The Woman Hidden

by Lucas Mattias

  The truth from the moment hit Anthon right in his chest, making him feel something that was, perhaps, some kind of regret. She loved him. He knew, in that moment, that Monica still loved him and that she was not willing to abandon ship just now. She just needed him to also be on board, she needed him to want to set sail and leave that crisis behind. What a woman. Ready to leave his stupid cheating – and not only one – behind just to be by his side, as she had been in the past years.

  As much as his heart still felt sped up and the nausea had become stronger, Anthon couldn’t avoid his thoughts from turning to Georgia. Suddenly, she materialized in front of him, replacing his wife as if Monica had been a delusion all along. Maybe Georgia was one. Maybe everything around was nothing but an illusion. He closed his eyes and took a very deep breath. And he inhaled again and exhaled slowly, allowing the air to tranquilize him and cast away that unknown malaise and the sight of his lover. As he opened his eyes again, Monica had returned.

  And Georgia came back. He didn’t know what to believe anymore, but he knew what to think. Anthon questioned himself if all of that was really worth it. Monica’s questions made sense and seemed to have an effect. He did not want to leave her, did he? He wouldn’t like to risk himself into an uncertain future when he knew he could have her by his side, now that she was willing to forgive him and put a stone on it. Monica was worth it, Monica was the woman he deserved and who deserved him.

  At the same time, Georgia was a partner he had always longed for. Someone who entertained and amused him, someone who knew to listen to him and offer him amazing moments on a bed or even out of it. An unprecedent match he had never experienced before with Monica… but also, he had never allowed himself to try anything with her. Georgia seemed to be worth of his while, but Monica seemed to be worthier.

  What felt like minutes lost in thoughts to Anthon, actually, revealed to be an almost full hour when he realized Monica had eaten half of a salad he hadn’t even seen arriving to the table. He jumped at realizing the time he had lost, immerse in thoughts and possibilities, almost an hour he barely saw pass by. It was not something trivial, was it?

  “I want to.”

  Monica, busy while brushing her lips with a napkin, seemed surprised by seeing a reaction from him.

  “For the last minutes, I believed I put in you shock.”

  “Monica, I want to. I want to leave it all and try it again. I’m willing.”

  “Words are cheap, Anthon.”

  He took her hand between his, holding it in a gentle way, not intending to hurt her.

  “When I vowed to be by your side to the end, I didn’t lie. I want to be by your side until the end. You are the one I want.”

  “And how can I be sure of what you are telling me?”

  “Georgia, I…”

  Monica, then, pulled her hand away and placed it on her lap, just like her free left one. She smiled, but not for amusement, just to mask her pain.

  “Georgia?”

  Anthon slid his hand on his head, which already showed signs of needing some urgent shaving.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just so jammed in this case and one of the main witnesses…”

  “I need no apologies, Anthon. I need certainty.”

  Dinner was over. He hadn’t eaten anything, he wasn’t hungry anyway. Some sips of water were enough, even more than the words he didn’t have to offer her. He knew that, regardless of what he did or said, it would be hard winning her trust again. He knew; however, his decision had been taken. He would return to the hotel, pack his stuff and say goodbye to Georgia once and for all, thanking her for the moments and the friendship, but choosing his marriage instead of her.

  “I could take you.” He said as soon as Monica stood up after leaving the bill for him to pay.

  As she got her handbag, Monica turned to him, skeptical about his wish.

  “I still haven’t made up my mind, Anthon.”

  “I know. I just want to leave you home, I’m not suggesting sleeping with you.”

  She took the ride. It would probably be a trip as silent as the dinner itself, even more if he kept on losing hours of his life in daydreams. Well, that was a scenario he didn’t want to consider, all reasons aside he would be the one driving and losing conscience of time and space while on the wheel was not a future he was ready to face.

  In respect to the old times, he himself opened the door to her and made sure she was comfortable before fastening his belt and speed the car ahead on the avenue.

  The only problem remaining was that, despite everything looking calmer and less tense, the feeling of being observed persisted. It was as if thousands of ants walked on his nape, head and back, instigating him to end that agony as soon as it was possible. Anthon, however, couldn’t find the origin of his paranoia or that endless itch. He had never been a neurotic fella, let alone anxious – his job required exactly the opposite.

  Anthon readjusted the rear-view mirror when he stopped at the first intersection, waiting while the red light covered his face and the windshield.

  “Anthon, are you ok?”

  Monica’s question was ignored just as he noticed the headlights from the car right behind them lower for a few seconds. It was dark car, with tinted windows and quite suspicious. Maybe that was the origin of his nervousness. He tried to capture the plate, but the rear-view mirror didn’t offer him that. If he turned, maybe…

  Honks. The car was now immersed in green light, indicating him to follow ahead. Anthon sped up, in a sudden start, to Monica’s dismay.

  “But what the…?”

  “I think we’re being followed.”

  “Anthon, you’re not…”

  Too late. In the same way he had put the car in a movement he took the next turn, ignoring the car influx and almost causing an accident. Monica, scared as she hadn’t been for a long time, tightened her belt and stiffened herself at the seat wondering if, for the first time in her life, she should pray.

