Of Things Unseen

by L. Jaye Morgan

  The response was more pre-sermon announcements than revival, but polite applause was better than nothing. He made a mental note to ask Bill Price for a dedicated phone line and a patrol officer to answer it.

  PASTOR KELSEY HUGHES said a prayer, a long, loud one, after which the crowd began to disperse. Dunn had just finished saying his goodbyes to the Scott and Washington families when he heard a voice behind him.

  “Detective?” she asked. He turned and found two attractive women waiting for him. The thicker one spoke first.

  “I’m Nikki Thomas. I’m with Noir Daily.”

  “So you’re the one who wrote that article?” he asked.

  “That’s me.”

  “You poked a hornet’s nest, Ms. Thomas. A lot of folks are all worked up behind your little story.”

  “Good. That means I was successful.” Her smugness irritated him and he had half a mind to take her to task on the race card she had pulled but he decided it wasn’t the time to get into that particular discussion. “What can I do for you?”

  “Right now I’m mostly focusing on the families’ struggles to get coverage and assistance. I just wanted to introduce myself since you’re the lead detective. We’ll probably be communicating through all this.”

  They shook hands. “Nice to meet you but I’m actually not the lead on this. I’m more so the liaison between the department and the community.”

  “Oh?” A short and loaded response. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “Uh, well as I said, I’m from around this way and I have experience with the area and the community—”

  “I see,” she said before exchanging a glance with her friend. “Well, you’ll be the one I call, then.”

  He pulled out a business card and handed it to her.

  “Thank you.” She looked through her purse. “I don’t have any cards on me but I’m easy to find.”

  “Got it.” He looked at the smaller one. “Is this your friend?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. This is Tamara Johnston. She’s working with me. She’s actually from around here, too.”

  The two shook hands. “Is that right? What part?” asked Barrington.

  She smiled. She was pretty. “I grew up about 10 minutes east of here. Willowbrooke”

  “Small world. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.”

  Years on the force had trained him to evaluate people and situations in a span of a few seconds. The thick one was a shark, probably looking to advance her career, get some new social media followers, get interviewed on CNN. The little one was just along for the ride. And she was married.

  They walked past Barrington to make their exit and he tried not to but he just couldn’t help himself. He pivoted and watched them leave, focusing on Tamara, telling himself it was harmless. He was a man, after all. It was completely normal. But the guilt crept in. He swallowed the feeling and made a split second decision. The type of choice that seems small at the time...

  “Hang on a second!” he called, jogging over to the two women. “Let me give you my card as well. Just in case.”

  “Thank you,” she said. When she grabbed the card, he took notice of her fingers, long and delicate, topped by nails painted pink, and he forced himself not to stare again as she walked away.

  His phone rang and he knew it would be Fallon. She seemed to sense when he found another woman attractive. To his surprise, it was Price.

  “Dunn, how was the rally?”

  “It went well. I think I put them at ease.”

  “Good, good. I knew you would. Listen, I take it you haven’t heard yet.”

  “Heard what?”

  “Jeneice Harwell.”

  “Who?”

  Price let out a heavy, world-weary sigh. “Another girl is missing.”

  Chapter 14

  JENEICE ALWAYS LINGERED in the shower and that night was no different. Once the soaping and rinsing were completed, she was content to let the hot water, as hot as she could stand it, pour over her sore muscles. She had trained that evening and was exhausted, but her workout wasn’t the culprit. Sleep had been hard to come by lately.

  The Townsend Road Race was in two weeks and she had invited everyone she knew to support her. She’d even had a banner made for her family to hold. She hoped they would bring some signs, too. And that Mimi would be able to make it.

  Mimi, her father’s mother, was the person she loved most in the world. Her attendance would depend on how well she was feeling, and these days, it was hit or miss. Since her uncle Dwayne started back working, it fell on Jeneice to take Mimi to her dialysis appointments three times a week. She was happy to do it, but she hadn’t noticed any improvement in her grandmother’s health. She tried not to dwell on it but something in her spirit told her she didn’t have long with her grandmother. Running helped her forget.

  Jeneice lettered in track in high school and was in perfect condition until she allowed herself a freshman 45 once she hit college. It looked good on her, but she was a little sluggish with the extra weight. Marathon training had taken off 27 of those pounds, but she was fine with keeping the rest.

  Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Yes?” Jeneice asked.

  “Dinner,” said Nia. Jeneice turned the water up one more notch to feel the stinging wetness on her skin before turning it off. Nia didn’t usually cook but she was trying to be nice. The two had been having issues. They’d lived together for two years with nary a problem until her boyfriend Brandon started coming around. Although Jeneice would never admit it to herself, Nia thought she was jealous. And Nia was right.

  It’s not that Jeneice couldn’t have gotten a boyfriend. She dated plenty. She just didn’t care much for Brandon. His constant presence in the apartment was intrusive and the vibe had changed completely. But that wasn’t even their biggest issue. Their big blowout had come a few weeks earlier. Jeneice had come home from work to find that her dresser drawers and jewelry box had been rifled through. Instead of asking Nia about it, she accused her, and that didn’t go over well.

