See Jane Run

by Hannah Jayne

  “What took you so long?”

  Riley kept her shoulder against the door so he couldn’t push it open any wider.

  “Nothing,” she said, winding a hand through her wet mess of hair. “I was just looking for a hair tie.”

  “You used to always wear it in pigtails.”

  Riley wanted to tell him to stop. She wanted to tell him that he had no right to those memories, no right to images of her and the things she did. Instead, she shoved her hands in her back pocket, running her index finger lightly over the glass in her pocket.

  She followed Tim out the front door and stopped cold when she saw his car in the driveway. The front left bumper was scratched and smattered with dings, and a small crack spider-webbed across the bottom of the windshield.

  “You—you—”

  She couldn’t say the word. She couldn’t say “You hit Shelby” without tearing the glass shard from her pocket and going for his neck. But if she did that, even on a surprise attack, he could easily overpower her, and even if she did get away, where would she go? The few houses that looked lived in were set well back from the road, well back from this house. There were vines and overgrown shrubs everywhere, but he knew what was out here; she didn’t.

  Tim opened the car door for her and she slid in, sitting gently to protect the glass. Once he shut her door, she slid it from her back pocket and into the front. Riley’s stomach roiled when the car engine rumbled. Her saliva was sour, and she fought back angry tears, not caring when Tim hit the door lock button and she was trapped inside.

  “So you’ve been watching me a long time then?”

  “Not that long. Only a few weeks, maybe a month now. You weren’t easy to find.”

  “So you stayed around Crescent City?”

  He nodded, turning away from the old-fashioned looking sign that said, Granite Cay Downtown Historical District—Food! Shopping! Fun!

  “Why aren’t we going that way? It said ‘food.’”

  Tim shrugged her question off. “There’re too many people downtown.” He poked Riley in the ribs. “I don’t want someone stealing you away again.”

  Bile itched at the back of her throat. No one is going to find me here. No one is going to rescue me. She thought of her parents, of never being able to see them again.

  “I thought you said they were going to leave me.”

  Tim’s jaw stiffened. “I don’t trust anything about those people.”

  Would they even come for her? She gritted her teeth. Deputy Hempstead had found her here once; he would find her again. Right?

  “Did someone help you?” She thought of JD, her stomach starting to quiver. “Did someone help you find me?”

  “No.” Tim swung his head as he guided the car toward a bank of strip malls—and passed them. “What do you mean?”

  “There is a boy,” Riley started, shocked at what she was sharing. “His name—his name isn’t important. He lives—was living—across the street from me. He watched me.”

  Tim frowned. “I know that boy. He wasn’t helping me. He wanted to hurt you.”

  “What?”

  “I was at your house one time. I was looking into your windows—just to make sure it was really you, Janie, and he was there too. He yelled at me. He told me to go away because he didn’t want me to help you.”

  Riley blinked, confused. “JD chased you away?”

  “He didn’t want me to help you.”

  She looked out the window, silent, until Tim pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant, set aside by itself on the outskirts of town.

  “Ready?”

  He kept a hand clamped around Riley’s upper arm, guiding her into the restaurant. “Remember, if you act up, they’re going to take you away again,” Tim murmured into her ear as the waitress led them through the nearly empty restaurant. “They’ll make you disappear.”

  He squeezed her arm a little harder, and Riley nodded, the pain making her even more determined to never get back in the car with Tim, to never go back to that awful house.

  Riley scanned the menu without reading anything on it. Instead, she checked everything in her peripheral vision, anything to use as a weapon, any way to slip out of the restaurant and out of Tim’s grip. There was nothing. She could just start screaming, telling everyone her story, but she was terrified that Tim would clamp down on her, overpower her, and rush her out of the restaurant.

  When the waitress came, Riley mumbled an order, studying the wall behind the waitress’s black bouffant.

  That’s when she saw it.

  Tucked away on the other side of the restaurant: a fire alarm.

  No one responded to calls of “help” or “rape”; your best bet is to yell “fire.”

  While the waitress was taking Tim’s order, Riley broke in. “I need to use the restroom, please.”

  Tim cut his eyes to her, his expression fierce, but he couldn’t forbid Riley from going without the waitress finding it strange.

  She pointed her pencil. “Right down there, hon.”

  Relief washed over Riley. The walk to the bathroom took her directly past the fire alarm. Riley made a beeline for it and, feeling a spark of adrenaline in her arm, reached out and yanked the thing.

  Her heart dropped when nothing happened.

  It must have taken a second, maybe more, but it seemed like ages before the fire bell clanged. It was deafening and people were looking around, confused.

  That’s when Riley dashed into the ladies room, closing the door behind her. She moved a garbage can up against it—it wasn’t much, but it would slow someone down—and looked frantically around the restroom. Her heart almost bounded out of her mouth when she saw the window above the sink. For the first time in what seemed like decades, she smiled, and the tears that poured out of her eyes were happy. Riley hopped up on the sink and cranked the old-style window as wide open as it would go then popped off the screen.

