The Haunting of Secrets

by Shelley R. Pickens

  A few moments later, a figure emerges from among the gravestones. He’d recognize him anywhere. Even the darkness can’t conceal the glint of green in his eyes. He stops pacing—the time has finally arrived.

  “It took you long enough. I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes,” he berates his brother in evil.

  “I couldn’t get away without notice. Everyone knows I don’t get up this early,” his companion replies.

  “Were you able to find out if our plan was compromised?” he inquires eagerly.

  “There is a slight complication, but I’m taking care of it. The timetable still stands. Sharpen your knife—she’ll be ripe for the taking very soon.”

  “Excellent. I’ve waited long enough and I’m tired of this façade. Not a day goes by where I don’t hate myself for not killing her the instant she touched me. If so much weren’t at stake, I would have taken her the moment she stole my memories. She’s a threat, a risk to everything we’ve built.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “But I’m a patient man.”

  His companion smiles widely. “I expect no less. Don’t worry. She still has no idea who you really are. But, there’s no telling when she’ll figure it all out.”

  He chuckles sinisterly. “All the more reason to up the schedule. It’s time for her to understand the scope of our capabilities.”

  “Agreed. There’s no time like the present, right?” suggests his companion.

  He laughs heartily, his thoughts consumed with images of her lying on his bed, tied up and afraid. He can almost feel his knife sliding into her, imagine the helpless look in her eyes, the eyes that know entirely too much. The orbs that hold the secrets to his soul.

  “I couldn’t agree more. I can lead her to you; I just need more time. You know what to do, right?”

  “Do I look stupid to you? Of course, I know the plan. And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

  “A plan is only as good as its creators. Text me when it’s done,” he states, elation plain in his voice.

  The light of dawn begins to break through the darkness signaling the companions that they’ve already lingered too long. The hedges behind them suddenly erupt as birds jet out in all different directions, fleeing some unknown assailant the two boys can’t see. It’s a clear reminder of the fact that the success of the plan depends solely upon stealth.

  “This should be the last time we meet. If anything goes wrong, you know how to reach me. Until then, I have work to do,” states his companion, clearly eager to leave so he can begin.

  “As do I. If there’s an emergency, you know where to find me.”

  Each boy picks up his discarded book bag, preparing to head out in different directions, sticking to the darker areas to aid subterfuge. He looks at his friend, his brother in carnage, and feels lucky that he’s the one that holds the key to solving everything for him. After a lifetime of working alone, he has a real brother. Together, they are invincible.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ~ OMG ~

  Six hours after my stakeout began, I want to shoot myself just to make the torture stop. After a lifetime of staying away from people, I am now actively following Brenda Miller around school. Between classes, before and after school, to club meetings and cheerleading practice, there is no break from the insanity. How does a person live that kind of life and still have the energy to text every five seconds? I am exhausted just watching her go about her day. I have no idea how she actually does it. The one thing I’m good at is blending into the background. The whole day Brenda never knew that I was watching her; no idea I was scrutinizing every person she met. She was oblivious to the fact that I watched her every move, trying to decipher if she actually could be the next victim. I watched the boys interact with her, wondered if any one of them could be capable of the kind of evil I have experienced in the killer’s memories. The problem is that it could be any of them. Evil takes so many different forms and is an expert at deception. I have to rely on my powers of deduction and just hope that the memories I hold give me some indication of when he is around.

  I attended all my classes, but any free moment I had during the day was dedicated to following Brenda around to all of her classes. The day before, Leah had given each of us a copy of our person’s schedule. I didn’t ask how she obtained the schedules, but my guess is that Leah hacked into the school’s computer system. By the time I make it to cheerleading practice, my head is about to explode. It hasn’t even been one full day and I am already regretting the decision to follow anyone around. I decide to text Leah and Dejana, to see if they are having any luck, when I spot a boy coming towards Brenda and the other girls currently practicing a pyramid in the middle of the football field.

  I am far enough away that no one on the field will notice me. My perch high up in the bleachers gives me some concealment. Besides, even if a person does come up here to see what I’m doing, I have my books with me. I will pretend to study. This is a free country; studying in fresh air is not a crime. I don’t recognize the boy heading toward the group of girls, but there is something in the way he walks that makes me take notice. He has a confidence that not many teenage boys have when walking into a group of not only popular, but also, pretty teenage girls. Sadly, I don’t recognize this boy at all, even if I had wanted to. It’s just part of the package when you ignore almost everyone in school. He has brownish, blond hair and the muscular build of an athlete. He charges into the group of girls, strutting as if he owned every one of them, just like the popular kids do. He acts as if he owns the school.

  He slows in stride just long enough to say ‘hello’ to other girls before he stops directly in front of Brenda and engages her in conversation. I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying, but I can tell it’s flirtatious. She laughs at something he says—a little too heartily—and tucks her hair behind her ear. Ugh, disgusting. It’s like watching the G-rated version of Fifty Shades of Grey. I decide I need to hear more, so I pack up my book bag and begin to head down the bleachers. I try and look casual, taking each step firmly, but quickly as I make my way down to the edge of the fence where the entrance to the field is located. There is a small, locked gate that blocks the entrance to the stairs that lead down to the field, but it is low enough that I think I can jump it. I put my hands on either side of the rails and place my foot at the top of the gate. I dare a quick look to my left at Brenda and her potential would be lover/killer; they are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t notice me.

  Using my arms, I hoist myself up and swing my feet over the edge deftly and quickly, certain that I look as smooth and cool as Tom Cruise does in all his Mission Impossible movies. I am half way over the gate when suddenly, my book bag gets caught on one of the barbs on the chain link fence. I am stopped in midair and pulled back violently. My vision of coolness completely shatters as my forward momentum is shredded and I slam hard, back into the gate. My back begins to sting with cuts from the chain links. Feeling stupid, I begin to assess the damage to my back, when the shoulder harness of the book bag breaks and I begin a loud and expletive-full tumble down the stairs. My screams seem to get the attention of the players and cheerleaders on the field, if their laughter was any indication. It is painfully obvious that none of them care if I was injured in the fall or not. Gathering my pride and my book bag, I hightail it off the practice field as fast as I can and head towards my car in the student parking lot. I know I should stay and watch Brenda, but my back and shoulder needs tending. Besides, her life seems pretty normal and fairly drama-free. She should be fine until I take care of the bleeding on my back.

  Once I reach the parking lot, I jump into my car and head back to Dejana’s house. I shoot a text to Dejana, to let her know that I am on the way and see if she can meet me there. The doctors said that Mary would be in the hospital a few more days, so I am staying with Dejana until she’s out and we can figure out what to do about our half burned half-burned house. Ten minutes later, I pull into Dejana’s driveway, but instead of
seeing her blue Prius in the garage, I see Logan, arms crossed, leaning against his black Ford Mustang. He is looking sexy as ever in his Levi jeans and fitted black t-shirt. He’s wearing his letterman’s jacket, adorned with patches from so many sports that I lose count. A smile immediately appears on his face the minute he sees me. I can’t help but to smile back. I pull in beside him and turn off my car. He opens the door for me and slides back a bit, allowing me to get out of the car. Smiling still, he is about to say ‘hello’ when he notices the cut in my shirt from my graceful display where the blood has soaked through. His face immediately darkens.

  “What the hell happened to you, Aimee?” he asks, furious for some reason. I step back a bit, confused by his reaction. I want to tell him about how the three amigas are tailing a murderer at our school, but something holds me back. I can’t be sure what stops me; the three of us are a lot like Charlie’s Angels and we could always use a Charlie, but I still hesitate.

  “It’s nothing, Logan. I just fell down. I was just getting ready to go in and clean it, until I saw you waiting. Why are you here by the way? Did you want to see Dejana?” I ask, hoping the change of topic gets his mind off my injuries.

  His face softens, but I can still see the anger glow like a fire around him. He seems to get control of it quickly and his smile returns. “I’m here for you actually. I wanted to ask if you would like to go to dinner with me tonight. Nothing fancy, just hang out at Taco Mac by the mall for a bit. We could eat there and then maybe go to a movie. I might even let you pick which one. You up for it?” he asks. I bite my lip, unsure of my answer. This is the first invitation for a date I have ever had and if I blow it, certainly my last.

  Sensing my hesitation, Logan adds, “And for the record, I won’t take no for an answer.” He leans against the car and flashes the sexy, sideways smile that makes my heart skip a beat. As much as I want to say no and wipe that egotistical smile off his face, I can’t find it in me to do it.

  “Sounds good, Logan. Just give me minute to clean up. But since Dejana isn’t here, you’ll have to wait outside. I’m not sure I trust you alone in the house while I am in the shower,” I finish, happy to have some control back to help slow my heartbeat, however meager that control may be.

  Logan laughs, a deep musical sound. “For you, Aim, I’d wait anywhere,” he says leaning over and closing the car door behind me, encouraged by his success.

  My heart beats a bit faster as I make it up the stairs to the guest room I currently call home. I run to Dejana’s room first, to grab some of her clothes since mine were burned in the fire. As I dress in a more formal version of my black ensemble, I can’t help but feel elated by the idea of my first date. I have never felt excitement mixed with so much nervousness before. Nor have I ever before felt the need to look pretty. I choose a fitted, long sleeve shirt that accents my figure and matching black jeans. I leave my hair down as per my usual look, but I take the time to put on some makeup and matching black earrings. I don a lacy black scarf and gloves before looking at myself in the mirror. I have to admit, I clean up pretty well. Before I turn to leave the room and meet Logan outside, I decide to wear Dejana’s high-heeled boots because hey, a girl only has her first ever date once. Maybe I’m glad no one shot me today after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ~ New Beginnings ~

  Football season is in full swing, so of course the parking lot at Taco Mac is full. Luckily, Logan parks close and we’re both pleased to be led to a table quickly. Taco Mac is a sports bar, full of sports minded people drinking and yelling at the television. Not the usual quiet, romantic place one would imagine for a first date. Most girls want to be taken somewhere fancy, where they use real tablecloths and fresh flowers to enhance the dining experience. But, I’m not most girls. Logan’s knowledge of the things I like surprises me. The hostess leads us to the corner booth furthest away from the door. It’s like she knows this is my first date. My face must give it away. I can feel it flushing, no doubt due to my nerves. I see Logan give me a weird look every now and then as if he too is wondering why I all of the sudden, I can’t seem to keep my usual face of apathy.

  The restaurant has typical bar food, with a selection that appeals to the masses. The waitress greets us, clearly more interested in Logan than me. I order a burger with fries and Logan orders some wings. We sit in silence for a bit, both of us unsure of how to begin a conversation. Logan opens his mouth to talk, but his voice is drowned out by a loud roar of approval that suddenly fills the bar. Apparently, Georgia just scored a touchdown. Ever the sports fan, Logan’s eyes are drawn to the television, eager to see the replay of the touchdown. I take this stolen moment to really look at Logan. He is in his usual dark jeans and shirt. The only difference is that he is wearing a polo shirt rather than his usual t-shirt. He seems to favor dark colors like I do since he chose a dark crimson shirt that brings out the brown in his hazel eyes. He keeps his haircut short, but I don’t mind that at all, since I have never really liked a boy who has hair longer than mine. I lean forward a bit, intoxicated by his smell. It is a mix of soap and Axe deodorant. I inhale deeply, wanting to remember every moment of my first date.

  Before he catches me staring at him, I look down at the menu and pretend to be studying the desserts. Seconds later, I hear him clear his voice. I look up to see him staring at me, his hands folded together on the table in front of him, his face more serious than I would have anticipated.

  “So Aimee, do we start with small talk or get right into it and you tell me what’s been going on with you lately?” Logan begins his voice firm but concerned.