  Jeneice sat on the side of the tub and put lotion on her aching legs. In hindsight, she regretted flying off the handle. The two didn’t speak for three days after the accusation and Nia ended up being the one to initiate a conversation. In truth, Jeneice was ashamed of the way she’d acted. She just hadn’t been feeling like herself lately. The nightmares...

  Nia had called her that morning to let her know she’d be making dinner and it would be just the two of them, no Brandon. She even offered to load her up on carbs since Jeneice had the race coming up. She was a sweet girl and a good roommate. Maybe better than Jeneice deserved.

  She opened the bathroom door and was hit by cool air and the smell of garlic. “It smells so good in here! What did you cook?”

  Nia beamed. “Spaghetti, garlic bread, salad, and tiramisu for dessert.” Jeneice raised her eyebrows. “No, I didn’t make the tiramisu. I got it from the freezer at FoodMart.” The two laughed and sat at the kitchen table.

  “Thank you for this. You really didn’t have to. Especially after everything.”

  “I just wanna move on.”

  Jeneice raised her glass of water. “Cheers to that.”

  Nia obliged and the two smiled over their pasta.

  It was like old times. Life, school, the race, and Nia’s upcoming vacation were discussed at length, with no mention of Brandon. Then the girls, their bellies full and hurt feelings completely soothed, caught up on reruns of their guilty pleasure reality tv shows. It was a high point in a long period of lows, and Jeneice was starting to feel like herself again.

  It didn’t last.

  Nia finally stumbled off to bed, eager to get some sleep before the long drive to Destin in the morning. Left alone in the living room, Jeneice began to feel that familiar feeling, the dread, the sensation that eyes were all around her. It was just after midnight and the cicadas were singing their tree songs, but they weren’t loud enough to dro
wn out the voice in her head.

  Somebody’s watching.

  She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth. It was vital that she get some sleep tonight, but at this point, the only way that would happen is if she climbed into bed with Nia.

  Jeneice stared at the tv and watched the show without really seeing it, willing herself to be brave. Her feelings were irrational and she was a grown woman capable of getting through a night without panicking, but something deep down inside of her wouldn’t let her lie to herself. Something was scaring her, and it wasn’t just her imagination. People say everything happens for a reason, and that only meant one thing to Jeneice: her fear was happening for a reason.

  This is ridiculous, she told herself. Tonight was going to be the night. She decided it right then. She was going to ignore the fear. She was going to go lie down in her bed and fall asleep. She thought it and claimed it, and then she turned off all the lights, went to her room, lay down, and cloaked herself with her sheet and comforter. She willed it again. It was going to work.

  It didn’t work. She saw every hour between 12 and 3 am. She checked her phone once more at 3:38 am to make sure her alarm was set and loud enough to wake her. She knew she’d be exhausted again in the morning but there was nothing to be done about it. She thought about Mimi, with her long silver hair and smooth, plump cheeks. She would see her soon.

  Finally, a few minutes later, she felt herself dozing off...

  NIA WAS A LIGHT SLEEPER and was always awakened by the sounds of Jeneice getting ready in the mornings. She would hear Jeneice padding around the apartment at about 6:45 each day, brewing her black tea, scrambling eggs, using her electric toothbrush. The sounds were no longer distinguishable; they had blended into a familiar cacophony of white noise that lulled Nia back to sleep just as quickly as it awakened her.

  That day would be different.

  Nia was dreaming, a vivid dream in which someone was knocking on her door. Over and over again they pounded, but the knocks didn’t sound like knuckles on wood; rather, they sounded like quiet booms, and they were sporadic.

  Thump. Thump, thump.

  She slowly opened her eyes. The sun, not fully risen, cast a dull glow through her blinds. The combination of the odd lighting and the strange noises disoriented her. She lifted her head and cocked it to the side like an animal, listening intently. Thump.

  What is that girl doing? she wondered. Those didn’t sound like her normal noises. Nia listened again, slightly more awake now, and only heard quiet. She searched for the clock through blurry eyes, 6:43, before laying her head back down and closing her eyes. It was nothing, she decided.

  She was almost asleep when she heard a familiar sound. Water running in the bathroom. She listened for the toothbrush but heard nothing, only splashing. Jeneice was washing her hands, most likely. It’s nothing, she decided again. And then she heard it.

  Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!

  She sat straight up, afraid now. It sounded like someone was running down the hall. Was Jeneice running late or something? 7:04. She didn’t usually leave until 7:30 or so. Had she seen a bug? Or worse, a mouse?

  “Jeneice?” she croaked, her throat scratchy and dry. No way Jeneice heard that. Nia took a quick inventory of her bedroom and was disappointed to find an absence of water bottles. There were normally four or five partially consumed bottles sitting around but she had cleaned up in anticipation of her trip. Her mother had always told her it was bad luck to go out of town and come home to a dirty house.

  She cleared her throat and listened. Silence again. Jeneice must be okay.

