Finding Faye:

by A. J. Andersen

  There are multiple reasons why I rarely drink, and the pounding behind my eyes, nausea, and the vile taste in my mouth are a few of them. I thought for a minute last night, as I tipped that bottle back, that I would be able to purge Faye from my thoughts and dreams.

  It’s unsurprising that I was wrong.

  I sat on the hard, narrow bunk imagining her here, cold, scared, and so young while I sipped at the bottle in my hand. The guilt eating at me even more viciously than usual. Eventually, I fell into a drunken sleep where she haunted my dreams.

  Crying. Always crying, calling out for me. I don’t know why she is always that little ten year old when I sleep. Never the strong teenager that I know she had become by the time of her disappearance. My mind’s way of fucking with me, I suppose.

  Just thinking about it now makes me feel ill. Coupled with the wicked hangover I’m nursing, it’s guaranteed that I’m going to puke.

  I fucking hate puking.

  Stumbling out the door and across the small clearing to the treeline, I lean against the nearest tree and throw up whatever alcohol remains in my stomach.

  I never got around to feeding myself before I started drinking. That was my second error yesterday. I know better...well before yesterday I would have said I did, anyway.

  When there is nothing left to come up, I make my way back inside and perch on the edge of the bunk, head hanging down in misery. I could use some water and food. And a pain reliever. Toast sounds good, but I didn’t bring anything except a couple cans of soup and some MREs, neither of which sound appetizing at the moment.

  Sighing, I dig into my pack and pull out a ready-to-eat meal, knowing that sometimes there are crackers in them. I’m in luck this time, and open the foil package and grab a water bottle while powering on my phone.

  I need to check in with Blake, my business partner and best friend. We have a couple of lucrative investigations in the works, and we had been planning to meet this morning. At least until I got this wild idea to go camping and rid myself of the depression weighing me down.

  It didn’t work. It’s not going away, and I know that until I find Faye I’m going to have to live under this dark cloud. Just one more reason to find my girl and bring her home where she belongs.

  After making some shitty instant coffee and downing a bottle of water, along with a couple of pain relievers, I open my messages. There is a single text from Blake with a grainy photo. “CALL ME,” it says.

  Blake isn’t usually cryptic, so my interest is piqued.

  I can’t make out much of the image. It’s grainy and taken from across what looks like a restaurant, then cropped to make the subject bigger. It’s a woman. She looks young but the distance and poor quality of the photo make it difficult to make out any of her features. She is dressed in what looks like a grey or light blue uniform. She is probably either a housekeeper or a waitress. Her hair is muddy brown and pulled back from her thin, pale face in a long ponytail.

  There is something about her that I can’t quite put my finger on, but she seems familiar to me. Very familiar. My heart starts racing and my hands shake in a way that has nothing to do with my hangover as I dial Blake’s number and walk out the door toward my truck.

  He doesn’t answer.

  Fuck time off! It’s not helping anyway. I’m heading back to Spokane to see what Blake felt was so important about this woman.

  The real question is: why does she look so damn familiar?

  I make the trip back to the city in record time by ignoring the speed limits and driving like a crazy person. I park in my designated spot behind the office when Blake finally calls back.

  “Hey man, you at the office yet?” he asks.

  I can hear the sounds of quiet traffic, but no road noise, so it’s safe to assume he is parked somewhere.

  “Yeah. What's up? Who's the woman?” I ask him, my heart thudding rapidly in my chest. My eyes see it, but I’m afraid to believe it’s possible after all this time.

  “No one you know?” he asks, surprise evident in his voice.

  “Looks sorta familiar, but the picture isn't great.” I suck in a deep breath waiting. Hoping that he will tell me what I want to hear.

  He hums a bit, agreeing with what I said. “Maybe I shouldn't have followed her home last night,” he finally says.

  Following someone without good cause is unlike Blake. He likes to do things the right way, no exceptions. “The fuck did you do that for?”