  Anthon felt his foot burn with the pressure he had put on the accelerator, while his eyes wavered between what was in front of him and the rear-view, from where he tried to find his pursuers. They were right there, stuck to his rear, speeding up even more. He couldn’t comprehend why. Was it related to any of the cases he had investigated or that he was currently investigating? Could it be some sort of street revenge or even something related to the current case he was on, the mountain murders? What if he had in there the killer lady who was now trying to cover her tracks by eliminating him as well?

  What if it was Georgia?

  Anthon shook those thoughts away from his mind and nearly caused an even bigger catastrophe when he crossed an intersection that should have been more packed at that time. He couldn’t stop and he knew that very well. He kept on speeding up, trying to find himself. He knew that taking the next entry to the right and advancing some two or three hundred feet he would reach a highway, which would take him away from the metropolitan area in a matter of minutes. But he knew, also, that not to be a good option. If he was facing a persistent pursuer, leaving a populated and well-watched area would mean certain death and he couldn’t risk with, not with Monica in his car.

  With the chaser still blinking his headlights in his rear-view mirror, Anthon made a decision he surely would regret later.

  With a sudden movement of his hands and feet, he abruptly hit the brakes and, hadn’t Monica fastened her belt tighter previously, she would’ve flown right into the dashboard. Without even offering her time to yell in anger, he spun the car almost completely, now face to face with his mysterious chaser, who had also hit the brakes. Now they were facing each other, right in the middle of a slightly busy avenue, a movie-like confrontation.

  “Anthon, I want to get out. Anthon!”

  His glare, though, was frozen on the sedan with its dark windows and body and high headlights that burned his retina. His enemy, his target. Someone would have to give it up and Anthon was known exactly for never doing it. Except regarding Mon
ica, but just regarding her.

  “Don’t worry, love.”

  “Anthon, I don’t…”

  “Trust me.”

  Monica looked straight forward, completely lost, trying to find a safe ground in the vehicle. Anthon, in a last sigh, shifted the gear and stepped on the gas, this time holding the brakes down, just to get the propulsion he would later need.

  And the other car did the same. Although he couldn’t see the perpetrator behind the tainted glass, he knew that person was also staring directly at him, getting ready for the clash. They were less than a block away from each other and someone would have to stop before everyone died. He would give it up, Anthon knew, he just needed to push the outcome.

  Before Monica could protest, Anthon released the brakes, launching the car against his enemy.

  And the enemy did the same, speeding towards him.

  The cars looked similar and just then Anthon realized that the culprit’s car…

  … was the same of his. Same model, same color, same tainted windows.

  He kept on speeding up, while Monica, desperate, yelled by his side.

  “Anthon let me out!”

  And he kept on full throttle until the cars were close enough…

  Enough for him to see the plates were the same.

  And that the driver on the other side…

  … Was himself.

  There was no going back now, there was no giving up as an option. There was just one way out and that escape meant collision, confrontation, the final clash.

  How was it possible he was on the other side? It had to be some sick joke and if…

  They were too close now and Anthon knew that the other Anthon, the one on the other car, wouldn’t stop. They were approaching each other. The highlights invaded the car and obliterated Anthon’s view who, in a last second, right before the crash, hit the brakes hard.

  The car screeched through the street, skidding on the pavement due to inertia, without necessarily stop. Anthon, completely befuddled, asked himself what had happened with that so anticipated crash. But before he could question the mysterious chase and a collision that never happened in first place, although inevitable, the car moved too far trying to stop and he saw himself into that intersection once more.

  And before he could even ask Monica whether she was ok, another horn screeched at his ear and he only had time to see the blazing gleam before he felt the crushing impact on his left side.

  IV

  His fingers slid over the keyboard from his laptop for a while, while Jason’s eyes remained fixated on the blinking dash at the end of the search bar from his browser. Her name, Clarice, was still there, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue on that search.

  First, because he knew there should exist thousands of Clarices around the world and, second, because he believed it was a tremendous privacy invasion. Having opened his doors to host her didn’t give him the right to snoop around the internet, even when his intentions were only to help her.

  Deep down, Jason knew he shouldn’t. Clarice herself was suppressing memories, afraid of what she could find out and, for him, to enter that territory and expose the reality of her past to her face would be rather inappropriate. On the surface, he wanted to know her a little more. Know about her past. What if she was only a sweet person because she still had no memories? What if her husband was indeed a certified psychopath? All of that if, in fact, he got to find any mention of her.

  He hit enter, starting the search.

  On the first results, he found out that Clarice, according to Wikipedia, was a name with Latin and Greek origins. He also saw a mention to a Brazilian writer who, incredible as it was, he knew. Actresses, singers, dramatic arts centers, he even found an app that worker as a personal travel agent. Nothing about the woman, though.

  And what if he searched for Clarice and Nathan?