  Her fingers ached as the metal window frame dug into her skin, but with the cool wind hitting her face, she didn’t care. The toes of her sneakers scraped against the cheap stucco, and within seconds she was half out the window, halfway to freedom, on her way back to Crescent City. She didn’t care about the way the metal dug into her ribs as she shimmied her way out, clawing at anything she could reach. There was cement below her, and with the way her body was angled, she would have to move out headfirst.

  It didn’t matter.

  She gave herself a final launch and felt her hands—first one and then the other—scrape the concrete. One arm gave way immediately and she heard a pop then felt wave after wave of white-hot, blinding pain surge from her shoulder to her fingertips. But she was free.

  She was behind the restaurant now, and from the corner of her eye, she could see patrons ambling around the front door, looking confused as the fire-bell continued to clang. She heard sirens in the distance, but they sounded far off. Riley weighed her options—she could wait for the fire truck and tell them her story but chance running into Tim. Or she could run now.

  It wasn’t even a thought.

  Once Riley righted herself, she cradled her left arm in her right and took off running, wincing at the pain in her shoulder, relishing the sound her sneakers made as they slapped against the concrete, putting distance between herself and Tim.

  Riley had no idea where she was going, no idea in which direction to run. All she knew was that she had to get away from that restaurant and get away from Tim. But he wasn’t dumb. The restaurant sat alone among empty storefronts or businesses that only operated on weekdays. Riley cleared them all and kept running.

  When she heard the hum of an engine after twenty minutes of jogging up to CLOSED signs and empty windows, she slowed, panting, relieved. The pain in her shoulder was overwhelming, and simply moving was zapping her energy. When the car pulled up alongside her, she broke down
into a raging, primal scream.

  Tim stopped the car, opened the passenger side door, and swept her inside.

  EIGHTEEN

  Riley, curled into the bucket seat, watched the stern set of Tim’s jaw as he continued down the road. He didn’t say anything to her, not even when he picked her crumpled, wailing body from the sidewalk and dropped her in the car. He would grind his teeth, the motion making the muscle in his jaw flex. His nostrils were flared, and rage marked a red path over his forehead and cheeks.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said finally.

  Anger pricked through Riley, and all at once, the searing shoulder pain momentarily stunted. She was too mad to be afraid.

  “You shouldn’t have done this,” she spat, each word punctuated, each word its own sentence.

  Tim swung his head toward her, his expression a sickening one of pure innocence.

  “What was I supposed to do, Janie? I know you don’t believe me, but they were going to leave you. They were going to hurt you. I couldn’t let them leave again. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  He gripped the wheel harder, his knuckles going white.

  “I couldn’t let that happen,” he repeated.

  Riley dropped her head in her hands, hopelessness creeping though every vein. Her shoulders slumped and now the pain was everywhere, wracking her entire body. He was going to win.

  She thought of Shelby then, small and broken in her hospital bed.

  “You hit my best friend. You hit her and tried to kill her.”

  Tim slammed on the brakes, and Riley was flung forward, her ribcage screaming out as it slammed against the dashboard.

  “I did that for you! I did that so you would understand and get a clue! They were all out to get you!”

  The red went all the way to the tops of his ears, and he was breathing hard, fisting his hands and slamming them against his head as he spoke. “I don’t know why you won’t believe me! I have to make you see! You have to know I was right!”

  Terror, cold and heavy, crept through Riley. She could feel a rivulet of blood dribbling over the lower lip she bit. She watched the blood drop, forming a perfect circle of velvet red when it dropped onto her shirt.

  “I don’t believe you.” The voice that came out of Riley’s mouth—calm, determined—wasn’t her own. It was confident—it was mad. “You’re crazy.”

  Tim turned to her, fire burning in his eyes. His lips were slightly parted in a snarl that contorted his whole face into something terrifying. Slowly, he reached for Riley, going directly for her bad shoulder. His hand closed over her delicate limb and he squeezed, effortlessly, the pain ruining her.

  She screamed and he released her, shoving her against the car door with a simple flick of his wrist. Tim pushed the car back into drive and drove, eyes focused straight ahead, a low, eerie whistle seeping from between his puckered lips.

  Riley was silent, cradling her arm as Tim slowly took the turn that led to the house.

  She would die before she went back to that house.

  Tim tapped the wheel with his fat fingers, whistling along to a song that only he could hear. Riley breathed deeply before launching herself across the cab. Startled, Tim’s hands went to his face.

  But Riley’s went to the steering wheel.

  She turned it in any direction it would go and kicked at the gearshift. It was only a split second before Tim regained his composure, one hand going for the wheel, the other grabbing Riley’s hair, but the damage had already been done. The car lurched and groaned; every light on the dashboard flashed before going out completely.

  “You bitch!”

  The car was aimed directly at the house, and Riley scrambled out of Tim’s grasp. She could hear each hair as it broke in his grip, her scalp burning. She screamed and kicked against him, biting at the hand he tried to clamp over her mouth.

  He didn’t care.

  His fingers moved over her chin and settled on her neck, squeezing, crushing at her windpipe. She was struggling to breathe. Her body, thrown into panic mode, was desperate for air—just like a panic attack.

  Riley tried to stay calm. She took a short, shallow breath when his grip momentarily loosened, and it was in that moment of clarity that she heard the sirens.

  Lord, please don’t let it be in my head.

  Tim’s head snapped up and she knew it wasn’t.

  He scrambled for the door, one hand still tangled in Riley’s hair, the other still clamped around her neck. He slid her right out with him, Riley struggling to gain her footing as he went for the walkway.

  “Freeze!”

  Tim stopped, his hand tightening around Riley’s throat. Her vision started to fade, even as the siren sounds became stronger.

  They’re not going to make it…

  Somewhere, in her periphery, Riley heard car doors slamming, but Tim was still pulling her.

  “Riley Spencer!”

  Tim switched his grip from her throat to her waist, propping her up like a rag doll. Her arms were pinned to her sides. Riley heard the rustling then the slick sound of a blade slicing air before the cold steel was pushed against her flesh. She saw the glimmer of the blade just under her right ear.

  “Stay back! I don’t want to hurt her but I will! I won’t give her back to you alive. I won’t! I promised her I’d keep her safe! She’s better dead than with them!”

  Riley’s stomach curled in on itself. Even when she saw Deputy Hempstead coming up the walk, she didn’t feel safe.

  He had both hands splayed, his eyes locked on Tim’s.

  “I need to know that Riley is OK.”

  “I don’t know who Riley is,” Tim spat. “I’m just bringing my sister home.” He dug his fingers into Riley’s flesh, and she squeaked, her eyes damp with tears.

  Riley’s teeth started to chatter. She was going to die. Tim was going to kill her and she was going to die.

  She wanted to die.

  The pain was all around her, throbbing, tearing, pulsing. She thought of her parents, the house in Crescent City, Shelby’s heap of a car. She absently wondered what name they would use on her tombstone.

  “Janie’s not your sister, Timmy.”

  Riley’s head snapped up, all thoughts of death shot away.

  Her father was coming up the driveway, was just over Hempstead’s left shoulder. His eyes crested over Riley, heavy with apology, but his gaze set on Tim.

  Riley could feel Tim stiffen.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry, Timmy, we both are. We shouldn’t have left you.”

  “See?” Timmy was speaking to her now, shaking her with every word. “I was right. They left me. They’re going to leave you too!”

  Riley looked to her father, who had stepped in front of Hempstead and was almost close enough to touch. She could see her mother behind him. She shook off Gail’s grip, and Riley saw that Gail held a gun, pointed at the ground. Behind her were three squad cars with officers taking aim.

  “You need to let her go, Timmy,” her mother pleaded. “You know that, don’t you? Please let her go.”

  “She wants to be with me. We’re home. This is our home. I told Janie the truth about you two. I told her how I went to sleep and when I woke up, you stole her and you just disappeared. You left me like I was nothing.”

  “You had a family, Tim.”

  “No!” Tears were streaming down his face. “You were my family!”

  Her father raked a hand through his hair. “We spent a lot of time together, Timmy, and we loved you. But you were free when Alistair was arrested. They made arrangements for you to go home and live with your parents again.”

  “We didn’t want to take you away from them.”

  “No.”

  Riley’s mother pushed her way to the front. “We loved you, Timmy—we stil
l do. But you had a family to go back to and we had to leave. We couldn’t take you from them, especially after Alistair already had. We didn’t have time to say good-bye. But we knew you’d be back with your parents soon.”

  “My parents didn’t want me back. They wouldn’t take me back. They sold me to Alistair. They knew what he was doing. You were going to save me.” He was heaving now, tears and snot dribbling over his lips. “You promised you would save me!”

  Riley could see her father visibly pale. “We didn’t know, Timmy. We didn’t know.”

  “They took me to live with strangers! You left me and you took away Alistair and I had nobody. And you still had her!” His words were dripping with spite. “You took her and not me!”

  He shook Riley hard, and she could feel the blade saw against her skin a little more. Her emotions were crashing all over her. Pain, relief, anger. Her parents really did know Tim. They really did leave him behind, and now he was here, holding a knife to her neck in front of a house that she didn’t even remember.

  “It wasn’t like that, Timmy, honestly.”

  “Stop it! Stop it! You’re lying. You’re lying and Jane knows it. She hates you! She hates you like I do. Tell them, Jane. Tell them!”

  He tightened the blade against her skin, and Riley could feel the fibers beginning to split. “Tell them,” he commanded.

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Tell them!”

  Riley looked at her mother then her father, the tears rolling down her face, flopping from her chin. “I hate you,” she whispered.

  He shook her so the blade scraped against her skin. “Say it so they can hear it. So they can hear it and they’ll leave us alone.”

  Riley tried to look at the ground, but all she could see was Tim’s filthy hand, gripping the blade that was pinching at her neck.