Shallow River

by H. D. Carlton

  “You know the answer to that, River.”

  “Why is he giving you money?” I grind out through my gritted teeth.

  “Because he knows you come to collect rent each month. Says he wants to take care of his favorite girls, so he fronts me the money to give to you. He said it kills two birds with one stone.”

  My stomach sours, twisting and turning until I’m sure I’m going to be sick. Vomit rises in the back of my throat. I take a step away from the money.

  “I don’t want his money,” I hiss. “What about the money you make?”

  “That is my money! Who gives a shit where it comes from, River. Just take it!”

  Without thought, I grab the money and whip it in her face, tens of bills smacking across her face before fluttering to the filthy tiled floor. Barbie shoots up, her chair clattering loudly behind her and gets in my face.

  “What, you too scared to accept money from the Ghost Killer now? You accepted his dick inside you plenty of times, what’s wrong with his money?”

  All the air is suctioned out of the room, leaving nothing but stagnant, bone-chilling stillness. I cringe and close my eyes, tears already lined across my lids. One slips through when I hear Mako take a single step forward.

  “What the fuck did you just say?” An hour ago, his low gravelly voice was deepened with desire and need. Now… Now it’s deepened with betrayal.

  A curse slips from my mouth as I turn to face Mako. He’s already staring down at me, shock splayed across his beautiful face. Coupled with hurt. Deep, cutting hurt.

  “I was going to tell you,” I mutter shamefully. So badly, I want to drop my eyes to my feet and hide from the anger filling up Mako’s eyes like an empty gas tank being pumped full of gasoline.

  “You knew who the Ghost Killer was? The entire time?”

  Barbie’s jeering cackle sounds from behind me. My shoulders hike up to my ears and embarrassment floods me. This is the last thing I want Barbie to witness. I brought home a man even she wanted, and he’s breaking up with me right in front of her, not even a half hour later.

  “Yes, but—” Mako’s turning and storming out of the house before I can finish my sentence—or rather, my lame excuse.

  I’m whipping around, running after him, even as Barbie’s heart-stopping words follow me out. “Wait till he finds out Billy’s your father, too.”

  I almost stop. I almost turn back around and demand what the hell Barbie just said. But she must be lying. She’s just egging on the fight to hurt me. There’s no way Billy’s my father. One of them would’ve told me that already.

  “Mako, wait!” I shout, not giving a shit that there’s a small party on the porch a few doors down, now quieting as they witness the Ghost of Shallow Hill chase after an unknown man. A man that clearly doesn’t belong in this town.

  “Just… fuck! Get in the goddamn car, River.” He rips open his door, throws himself in and slams the door shut behind him. Not wanting him to drive off without me, I scramble into the car, just barely shutting the door before he’s peeling out of the driveway, leaving skid marks in our wake.

  Both fists are curled around the steering wheel so tightly, the leather is popping beneath his grip. White knuckles glare at me in the darkness, reminding me that I fucked up.

  Again.

  His arms tremble and his breathing fills the tense silence with short, staccato bursts.

  “Do you have a picture of him?” he asks tightly, anger coloring his tone.

  “Yes,” I whisper, my mouth tasting like ash. Tears blur my vision as I pull my phone out and search for the only picture of Billy I have. I took it years ago, before I left. He was particularly savage that night, brutalizing me and ripping me apart mentally and physically. I had already secured my spot at the university and knew I was leaving within a week. I still don’t know why I took it, but I sneaked it in when Billy was glaring at me, still angry for whatever I did that night. The reasons of Billy’s anger escape me, the only thing remaining is the abuse he inflicted because of it.

  The bright light of my phone illuminates Mako’s hardened face as I hand over the trembling phone. The second his eyes land on the picture, he’s stomping on the brakes and whipping the car to the side of the road. My body pitches forward from the force, and even deep in throes of his anger, Mako still cares about me enough to bar his arm across my chest and push me back into the seat.

  “FUCK!” he roars.

