by BJ Hyman
“You look like shit and it’s obvious that you’re depressed.” He raised his eyebrows daring her to argue. “Talk.”
After a moment of hesitation, it was as if she couldn’t hold it back. It all came tumbling out in gasps and sobs with tears running down her face. Craig handed her a roll of toilet paper to catch the mess. She told him how she had been texting and talking to Dean secretly, how Eli, even without knowing about that, had backed off, how she felt confused by her feelings, her fear that she’s being tormented by someone she loves…or worse yet, the killer that is stalking their streets. When she was through, she stood hiccuping, wiping her face, and blowing her nose. She felt like she could sleep for ten years with the exhaustion that flooded her.
Craig looked from her to the floor then out into the store. Panic gripped her, and she clutched his arm. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”
His mouth twisted to one side. “What do you think? I’m your vault. Of course, I’ll keep any secret you need me to. But, Charlie…you can’t keep Dean or Eli on a string if you clearly want one more than the other. It’s not right to do to the one you’ll leave behind.”
It brought on a rash of new tears. “I know! I know! I’ve never been like this in my life! What is wrong with me?”
“Nothing. You’re in this terrible position with this person who is terrorizing you and that’s got to have you off kilter. Maybe your fears are making you into this mess I see before me instead of your usual decisive self.” She looked at him through large, wet eyes. He leaned in like he had a secret of his own. “You know…you could just chuck the two of them and run away with me. That would solve all your problems in one fell swoop. We’ll run off to my private island in San Luca and no one will ever find us…not Dean, not Eli, and not the madman who’s tormenting you.”
Charlie hid her face behind a wad of toilet paper. Megan at the bar telling her about how Craig said he had a crush on her came swimming back in her memory. Instantly, she felt terrible but tried to show that she got his joke. She gave him a wet smile. “I know I can always count on you.” She shoved off from the counter. “I’m going to wash my face and try to lose my mind in some work…that’s usually my best medicine.” With a shrug, she headed to the bathroom in the back storage room.
◆◆◆
The work helped. Once Charlie was fully into a reupholstering project, she felt miles better. Her mind was occupied by first the deconstruction of the old fabric and foam and then the stripping and cleaning the skeletal remains of the settee. Jobs like this were not all about looks. When she got a piece of furniture to its bare essentials, then she had to check and replace structures that were no longer working or build up ones that were weakened. By the time Charlie was finished with a piece of furniture, it was not only beautiful, but just as sturdy, or even more so, than a brand-new piece.
As Charlie set about her work, Craig did the usual start up business of the day. He picked the music for the store. He tended to get hooked on a certain artist for periods of time, so Charlie never knew when she would hear a full week of Led Zeppelin, Rush, Kate Bush, The Smiths, or even some country artist like Keith Urban. His latest passion was Porcupine Tree and the solo work of the band’s former lead singer, Steven Wilson, so she wasn’t surprised to hear the opening notes of their In Absentia album. The day would probably be filled by at least four or five of their albums, if he followed his usual trend. A couple of days before, his selection was Steven Wilson’s solo albums and he played Hand Cannot Erase, The Raven Who Wouldn’t Sing, and To The Bone back to back all day.
He always checked their Etsy, Facebook, Ebay, and website and tagged items in the store that had sold overnight on the web. While she was tearing sheets of old fabric from the chair, he passed by her several times with colorful sold tags with various names on them and notes on when they would be picked up or shipping info.
They had a good system. Craig sometimes tried his hand at the artistic side and proved to be very talented despite his reservations. Charlie actually hoped that he would take up doing more in the store as it grew so that she could hire another person on for other tasks. She had people who sold on consignment, but they were only about twenty-five percent of what she sold in the store. One person can only put out so much product.
◆◆◆
Charlie had just about stripped the wood bare when Craig came to her with the phone. His face was pale, and he looked worried. “What’s wrong?”
He held the phone out. “I’m not sure but it’s that producer from DesignTV. He doesn’t sound happy.”
Charlie took the phone gingerly and breathed deeply before taking it off hold. “Yes? This is Charlie Ray.”
Craig watched her anxiously as her face showed a myriad of emotions: confusion, shock, upset, disappointment, frustration, resignation.
“I understand. I don’t know how it happened because I haven’t been on Facebook in weeks…I’m not saying it’s not there. You wouldn’t be calling me if it weren’t. I just don’t know how it could be. I’ll remove the posts immediately. Thank you.”
When she hung up the phone, Craig was mystified. “What happened? What was that about?”
She ran her hands over her face and through her hair. “There are three posts revealing DesignTV in our store and items they were buying. There’s a video and two pictures. I’m being fined one thousand dollars for each post and have to take them down.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “You didn’t post something, did you? You have all my passwords and you know that I barely get on there.”
