Hillary_Tail of the Dog

by Angel Gelique

  “I don’t want to color...” Amber whined.

  “Well go watch some cartoons then,” Patty said, hoping her daughter would comply. She was in an abnormally foul mood and didn’t have the patience for Amber’s whining or prodding questions.

  “I don’t want to watch TV…I want to go to the park!”

  “Amby, you know mommy’s waiting for a visitor. Can you please be a good, sweet girl and find something to do?”

  “Why does she have to come now? You promised we’d go...you promised, mooommm....”

  “Stop whining!” Patty snapped.

  Amber jumped, her eyes widened and her pouty lips began to tremble. Her mother never shouted at her like that.

  “Don’t cry, Amby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just a little stressed out right now...I need to think.”

  You have to get out NOW! She’s going to kill you....

  A single tear rolled down Amber’s chubby cheek and Patty brushed it away softly. She hugged Amber closely. Jake sounded so, so nervous. Could he be telling the truth? Was she and Amber really in danger? Even if he had been unfaithful to her and his girlfriend was now on her way over, did she really want to expose Amber to that? Things could get ugly. The way she was feeling, things would get ugly.

  Patty used this line of rational thinking to justify her decision, but the real reason was that she was frightened by Jake’s words, the warnings that constantly taunted her mind.

  SHE’S GOING TO KILL YOU IF YOU DON’T GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE NOW!

  As if an ice cube had been swiped along her spine, Patty shivered. She was covered in goose bumps.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she spoke quickly, “if you can get your sandals on in one minute, we’ll go to the park now.”

  Amber’s eyes lit up with excitement.

  “Really? We can—”

  “Yes, hurry! Go...get you sandals on fast.”

  Patty’s heart raced as she dashed to the window. There was no sign of anyone out there. What was she expecting, Hillary standing in her driveway with an axe? She wanted to laugh at herself, her absurd thoughts, but she couldn’t help feeling so afraid. Her conversation with Jake was too disconcerting to dismiss. Why did she have to let her emotions get the best of her? She shouldn’t have hung up on him.

  Without thinking, she dialed Jake’s cell phone number. She was relieved for just a split second when the phone was answered after the second ring...until she heard the voice on the other end.

  “Hi Patty!” Hillary answered excitedly.

  “Who are you?” she asked sternly.

  “You’ll soon see. I’m on my way. Hold on a sec...how much longer?” she asked the driver.

  “We’re almost there, a couple minutes maybe,” he replied.

  Patty heard the man’s response. Who was he? That wasn’t Jake’s voice....

  “Oh goody, the cab driver says we’ll be there in a minute. I can’t wait to meet you and little Amber. We’re going to have such fun....”

  You and Amber need to get far away from there....

  Patty disconnected the call and ran to the foyer to grab her purse and car keys.

  “Amber!” she shouted, panicked, “c’mon, let’s go, we have to leave now!”

  Amber appeared a few seconds later, trudging slowly toward her mother with two different sandals in her hands.

  “I didn’t know which ones to—”

  Patty scooped the small child up swiftly, ignoring her protests, and made a hasty retreat from her home, locking the door behind her. She raced to the car, clicked the remote on her keychain to unlock it and quickly entered, placing Amber on the passenger seat.

  “But Mama...Mooommm....”

  “Hush, Amber,” Patty whispered as she closed the driver’s side door and fumbled with the keys in her right hand.

  Hillary’s on her way....

  “I’m not even wearing shoes!”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Am I going to ride in the front with you?”

  “No, Amber, hurry up and get on your booster seat.”

  “Why’re you rushing? Are we playing a game?” Amber asked, as she struggled to get her short legs over the center console and move to the back seat where her pink booster seat sat waiting for her.

  “Yes, yes, that’s right...we’re playing a game. Get your seatbelt on quick—”

  Patty stopped talking mid-sentence, hearing the approaching car. Instinctively, she locked the doors. She was thankful that her windows were tinted, though not dark enough to prevent them from going unnoticed.