  I jump so hard, I hit my head on the glass window. Mako curls his fist and pounds it into the steering wheel, so hard that the car is blaring from him hitting the horn.

  “Mako, stop! What’s wrong?!” I scream, my voice desperate and scared. I’m not scared of Mako per se, but I’m scared of what his reactions means. I don’t understand his reaction to the picture.

  He finally stops, his knuckles already bruising. His hands rip through his hair as he fumes.

  “When did you figure it out?” he demands, keeping his face turned away from me and glued to the window.

  Hot, steady streams of tears leak from my eyes. “When you told me about him at dinner. When Billy attacked me that night… he called me a ghost as he was… anyway, it’s something that’s common in Shallow Hill because of Billy. He says that when you grow up in a place like Shallow Hill, there’s no escaping it. So, when you do and then come back… you’re considered a ghost. Someone that just haunts the streets when you see fit but always disappears in the end.” I wipe the snot away with the bottom of my t-shirt. I forge on, my voice trembling as I confess.

  “When I was six years old, Billy got hooked on meth. Real bad. He became unhinged and started killing people off pretty carelessly. It’s a miracle Barbie and I survived that time. He would come to the house, raging about how all the men working for him betrayed him. Whether it was because he thought they stole from him or were fucking with the product or whatever the reason. He killed them all. Nothing came of it because he managed to dispose of all the bodies. And as sad as it is, no one really gives a shit about people who die in Shallow Hill.

  “When you told me about the Ghost Killer and the way they were murdered, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. I knew it was Billy. I went over to Barbie’s when I got the chance to get away from Ryan, and she confirmed Billy’s hooked again. Back to killing all his men, and now labelling them Ghost’s because well… that’s what they are now.”

  Suffocating silence fills the car, nearly choking me from Mako’s anger. He’s trembling, shaking so hard from his anger that it looks like he’s seizing. My mouth opens, ready to tell Mako what Barbie told me as I chased him out the door, but the words die on my tongue. There’s no use telling him something that I haven’t confirmed true.

  “Please tell me what’s going on, Mako,” I plead when the angry man beside me continues to stew. I’m shaking like a leaf in bitter winds as I watch my worst nightmare come to life. This is why I cried on Mako’s chest in the library. Because I knew I would hurt Mako when he found out the truth. A small, stupid part of me held onto the hope that he’d understand why I did it. All the same, I’m losing him. Just like I knew I would.

  He sighs harshly, slowly regaining his control. “That’s the person that claimed he was a witness to a Ghost Killer murder. That was Ryan’s client—Benedict fucking Davis. The man that killed my father and have been chasing for over a year was right in front of my face. Just like Ryan said.”

  Twenty Four

  River

  THREE LONG DAYS OF grueling, radio silence from Mako. Three days of police knocking on my door, asking questions. Parasites littering the lawn, waiting for any opportunity to snap a picture of me and publish it with some half-assed article with headlines like The Truth Behind Ryan Fitzgerald’s Murder.

  It’s tiresome.

  Reports over the past few days have been that Ryan’s true murderer was finally caught. The Ghost Killer. Who was also Ryan’s client. It honestly couldn’t have worked out more perfectly. It played into the story we had already spun. Rya
n figured out who the Ghost Killer was, and so he was silenced before he could reveal the truth. The only thing they’re missing is Ryan’s body, but police are figuring the Ghost Killer didn’t follow his M.O. because it was a desperate, last minute kill before Ryan could reveal his identity.

  In a single breath, Mako solved the case for not only his brother, but one of the biggest, most notorious cases in the U.S. I don’t need to be around Mako to know he’s not happy about it. He technically didn’t discover who the Ghost Killer was—he was told. In a pretty fucked up way to boot. There’s no sense of justice or satisfaction when discovering a serial killer in that manner. When discovering that the girl you’re in love with knew who he was for months and didn’t say anything. And discovering that it’s the same man who beat and raped her not too long ago.