“No! I didn’t post anything! I knew about the rule!” He started toward the laptop. “Let’s go look for these posts they say are up.” He marched over, sat down, and promptly pulled up Charlie’s Facebook page. Scanning it, he saw nothing. There was no evidence at all of what they were talking about.
As he scanned, Charlie fretted over his shoulder. “Three thousand dollars. That will cost me more than what the good exposure and what they bought for the shoot was worth! That’s going to hurt us this month. Luckily, the Christmas season is on us and people will start coming in and buying presents. If it weren’t for that, we’d really be in a jam.”
“I don’t see it. I can’t find anything on your page.”
“It may be on our store page. Check that.”
Craig switched to their official page on Facebook and there they were. Three posts were posted on the day that DesignTV was in the store, just like they said…a video and two behind the scenes shots. Charlie deflated as Craig fell back into the chair. “I don’t know how those are there!” His voice dropped low. “They’re from my phone.” Craig looked at her with guilt etching the edges of his eyes. “I didn’t do it. I promise, Charlie! I’d never do anything to compromise this store or you. You have to know that!”
“Take them down. I think the genie is out of the bottle though. There are over 100 shares. Who knows how many people have actually seen them?”
As he deleted the posts, he glanced back at her over his shoulder. Her eyes were closed as she rubbed her temples. “I didn’t do it. I promise!”
She looked at him with weary eyes. “I know you didn’t, Craig. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Your phone went missing that day, remember? You found it in the bathroom? Same as mine. I think I know what happened.”
“What?”
“I think my tormentor did it knowing that it would hurt me and our store and our reputation. It’s one more bucket of paint, one more vase of flowers, one more note, one more missing bedroom, one more abduction to a closet…and who knows what else that I just automatically attributed to forgetfulness or oversight.”
Craig turned in his seat. “They’re down. Since it was my phone, I’ll pay the fine. I have some money in savings. It should cover it.”
Charlie held up her hand. “No. We’ll pay it out of the store. I don’t know how, but we will.”
He reached over and grabbed her hand. “At least let me pay half. That would make me f
eel better and should help.”
She looked down at where he held her hand and just wanted to have him hug her. Responsibility for his heart made her resist. She gave him a tired smile and squeezed his fingers. “Thank you. That would be very helpful.” She slowly slid her hand from his. “I’ve got to get back to work now. That settee won’t fix itself.”
She could sense his eyes on her back as she slogged back to her work. All she wanted was to run away and hide with Eli or Dean on a secluded island. And that made her feel just that much worse.
◆◆◆
After the day was over, Charlie closed the door to her apartment with relief. She punched in the security code and leaned against the door. Craig had been almost suffocating for the rest of the day. He was so apologetic that it was his phone stolen and used to hurt her that he could think of nothing else all day.
Eventually, Charlie just wanted to escape. The work wasn’t helping because Craig wouldn’t let her get lost in it. He sat nearby chatting or asking if he could do anything for her. She understood. Really. She did. It was just not what she needed at the moment.
She pushed off from the door and began taking her clothes off on her way to the bedroom. By the time she got there, she had a handful of clothes and was in only her bra and panties. She tossed the clothes (the new clothes) in her hamper before pulling a set of (new) yoga pants and a (new) t-shirt from the (new) dresser. She stood looking at them in her hands. They had not been worn yet, so they didn’t have that familiar softness of a favorite item.
As she began to remove her bra, her eyes settled on the camera in the corner. The same camera that recorded any and all movement in her room. She pulled the t-shirt over her head and yanked the yoga pants on before doing the Houdini trick that all girls know to take off her bra while fully clothed. She cast a hateful glare at the dead eye staring at her.
And a thought occurred.
She still had not tried to watch any footage that had been recorded in her apartment. She wondered how much was kept in the hard drive. With anxiety coiling in her belly, she padded into the kitchen where she kept her laptop sitting on the mostly unused dining table. She sat down in the chair, turned on the wireless mouse, and tapped the keys to wake the screen.
Charlie kept a cheat sheet on how to pull up the video records and had pinned it to her kitchen corkboard. She wished she had remembered that fact before she sat and pulled herself to the table with a leg tucked under her. She got up from her chair with a grunt and pulled it down.
She followed the steps and chose the camera feed from her living room. She decided it was the most boring show ever. It was just this black and white footage of every time she walked through. She decided to switch to the bedroom feed. This feed wasn’t as boring.
She watched herself as she changed and walked around getting ready. If she stirred in her sleep, it recorded her turning over. But then…a figure in a long coat came into her room and stood at the end of her bed.
Her heart pounding, she looked to see that it was two nights before. They didn’t touch her. They did nothing but watch. The face was obscured by a hood and a baseball cap underneath. She paused to try to see more detail, but it wasn’t enough. Her palms were sweaty when she pressed enter to make it play again. The figure stood there for a full twenty minutes and then turned to leave.