  He restarted the search, but before the results could completely come up on the images tab, the doorbell rang, breaking his focus and making him nervous. Reflexively, he shut the laptop lid closed and turned to the door, from where he could see the Sheriff’s figure again. From the kitchen, the view was not so clear, but it was a difficult to mistake silhouette.

  He pushed the computer away on the kitchen counter and stood up, immediately feeling the head rush from standing up too fast. Jason took a moment and crossed the room, heading to the house main door. As much as he knew the Sheriff quite well and knew that that man trusted him as a son, he didn’t fail to notice the man stretching his neck and trying to see a little more from across the glass of the front door.

  Clarice was asleep upstairs, so there would be no risks of him meeting her by accident.

  Clarice was asleep, just as Marco.

  Which meant it was too early to be up, which also meant it was too early for the Sheriff to be there knocking at his door.

  “Aubry.” He said as he opened the door, without leaving much free space that could suggest an invitation to come in.

  “Flyce. How are things? Haven’t seen you since…”

  “The grocery. Yes. I’m fine, I guess my head was a little unreliable those days.”

  Despite looking sober with an extremely red nose, probably caused by some mild cold, the old Sheriff kept on trying to see something inside the house, trying to find something… or someone.

  “Is there something I can help you with, Aubry?”

  “Jason…” The call by the first name, that way, frightened him a little. Jason faked easiness and kept his posture. “Strange things have happened around here. I came to you for some help.”

  Jason frowned, confused. There was anxiety on his chest, too, but that second detail he could conceal better than the others. To avoid any further risks, he sneaked out and closed the door behind himself, hoping the other man would consider that as a way to keep Marco – and Marco, only – peacefully asleep. It was extremely cold on the outside and powerful bursts of wind strongly swept through his barely covered body, but he stood there by the sheriff’s side.

  “Nothing ever happens around here, Jason. And suddenly, everything is.”

  “The mysterious family disappearance?”

  The sheriff removed the hat and scratched his head already stained by the age, with its rare grey hair.

  “That too. The mayor is suggesting us to call for assistance, but I think this is all a big pile of hoseshit, that’s what it is. A few days ago, Rob disappeared.” When he noticed Jason’s lost glare, he went on: “That old dog of the Allemberts that looked more like a wolf.”

  Jason felt a razor stick to the base of his spine and run it the way through his neck, as a huge block of ice appeared in his stomach.

  “Haven’t you heard anything?”

  “No,” He promptly answered, crossing his arms with more intensity, both to warm himself up and to cover up his lie. “I haven’t. It’s been a while since I last talked to Martha.”

  “Funny,” The sheriff said under his breath. “I could swear she said she had come here a few days ago to leave you a pie.”

  Jason coughed to clear his throat, also shaking his head at the same time.

  “Yes, she was… she was here. I was not, at the time.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “About my not being here?”

  “Martha is dead.”

  Jason felt the cold blow in his chest, as if hit in high-speed by an iceberg. The biggest concern was not regarding the old lady’s death itself, that was something everyone already expected since the first time she developed the melanoma, his worry was regarding the dog. If Clarice’s husband, loose on the woods, had slaughtered the animal just to leave them a message, could he have also killed a helpless lady only to deliver the full message now?

  “How… when did it… Aubry. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Neither do I, Jason. We received the call today, that’s why I’m here. I need an opinion and, well, you’re the closest neighbor, you maybe could have some news or hav
e heard something.”

  “No, I… haven’t heard anything at all. How did it happen?”

  Aubry shrugged, replacing the hat on his head.

  “Nobody really knows. There was a winter party nearby…”

  “Lake resort?”

  “Right on point. Some kids heard the screams and found her near the lake.”

  “Screams?” The razor came back to his spine. “Murder?”

  Aubry shook his head unhappily.

  “That’s what is seems. Something wrong is loose out here, Jason. I would like to know what.”

  “Aubry, I really don’t know what to say. Or think. This sort of thing does not happen here.”

  “It shouldn’t. You mind coming with me?”

  Jason felt he was trapped. Saying no would put him in a suspicious position, perhaps because he knew something he was not telling. If he said yes, he would have to deal with all of that right on his face and keep on lying to an authority. More than that, he would keep on lying to a friend. At that point of life, he and the sheriff were no supposed to keep secrets from each other anymore, but that was a too particular situation to be judged just as the past ones.

  “Just need to get my coat.”

  Anxiety and tension took charge of Jason’s body in such a way that when he came to his senses again, he was already in the pickup truck almost reaching Martha’s old cabin.

  She lived in an area near the lake, a building that arose fights and petitions when the resort came up and decided to proclaim the area as if theirs in totality. After many battles, both personal and judicial, they allowed her to stay there, sharing the same space.

  Martha’s cabin was quite simple, a classical construction in the region. Built with overlapped wood beams, it had a comfortable porch, with simple wooden benches and a couple’s swing. The garden that surrounded the house was large, well-cared, although it already showed signs of multiple bystanders oblivious to the grass, plants and flower beds. It was all trampled down, covered by small yellow plastic plates with numbers in it, besides the numerous police cars parked in inappropriate places.