When we finally stepped foot on the foyer floor, I sprinted through the front door with no hesitation. Even if my parents had overheard the door swinging open, it was too late for them to stop us. We were free. The cool night air whisked through my hair as I sprinted across the expansive front lawn. Rosie closed the front door lightly and trailed behind me. After she hit the unlock button of her car key set, I leaped into the passenger seat of her car, which was parked at the top of the driveway. Flustered, Rosie sunk into the driver’s seat and sparked the engine to life.
“Hurry,” I urged her.
We immediately sped off. Rosie’s car almost slammed into the mailbox as she pulled out of the driveway, but after shifting the car into drive, we zoomed in the direction of my hometown’s western side.
We drove for about ten minutes. The first half of the drive took us through the east side, where large balconies were held erect by tall white pillars on lush, manicured hilltops. The farther west we drove, the buildings appeared crumbled. When Rosie made a right turn onto Leah’s mother’s street, which was dimly lit with flickering, dilapidated streetlights, she took her foot off the gas and slowed her vehicle. Through the passenger-side window, I observed a neighborhood that was so different from my own, despite being only ten miles away. A palpable tone of hopelessness overtook the neighborhood. Small businesses were dark and barricaded off, homes were vacant, and several brick buildings were shattered, crumbling with debris.
Right when Rosie was about to pass the street sign marking our destination, I blurted out, “Make a left!”
My body weight jerked suddenly. My head clunked into the passenger window as Rosie turned the car sharply.
Squeezing the steering wheel tightly, Rosie spouted, “Will you remind me sooner next time?”
“…Okay, sorry,” I said, surprised by Rosie’s flustered demeanor. I pointed to the second house on the left. “It’s this one here.”
Rosie brought her vehicle to a stop. The street was almost pitch black, minus a single street lamp in front of Leah’s mother’s home. It didn’t quite flicker, but subtly ticked every so often, reminding me of a twitching eyelid when a person was overstressed and sleep deprived.
“Have you been to this house before?” Rosie asked as she squinted toward the front door of the home. All windows were boarded off, and there were no lights emanating from the property. It appeared as though the home was abandoned.
“Only to drop Leah off and pick her up,” I replied. “She never let me inside.”
Rosie hugged herself with her arms. “Will you make this quick? I’m feeling uneasy.”
“I’ll bring my phone inside, alright?”
Rosie nodded reluctantly, sitting stiffly in the driver’s seat. Shutting the door behind me, I crossed the deserted front lawn and knocked on the front door with a hesitant fist. The door swung open immediately, surprising me. I wondered if Leah’s mother had been watching through the hole in the door, waiting for me to knock.
I greeted her with the strained, distorted smile I’d ever presented to anyone in my life. I resented Mrs. Herrington for holding Leah back from chasing her dreams. I also pitied the woman, considering how distressed she must have been from losing her child. But I also scrutinized her for hanging up on me when I had called her two weeks ago. All she had to do was talk to me and offer some help, but she had refused. With so many mixed emotions hurtling through me, my smile for Mrs. Herrington did not reach my eyes.
“Hi,” I said. The engine of Rosie’s car hummed idly at the curb.
She squinted at me with dark eyes surrounded by deep wrinkles. “You’re very pretty.”
She spoke to me as if this was the first time she’d ever seen me. I’d met her twice before. The first time was when I dropped Leah off from our high school, and Mrs. Herrington happened to be sitting on the porch. The second time was at our high school graduation ceremony. Both interactions were brief. Perhaps Mrs. Herrington didn’t even remember what I looked like.
“Come on in,” she said, standing to the side.
When I stepped foot in the house, I was overcome by the strong odor of dust, stale carpets, and cigarette ash. The smell was so pungent, it took remarkable effort not to scrunch my nose. The living room was to my left, where an old, stained sofa stood beside a warped coffee table. A collection of orange pill containers were lined up on the table, along with a glass ashtray, which was covered in cigarette butts. The television set was on, displaying a news report about Leah. I immediately diverted my eyes. I couldn’t stand watching the news coverage about her anymore. It was driving me out of my mind.
