Sweet Like a Psycho

by Ivy Smoak

  “And be careful out on the streets.”

  Right. Because it’s a dangerous neighborhood. Only, it wasn’t. The only dangerous women here were the ones that spread gossip instead of trying to seek the truth. They were the ones hurting people, not the other way around.

  ***

  I knocked on Rosie’s door and waited. And waited. She was probably at work, despite Sally insisting that she was home. It was mid-morning. Most people without my crazy schedule that could afford a house like this had a 9 to 5 day job. I glanced down at my watch and then knocked again.

  Finally a woman with curly blonde hair and glasses opened the door. Her cheeks immediately turned rosy. She was the epitome of her name. Her hair was in a messy bun and a pencil was sticking through it. She was wearing baggy sweatpants and an even baggier t-shirt.

  “Hello?” She tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear.

  “Hi, Rosie. I’m Detective Reed.” I stretched my hand out to her.

  Now instead of flustered, she looked flat out concerned. “Detective?” She put her hand out after an awkward pause and shook mine. “Is there something that I can help you with?”

  “Yes, I have a few questions for you. Could I come inside so we can talk?”

  She pressed her lips together, probably going over all the TV shows that said not to let cops inside your house. Her fingers tightened ever so slightly on the doorknob. She was nervous. I was freaking her out. I needed to put her mind at ease.

  “You’re not in any trouble at all. I promise. I have a few questions about your neighbor Adeline Bell. I was actually just discussing the same questions with Sally next door.”

  “Oh. Okay. No problem at all. I’m happy to help in any way that I can.” She held the door open for me. “I’m sorry, I would have changed if I knew someone was coming over.” She adjusted her baggy shirt as if it helped her appearance at all.

  “My apologies. I should have called ahead.” I stepped in before she had a chance to change her mind. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.” What I was saying was pleasant, but I wasn’t acting pleasant. I was staring everywhere but at her. Her house was a similar layout to Sally’s, but the floorplan seemed way more open. More modern. If the houses in this neighborhood were all the same age, Rosie had done some major renovations. She also had much better taste than Sally. There were no tchotchkes or wallpaper in sight.

  “Not at all. I’m an author. I look like this because I’ve been stuck in a writing cave for the past month.”

  That made me look back at her. “A cave?”

  She laughed and tucked another loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Figuratively. I just mean that I’m on a roll. Too busy to shower.” She laughed. “Um…can I get you something? Or…” She seemed at a loss for words for someone whose job it was to write them.

  “I’m good. Really, I just want to know if you were close to Adeline? I heard you were about the same age.”

  “I don’t know if anyone was that close to her. She was a very private person.”

  “Do you think she could have done that to her own house? Or do you think someone else did it?” I had given up on the possibility of Adeline being Violet. Even though there were no pictures of Adeline, Sally seemed positive they weren’t the same person. It was one of the only things I believed that came out of her mouth. Which meant I wasn’t really here about the case. I was here about Violet.

  “I guess anything is possible.”

  “Right. But what do you think?”

  “I couldn’t say. She didn’t seem violent to me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Neither did Violet. Sally insinuated that something had happened in this house though. Something bad. “Did you renovate when you moved here? Or was the floorplan already like this?”

  “We knocked down a few walls. But I promise it's all up to code.”

  I ignored her and walked toward one of the rooms off the foyer. I ran my thumb along a deep gash in the molding around the double glass doors. “What happened here?”

  “That was there when we moved in. This is some of the only original molding left down here. We converted the living room into my office and put in a few doors. But the molding is the same. I thought the mark added character. I assume it was the previous owner’s dog or something.”

  It didn’t look like just any ordinary animal scratch. It was too deep and thick. The mark was also too high, unless the dog was some kind of giant monster breed. I let my hand fall back to my side and then noticed a similar marking in the wooden floor. The gashes didn’t necessarily mean anything bad had happened here like Sally had suggested. Furniture being moved around the house could have nicked the wood like this. I tried not to shake my head. But the gashes were so deep. Like something was driven into them with a lot of force. But what? And why? I looked back up at Rosie. “Did you ever meet the previous owners?” Violet's mother and stepfather.

