by Blake Pierce
She heard a click as Jilly ended the call. Riley bent over her desk, tears running down her own face. Jilly’s question kept echoing through her head …
“Why not?”
There were a thousand reasons. She had her hands full with April as it was. Her job was too consuming, both of her time and energy. And was she in any way qualified or prepared to deal with Jilly’s psychological scarring? Of course she wasn’t.
Riley wiped her eyes and sat upright. Indulging in self-pity wasn’t going to help anybody. It was time to get back to work. Girls were dying out there, and they needed her.
She picked up the folder and opened it. Was it time, she wondered, to get back in the arena?
CHAPTER THREE
Scratch sat on his front porch swing watching the kids come and go in their Halloween costumes. He usually enjoyed having trick-or-treaters come around. But it seemed a bittersweet occasion this year.
How many of these kids will be alive in just a few weeks? he wondered.
He sighed. Probably none of them. The deadline was near and no one was paying attention to his messages.
The porch swing chains were creaking. There was a light, warm rain falling, and Scratch hoped that the kids wouldn’t catch cold. He had a basket of candy on his lap, and he was being pretty generous. It was getting late, and soon there would be no more kids.
In Scratch’s mind Grandpa was still complaining, even though the cranky old man had died years ago. And it didn’t matter that Scratch was grown now, he was never free from the old man’s advice.
“Look at that one in the cloak and the black plastic mask,” Grandpa said. “Call that a costume?”
Scratch hoped that he and Grandpa weren’t about to have another argument.
“He’s dressed up as Darth Vader, Grandpa,” he said.
“I don’t care who the hell he’s supposed to be. It’s a cheap, store-bought outfit. When I took you trick-or-treating, we always made your costumes for you.”
Scratch remembered those costumes. To turn him into a mummy, Grandpa had wrapped him up in torn-up bed sheets. To make him into a knight in shining armor, Grandpa had decked him out in cumbersome poster board covered with aluminum foil, and he’d carried a lance made out of a broomstick. Grandpa’s costumes were always creative.
Still, Scratch didn’t remember those Halloweens fondly. Grandpa would always curse and complain while getting him into those outfits. And when Scratch got home from trick-or-treating … for a moment, Scratch felt like a little boy again. He knew that Grandpa was always right. Scratch didn’t always understand why, but that didn’t matter. Grandpa was right, and he was wrong. That was just the way things were. It was the way things had always been.
Scratch had been relieved when he got too old for trick-or-treating. Ever since then, he’d been free to sit on the porch dispensing candy to kids. He was happy for them. He was glad that they were enjoying childhood, even if he hadn’t.
Three kids clambered up onto the porch. A boy was dressed as Spiderman, a girl as Catwoman. They looked about nine years old. The third kid’s costume made Scratch smile. A little girl, about seven years old, was wearing a bumblebee outfit.
“Trick-or-treat!” they all shouted as they gathered in front of Scratch.
Scratch chuckled and rummaged around in the basket for candy. He gave some to the kids, who thanked him and went away.
“Stop giving them candy!” Grandpa growled. “When are you going to stop encouraging the little bastards?”
Scratch had been quietly defying Grandpa for a couple of hours now. He’d have to pay for it later.
Meanwhile, Grandpa was still grumbling. “Don’t forget, we’ve got work to do tomorrow night.”
Scratch didn’t reply, just listened to the creaking porch swing. No, he wouldn’t forget what had to be done tomorrow night. It was a dirty job, but it had to be done.
*
Libby Clark followed her big brother and her cousin into the dark woods that lay behind all the neighborhood backyards. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be home snugly in bed.
Her brother, Gary, was leading the way, carrying a flashlight. He looked all weird in his Spiderman costume. Her cousin Denise was following Gary in her Catwoman outfit. Libby was trotting along behind both of them.
“Come on, you two,” Gary said, pushing ahead.
He slid between two bushes just fine, and so did Denise, but Libby’s costume was all puffy and got caught on some branches. Now she had something new to be scared about. If the bumblebee costume got ruined, Mommy would have a fit. Libby managed to get untangled and scurried to catch up.
“I want to go home,” Libby said.
“Go right ahead,” Gary said, moving right along.
But of course Libby was too scared to go back. They had come way too far already. She didn’t dare go back alone.
“Maybe we all should go back,” Denise said. “Libby’s scared.”
Gary stopped and turned around. Libby wished she could see his face behind that mask.
“What’s the matter, Denise?” he said. “Are you scared too?”
Denise laughed nervously.
“No,” she said. Libby could tell she was lying.
“Then come on, both of you,” Gary said.
The little group kept on moving. The ground was soggy and slimy, and Libby was up to her knees in wet weeds. At least it had stopped raining. The moon was starting to show through the clouds. But it was also getting colder, and Libby was damp all over, and she was shivering, and she was really, really scared.
Finally the trees and bushes opened onto a large clearing. Steam was rising up from the wet ground. Gary stopped right up to the edge of the space, and so did Denise and Libby.
