by Tim Marquitz
He saw someone staring at him through the open curtains of the front window.
His heart did a backflip. There was a knock at the door and he leapt to his feet. He cursed and went to the door, yanking it open when he realized it was just Cass.
“You damn near gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?”
She stepped passed him. “Hi to you too,” she said, looking at him through narrowed eyes. “You all right? I’ve been calling for hours.”
Jacob stared at her blankly. He didn’t remember hearing the phone. “Really?”
He wandered over to the phone and picked up the receiver. He was met with silence. He followed the cord and sighed when he saw it had been pulled from the wall jack. He plugged it back in with a muttered curse.
“Must have been Anne. She hates when the phone wakes her up,” he told Cass as he returned to the couch. He sank into it with his chin on his chest.
Cass sat beside him. “Everything cool?” She nudged his arm when he didn’t look at her. “I thought you were going to come over.”
“I wish I could.” He gave her a guilty look. “I’d planned on it, but my dad’s being an ass because I wasn’t done with my chores before he got home.” He looked away again. He didn’t want to explain why he hadn’t finished. The axe flashed through his mind, a silver whisper. “I can’t do shit tonight.”
Cass sighed and leaned into him. “Sorry.” She hugged him tight. “What about the party tomorrow?”
“He didn’t say I was grounded or anything, so unless I screw up again, I should be there.”
She popped up and waggled a finger at him. “Then don’t screw up.”
She pulled a smile from him and he returned her earlier hug. He sighed as she buried her head in his chest. Goose bumps tickled his arms as he felt her breasts pressed tight against his stomach. He nuzzled his cheek in her hair, the soft scent of her shampoo filling his nose. After a few moments, he pulled away. He looked down at her with frustration etched onto his face.
“As much as I like having you here, I’m beat and I have no doubt there’ll be a list of chores a mile long waiting for me when I wake up.” His shoulders slumped a little. “We’ll hang out all night tomorrow, at the party.”
She nodded, though it was clear her smile was forced. “It’s cool.”
“Let me walk you home.”
“Really?” she asked. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I don’t want you walking home alone.”
“What if your dad catches you?”
“Then it’ll be worth getting busted for.”
Her smile brightened and she took his hand. Jacob twitched as their fingers entwined. She looked down at the cuts on his hands with questions in her eyes.
“Rough day of yard work,” he told her. He smiled as he tugged at her, pulling her toward the back door. “We’ve got to sneak out so the nosy ass neighbors don’t narc on me.”
Cass laughed stiffly. “Lead the way.”
His hand still in hers, Jacob slipped out the back and eased the door shut. They crept from the yard, barely opening the gate before slipping into the wooded lot behind the trailer.
Chapter Seven
From the shadows, he watched as they left the trailer, closing the back door but clearly not locking it. He followed their progress as they slipped through the gate and disappeared into the trees beyond the yard.
His breath slow in his chest and warm against the mask that covered his face, he waited in silence. Hidden in the cluster of the tree line, he stood patient. Five minutes, then ten, crept by before he stepped from the shadows. He was little more than a blur against the night’s darkness.
Without a sound, he edged open the gate and slid into the yard. The scent of fresh cut grass greeted him. He went to the door and wrapped his gloved hand around the handle. A gentle twist and the door pulled open with a quiet squeak. He waited a moment and listened. There were no sounds inside.
The wooden steps creaked under his weight as he climbed up into the trailer. He drifted quiet over the carpeted floor and glanced into the main rooms. Finding them empty, he circled around to the kitchen. From there, he peered into the master bedroom.
The sheets and blankets were sprawled unmade across the bed. Clothes were wadded and scattered across the floor so thick the carpet was invisible underneath. The scent of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke lingered thick in the air. A monument of empty beer cans were stacked six high upon the night table. Beside them was an almost empty bottle of Jim Beam whiskey. Dirty shot glasses surrounded it.
Leaving the master bedroom behind, he crossed to the other side of the trailer. He cast cursory glances into the cluttered side rooms that book-ended the hall, then made his way to the last bedroom on the far side of the trailer. He opened the door and stepped inside.
In sharp contrast to the rest of the bedrooms, this one was ordered and neat. Though the bed was rumpled, the floor was clear of clutter. A number of small boxes were visible, lined up and slid just under the edge of the bed. Their sides were flush with the frame. The open closet revealed only black T-shirts and blue jeans draped on wire hangers.
Homemade shelves lined the bare walls and dog-eared, fantasy paperbacks filled their space, stacked on top of one another to make them all fit. A small, well-used CD player sat on a corner table. A handful of discs were laid neatly to the side. There was a digital alarm clock beside the stereo.
He made his way around the bed to examine the discs. He gently picked up each of the Heavy Metal CDs for a closer look, before replacing them in their exact position. Kneeling down to glance under the bed, he slid one of the boxes out and peeled back the lid. It was filled with comic books. He closed the box and returned it to its place, pulling a second box out. Stuffed full with horror magazines, Rob Zombie stared back at him from the cover.