  “Shhh, Amber, listen,” Patty whispered, “I need you to get down. Pretend you’re a snake now and lie down on the floor of the car.”

  “What?” she asked, too loudly for Patty’s liking. “A snake?”

  “Yes, and don’t move...and don’t talk....”

  “What kind of game—”

  “Shhhh....”

  Amber complied. Patty slowly looked over at the car parallel to hers on the left. It was an old, dented beige cab, an older Ford model with four doors. The windows, while dirty, were un-tinted. Patty could see a young blonde-haired girl in the back seat. She was looking down and didn’t seem to have noticed them.

  Hillary’s here....

  Patty’s heart raced. She kept her shaky hands on the key that was now in the ignition, ready to be turned.

  Is that Hillary? Could it really be her?

  The girl looked thin and young. Patty could see her handing some money to the cab driver. Then she opened the door on the left side of the car and got out. She walked around to the back of the car. She was carrying a shopping bag. It looked bulky and heavy in her small hand. She set it down on the floor right behind the car. Patty was able to get a good look at her then. She was wearing a cotton dress that looked at least five sizes too big for her. It looked like a tent on the girl’s emaciated body. Patty’s eyes widened. She knew that dress. It was Monica’s dress. She had seen Monica wearing it just last week.

  What’s going on? Why is that girl wearing Monica’s dress?

  Hillary grabbed a hold of the shopping bag. She started to walk then stopped when she spotted Patty. Patty gasped.

  “What’s wrong, Mama?”

  “Shhhhh,” she whispered quietly, afraid to move even though it was apparent Hillary had already seen her.

  Hillary glared at her, her eyes narrowed, her eyebrows furrowed. There was an unmistakable hatred in her eyes.

  The cab driver honked his horn and yelled something that Patty could not hear. He was trying to get Hillary out of his way so that he could leave.

  Oh my God! Patty thought. It’s her...it’s really her....

  Without even realizing it, she had started the car.

  “What are you doing?” Hillary shouted, loud enough for Patty to hear her through the closed window. Amber heard her too.

  “Is that Daddy’s friend?” she asked, popping up to sneak a peek at Hillary.

  “Get down!” Patty shouted. She could see the crazed look on Hillary’s face as she started advancing toward the car.

  Patty placed the car in reverse and hit the gas pedal. The car jerked back rapidly then screeched when she stepped on the brake at the end of her driveway.

  Amber Skye fell back with the sudden movement. She started to whine. Patty ignored her as she paused to look at Hillary. It looked as though she was contemplating running after the car. Instead, she ran to the driver of the cab. Patty took off quickly down the road, fearing that Hillary would ask the driver to follow her.

  She drove erratically, not even stopping for any of the stop signs. When she was sure it was safe to proceed, she drove through a red light at an intersection. She drove like a maniac all the way to the highway, constantly checking her rearview mirror for the cab. She didn’t even think about Amber on the floor of the car or answer her questions about whether this was all part of the game. She hadn’t known at first where to go, but decided to head to Patrick and Mo
nica’s house. After all, that’s where Jake was.

  She fished her cell phone out of her purse and dialed Monica’s home phone number. It rang and rang until the machine answered. She wondered whether Jake had left. She tried repeatedly to call him there, not caring that she was violating the law against talking on the phone while driving, not caring that she was excessively speeding at eighty-nine miles per hour, not caring that her daughter was not seat-belted in on her booster seat. All she cared about was making sure that she and Amber got far away from Hillary Greyson.

  ~20~

  Hillary had been arguing with the cab driver to follow Patty’s car. He refused to do so.

  “Listen, I don’t know what your problem is with that woman, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to be around you. I’m not going to go speeding after her.”

  Hillary had come seriously close to grabbing one of her tools and changing the man’s mind. He must have seen it within the crazed expression upon her face. He looked nervous.

  “Can you please get out of my cab now?” he asked calmly.