Mrs. Herrington took a seat on the sofa. I observed her for a moment, noticing the dryness of her eyes and the brown stains on her bathrobe. She put a cigarette between her lips and lit it. Her wrinkled face reflected orange light from the flame.
“I brought you here to ask a few questions.” she asked after blowing a cloud of smoke through her nostrils. “Do you have a key to Leah’s apartment?”
“Why?” I asked.
“Leah’s checking account is still open. I need her banking information so I can take some money out.”
“Oh,” I said. “I…I don’t have a key, actually.” That was a lie, obviously. For some reason, I had a feeling Leah wouldn’t want her mother to gain possession of her house key. Or any of her possessions, for that matter.
“I wasn’t born yesterday,” Mrs. Herrington said as she watched me closely, drinking me in. “I know you have a key, but you don’t want to give it to me. You think it’s your job to protect my daughter from me.” She flicked her cigarette over the ashtray. “I can only imagine the awful things she has said about me to you.”
“She’s never spoken ill of you,” I said. “Not to me, anyway.”
“Oh, don’t bother with the lies. I know she did.” Mrs. Herrington glanced down at her ankles, which appeared swollen and ashy with dry skin. “I have fibromyalgia. Constant muscle pain and fatigue. People like you who are young and healthy take your mobility for granted. Would you want to live like this? I can’t even get up to use the bathroom without suffering from excruciating pain. I got worse after Leah moved out. She began to distance herself from me. Other than a monthly check in the mail, she barely spoke to me. And it all began when she got involved with you.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling at a loss for what to say.
“It wasn’t all bad, actually. When the two of you first got together, it was nice to see my daughter smiling again and looking forward to the day. She had a very difficult time after her father passed away, and it wasn’t until she met you that she actually began to care about the future again.”
Heavy emotion tugged at me. “I truly loved her, Mrs. Herrington.”
The woman scowled. “I wasn’t finished.” She took another drag of her cigarette, then went on. “She also started hiding money from me when she met you. I have limited health coverage, and the medical bills have been piling up rapidly over the years. Leah knew that, but she started a savings account behind my back. I also have reason to believe that she hid cash and bank statements from me.”
“I was just at her apartment last week,” I said. “I didn’t find any recent statements.”
Mrs. Herrington leaned forward in her seat. “Has she ever taken you to that old abandoned motel?”
Color flushed to my cheeks. Leah had taken me there many times, usually so that we could have some privacy. Other than during the odd occasion that my parents were away, the motel was the only place we could make love to each other. “Um. Once or twice,” I replied.
Mrs. Herrington’s eyes grew intense. “She hid money there, too. I’m almost positive of it. She didn’t trust me not to search through her apartment, so she decided to hide a safe in that motel. It only makes sense. An abandoned building located in the middle of the woods is a good place to hide anything. I suppose she figured I’d never find it, but she made weekly withdrawals at the bank located five miles away from the hote
l. I suspect she hid money in the basement. There may also be some bank information, legal documents, tax forms, things like that. I’d go there to look for it myself, but my legs won’t allow for that.”
“Why do you want me to do that?” I asked. “Is it because you want me to find out what happened to her, or do you just want to take Leah’s money?” I sent her a sharp glare.
“What’s it matter to you?”
“You’re a vile and selfish woman,” I spat. “You’re a thief, and I feel sorry that Leah was born with you as her mother. I’m not stealing money for you.”
“Do you want to know what happened to her or not?”
“What does stealing money have to do with that?”
Mrs. Herrington crushed her cigarette into the ashtray, twisting the butt in between her fingers. “This isn’t just about getting my hands on the money she owes me. There could be important information in there. Recent transactions, receipts, a paper trail that could help you figure out where she is.”
I squared my shoulders. “Why are you concerned now, all of a sudden? I called you the day she went missing and you didn’t seem to care.”
“I wasn’t concerned in the beginning because I didn’t believe anything serious had happened,” Mrs. Herrington said, suddenly stiff and defensive. “Going off the radar isn’t unusual for my daughter. She may have always been loyal to you, but it wasn’t abnormal for her to cut off communication with me for weeks at a time. She’d ignore my calls, refuse to respond to my voicemails. Eventually, I had to get a new phone so that I could contact her. She really thought that sending me a check every month was enough, but it wasn’t. She abandoned me.”