  I waited on thin ice, expecting police to storm the house and arrest me for Ryan’s murder. Surely, Mako wouldn’t keep up the pretense after I lied to him for so long. Surely, he wouldn’t consider me worth risking his entire life over.

  And yet, he kept true to his word. He covered up Ryan’s murder, blaming it on a man that committed countless, heinous crimes except for the one he’s going to be arrested for.

  That’s the scariest part. He hasn’t been arrested yet. Because they can’t find him. Billy has connections everywhere. I’m sure he knew of his arrest before it was even decided that they had probable cause.

  No one knows where he is. So now, it’s not a search to find who the Ghost Killer is, but where he is.

  “You look like death.” The soft, voice rings out from behind me. I’m curled into a ball on the couch, facing away from the world. Amelia can’t even see my face and she’s already calling me out.

  I try to sniffle, but both nostrils are completely congested. “You can’t even see me yet,” I retort weakly.

  Weight compresses the leather couch behind my legs. A soft huff escapes her mouth. She’s only five months along now, but she’s getting huge. When you get knocked up by a mammoth, it only makes sense that you’re going to get pregnant with one.

  I turn towards my best friend, confirming her presumptuous statement and settling my eyes on her basketball of a stomach.

  “How’s the baby?” I ask, my voice hoarse and weak. The corners of her eyes tighten, but she humors me anyways.

  “I’m convinced I was abducted by aliens and injected with a baby. There’s no way this thing is human. I’m five months and look like I’m ready to pop. This lady in the grocery store asked me when I’m due, and of course when I told her, she didn’t believe me! She said I must have pregnancy brain because I’m clearly about to enter into labor any day now.” She huffs with annoyance when she recalls the memory. “Damn witch. I may have someone slowly consuming my body from the inside out, but I’m not stupid.”

  I laugh at her antics. “Did you decide on a name yet?”

  Amelia called me yesterday to dryly inform me she’s having a boy. She was never one to care about throwing gender reveal parties or making a big deal out of stuff like that. The technician asked if she wanted to know the gender, Amelia said yes, and there was her answer. Though she did admit that she cried when they said she was having a boy.

  “I think we’re going to go with Beckham.”

  “That is incredibly cute. You have my approval.”

  She smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s too worried about me and it’s tainting her excitement.

  “Please stop worrying about me,” I whine pitifully.

  “River. Your boyfriend was murdered only two weeks ago. You told me that perfectly edible man fucked the soul out of your body and then an hour later, kicked you out of his car because he discovered that your abuser is also a notorious serial killer and you knew about it and didn’t tell him. And, that your mother told you that that notorious serial killer is also your father.” She pauses for dramatic effect, earning an eye roll. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be worried?”

  “I don’t know if he’s actually my father,” I mutter, ignoring the other several valid points she made.

  “Whether he is or not, he’s an evil man that’s been terrorizing you your entire life. I get why Mako’s pissed, I really do. But does he not understand the extent in which you are absolutely terrified of Billy? Does he not realize the trauma that man has inflicted on you, and in turn, gains your unwilling loyalty purely because you’re fearful for your life?”

  This is why I called Amelia and told her everything. Well, not everything. I obviously didn’t tell her that I tortured and killed my boyfriend. I trust Amelia with my entire soul and being, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be burdened with a secret like that.

  But I’m glad I confessed everything else to her. Not only is she a solid shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen, but she gets it. She understands what it’s like to be abused. She understands the trauma and fear. We both know I should’ve told Mako the truth. And because I kept my mouth shut, several people were murdered because of my silence. It was never said, but I know that thought passed through Mako’s head, too.

  “I don’t know, Amelia. I think he’s too angry to rationalize it that way. It’s hard for someone to do that when they don’t know what it’s like to have someone like that haunting your life.”

  She sighs and nods her head, agreeing.

  “Do you think Billy is going to know that it was you and Barbie that told Mako who he really was?”