  “No. We were new to the area and moved here from out of town. We fell in love with this neighborhood and this was the only house for sale. It had been vacant for quite a long time, apparently.”

  “Why was that?”

  “The community just seems really tight-knit, which we thought would be a nice change of pace from…”

  “Not why you fell in love with the place. Why was the house vacant? Such a prime location…surely there was a reason.”

  “I’m not one for stories. All I know is that we love it here.”

  She was literally a writer. How could she not be one for stories? This woman was the opposite of Sally. It was refreshing and frustrating at the same time. “Do you remember the previous owners’ names?”

  “Their last name was…Jones I believe? Or Johnson or something pretty common with a J. Definitely Johnson. I’d have to look up their first names. But I have the document somewhere if you’d like to wait.”

  I shook my head. “No, that’s okay.” I was hoping their last name would be Clark. The house must have been through a few owners since Violet lived here. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything here to find. The gash in the molding was unsettling. Like someone had hit it with something sharp. And I doubted it was an accident. My mind was leaning toward a struggle. Alarms were going off in my head. I imagined whatever had made this mark slicing through skin instead. What had happened here? “Have you remodeled the upstairs too?”

  “Only the master bedroom and bathroom. The rest of the bedrooms and hallway bathroom haven’t been touched. They’re our next project.”

  “Do you mind if I take a look around upstairs?”

  “Um…why?”

  “We believe that Adeline was good at hiding stuff.”

  Rosie gasped. “In other people’s homes?”

  Sure. “Yup.” I wasn’t trying to scare her, but I needed to look around those rooms. One of them had belonged to Violet when she was younger. I needed to see if there were any more signs pointing toward violence in the house. And what better place than a childhood bedroom?

  “By all means then. I don’t even think she was ever in my house though.”

  “She was a very sneaky woman.” I honestly didn’t know anything about Adeline. Or care. It was like the upstairs was calling to me. Like there was a secret waiting to be found.

  Rosie nodded.

  “I’ll be right back then.” I turned and walked up the stairs, even though I felt like running. The room at the end of the hall caught my attention right away. There was a huge window, spilling light into the hallway. When I walked closer, I realized it was a view of the woods out back. I pushed the door open further. Violet loved the woods. Was this why? I walked closer to the window. In the backyard I could almost make out a trail leading straight into the woods. It would be easy to follow that later. For now I only had a few minutes to scour this room.

  I stepped away from the window and started looking around. There was nothing unusual jumping out at me. No more gashes in the door frames or floor. The floor. I thought about the loose floorboard
in Violet’s current bedroom. I got down on my hands and knees and started feeling around for floorboards with a little give to them. There weren’t any at the foot of the guest bed in the room. But Violet’s furniture probably hadn’t been arranged the same way. I continued to crawl around on my hands and knees. Two planks of wood in front of the bedroom door were worn out. Almost like something had been dragged across the floor. I glanced to the left, the worn wood continuing until all of a sudden it stopped. Something had been repeatedly moved back and forth in front of the bedroom door. A dresser or desk maybe? A makeshift barricade.

  Violet had been scared of something. I thought about the rumors swirling around town. She needed help and no one was there for her. I crawled over to where the wood continued to fade. And that was when I found it. A board with a little wiggle to it. I pried it open and stared down into an empty hole. Nothing. My excitement immediately vanished. Violet had hidden something here, but she had taken it with her. Damnit. Another dead end.

  I was about to throw the floorboard back down when I felt an indent on the bottom of it. I turned the board over in my hands and stared down at the carvings inside of it.