“Here it is,” Gary whispered, pointing. “Lookit—it’s square, just like there was supposed to be a house or something here. But there’s not a house. There’s nothing. Trees and bushes can’t even grow here. Just weeds is all. That’s because it’s cursed ground. Ghosts live here.”
Libby reminded herself of what Daddy said.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Even so, her knees were shaking. She was afraid she was going to pee herself. Mommy sure wouldn’t like that.
“What are those?” Denise asked.
She pointed to two shapes rising up out of the ground. To Libby they looked like big pipes that were bent over at the top, and they were almost completely covered with ivy.
“I don’t know,” Gary said. “They remind me of submarine periscopes. Maybe the ghosts are watching us. Go take a look, Denise.”
Denise let out a scared-sounding laugh.
“You have a look!” Denise said.
“Okay, I will,” Gary said.
Gary stepped none too boldly out into the clearing and walked toward one of the shapes. He stopped in his tracks about three feet away from it. Then he turned around and came back to rejoin his cousin and sister.
“I can’t tell what it is,” he said.
Denise laughed again. “That’s because you didn’t even look!” she said.
“Did so,” Gary said.
“Did not! You didn’t even get near it!”
“I did so get near it. If you’re so curious, go check it out yourself.”
Denise didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she trotted out onto the bare patch. She got a little closer to the shape than Gary, but she trotted straight back without stopping.
“I don’t know what it is either,” she said.
“It’s your turn to look, Libby,” Gary said.
Libby’s fear was creeping up in her throat just like that ivy.
“Don’t make her go, Gary,” Denise said. “She’s too little.”
“She’s not too little. She’s growing up. It’s time she acted like it.”
Gary gave Libby a sharp shove. She found herself a couple of feet out into the space. She turned around and tried to go back again, but Gary stretched his hand out to s
top her.
“Huh-uh,” he said. “Denise and I went. You’ve got to go too.”
Libby gulped hard and turned around and faced the empty space with its two bent things. She had the creepy feeling that they could be looking back at her.
She remembered her daddy’s words again …
“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
Daddy wouldn’t lie about a thing like that. So what was she scared of, anyway?
Besides, she was getting mad at Gary for being a bully. She was almost as mad as she was scared.
I’ll show him, she thought.
Her legs still shaking, she took step after step out into the big square space. As she walked toward the metal thing, Libby actually felt braver.
By the time she got close to the thing—closer than even Gary or Denise had gotten—she was feeling pretty proud of herself. Still, she couldn’t tell what it was.
With more courage than she even thought she had, she reached her hand out toward it. She pushed her fingers among the ivy leaves, hoping that her hand wouldn’t get snatched or eaten or maybe something worse. Her fingers came up against the hard, cold metal pipe.
What is it? she wondered.
Now she felt a slight vibration in the pipe. And she heard something. It seemed to be coming from the pipe.
She leaned really close to the pipe. The sound was faint, but she knew that it wasn’t her imagination. The sound was real, and it was just like a woman weeping and moaning.
Libby jerked her hand away from the pipe. She was too frightened to move or speak or scream or do anything. She couldn’t even breathe. It felt like that time when she’d fallen out of a tree on her back and the wind got knocked out of her lungs.
She knew that she had to get away. But she stayed frozen. It was like she had to tell her body how to move.
Turn and run, she thought.
But for a few terrifying seconds she just couldn’t do it.
Then her legs seemed to start running all on their own, and she found herself dashing back toward the edge of the clearing. She was terrified that something really bad would reach out and grab her and yank her back.
When she arrived at the edge of the woods, she bent over, gasping for breath. Now she realized that she hadn’t even been breathing all this time.
“What’s the matter?” Denise asked.
“A ghost!” Libby gasped out. “I heard a ghost!”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She tore away and ran as fast as she could back the way they’d come. She heard her brother and cousin running behind her.
“Hey, Libby stop!” her brother called out. “Wait up!”
But there was no way she was going to stop running until she was safe at home.
CHAPTER FOUR
Riley knocked on April’s bedroom door. It was noon, and it seemed high time for her daughter to get up. But the answer she got wasn’t what she had been hoping for.
“What do you want?” came the muffled, sullen retort from inside the room.
“Are you going to sleep all day?” Riley asked.
“I’m up now. I’ll be down in a minute.”
With a sigh, Riley walked back down the stairs. She wished Gabriela was here, but she always took some time away on Sundays.
Riley plopped herself down on the couch. All day yesterday April had been sullen and distant. Riley hadn’t known how to relieve the unidentified tension between them, and she’d been relieved when April had gone to a Halloween party in the evening. Since it had been at a friend’s house a couple of blocks away, Riley hadn’t worried. At least not until it got to be after one a.m. and her daughter wasn’t home.
Fortunately, April had showed up while Riley was still undecided whether or not to take some kind of action. But April had come in and stalked off to bed with barely a word to her mother. And so far, she didn’t sound any more inclined to communicate this morning.