Charlie wasn’t sure that she wanted to see any more. How did they get in?! She had alarms! She had security!
The video feed continued to the next morning, the next evening, and then to the night.
And the figure returned. Same outfit. Same behavior. No way to see the face or even the hands.
An electric shock slid through her like seeing surprise footage of a ghost. Her emotions were a mix of fear and anger. It’s one thing to see evidence of someone sneaking into your house and another to see the physical presence standing over your sleeping body.
She watched the footage of her hall and everywhere that led to her room. Like she suspected, there was nothing new…no better angles, no new information.
She wrung her hands trying to decide what to do. Part of her knew she needed to give the footage to Detective Brooks. He might find something that her untrained eye missed. But a flame of anger was flickering in her chest.
She made the decision before she even closed the laptop. She would not sleep at all. She would stay up and binge Netflix while waiting with a weapon. If this person came in tonight, they would be met with a surprise.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Hanging By A Thread
Charlie popped herself some popcorn and added Parmesan cheese to it before she settled into her favorite club chair and kicked her feet up onto the oversized ottoman. She worked so much that it was a rare gift to be able to sit back and indulge in the joy of a good television binge. She looked at the dizzying array of choices and picked a series that she had loved when it was on: Lost. The opening shot of Jack’s eye opening made her smile with pleasure.
◆◆◆
No matter what motivation a person has, if they are tired and not used to going without rest, they are going to fall asleep. And sleep Charlie did. Episode after episode of Lost played without being watched…
At least by Charlie.
◆◆◆
Discomfort made waking easier. A crick in the neck will wake even the most sound sleeper. Charlie woke and could barely move her head. And there was something lying across her. Her confused and sleep filled eyes looked down into her lap to find an item that didn’t register at first.
A snake? Rope? She blinked quickly to clear her eyes to find a noose in her lap…tied and ready. There were odd markings on her wrists…red slashes. She leapt out of her chair and nearly crashed to the floor on her numb legs. In a stumbling run, she made her way to the door and the security pad. It was all locked and set correctly. It was as if nothing had happened.
The security cameras!
Turning, she raced into the kitchen and opened her laptop. Her shaking hands made following the instructions to replay recorded footage difficult. When she finally did, she found where she went to sleep. Soon after, the figure in the long coat walked up behind her chair. The intruder stood as if watching the TV for a surprising amount of time before pulling a rope from a duffel bag. The rope wasn’t knotted yet and they proceeded to make a perfect noose, as if they had practiced it many times. The hands were gloved so Charlie knew from cop shows that there would be no forensic evidence in the fibers…at least not skin cells.
The figure then placed the rope in her lap and pulled out what looked to be a large marker. They leaned over and drew the jagged lines across her wrists and then pulled her head back to expose her vulnerable neck. Raising the marker above their head, they looked like the demon barber of Fleet Street in Sweeny Todd before drawing something across her throat…like it was being slashed.
Her hand reached up instinctively to her throat. Fear flooded her with adrenaline and made her legs go heavy. She grabbed her phone and fled to the bathroom while dialing 911. She locked the door behind her. At the sound of a professional voice on the other end, she began to cry. “I need help. Someone’s been in my apartment. I think they’re going to kill me. Please help me.” She caught sight of her tear stained, terror filled face in the mirror. The jagged red line across her neck was hard to miss. It looked like she had been murdered in her sleep. She began to rub frantically while she sobbed into the phone. She could barely get her address out of her mouth.
When the police arrived, they had to break down the outside door and then the bathroom door. The alarm screamed an ear-splitting sound soon after that and wouldn’t shut up. They found her tucked between the toilet and the tub scrubbing her wrists and neck to the point of drawing blood. She screamed at them, “It won’t come off! It won’t come off! It’s like I’m already dead!”
◆◆◆
Kellie stood outside the hospital room with Mitchell. She couldn’t help but clutch his arm for support as the portl
y detective told her how the police found Charlie in an almost full mental break. They had collected the footage from her security camera and pieced together what had happened. The sedatives they had given her were doing marvelous work and she was finally resting.
A disheveled Eli rushed down the hall toward them. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. “Where is she?” He pointed toward the closed door before starting to push his way through. Detective Brooks stayed him with an arm across the chest.
“Hold up. She’s sleeping and doesn’t need to be disturbed. Who are you?”
“I’m her boyfriend.” He shook his head to the side as his eyes dropped to the floor. “At least, I think I’m still her boyfriend.” He straightened as tears rimmed his eyes. “I love her and I need to see her. I won’t wake her or upset her. I just have to be near her. I can’t…” His shoulders fell with the emotion.
Detective Brooks looked at Kellie for confirmation to which she answered with a tearful nod. He gave Eli an awkward pat on the back. “I’m sure you do. Let’s all take a few minutes to talk before anyone goes in now that she’s finally resting.”