  “Trav, just go run the picture through facial recognition and see what pops up. I have a feeling I need to keep my eyes on this one. You can thank me later.” There is a trace of humor in his voice, but I can tell that he is serious. My racing pulse and choppy breaths tell me that I’m right. There is no reason for me to doubt what I already know, but I don’t want to build up the hope that I’ve finally found her only to be disappointed.

  I trust Blake—the kind of trust that comes from seven years of service and seeing more shit together than either of us even care to think about. We both know it’s her. He’s just leaving me to “discover” it. So that’s what I’m going to do.

  “Okay then. I will call you back in a bit.” I hang up without another word and head inside, straight to my computer. My foot tapping restlessly, patience stretched razor thin as I wait for it to boot up. It’s never taken so long before.

  “Thought you weren’t coming in for a couple days, boss,” Becca calls from her desk. I was so deep in my head when I stomped through the office that I didn’t notice her at her desk.

  “Blake thinks he found her.” I tell her as I send the photo to my email and load it into the facial recognition program we use, now that my computer has woken up. I barely hear her squeal of excitement as I follow the progress of the search.

  It comes up with match in minutes. My heart stops for a moment, and I can feel the blood rush from my face. I fall back into my chair as a low buzzing fills my ears.

  Becca is saying something as she rushes toward me, knocking her desk chair over, but I can’t hear a word she says. My eyes focus on the screen of my computer in shock. Finally! After all this time...

  My heart knew it as soon as I saw the picture, but my mind couldn’t catch up. As much as I wanted to, I never actually believed that I would ever find her.

  It's Faye. It’s really her, and Blake knows where she is!

  I jump into action, calling Blake back before I'm even out of the room. Becca shouts questions behind me, but I don’t have time to stop and listen to her. I probably should and I know it, she has often been the voice of reason, her gentle nature working to slow down Blake and I when we tend towards making snap decisions.

  Right now, I can’t slow down. I have to move. I have to do something!

  Blake answers and I growl through clenched teeth. “Don't let her out of your sight! I'm on my way!”

  Knowing he will text me directions I run for my truck and slam it into gear as I race toward the only thing in my past that I regret. Finally, I get to make things right and fulfill my promise.

  Faye

  My nerves are on edge again. The same way they were last night while the stranger watched me in the diner. The source of my anxiety today is a black SUV parked across the street from my apartment. There isn’t anything special about it other than the darkly tinted windows. I haven’t seen anything to make me suspicious, but I think someone is inside it. I first noticed it parked across the street as I watered my plants this morning. It seemed a little out of place then, but it’s still there and hasn’t moved an inch, and that does raise my hackles.

  Most of the buildings that surround my apartment are rundown houses with dead lawns and trash cans knocked over on the sidewalk. There are a few shabby storefronts like the auto shop below my apartment. Driveways are either empty or have old, worn-out vehicles parked in them. It probably was a nice neighborhood once, but it hasn’t been for a long time. The shiny new SUV stands out like a whore in church, and seeing it out there makes me scared and more
than a little bit angry. After all this time, how dare they?!

  I swear I can feel eyes on me as I peak out the window again, then back away, closing the curtains tightly. I have things to do, even if I really wish that I didn’t.

  Without letting myself think too hard about what I’m doing, I pull my old backpack out of the closet and start packing what I can't leave behind. My letters and Travis’ photo are still in the bottom. I add some clothing and a couple of paperbacks before filling a laundry basket with a few items I have managed to acquire over the past few years that I don’t want to leave behind. There isn’t very much that isn’t replaceable.

  I'm hoping to make it look like I'm heading to the laundromat. Most of this stuff could use a good washing, so I might go there anyway. Sticking my bat under the clothing and blankets in the basket, I put my pepper spray in the pocket of my USMC hoodie and tote my belongings onto the landing at the top of the stairs. I lock the door behind me and pocket the key.