  Hillary opened her mouth to shout threats and profanities but held her tongue. She couldn’t kill the cab driver because she needed him to drive her around. Likewise, she couldn’t intimidate him or make him angry because without him she’d be stranded at Dr. Bentley’s house with no one to play with. She sighed, gathering her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in as much of a sweet voice as she could muster. “That woman who just drove off was my aunt. She’s pissed off ‘cause I’m pregnant. Please don’t leave me here, I have no way to get home and I’m not feeling so well....”

  Hillary’s bright eyes pleaded for his help. She was very convincing. He couldn’t leave a young pregnant girl stranded.

  Letting out his own labored sigh, he looked at her in the rearview mirror and said, “where do you want to go, Miss?”

  Hillary smiled at the old remnant of a one-time hippie, though she was thinking about how much she’d rather be ripping into his sweaty flesh.

  “I need to go to 78 Woodbridge Road.”

  “Woodbridge Road? What town’s it in?”

  “Maple Trails.”

  “Maple Trails? Are you kidding me? That’s more than an hour’s drive.”

  “That’s where I live, sir,” Hillary replied, a sweet damsel in distress.

  “That’ll cost you almost a hundred dollars!”

  “Money’s no problem. I just gave you fifty dollars, didn’t I?”

  The driver hesitated then nodded.

  “Fine, then that’s the end of the line,” he warned.

  Hillary’s smile widened.

  “I promise you, it’ll be the end of the line,” for you....

  “Do you have to check in with your dispatcher?”

  The driver laughed.

  “It’s my company, I’m the boss. You got lucky today. I’m only driving because two regular drivers called in,” he boasted.

  “Wow, I did get lucky!” Hillary exclaimed, her eyes wide and eerily aglow with unusual excitement.

  The cab driver pushed aside his uneasy feeling and started the ignition. After all, she was just a scrawny young teenager. What harm could she possibly do to him? He began the long drive to Maple Trails.

  Hillary sat back, closed her eyes and relaxed. She had a lot of things she needed to do, a lot of plans to make. Things will go better this time, she told herself, and grinned.

  After nearly an hour and a half, the driver announced that they were almost in Maple Trails.

  “I don’t know my way around here,” he admitted, “do you know how to get to Woodbridge Road from the highway?”

  Hillary nodded.

  “Yep, I know how to get there,” she replied eagerly.

  “It’s going to cost ninety-two dollars,” he forewarned, his eyebrows arched, waiting for signs of outrage or protest.

  “No problem!” Hillary responded without hesitation.

  The driver looked pleased to hear it, a thin smile formed on his stubbly face. He turned on his right turn signal and proceeded to drive onto the exit ramp.

  “Left of right?”

  “Make a right then drive straight for about a mile. You’ll see an old country store. Turn left then and follow the long, winding road.”

  “Sounds easy enough,” he said, happily. He couldn’t wait to drop her off and get out of there. He needed a cup of coffee and a cigarette, not to mention some more gas.

  “We’re just minutes away,” Hillary said anxiously.

  “You must really be excited to get there,” the driver noted.

  “I’ve been planning for this day for a long, long time.”

  “How long have you been away from home?”

  “About a year, I guess, but it feels like ages.”

  “There’s no place like home.”

  “You can say that again!”

  “Are they expecting you?”

  Hillary laughed hard and long. She looked crazy.

  She must be on drugs, the driver thought.

  “It’s going to be a surprise,” Hillary said at last, when she was able to contain herself.

  “Aww, isn’t that nice,” the driver replied, and said nothing more. He made a left turn at the old country store and started down the long, winding road.

  About halfway down, Hillary began rummaging through her shopping bag. The driver paid her no mind, figuring that she was getting her money ready.

  Hillary settled on one of the shorter serrated knives. It would do the job, especially since the driver would not be expecting her attack. He was in for a surprise too! She smiled, feeling the giddiness that always preceded a kill. She had never done drugs, but she imagined that’s what it must have felt like to get high. Pure bliss…elation…satisfaction.