  I bite my lip, debating how much I should divulge. If I should tell her the truth on how terrified I am that Billy will come for me. I glance up at her, and whatever’s in my eyes must answer her question. Her lip trembles.

  “Cameras working again?” she asks in place of my response. I nod once.

  “Come home with me.”

  “And possibly put you and your unborn child’s life in danger? I should punch you for even suggesting something like that,” I say, a bite in my tone. She flinches but nods her head in acceptance. The sad truth is, Amelia understands that there’s not much I can do to get away from Billy. And knowing that, as my best friend, is killing her inside. Just like it would do to me if our roles were reversed.

  “So aside from this Ghost Killer clusterfuck. How are you handling everything?” she asks, forcing the conversation away from something incredibly terrifying as she absently rubs her hand on her belly. She said he’s already started kicking. I stare at her belly intently, silently bribing baby Beckham into kicking his mother so I can feel it.

  “Everything as in my abusive boyfriend being murdered or the fact that I think I fell in love with his brother and he hates me now?” Amelia gives me a droll look. I sigh. “I’m not sad about Ryan. Maybe I should be because we were together for over two years, but any love for him went out the window already. He hit me, raped me and cheated on me. I feel nothing.”

  Amelia slumps against the couch dramatically. “I’m glad you said it. I would’ve been totally willing to empathize with you if you were still in love and missed him, but it would’ve hurt my soul, too.”

  I smile, feeling a tad lighter than I have in days. “As for Mako… I don’t know what’s going on there. I finally realized that he’s everything I want in a man the same time he realized that I’m everything he hates in a woman.”

  Amelia smacks my leg lightly, shooting me a look. “That is not true, River. Mako’s pissed, and rightly so. But he told you he loved you, and even though I only met him for like, thirty seconds once, he doesn’t seem like the type of man to say that to just anyone. And in those thirty seconds, he looked at you like you hung the fucking moon and stars, as cheesy as that shit is, okay? He loves you, he’s just hurt.”

  My lip trembles, and goddamn the bitch for giving me hope. I hate hope. I hate that word as much as I hate the word beautiful. Hope is hopeless. Hope is disappointment. I had no expectations for Mako to come back to me and now I’m trashing those expectations and replacing them with hopeful ones. Gross.

  “Should I reach out t
o him?”

  She doesn’t answer right away, seeming to look for the question in my penguin socks, as if the flightless birds are going to reveal the secrets of the universe. Finally, she says, “Let him come to you. He needs to cool off and think about things rationally, and right now, that’s pretty hard to do when he’s dealing with distraught parents that just lost their son, a manhunt for a very dangerous serial killer, and you have parasites suntanning on your lawn.”

  Can’t argue with that.

  NIGHTTIME IS WHEN IT’S the worst. The house is enormous and empty. But it doesn’t feel empty. It feels like there’s all sorts of scary things lurking in the millions of shadows in this house. Even when Ryan was alive, I never liked being home alone. Scenes from horror movies would play through my mind on a reel, and my heartrate would increase until I was on the verge of hysteria.

  It’s so much worse now. The reality that Billy is missing has hit me full force. It’s unlikely he knows that his identity reveal had anything to do with me, but that doesn’t make me feel any less on edge. What if Barbie somehow warned him that Mako—a fucking detective—discovered who the Ghost Killer is?

  Would I blame her for telling him? Yes and no. Barbie would warn Billy for the same reasons I didn’t tell Mako who he was. Fear. Something that Billy has ingrained into me and Barbie so deeply, it’s nestled deep into our bone marrow.

  Without ever fully acknowledging it, I convinced myself that if I told Mako who Billy was, he’d find out. He’d know it was me, and not only would he come for me, he’d come after Mako, too. Barbie’s pumping her system full of drugs that easily cause paranoia. The second we left her house, she probably convinced herself that Billy was going to find out and warned him.

  Realizing this has me nestling deeper into the couch. I could hardly stand to look at this couch for months after I embarrassed myself all over it, and now it’s the only thing offering me any shred of comfort.