  I'm resigned to leaving. At least for a short time. There really is no reason to stay at the moment. No close friends, no family. Just a job. And Chuck.

  I should tell him I'm taking off for a few days, see if he will feed the fish while I'm gone. He’ll figure out that I left for good if I'm not back in a week.

  After loading my stuff into the cab of my old pickup I pop into the shop. Chuck has a cot in his office and spends most of his time there when he’s not working on the cars and bikes that people bring in.

  Chuck is a grizzled older man who looks like a member of a motorcycle club, if his tattoos and the leather jacket on the back of his chair mean anything. He’s never been anything but kind to me and he's happy to watch my fish, just like I knew he would be. I leave him my key since it’s the only one.

  “You in trouble, girl?” he asks, taking in my tense posture. He motions toward the street behind me. Specifically to the dark SUV. I shake my head, not wanting to involve him if the guy from last night is part of whatever trouble got mom and Brad killed.

  “I just need a break for a few days. I’m going out to my grandpa’s cabin,” I stumble just a little bit over the lie, but I don’t want him to worry. He has watched out for me ever since I rented the small space upstairs. We have talked about the cabin before. He knows I like to get away from my real life, so he accepts my words. At least I think he does. I can’t always tell with Chuck.

  We chat for a couple more minutes before I use the shop phone to call the diner. Ana answers, and I let her know that I’m going to be gone for a while. She promises to tell our manager that I had a family emergency. Only a woman on the run would accept my vague story without question, and she does just that. All she says is be safe, and that she hopes I will be back soon.

  “You take care of yourself too, Ana, and your little bean,” I tell her before hanging up the phone. She’s due in a couple of months, and I had hoped to be here for her when she went into labor. She doesn’t have anyone else, and I thought she might not want to go through that alone. I know I wouldn’t, and I’m sad that I won’t be here for her now.

  With all of my arrangements made, the only thing I care about now is getting the hell out of here. It has been so long since that life changing night that most days I can convince myself that no one cares who and where I am. But obviously I’ve been wrong. So, so wrong. Someone was looking, and now...fuck. Now I’ve been found. Not for long, if I have a say in the matter. I got away once when I was a terrified kid. I’m smarter now, and less scared. That has to count for something, right?

  There is someone in the driver's seat, just like I thought. I keep my head down so my hair shields my face, eyes focused in front of me, and walk to my pickup like I'm unaware that I'm being watched. I load my things in the passenger seat and stroll around the hood to the driver’s door. I’m trying to look casual. Nothing odd about me doing my laundry on a Sunday.

  Shifting into gear, I roll out of my parking spot and onto the street. I keep my attention on the SUV as I drive past it and head toward the laundromat. I only get about a block and a half before I see it following me.

  “Shit! Oh shit!” I wail, terrified that the big vehicle will catch up to me and force me off the road, but it doesn't. It just follows, staying about a block behind me. I don’t know if the driver realizes I noticed him or if he just doesn’t care if I did.

  Not hiding his pursuit was a mistake.

  A grim smile pulls at the corners of my mouth as I start watching for an opportunity to ditch him and make a run for it.

  Chapter Six

  Faye

  I'm out on a county road somewhere, heading east. Knowing that I was actually being followed made me panic, and I took the first exit I came to, not paying any attention to the road signs. I ran a red light, hoping to get far enough ahead to lose the black SUV, but he's still back there. He hasn’t gotten any closer, but he isn’t letting me gain any ground either. Right now I’m sure that I’m safe, and he’s not going to run me off the road. My first thought was to make a run for the cabin, but I don’t want to lead anyone there. If all else fails, the cabin is where I will go to make a last stand… or to try to vanish into the woods.

  Both will end with me dying.

  I can’t foresee any other outcome to that scenario. So for now, my plan is to try to get somewhere public. I wish I had thought of that before leaving Spokane…but I was in panic mode and not thinking clearly. I’ve calmed down since I realized that he’s just following and not actually making an attempt to force me out of my truck.