  There were tally marks. Dozens of them. No, hundreds of them. She was counting something. Or counting down to something. A chill ran down my spine. Maybe she was counting down the days until she took action. The days until she murdered her whole family. Because the only thing more alarming than the tally marks etched into the wood were the words carved in the very center.

  “The only escape is death.”

  Chapter 15

  Violet

  I pulled my warmest sweater over top of a long-sleeved shirt. Maybe I’d pick up a new coat while I was in town today, if I could handle walking through the whispers for that long. Sometimes I’d drive an hour away just to avoid the gossip. Leaving town always felt liberating. I could walk around without anyone staring or pointing.

  But I didn’t have that luxury today. While Zeke was at school I needed to go to the exact same store we had originally gotten Lizardopolous from. I had no idea what kind of lizard it was, but I knew where in the store we had found him. Plus, if that didn’t work, I had the receipt. It wasn’t detailed with the species, but hopefully the shop owner would be able to tell me what kind of lizard I had bought if I couldn’t find it myself.

  Backup plans always made me feel better. But today’s plans hadn’t helped calm me down at all. There had to be a suitable replacement or I was royally screwed. Doubling down and lying to my son all weekend? There was no going back from that.

  I had even snuck outside a few times and searched for him at night. And called for him, which was ridiculous. The little lizard didn’t know his name. He was a lizard. Zeke and I had also destroyed the house “searching” for him.

  Today could have gone a little smoother if I had at least gotten an early start. I had learned to go shopping as early as possible if I had to do it in town. Grocery shopping was one of those things. Food spoiled when you drove around with it for an hour. But I hadn’t gotten an early start. I had been cleaning up the mess we’d made all weekend in our fake search. It wouldn’t have taken that long, but I wasn’t doing well today. Physically I felt fine. But I couldn’t seem to stop counting. I had stood in front of the couch fluffing the same damn pillow 96 times. I had practically beaten the thing to death.

  I knew I was just nervous about going out. But the longer I waited the worse it would be. My logic hadn’t stopped me from deciding to clean the house instead of leaving, no matter how much sense it made. Once I started something, I had to finish it though. So the house was finally spotless hours later. And I was ready to go. I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Ready to go just after I washed my hands three more times.

  Stop it, Violet. I took a deep breath. My hands were clean. Everything was clean. Soon there would be lunch traffic. There was nothing worse than people in a rush during lunchtime. But my body wouldn’t leave the bathroom.

  Get a hold of yourself. You’ll only be gone for thirty minutes tops. Lizardopolous 2 will be at the store just waiting to be adopted. If you hurry. Someone else might snatch him up if you don’t hurry.

  My pep talk worked. I was out of the bathroom and down the stairs in record time. I started humming, distracting myself from the feeling of doom in my stomach. “Going to get Lizardopolous,” I sang as I slipped on a pair of boots, gloves, and a hat. “And Zeke’s never gonna know the difference.” I shook my hips as I closed the front door behind me. “And he’ll live happily in ignorant bliss.”

  I hoisted myself into my truck and stuck my key into the ignition. It sputtered lifelessly and made a terrible churning noise.

  My stupid cheery song disappeared from my mind in a flash. “Shit!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Fucking fuckity shit!” I slammed my hands against the steering wheel. God, I had finally forced myself out of the house and now my truck wasn’t going to start? What did I do to deserve this torture? I turned the key again and it made the same terrible sputtering noise. “Damnit!” I slammed my hand against the wheel again. And again. And again.

  I didn’t have time to call a repairman who wouldn’t come. Or a tow truck. Or any of that. You could call Tucker. I ignored the voice in my head. But it was like the voice was on repeat, saying it over and over on a loop. Like I was standing there fluffing that stupid pillow for half an hour straight again. Fine, universe. You win, you ungrateful, hideous ogre.

  I climbed out of my truck and slammed the door as hard as I could. It closed slowly, its hinges squeaking with rust. I couldn’t even slam the door properly. Piece of junk. I kicked the tire and then silently cursed when it hurt my toes.