  “You can pull over right up there,” Hillary said, pointing to a clearing in the wooded area.

  “Here? In the middle of nowhere?”

  “My house is just around the bend. I don’t want anyone to hear the car.”

  A new surge of uneasiness nagged at the drivers instincts. Again, he dismissed it. She was just a girl, for God’s sake, what was the matter with him?

  He pulled into the clearing. Leaving the car running, he craned his neck back and said, “Ninety—”

  He choked and gagged on his remaining words as Hillary plunged the knife deep into his throat and dragged it across his neck, quickly and effectively severing his jugular.

  “Joog-you-ler,” she said to the dying man, “that’s how it’s pronounced you know, not jug-you-ler like they say on TV...joog-you-ler...what a nice-sounding word....”

  She pulled the knife free from his mutilated neck, careful not to get the dripping blood on her clothes. It was already all over her hand. She tossed the knife into the bag. Leaving the wide-eyed corpse in the driver’s seat, she climbed out of the car, shopping bag in hand. She placed the bag down and walked up to the driver’s door. She opened it, leaned over and turned off the ignition. She pulled out the key and clutched them in her hand. She opened the glove compartment and found some napkins from a fast food restaurant. She grabbed a handful of them and stepped out of the car, leaving the glove compartment open. She wiped the blood off her hands as best as possible. It left a deep burgundy smear between her fingers and on the back of her hand. No matter, she thought. It’s not as if there won’t be more blood on my hands again soon....

  She tossed the keys into her shopping bag and slammed the car door shut. Clutching the shopping bag in her right hand, she started walking down the road toward the house she used to call home. It was a happy moment for her. She was finally going home. She was going to see her mom again.

  Content in all that she had accomplished so far and beaming with anticipation, she began humming Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” as she walked. She had planned for this moment so many times in her mind, it was hard to believe that the time had finally arrived. She missed her mother so, so much. There wasn’t a day
that had gone by when she hadn’t thought about her. Her mother was going to be so surprised to see her, especially if what Dr. Morrison had told her was true and that people believed that she was dead. It was a good, good day! Christmas had come early.

  Hillary was close enough now to see the house. There was one car in the driveway—her mother’s. She squealed in delight.

  I’m almost home, Mom....

  She walked up the steps and onto the porch. She reached for the doorknob, turned it, or at least tried to. It was locked.

  Frowning, Hillary walked back down the steps and lifted a rock on the edge on the grass next to the azalea bush. Seeing the key underneath brought the smile back to her face. She grabbed it and bounded back up the steps.

  With a quiet click, the door was unlocked.

  Hillary stepped into the warm house. It still had the familiar smell of cinnamon and apples.

  Hillary was home.

  The house was quiet. Her mother was nowhere in sight. Leaving the noisy shopping bag in the foyer, Hillary quietly crept to the kitchen. Empty. Just as neat, tidy and sterile as always. She went to the living room, the formal dining room, the bathroom then the den. Empty.

  Her anxiety level began to rise. What if her mother wasn’t home? She’d come all this way. She just had to be here. She’d had enough disappointments within the past couple of hours.

  Hillary quietly ascended the stairs. Maybe her mother was in her bedroom.

  As she drew closer, she could hear movement. She perked up. Her mother was home!

  The bedroom door was open. Hillary peeked in. Her mother had her back to the door and was stripping the bedding off the bed, getting ready to start a load of laundry. Hillary waited at the doorway for her mother to turn around and see her.

  After grabbing the pillow cases and stuffing them with the sheets and blanket into the laundry basket, the portly woman turned to leave her room.

  Seeing Hillary grinning at the doorway, she jumped, dropped the laundry basket and screamed at the top of her lungs. She stood there, frozen in place, her high-pitched scream steady and loud until her voice cracked and her scream turned to sobs. Now she stood there shaking and crying.