  Coeur d’Alene isn't too far of a drive, and since I'm already headed in that general direction, I will go there. I’m betting that whoever is pursuing me won't follow if I pull into a police station, and for now, that’s what I intend to do.

  So that’s it, my entire plan in a nutshell. I’m going to do the one thing that I have avoided since the day I took off. I’m going to blow my own cover and tell the authorities who I am, and pray that they can protect me.

  There isn't much traffic on this stretch of road, just forest and occasional homes. It’s nice. The kind of place I’d maybe like to live someday. I haven't ever been out this way before, but I do have an old GPS unit plugged into my cigarette lighter and I can see I'm going in the right direction. I just hope I have enough gas to make it. The gauge is broken, so I never know exactly how much I have left. It’s been several days since I put any gas in the old beast, so the chance that I could run out is there.

  It’s just my luck that no sooner do I think about the possibility of running out of gas than I hear the engine stutter and start to stall. If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any at all. Murphy’s luck, my dad called it.

  “Fuck!” I scream, my alarm returning, pounding my fist against the steering wheel, and I drift toward the edge of the road, stopping in some deep grass. There isn't even a house in sight that I can make a run toward. I’m going to have to face whatever is coming alone.

  It’s not as if I didn’t know that this wasn’t going to catch up to me someday. I am surprised that I'm not ready for it, as I always thought that I would be. I refuse to make taking me or killing me easy. That’s the difference between the girl I was then and who I am now. If they had caught up to me four years ago I would have died like my mom, sobbing on my knees.

  Today I’m not going down without a fight.

  Grabbing my bat and pepper spray, I slide out the passenger door to the ground and belly crawl into the grass under my pickup. It’s deep enough that I know I’m concealed from the road, and I won’t be seen unless he gets out and comes to this side of the truck.

  I'm hoping he won't. Best case is he thinks I ran up the road looking for a house and goes that way. Maybe for once things will work out for me and I will be able to hide in the woods until dark. If it’s the guy from the diner, I know I will only get one chance to take him out before he either grabs me or kills me. I’d rather hide. A man like that doesn’t carry a gun under his jacket for the fun of it, but bei
ng caught or killed out here just doesn’t work for me. I need enough time to hide or find an opportunity to steal his car. Leaving him out here in the middle of nowhere is my best chance of escape. For the time being, anyway.

  The hum of tires on the pavement alerts me that a vehicle is approaching from behind. I hear the crunch of gravel as it comes to a stop behind me. My heart is racing, and my palms are slick with sweat. A door opens then closes. I hold my breath and listen.

  His boots rustle in the grass as he makes his way to the driver’s door of my truck. I can't breathe. I'm frozen, but I know that if I don't strike first I’m most likely dead.

  “Faye?”

  It's the same deep, raspy voice as the man from the diner. He did know who I was last night when he questioned my name. Shit! There’s a big difference between thinking you know something and actually knowing it. I close my eyes for a moment and take a steadying breath, and adjust my grip on the old aluminum bat.

  It’s now or never.

  I roll out from under my truck fast and come up beside him swinging. The bat connects with a sickening thud and he falls to the ground, screaming at me. I can’t listen, can't stop to think about what I just did.

  I have never harmed anyone in my whole life and I'm pretty sure I just broke this guy’s knee. I know he deserves it, but I feel like I might be sick.

  In spite of the pain he must be feeling he makes a move to get up and reaches for me. Not knowing what else to do, I pull the mace from my pocket and follow up the hit with a quick spray in his general direction as I scramble to my feet and back away. My blood is pounding in my ears, making it hard to hear as he curses and starts coughing. Once again, I’m struck with a wave of regret at hurting someone. Even if he wants to hurt me.

  Even though he could have last night, a small voice inside my head whispers, but I have to ignore that. I don’t have a choice but to assume the worst, otherwise I may not see another day.