Riley was glad that she was home to try to sort out whatever was wrong. She hadn’t committed herself to the new case, and she was still feeling torn about it. Bill kept reporting to her, so she knew that yesterday he and Lucy Vargas had gone out to investigate Meara Keagan’s disappearance. They’d interviewed the family Meara had been working for, and also her neighbors in her apartment building. They’d gotten no leads at all.
Today Lucy was taking charge of a general search, coordinating several agents who were passing out flyers with Meara’s picture on them. Meanwhile, Bill was none too patiently waiting for Riley to decide whether to take the case or not.
But she didn’t have to decide right away. Everybody at Quantico understood that Riley wouldn’t be available tomorrow. One of the first killers she’d ever brought to justice was up for parole in Maryland. Not testifying at that hearing was simply out of the question.
As Riley sat mulling over her choices, April came bounding down the stairs, fully dressed. She charged into the kitchen without even giving her mother so much as a glance. Riley got up and followed her.
“What have we got to eat?” April asked, looking inside the refrigerator.
“I could fix you some breakfast,” Riley said.
“That’s okay. I’ll find something.”
April took out a piece of cheese and closed the refrigerator door. At the kitchen counter she cut off a slice of cheese and poured herself a cup of coffee. She added cream and sugar to the coffee, sat down at the kitchen table, and began to nibble on the cheese.
Riley sat down with her daughter.
“How was the party?” Riley asked.
“It was okay.”
“You got home kind of late.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Riley decided not to argue. Maybe one o’clock really wasn’t late for fifteen-year-olds to be out at parties these days. How would she know?
“Crystal told me you have a boyfriend,” Riley said.
“Yeah,” April said, sipping her coffee.
“What’s his name?”
“Joel.”
After a few moments of silence, Riley asked, “How old is he?”
“I don’t know.”
Riley felt a knot of anxiety and anger rise up in her throat.
“How old is he?” Riley repeated.
“Fifteen, okay? The same as me.”
Riley felt sure that April was lying.
“I’d like to meet him,” Riley said.
April rolled her eyes. “Christ, Mom. When did you grow up? The fifties or something?”
Riley felt stung.
“I don’t think that’s unreasonable,” Riley said. “Have him stop by. Introduce him to me.”
April set down her coffee cup so hard it spilled a little onto the table.
“Why do you try to control me all the time?” she snapped.
“I’m not trying to control you. I just want to meet your boyfriend.”
For a few moments, April just stared sullenly and silently into her coffee. Then she suddenly got up from the table and stormed out of the kitchen.
“April!” Riley yelled.
Riley followed April through the house. April went to the front door and grabbed her bag, which was hanging on the hat stand.
“Where are you going?” Riley said.
April didn’t reply. She opened the door and went out, slamming the door behind her.
Riley stood in stunned silence for a few moments. Surely, she thought, April would come right back.
She waited for a whole minute. Then she went to the door, opened it, and looked up and down the street. There was no sign of April anywhere.
Riley felt the bitter taste of disappointment in her mouth. She wondered how things had gotten like this. She’d had tough times with April in the past. But when the three of them—Riley, April, and Gabriela—had moved to this townhouse during the summer, April had been very happy. She’d made friends with Crystal and had been fine when school started in September.
But now, just two months later, April had gone from a happy teenager
back to being a sullen one. Had her PTSD kicked back in? April had suffered a delayed reaction after the killer named Peterson had caged her and tried to kill her. But she had been seeing a good therapist and had seemed to be working her way through those problems.
Still standing in the open doorway, Riley took her cell phone out of her pocket and texted April.
U come back here. Right now.
The text was marked as “delivered.” Riley waited. Nothing happened. Had April left her own cell phone at home? No, that was not possible. April had grabbed her bag on the way out, and she never went anywhere without her cell phone.
Riley kept looking at the phone. The message was still marked as “delivered,” not “read.” Was April simply ignoring her text?
Just then, Riley felt pretty sure she knew where April had gone. She picked up a key from a table near the door and stepped out onto her little front porch. She went down the stairs from her townhouse and across the lawn to the next unit, where Blaine and Crystal lived. Again staring at her cell phone, she rang the doorbell.
When Blaine answered the door and saw her, a wide smile spread across his features.
“Well!” he said. “This is a nice surprise. What brings you over?”
Riley stammered awkwardly.
“I was wondering if … Does April happen to be here? Visiting Crystal?”
“No,” he said. “Crystal’s not here either. She went to the coffee shop, she said. You know, the one close by.”
Blaine knitted his brow with concern.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Is there some kind of problem?”
Riley groaned. “We had a fight,” she said. “She stormed out. I was hoping she’d come over here. I think she’s ignoring my text.”
“Come on in,” Blaine said.
Riley followed him into his living room. The two of them sat down on the couch.
“I don’t know what’s going on with her,” Riley said. “I don’t know what’s going on with us.”
Blaine smiled wistfully.
“I know the feeling,” he said.
Riley was a bit surprised.
“Do you?” she asked. “It always looks to me like you and Crystal get along perfectly.”