“But why do you care now?” I asked.
Mrs. Herrington glanced at the television, where Leah’s smiling face flashed across the screen.“Because I realize now that I was wrong to downplay the situation. The police seem to be doing an awful job with this investigation. It’s been two weeks, and they still haven’t found a thing.” She glanced away from the television and found my gaze. “Please look for a safe. I believe it may be hidden in the motel basement. That’s where Leah’s father used to store important documents. If you find any cash, please bring it to me.”
I scowled. “I’m not giving you any of her money.”
I stormed out of the home, slamming the door behind me. I sprinted across the lawn and slumped into the passenger seat of Rosie’s car.
“How was it?” Rosie asked.
“Look, I know it’s late, but I need us to make another stop,” I replied as I buckled myself in.
“Are you kidding me?” Rosie threw her head back and let out a groan. “Where on Earth do you want us to go now?”
“The place is called Motel 6.”
Rosie froze. Under the flickering streetlight, I watched her jaw clench. “What?”
“Leah’s father used to own a motel before he died. It’s shut down and abandoned now. Leah’s mom seems to think that Leah hid money there.” I shook my head angrily. “What a despicable woman. Mrs. Herrington only wants me to go there so that I can take Leah’s money.”
“You can always just say no.”
“Believe me, I’m not giving that woman a dime. But it might be worth it to take a look around. We’ll just have to use a flashlight.”
Irritation sharpened Rosie’s features. “Oh, so now we’re pretending to be detectives?”
I found myself shouting suddenly. “This is important! Seriously, Rosie. I don’t understand why you keep making me feel crazy for wanting to know what happened to my girlfriend.”
Rosie eventually put her car in drive.
“Head north,” I said.
The car was moving painfully slow. I glanced at the speedometer dial, which barely passed fifteen miles per hour. “Come on,” I urged her. “Go faster.”
She sped up slightly, then said, “Why do we have to take it upon ourselves to look for her?”
“Are you saying we should call the police instead?”
“No,” Rosie said immediately. She squeezed the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Her face was noticeably pale. “Do not call the police.”
I stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?” she asked.
“…Like you don’t want me to find her.”
Rosie made a sharp, sudden U-turn. The tires screeched against the gravel. Breathlessly, I put both hands on the dashboard to steady myself. The car twisted and spun out of control, and when the tires gained purchase with the road again, Rosie pressed her foot on the gas. The engine roared. We were headed in the opposite direction of the motel.
“What are you hiding?” I yelled over the loud roar of the engine.
“I don’t want to have to hurt you,” Rosie said as she gripped the steering wheel with tight fists. “I’m saying this for your own sake, Dani. The more you resist, the harder this will be.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” When Rosie didn’t reply, I said, “Ya know what? Stop the car. I’m getting out.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Rosie said.
I pushed the passenger door open a crack. The wind blew hard through the crack in the door as the vehicle proceeded forward. Trees flashed across my field of vision.
Rosie hit the breaks, hard. The car stopped with a sudden jolt. She parked the car, and with her right hand, she grabbed my arm to stop me from jumping out of the vehicle. I shoved her forcefully away before flinging myself out of the car. I landed on the shoulder of the road with a hard, painful thump. My elbows scraped against the gravel as I rolled, producing little cuts in my skin. Pain spread like wildfire throughout my body. Ignoring the pain, I lifted myself off of the ground as quickly as I could and began to run along the side of the road with a limp. I had no idea where I was going. All I knew for sure was that I needed to get as far away from Rosie as possible.
I didn’t make it far before Rosie exited the vehicle and ran after me. I heard the car door slam, followed by her quick footsteps. Panic took over me. She caught up to me quickly, and with aggressive hands, she gripped the back of my shirt and threw me back onto the ground. My body slammed onto the grass beside the road, knocking the wind out of me.
