coat. He grabbed his gloves and hat too. “I don’t give a shit about any of that. You’re crazy, and I’m getting away from you.”

  She made a confused face. “How are you going to do that?”

  It was awkward trying to get his coat on while still holding the knife and keeping an eye on her, but he managed it. “There’s a neighbor a mile away. They’ll have a phone.”

  “Sam, don’t be ridiculous. We have Nick to worry about. You need to focus here.”

  “You and Nick are working together.”

  “I just told you we weren’t,” she said. “Trust me, I’m not trying to help him out. I think he wants to kill me anyway.”

  Sam zipped up his coat. “If he’s even really here, you deal with him.”

  *

  Sam walked in the tracks he’d made before, even though they’d already started to fill up with snow. Another inch had come down just in the time that he’d been back in the house.

  He figured it was a lost cause, but he kept checking his phone for service as he walked.

  He’d half expected Lola to come out after him, but she hadn’t.

  He was more confused than ever. He had no idea what Lola meant when she said that Nick thought she was helping him. And frankly, he didn’t care. Lola had admitted that she’d helped kill her parents. She was guilty. And he couldn’t believe a word out of her mouth anyway. He’d caught her in too many lies for what she said to be trustworthy.

  So he didn’t know if he believed her when she said Todd was out here.

  How would Todd have gotten here? He didn’t know anything about this house.

  Snow swirled around Sam, icy pricks at his face. He pushed through it.

  Well, if Lola was in communication with Todd, he could be here. She could have told him about the place.

  Sam looked around warily. All he could see in every direction was white. There was the faint outline of the driveway, full of cold, sparkling whiteness. Trees flanked it, their branches laden with snow.

  No. There was no way. She was fucking with him. The best thing he could do was get to the neighbor’s house. It wasn’t that far.

  Sam huddled into his coat and moved forward.

  The air was frosty. It went into his lungs, frigid and biting.

  Something moved at the corner of his vision.

  Sam turned, trying to catch sight of it. It had been dark, a shadowy blur.

  A fist collided with his jaw, bringing with it a crunch and blinding pain.

  Sam lost his balance and fell backwards into the snow. Snow got inside his clothes, bitter cold against his skin. He gasped.

  Laughter.

  Now, Sam could see Todd standing over him, a hulking form in the snow.

  And Sam realized he’d lost hold of the knife. Frantic, he felt around in the snow for it.

  But Todd was coming for him.

  Sam hurtled to his feet and drove himself into Todd.

  They both went down, Todd beneath him.

  Sam drew back his fist and drove it into Todd’s face.

  Todd wasn’t laughing anymore.

  Sam hit him again.

  When Todd didn’t retaliate, Sam pushed off of him, struggling to keep his balance in the snow.

  And then he took off running.

  Which wasn’t easy.

  The snow was deep. It was like wading through a lake.

  Snow sprayed everywhere.

  And as he ran, the falling snow was like needles in his face.

  Sam’s breath began to come in gasps.

  He ran up the driveway, and all he could hear was the sound of his labored breathing. All he could feel was the throb of his own heartbeat in his temple.

 
He scrambled down the driveway as fast as he could.

  At one point, he cast a glance over his shoulder to see if Todd was behind him. Sam couldn’t hear him over the beating of his own heart.

  He couldn’t see anything except swaths of snow drilling down from the sky.

  Was Todd there?

  Was Todd lying on the ground?

  Had Todd gotten up? Was he coming after him?

  Sam looked back ahead. He kept running.

  But he could feel that he was losing speed. He was tiring easily from the cold and the extra effort it took to move through the snow.

  He looked back again.

  Still couldn’t see anything.

  And then he tripped.

  His face smacked directly into the snow. Sam pushed himself up, panting.

  He got to his feet, looked around.

  He didn’t see anything.

  But now he’d somehow lost his sense of direction. Which way had he been running? Which way was the end of the driveway? Which way led back to the house?

  Come on, Sam, you used to live here, he snapped at himself.

  But the snow was too heavy. Visibility was too poor. All the trees looked the same. Everything was just snow. Everywhere. Nothing but white, cold, sparkling— There.

  Todd was emerging from the snow. His nose was bleeding.

  Good. Sam was glad.

  Well, now he knew which way to run. Away from fucking Todd.

  Sam turned, picking up his feet, hurrying off.

  This time he could hear Todd behind him, hear him shoving through the snow, hear his heaving breaths.

  Sam urged himself to go faster.

  But Todd’s legs were longer. He was gaining on Sam.

  Sam could hear it.

  He tried to move quicker, tried to push himself.

  But it wasn’t enough, and Todd was on top of him.

  They went down in the snow again.

  Sam struggled, scrabbling behind his back, grabbing at him.

  Todd’s gloved fingers wrapped around Sam’s neck.

  Sam drove his elbow into Todd.

  Todd grunted, but he didn’t let go.

  Sam felt the cold in his bones. Everything was getting dark. He kept struggling, but he knew his attempts were weaker.

  The pressure was stronger at his neck.

  And everything went black.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO