“Knock it off, Blake. Just because you’re dating the school slut, doesn’t mean you can make fun of Aimee. At least she hasn’t slept with half the guys on the baseball team,” taunts Tyler, daring Blake to tell him different.
Red in the face with suppressed anger, Blake is practically spewing steam from his ears, probably from the fire blowing up his ass. Either way, Blake is smart enough not to challenge Tyler. Blake turns to his friends and says, “Come on guys, we better get a table before it fills up. Let’s leave the two ugly ducklings to their date.”
The three of them head off in the direction of the patio. Tyler however, stays behind and leans against the back of our booth. His eye catches mine and he winks at me.
“Thanks man,” says Logan. “You saved me a pretty big fight.”
“No worries dude. You’re the best player we have on the team. Can’t have that killer right arm hurt in a stupid fight or we’d all be screwed. And I’m sure Aimee would not appreciate it if your face was messed up either,” explains Tyler winking at me once more.
I feel myself blush. Damn, when did I become that girl? I go from no one even knowing I exist, to being on a date with Logan and giggling like a schoolgirl because the cutest boy in school pours on the charm and points it in my direction. I’ll have to get tattoo this weekend just to downgrade my attitude a bit. I shouldn’t even think of entertaining the advances of one guy, let alone the attention of two. It is simply not in the cards for me and I would do well to remember that.
As Logan and Tyler talk baseball for a bit, my attention’s drawn to the closest of many large televisions that garnish the sports bar. The reporter for Channel Two Action News appears and the words ‘breaking news’ fills the bottom of the screen. I’m not sure why, but the story immediately consumes my focus. I can’t hear what the reporter is talking about, but I can read the ticker at the bottom of the screen that types out everything the person is saying.
Authorities are still investigating, but this is what we know of this breaking story, Susan. A second tragedy has befallen the students of Peachtree Creek High School here in Georgia. It was only four weeks ago that a horrendous bombing rocked, this otherwise quiet school, killing thirty-seven young students. Now, tonight, the body of a young girl believed to be from the same school, is found murdered a stone’s throw from where the bombing took place. A man walking his dog earlier this evening discovered a body thrown in this ditch you see right behind me. Judging from the tracks in the mud on the bank of the road, the car drove onto the shoulder and pushed the body out of the car in the direction of the woods that border the school. The police say there are no witnesses despite the heavy foot traffic from the park across the street. Channel Two Action News had an exclusive interview with the man walking his dog and he elaborated on his initial curiosity at the dark, red stain on the sidewalk. After a closer look, he found a trail that led to the body a few feet from the sidewalk. The man revealed that the poor girl’s body was covered in blood. We still don’t know the identity of the young lady, but we know one thing for sure, this poor young girl suffered. Back to you Susan.
The world closes around me as my heart catches in my throat and my lungs burn for air. I can’t seem to inhale. Dread consumes me. I chant over and over in my head, please don’t let it be Brenda, but my heart knows the truth. I have to get out of here and check on her; see if she’s safe or if hers is the body dumped so callously by a killer’s maniacal whims. If the body discovered really is Brenda, then I have failed, big time. All our hard work to get to this point wasted because I couldn’t even stand one day of staking out. All it took was six hours of torture, one sexy look from a boy to abandon my duties, and I fall knee deep into a date. I’ll never forgive myself if poor Brenda was forced to die such a horrible death on my watch. Not to mention the pain I’m certain she endured before she fell blessedly into the depths of darkness. All due to my ineptness and inability to tolerate a few boring hours.
I turn to address Logan, still deep in conversation with Tyler. I waste no time interrupting. “Logan, I have to go. Now,” I say, the urgency seeping through my voice.
He and Tyler both turn to look at me at the same time; confusion rolling off them in waves. It is practically palatable, like a thick fog hanging between us. Since I can’t reveal anything more, I slide out of the booth, fly toward the front door, panic and regret engulfing me. I hear Logan yell my name behind me and I almost don’t stop. Then I realize I don’t want my first date to end like this; I don’t want to be the kind of girl that goes running for the hills with absolutely no explanation. I turn around and spot Logan in the crowded restaurant, making his way towards me. He had followed me of course; I should have expected it. The look of such disappointment on his face almost undoes me. My heart clenches with the sting of regret.
As he nears me, I see him put his hands into his pockets, clearly wanting to say something, but uncomfortable with whatever it is. I need to go, but he remains stubbornly silent. Despite the urgency I feel, I make no move to leave. I want to go back to that table and tell Logan everything, but I can’t. I’m on the verge of begging for forgiveness, but pride holds me back. The one and only good thing about living alone with a constant companion of everyone else’s past is that you never have any regrets. And I’ll be damned if I let begging be my first. However, it’s so hard to resist when my entire body practically aches with the need to comfort him. I cross my arms in an effort to protect myself, but it doesn’t really work. Seeing the hurt in Logan’s eyes makes me feel about two feet tall. Mentally I slap myself. I need to remember that I would rather have him hurt now, so he can remain safe in his ignorance.
Finally, our standoff is interrupted by Logan’s loud and heavy sigh. A gesture I can hear even in this loud, crowded restaurant. His hand emerges from his pocket with a set of car keys. “Go. I’ll get a ride from Tyler,” he says before tossing me the keys.
I catch them expertly in my hand despite the surprise that practically renders me immobile. I stand there for a moment in disbelief; incapable of moving despite the fact that a few seconds ago, I wanted to fly out the door. I long to say something; anything that would express the overwhelming gratitude I feel for his support, but my voice remains stubbornly absent. Logan never even asked why I had to go. I wonder what I had done right to deserve his unbending support. Though I had always avoided any kind of interaction with him, he persisted. To what end, I never knew nor even cared at the time, but things have changed now. My life is very different than it was before the bombing. I have changed in ways I can’t even see yet. And if the media gets hold of anything else that brings attention to this small town in Georgia that I’ve been using as my own personal hideout for years, then my life will have to change again, because I will be forced to leave. But, I can’t think about that right now; that crisis will have to wait for another day. My reveries end and my panic returns with a vengeance. I turn around and run out the door, but at the last minute, I turn back and look Logan, my ever-constant savior.
“You know, you actually are one of the good guys,” I say with more truth than I care to admit in my words.
“Just realized that have you?” he teases. “Catch up Richardson,” he says with a lopsided smile and a wink before turning around to head toward where Tyler waits for him near our table. I waste no time running out the door and making a beeline for his car. I pull out my cell phone to call Dejana as I peel out of the parking lot at speeds of mock two. I would just shoot her a short text, but I don’t have a death wish to be wrapped around a tree. Luckily, Dejana picks up on the second ring.
“Hello?” she asks in her usual upbeat, cheery voice.
Without as much as a ‘hello,’ I dive straight into describing the news story, knowing she would understand. “Meet me at the woods across from the old school, right now. I think I might have blown it; like epic fail blown it. I’m already on my way and will be there in ten. Please hurry,” I say before hanging up the phone, too frazzled to even say g
oodbye. I grip the steering wheel and concentrate on the road; but my mind keeps reeling over what might have been. Ten minutes of replaying every scenario I have experienced from the killer’s memories, never to know exactly which one she was forced to endure. I may not know what regret feels like, but I sure as hell now know what it’s like to experience torture.
Chapter Twenty-Four
~ Lesson Learned ~
The killer hides in the obscurity of the trees across the street, waiting for someone to discover the body. He rocks back and forth on his heels, barely able to keep still from the excitement of it all. He wishes for the hundredth time that it could have been that bitch Aimee beneath his knife, but when a gift such as the young, sweet Brenda falls into his lap, it isn’t the time to choosy.
Taking his binoculars from around his neck, he watches, anticipation bubbling inside of him as an old man stops beside the place where he dumped the body. He watches the whole thing unfold like a movie. The old man yanks his dog back, its nose all bloody from sniffing the body. The old man then goes to investigate, hoping it’s some dead rodent or animal, only to find the remains of beautiful Brenda. It isn’t long before the old man vomits in the bushes.
“Weak bastard,” he thinks. It isn’t long, maybe ten minutes, until the cops arrive. They may look official, but they are nothing compared to him. They will find no evidence around or on the body he dumped. He was very careful. The police walk the perimeter, trying to determine where the body came from when the CSI truck pulls up. He spits on the ground. Idiots, all of them. No matter how many pieces of evidence they collect, none of it will tie the murder to him. Even the car he used to dump the body was stolen. He was nice enough to return it earlier tonight, of course. He can’t wait to see the look on that man’s face when the police identify his car and come to arrest him for murder!
But, all of this would have been for nothing if she doesn’t see the fruit of his labor, the one and only person on the planet that knows his secret. Just thinking of her fills him with rage like never before. He is so engorged with it that it’s nearly impossible for him to remain hidden. Every fiber of his body wants to run and find her, so he can rip her apart slowly, piece by piece. In an effort to calm himself down, he takes a deep breath and forces himself to remain still. He reminds himself of the prize, the end game. He prides himself on being able to delay gratification and patience is of essence right now. Her day will come. But first, it is essential that she learn a very important lesson. She must understand that no one messes with his life and gets away with it. And he damn well means no one.
Chapter Twenty-Five
~ Regrets ~
The outline of the charred high school immediately comes into view when I round the corner of Huff Street. It’s tucked back in the middle of a huge piece of land, surrounded by woods on three sides. The park across the street is home to many kindergartners and some wayward teenagers, thanks to its beach volleyball courts and a skateboard park decked out with tons of dips and bends. The construction equipment littering the front of the school is another constant reminder of the horrors that occurred within the skeleton of the wreckage. It’s almost as if a permanent skull and crossbones hover above where the cafeteria used to be.
I pull into the park across the street, looking like any other teenager visiting. There is a crowd across the street to my left, where the possible body of Brenda is being processed before the coroner takes it away. No one notices as I slip amongst the trees to get a better look at the whole scene. Behind me, I hear the roaring of a car and I know that Dejana is close behind. I see her pull in beside my borrowed car, park, and get out slowly as if she hasn’t a care in the world. Dressed in a casual outfit of jeans and simple, white shirt that hugs her figure, she fits in better than I do with the people at the park. Our eyes meet in understanding and without words, we turn together and slowly, but purposefully, make our way to the trees. Once inside the cloak of obscurity, Dejana pulls out some binoculars. Damn, she’s good.
We make our way to a tree that can keep us hidden, yet still gives us a fairly good view of the wooded area on the other side of the road, which is currently littered with all kinds of law enforcement agents. I try my best to see what’s going on across the street, but CSI trucks and police cars obscure my view. Beside me, Dejana puts the binoculars to her eyes and looks left to right, trying her best to get a glimpse of the body. It goes like that for a good five minutes, left, right, then back again searching. Finally, she gasps and I see her lock in on something with her magnified eyes. She whimpers; it’s a low, mournful sound. Without speaking, she hands the binoculars to me and I finally see what has Dejana so upset. Magnified, I see her body lying on the cot as the coroner prepares to take the corpse to the morgue. I recognize the blonde hair instantly, but that isn’t what gives it away. I know it’s Brenda from the pink nail polish on her fingertips.
I let the binoculars drop, not even bothering to watch them as they fall silently onto the leaves that cover the ground. I’m frozen in shock and grief. Brenda is dead. Murdered by the same killer that’s stalking me. Thankfully, I do not possess the memory of Brenda’s death. But the memories of all the other poor girls this monster has killed, swim in my veins and unwittingly take root in my mind. From there, it’s a straight shoot into my haunted soul. I toy with the idea of involving the police now, but that would only invite a multitude of questions that I can’t answer. They would never believe I have the ability to see one’s past and even if they did, they would lock me up and throw away the key. I was lucky that Dejana believed me in the first place, luckier still with Leah. I can’t take the chance of losing my freedom, not when we’re so close to the truth.
I turn to Dejana. “I’ve had enough. It is time for him to pay. If it is me he wants, then it’s me he’s gonna get. I can’t have another girl tortured and killed while we chase our tails,” I exclaim, the anger and purpose evident in my voice. All Dejana can do is just stare at me, caught between loyalty and fear. Her eyes dart to the circus across the street and back to me. I know that she’s thinking it could have just as easily been me on that stretcher. I fear that I’m losing her, that the stakes have gotten too high for her to remain in the game. I wish I had a choice. I have absorbed many memories in my life, but none as vile as his. I can’t run away knowing that he is alive somewhere in this world, wreaking havoc on innocent women.
As if sensing my thoughts, Dejana’s face becomes focused, determined, and dare I say, a bit bad ass. “You’re right, Aimee. We couldn’t save Brenda, but we can try to catch him before he gets the other two. Or worse, chooses someone at random to kill just to taunt us. We have to face it; he knows more about us than we do about him. I’m willing to try, but you have to promise me you won’t go against him alone. He knows you know his secret and he’s obviously threatened by that. An unstable teenager is one thing; an unstable teenager with a knife is a whole different ballgame.”
Dejana’s intuitive evaluation of the killer astounds me. She’s right; he won’t stop until I’m dead. And if I’m going to survive this ordeal, I’m going to need the help of my friends. Well, the whopping two friends I have at least. My only fear is that they might lose their lives as well in the process, and I can’t let that happen. My curse allows me to see the past, but not change a damn thing about it. The people I saw were never real to me since I never let anyone close enough to care about them. But, that just isn’t the case anymore. The people he’s killed are faces I’ve passed in the hall, real people I’ve spent two years avoiding. I’m not able to help the ones I see in his memories, but I can try to stop the one that did it to them. The trick is trying to keep those I love safe in the process. Mary was hurt because the killer wanted me. I can’t let the same thing happen to Dejana or Leah. This is my burden to bear. If Dejana thinking she’s in this with me keeps her head on straight, then so be it. She’ll realize by the end that I have no choice, but to take on this pathetic excuse for a human being, alone.
“Deal,
” I say with finality. “But first, we have to regroup and form some kind of plan to catch this guy in the act. And I want to be the bait.”
“Whoa,” Dejana starts, “I never said anything about you using yourself as bait. And you promised me just two seconds ago that you wouldn’t do this alone!” she cries.
“And I won’t be alone. You’ll be with me the whole time. But, I never promised not to use myself as bait. It’s time, Dejana. If we want to catch him, we have to use a bigger fish. And I am the biggest fish of all. I’m his end game, I’m sure of it. He’s just taunting me, enjoying the fear it evokes, but I’m done with that. I’m done with all of it. The only way to catch him is to be proactive. We have to play his game, his way.”
Before Dejana has a chance to argue, we both turn as we hear another person coming through the trees towards us. We see her red shirt first, the sequins beaming in the small rays of sunlight visible within the trees. Then her sandy blonde hair comes into view and we hear a series of colorful cuss words as Leah stomps towards us as silently as a rhino. She’s dressed to go out in a short black skirt that goes well with the top she’s wearing and high heels. Not the best outfit for a clandestine outing in the woods.
She spots us finally and stomps her way over, the haunting question written all over her face. Wondering how in the world she knew where we were, I take one look at Dejana’s face and have my answer. I see Leah shift her weight back and forth on her feet, wanting to ask the obvious question, but lacking the courage to do it.
The Haunting of Secrets Page 11