Rosie crawled on top of me and pinned me to the ground. I tried to scream, but she clamped her sweaty hand over my mouth and nose, suffocating me. I could feel the veins in my neck bulging as I struggled to breathe. I grunted, flinging my arms and legs and wriggling myself under her weight. But Rosie’s grip on me was overpowering. She glared at me wildly, viciously, like she had transformed into a different person. Just an hour ago, she was my friendly, emotionally sensitive, and affectionate friend. Now, it was as if an animal took over her. Anger and rage exploded through her eyes.
“Get back in the car, Dani,” she growled.
I wheezed and gasped until she finally removed her hand from my mouth. After sucking in a lungful of oxygen, I said in a thin, breathless voice, “What did you do to her? Where is Leah?!”
“Shut up and do as I say.”
I wanted to scream for help, but the road was deserted. Not a single headlight was visible, and overgrown wildness surrounded us for several square miles. If I screamed, no one would hear me. Luckily, Rosie was smaller than me. I could fight her off, but I had to be careful.
I waited a moment underneath Rosie’s weight. With a deep breath, I attempted to calm myself. “Okay.”
Carefully and attentively, Rosie stood up. Her eyes were locked on me as I lifted myself off the ground, brushing dirt and grass off of my scraped body. My elbows and knees ached sharply as blood trickled down my forearm.
“Go on,” Rosie said, watching me like a predator stalking her prey. I limped toward the car as she trailed close behind. I opened the passenger door. Right as I was about to slump into the passenger seat, I froze. My jaw dropped suddenly when I saw a small, clip point knife on the driver’s seat. A wave of fear charged through me, causing a tight knot
in my throat.
Rosie must have been sitting on that knife during the entire car ride, as if she was prepared to use it when she needed to.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Rosie stood close behind me, breathing down my spine. I had a strange feeling that she could read my thoughts. She saw me look at the knife, sensed my fear, and waited for me to react. I felt like a mouse stuck in a maze as Rosie watched, studying me.
While my back was still toward her, Rosie took a step closer to me, and with a sudden jerk, I struck her in the cheek bone with the back of hand. Grunting, she stumbled backward. I reached over the console as fast as I could, toward the knife, but Rosie latched onto a fistful of my hair. She yanked me backward, away from the sharp blade. Fear and rage mingled together, propelling me to fight. With a tight fist, I struck her in the nose. She winced in pain, her head whipped back, and blood trickled from her nostrils to her lips. The force of the blow shot pain up my wrist.
Rosie covered her face with both hands, and I took another swing. Rosie clearly had no idea how to fight, which boosted my confidence. I punched her in the stomach, and she collapsed onto the ground. As she crumbled into fetal position, hugging her stomach with her arms, I quickly reached for the knife and curled my fingers around the rubber handle. I glanced at the key ignition. Rosie had taken the keys out.
“Give me the keys,” I said, turning toward Rosie. I pointed the knife toward her with trembling hands.
She looked up at me and spit blood onto the gravel. “You can’t save her,” she said flatly.
“I said give me the keys!” I shouted.
Slowly, Rosie’s lips curled into a sinister grin. Her teeth were tinted with blood. “You want the keys? Okay. Hold on. I have them.” She unzipped her jacket, reached inside, and closed her fingers around the silver handle of a pistol. She pointed it at my head. Her index finger rested on the trigger.
My heart raced in rapid alarm. I spun away from her and bolted toward the thick trees that stood beside the road. In all the years I had played sports, I had never run so fast in my life. My hair whipped around my head, my sneakers pounded into the ground, and my ankles ripped through entanglements of thorns. Darkness enveloped me as I charged into the woods, being careful not to trip on protruding roots and tree stumps. Leaves crunched beneath my feet. I ducked my head when a loud gunshot pierced the air from behind me. The bullet zipped past my calf, seemingly missing by inches. Keeping my gaze forward, I charged ahead until the ground suddenly dropped below me. Both knees hit the ground as I slipped into the dirt and began tumbling down a steep hill. With nothing to grab onto, I rolled down the slope, accelerating in speed. My elbows and knees smacked into the ground painfully. I slid over moist earth, tree roots, and sharp thorns. By the time I slumped to the bottom of the slope, I had lost a sneaker.
Shelter in the Dark Page 15