  I should be surprised by his question, but I’m not. Instead, I’m mad and getting more furious by the second, because I wonder if this date could just be a rouse to get me alone and talking about what Dejana and I have been up to. I wonder how much he knows about our quest to find a killer, if anything. So, it seems that it isn’t me he wants, but information. My embarrassment fuels my anger, but I reel it in, determined not to let him see how much this deception hurts.

  “What do you mean Logan?” I ask, fake innocence practically dripping from my voice. I cross my hands in front of me on the table copying his posture. I would smile innocently if I thought it would do any good. But he knows I don’t smile, just isn’t in my nature. So, I sit and wait, watching emotions of doubt and confusion run across his face. I will not cave in. I need to know how much he knows about the killer. The more he knows the more in danger that puts him.

  Logan sighs and shakes his head. “Ok Aimee. You can keep your secrets. But, I know something is bothering you. Ever since the bombing, you’ve been acting strange, paranoid even. I would venture to say scared, but I like my face the way it is,” he says smirking.

  Ever the skeptic, I lean in and look into his face, trying my best to decipher what his true intentions are. However, I see no deception in his body language.

  He smiles at me and asks, “What? Why are you looking at me that way?”

  When I make no move to answer, something seems to occur to him.

  He adds, “Oh, sorry I didn’t tell you the minute you walked out the door at Dejana’s house. You look beautiful Aim, you really do,” he finishes, an adorable, embarrassed sort of look on his face.

  I’m an idiot. This isn’t about the killings at all; it’s about his concern for me. I blame jumping to conclusions on my ill placed skepticism. Touched, my anger begins to melt away. “As a wise old lady once said, ‘a woman’s heart is an ocean of secrets’; mine more so than others.’ I really appreciate all you have done for me, but I’m good. I promise. If, for some reason there comes a time when I’m not, I’ll let you know.”

  Seemingly appeased, Logan nods. Our eyes lock, the moment frozen. For a second, it is just the two of us in the restaurant. There are no televisions, no loud crowds yelling at football teams. His hands unclasp and his right one moves to take mine. I don’t dare to breathe, afraid that it would break the spell. This has been a day of firsts. His
hand is centimeters from taking mine when the world comes crashing back in on us.

  “Hey Logan!” shouts someone from across the restaurant. We both turn to see Tyler waving at us. He’s with three of his friends and they are all wearing varying degrees of basketball uniforms. Their shirts vary in both color and newness, but they each wear matching black shorts. They must have come to eat straight after a basketball practice. My stomach is in knots. I slink down in my seat, hoping to blend in so they ignore me. They all make their way to our table without an invitation. I hear Logan groan.

  Tyler, the obvious leader and, in my opinion, the most handsome of the group, is the first to speak once they reach our table. “Dude, I didn’t know you were going to be here! You said you were sick! But I guess you had a better reason to blow off practice tonight, huh?” he adds looking at me and smiling. His green eyes twinkle with charm as he looks at me. It is unnerving to have Tyler’s full attention. His clear, green eyes are a stark contrast to his blond hair. His face is perfectly round and his body is toned and muscular. He was blessed with the face of a sexy movie star and the body of an Adonis. It’s no wonder that he has girls falling over him all the time at school. I’m surprised to see no hint of disgust on his face or hear any tone of sarcasm in his voice. The other three are a different story, the tall, blonde one especially.

  “No way Tyler, you can’t mean her?” asks the tall, blonde kid, punching his friends in the arms. His voice is filled with obvious disgust as he drags out the last word as if it was dirty. I wrap my arms around my stomach, trying my best to hold in my anger. I’ve spent my whole life avoiding fights, I’m not about to start one now. I don’t dare look at Logan. I don’t want to see the embarrassment that I’m sure is all over his face. Though he’s been there for me in ways I could never have imagined, he’s never been tested like this. Not many can survive the test of peer pressure. For all his confidence, even Logan will probably crumble. I brace myself for the worst when instead, I’m saved by someone I never would have guessed even knew my name.