He replaced the box and pulled out the last of them. Photographs filled it. He looked at those that lay on top. A number of the photos were of landscapes—the Ruidoso forests recognizable instantly. The others were of the boy and his friends; the smiling face of the girl from the mountain was prominent in almost every shot. He lifted a couple of the pictures, remembering their position in the box, and glanced at the backs. Names were scribbled there, identifying those in the photo. He smiled. The boy was Jacob. Careful to put them back exactly as he found them, he returned the pictures to the box.
He closed the lid and slid it back under the bed, glancing once more around the room as he stood. Giving the bed one last look, he placed his gloved hand on Jacob’s pillow and gently ran his fingers in tight circles over the slight indention pressed into its surface.
Leaving the pillow behind, he backtracked his way out of the trailer and slipped once more into the shadows.
* * * *
Worn out from his day, Jacob stumbled into the trailer after walking Cass home. Though he’d wanted to stay with her a while, he knew better than to defy his father outright. Nothing good would come from it.
On his way home, he’d eaten the sandwich Cass had given him, but had still raided the refrigerator. His head achy, his hands sore, he liberated one of his father’s beers. It hissed when he cracked it open. He chugged it down fast. When he was done, he crushed the can and ran it to the trash cans outside. The beer warming his belly, he went back inside. He went to his room and kicked off his shoes, stripping down to sleep.
Like a siren’s song, he felt the irresistible pull of his bed. Jacob obliged the desire and crawled under the covers moaning. He laid his head on the pillow and caught the subtle scent of moist earth. Too tired to question why, he drifted off to thoughts of Cass—
—but it would be Katie he dreamt about.
Chapter Eight
So exhausted he hadn’t heard his dad or Ann come home during the night, Jacob crawled out of bed with a yawn. The morning
sun threw streamers across his bedroom floor. He blinked against their invasive brightness. He looked at his hands and groaned. Dried blood was crusted thick in the creases of his knuckles. Incoherent images flickered behind his eyes, the white snow of a dead TV channel.
He stumbled to the bathroom and washed his hands, splashing a liberal handful of the cold water over his face while he was at it. His vision still a little blurry, he glanced at the mirror and chuckled at the vagabond who stared back at him. With black circles under his eyes, he looked like the victim of a mugging. Foregoing the quickie sink-bath he’d planned, he hopped into the shower. The warm water soothed him into partial wakefulness. When he was clean and mostly presentable, he braved the living room to see what chores awaited. Much to his surprise, there was very little. A few dirty dishes were on the counter and a few more were piled in the sink. It wasn’t the wholesale destruction he had expected.
He crept to his dad’s room and peeked inside. The door was cracked. Ann lay on her stomach, snoring into her crumpled pillow. His father’s side of the bed was empty, as it always was this time of day. Jacob closed the door and made his rounds of the house, looking to see if his father had left him a note. Again he was surprised to find nothing.
So as not to tempt fate, he washed the dishes and straightened up the trailer. He was finished in just a few minutes. When he checked the time, he smiled to see it was only ten-thirty.
Grayed images butted up against his conscious mind, but he shrugged them off. He called Cass to see if it was okay for him to come over. Once he had her sleepy agreement, he was out the door.
He walked slow, giving her time to wake up and get dressed. His body thanked him—the causal pace worked out the kinks, though his hands still ached. He figured they would for a few days yet. At least with Cass’s parents gone to work, he wouldn’t have to worry about climbing up the rope ladder to her room, for which he was grateful.
There, at her house, she opened the door before he could even ring the bell. She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing as she looked him over.
“Rough night? You look beat.”
He shook his head. “Nah, just tired for some reason. I must’ve slept because I didn’t hear my parents come home, but I feel like I stayed out all night.”
“Out with your girlfriend?” She raised one eyebrow, a twisted smile on her lips.
“Only in my dreams.” He gently pushed her inside.
She laughed and shut the door, locking it. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t get any sleep.”
He laughed along. “Sucks I don’t remember it. It must have been real good seeing how tired I am.” He winked at her.
Cass slapped his arm, her cheeks flushing. “You’re never here this early. What’s up? You get busted again last night?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Surprisingly, no. It’s like they drank their way into forgetting about me. There wasn’t even a list of shit to do.” He shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean there won’t be one later when they sober up.”
“Of course.” She smirked. “So what’s going on?”
“Remember when you guys were telling me about Old Man Jenks?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“It just got me thinking. You know me and my horror stuff. It’s a real life murder mystery that happened right here in town.” He pointed at the ground. “I just wanted to look some things up.”
“You came all the way over here to use my computer?” Her hands slid to her hips.
“Of course not. I came to see you, too.”
“Yeah, right.” She shook her head. An amused grin pulled at the corners of her lips. “You‘re the only person I know who doesn’t have a computer.”
“It would cut too deeply into the drinking fund, or so I imagine.” He tried a sad face. “What do you say?”