  I tried to take a few deep breaths, but nothing would calm me down. Before I could back out, I pulled off my gloves and typed in Tucker’s number. Hopefully he’d pick up this time. If he had answered my call a few days ago, all of this could have been avoided. I pressed the phone to my ear. It rang several times and then the voicemail kicked on.

  I was pretty sure I was about to have a panic attack. I couldn’t keep lying to Zeke. I needed to get Lizardopolous 2 today. Now.

  The voicemail beeped, signaling it was time to leave a message.

  “Hey, Detective Reed.” I didn’t try to lather my voice in fake honey. I said it exactly how I was feeling. Like I wished I was calling anyone else in the world but him. And that my morning wasn’t going well. And that I was on the verge of tears because everything around me was falling apart. Including me. “I changed my mind. Not because I want to see you again, but because my shitty truck won’t start and I have zero other options for a ride. But I need you to call me back right now. And I don’t mean that figuratively. I mean it literally. Like right this second.” I started pacing. “We have to go immediately or I can’t go at all. It’s almost lunchtime and I can’t be out during lunch. I don’t know what your schedule looks like, but maybe you could take an early break or something? Just…get here or else....” The voicemail beeped, cutting my message short.

  Get here or else? Seriously? That made it sound like I was threatening him. I debated whether or not I should call him back. But as I went through my message in my head I started to panic. I hadn’t left my name or number. I hadn’t even mentioned the pet store. He’d have no idea who was calling. I dialed his number again and held the phone back up to my ear. It went to voicemail again.

  “I wasn’t threatening you,” I said after the beep. “I got cut off. I was going to say, get here or else it’ll be too late and we’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Which can’t happen, because Zeke is already suspicious of my lies. This is Violet by the way.” How many Violet’s does a detective know? “Violet Clark. Call me back if you get this before eleven, otherwise don’t bother. But you owe me. Please. I need you.”

  I need you? I hung up before I said anything else stupid. Why on earth had I said that? I didn’t need him. I wanted nothing to do with him. Now he was going to get that message and get all so
rts of weird ideas about my intentions.

  This day couldn’t get any worse. I sat down on the cold ground and leaned my back against the tire. Tears started to stream down my cheeks before I even realized I had started crying. I was officially losing it. It wasn’t just the fact that I was nervous about going into town. Or that I got stuck in my head this morning. Or that my car wouldn’t start. It was more than that. All the lies were tearing me apart. Lie after lie after lie.

  Big lies have big consequences. I heard my mother’s voice in my head.

  Lying to Zeke about his pet was protecting him. It was a white lie. A small nothing lie. But that was the problem with lies. They stacked on top of each other until they became one big unbearable lie. I felt like I was drowning in my own secrets.

  Chapter 16

  Tucker

  The farther I went into the woods, the colder it got. The trees started to blot out the sun in longer increments. But I didn’t think it was the chill in the air that was causing me to shiver. It felt ominous out here, just like Damien had warned. And I was cursing myself for not bringing him with me.

  The Adeline Bell case had hit a dead end. But there was something else to find. I could feel it in my bones. Maybe Damien would be willing to help me with a case that we hadn’t been officially excused from. But I already knew what he’d say. That there was no case and I had lost my mind. It was possible he was right. And I was on even thinner ice with the captain. It was my fault we’d gotten that dispatch the other day to Violet’s house. I felt like a grounded teenager.

  Just thinking about that made me shake my head. Being grounded was the least of my problems when I was a kid. But Violet? She hadn't felt safe unless she barricaded her bedroom door with furniture. She thought death was the only escape. But from what? What was she counting down the days to?

  My phone started ringing in my pocket. I ignored it as I continued to follow the trail. It wasn’t paved in stone or anything fancy, but it was worn with use. Years and years of footsteps. The only things that hid it were the colorful autumn leaves. The orange, red, and yellow should have made the trail look happier. But nothing could make being out in the middle of these woods less menacing.