She waggled a finger. “No porn for you.”
Jacob raised his hands. “Hey now. If I wanted porn I could just steal my dad’s.”
Cass’s face shriveled. “Eww. Didn’t need to hear that.”
He laughed at her. “So is it cool?”
Rubbing her temples, she nodded. “I need to go scrub my brain after that comment. You know where it’s at.” She wandered off giggling.
Cass still in her pink pajamas, Jacob watched her go. He followed her with his eyes until she was out of sight, then jogged up the stairs to her room. His thoughts shifting to Katie, he didn’t bother to look around. He settled in quick at Cass’s computer. Already on, he opened the browser and started a search for Katie James.
He felt his heart sputter as pictures of Katie appeared on the screen. Though she wore glasses in the photos, there was no mistaking hers was the skull he’d held in his hands. Her brown eyes stared out at him. While they didn’t reflect the terror he’d felt in her, her sadness as she trudged up the hill in the rain was evident even in the picture.
His stomach churned as he read through the archived news articles.
Only sixteen, Katie had hitchhiked on a dare. Yearning to prove to her classmates she could be adventurous and fit in, she went along without a fight.
That dare had cost her life.
On June 16, 1987, Katie James left her house without her parent’s knowledge. She was driven out of town and left on the side of the road. Her only instructions were to find a ride home. On that same night, a massive thunderstorm rolled through the area. It shut down a number of the local roads that fed into the highway Katie was stranded on.
Images of her long, lonely walk flashed through Jacob’s mind. He saw the miserable cold rain as it pounded down on top of her.
Though no one could prove it—Katie’s classmates vehemently denying it—it was presumed they’d known a storm was coming and had left her anyway. None had yet to change their story.
Intentional or not, it was the last time Katie was seen alive.
When her parents checked on her the next morning, assuming she had just overslept, they found her bed empty. They immediately knew something was wrong and called the police. She’d never so much as gone into the backyard without checking in.
Search parties were formed. They scoured the mountains and tacked up flyers everywhere. Katie’s face was splashed across the evening news. The story grew more hopeless as the days dragged by.
A few weeks later, her bloated and rotting body was found floating in the canal. Her head had been cut off.
The coroner had confirmed the murder weapon had been an axe; just like the one Jacob had seen cleaving into her chest and piercing her heart.
A tsunami of images roared inside Jacob’s mind as he read the words. Once more he saw the axe plunge and heard Katie’s shrieking horror as it was buried in her. The masked face loomed in his mind. The killer’s dark eyes showed no hint of emotion as he brought the axe to bear.
His face flush, Jacob stumbled out of the chair, nearly knocking it over. His heart raced out of control.
“What’s wrong?” Cass asked from the doorway. Her voice quavered.
Jacob whipped around wide-eyed and saw Cass standing at the doorway. He hadn’t heard her come in. He waved her question off, then pulled his hand down when he realized it was shaking.
“Nothing,” he lied. His mind struggled to find a better answer. “This is just some gruesome shit.” He motioned toward the monitor.
Cass stared at him a moment. She set the tray she carried aside and walked over to the computer. She glanced at the screen and shook her head. Jacob sensed she knew he was lying. He’d never been the squeamish type and Cass knew that better than most.
“The movie we watched the other night was worse than this.” She looked at him, her eyes narrowing when she saw him sweating.
“It’s just that it’s real, you know? That it happened right here in town.” He stammered as he tried to get the words out. “
I can’t believe someone like Jenks can just wander around free after doing something so horrible like that.” He pointed at a picture of the axe wound, the image grainy in black and white.
Cass looked to Jacob and then to the computer. She reached over and turned the monitor off. “Yeah, it’s bad, but why are you getting so worked up over it?”
“I—” He started to lie again but found it hard to speak. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “It’s just sad, I guess. It could happen to anyone, you know?”
Cass pushed him over onto the couch. She went and grabbed him a soda, popping the top and handing it to him.
He took it, his hand still trembling. He swallowed half of it in big gulps. He was breathing heavy when he finally pulled the can away from his lips.
“Seriously, are you all right?” Cass sat beside him, her eyes moist. “You’re acting real weird.”
He met her gaze for a moment. Yeah,” he answered as his breath slowed. “I think maybe I’m just stressed out, all the shit with my dad and all.”
“Is that all it is?”
The question hung in the air.
Jacob looked back at her. “Yeah, Cass, I’m sure that’s it.” He reached out and took her hand, turning his so hers was on top. He gave it a squeeze. “This has nothing to do with you, okay? I probably just need more sleep—and a dad who isn’t homicidal.” He laughed hollow and tugged on Cass’s hand to get her to smile. “We’re good.”
She eased a tiny grin onto her lips. “You know you can always crash here, if you want.”
“You’re already feeding the stray. You don’t want to give it a place to sleep too.” He winked at her. “I’d never leave.”
She feigned disgust. “I’d probably just have to put you down anyway. You’d be scratching up the furniture, marking your territory, spraying all over.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t—”