  Nia didn’t have to be up until 8, but her burning throat was bothering her too much to go back to sleep. She swung her legs around and stepped down into her slippers. Brandon’s t-shirt fell down past her waist, covering her panties. She looked at her robe but didn’t put it on. She was only going to the kitchen for water.

  She opened her bedroom door and was immediately hit with a peculiar sensation. Something—the subconscious, gut, maybe even a premonition, she would never be certain—compelled her not to leave her room. She had barely gotten the door open when a wave of terror washed over her. It happened so fast she didn’t have time to look out into the hallway; she simply felt the overwhelming sensation that something horrible was lurking beyond her door. Something evil.

  She slammed the door shut and locked it, and even in her terror, she had the good sense to pull her desk chair over and wedge it underneath the doorknob. Just like her mother used to do. Backing away from the door, she listened with all of the intensity she could muster, desperate to hear something but praying there was nothing. If there was any noise to be heard it wasn’t likely to overpower the pounding in her eardrums. Is that my heartbeat? Can he hear it?

  He. That was an odd thought, and she briefly wondered where it came from. She picked up her cell phone and tried her damnedest to call Brandon. Her fingers finally worked on the third try.

  “Hey. What are you doing up?” His voice was still hoarse from sleep.

  “Can you come over here?” she asked, trying her best to sound like an adult, rather than a scared child.

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “I think somebody’s in here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think somebody broke in.”

  “Shit. Is Jeneice there?” He was awake now.

  “I don’t know. I heard a bunch of noises and it didn’t sound like her. I’m scared, please can you come over?”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t her?” She could hear him moving around.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. Something’s wrong. Oh my God. Brandon, can you please come over?” And hurry, before he comes in here and kills me.

  “Okay, calm down, I’m on the way. I’m getting in my car now, okay?”

  “Okay.” She was close to crying.

  “Stay calm, okay? It’s probably nothing.”

  “Okay.”

  She waited, her eyes never leaving her bedroom door. 7:06. 7:09. 7:10. What was taking him so long?

  The knock at the front door startled her. She knew it was Brandon but she also knew her legs wouldn’t carry her all the way to the door. Her phone rang.

  “Brandon?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Come open the door.”

  “I can’t.”

  “What? Nia, come on, man. You got me out of bed, I’m here. What’s the deal?”

  She was still terrified, but now she was beginning to feel silly. And embarrassed. “Can you come around? To my window?”

  Silence. “Hello?” she begged.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I’m scared to come out of my room.” She hated him for making her say it.

  He sighed. “Alright.”

  It was daylight by then and the brightness soothed her nerves a bit. She pulled her blinds up, then the glass pane. It took her a second to pop the screen out, and then she saw his face. She had never felt so relieved. “Can you get through?”

  “We’ll see.” He was agile, thanks to years of soccer. He grunted when his waist hit the edge of the window but he was inside in seconds. She fell into his arms and buried her face in his shirt. He had grabbed a clean one; it still smelled of fabric softener. She was too ashamed to let him see her tears. He held her, gently rubbing her back, and waited.

  Nia pulled away slightly and wiped her eyes. Brandon’s eyes wandered over to the chair under her doorknob and she was relieved when he didn’t mention it.

  “I’m gonna go out and look around,” he said. “You can stay in here if you want to.”

  “No, I’ll go with you.” She didn’t want to go but she was feeling sillier by the second and she needed to regain some dignity in this whole mess. He moved the chair and opened the door and she followed his lead, looking. For what, she didn’t know.

  The small kitchen was fine, nothing out of the ordinary. The same was true of the living room. Everything seemed to be e
xactly as the girls had left it the night before. They saved Jeneice’s room for last, and it was clean other than an empty mug with a dry ring of tea at the bottom and her towel and bathrobe on the floor. The only thing that looked odd was her bed.

  It was made.

  Jeneice never, ever made her bed during the week. Nia stared at it as if it would reveal a secret, but none came. Just confusion, which only intensified when she looked on Nia’s desk. A brown leather Coach bag sat neatly beside Jeneice’s cellphone, which was still plugged into its charger. Nia looked inside—assuming Jeneice would forgive her for actually rifling through her things this time—and there was her wallet, containing her driver’s license and bank card. Her fear crept back up like acid, her throat dry and painful once again. She realized, for the second time that morning, that something was wrong.

  “Why would she leave all of her stuff?” she asked, more to herself than to Brandon. He shrugged and shook his head. Then Nia had a thought. She ran to the window and looked outside, confirming the worst. There it was, alone and crookedly parked, its green Christmas tree air freshener hanging on the rearview mirror. Jeneice’s silver Nissan.

  “We need to call somebody,” said Brandon. Nia’s head was swimming and she couldn’t think straight. She sat on the bed to get her bearings.

  “You probably shouldn’t sit there. There might be evidence on it.”

  Evidence. Her heart sank.

  “I’m gonna call the police,” she said, and Brandon’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth as if to speak before quickly closing it.

  “Don’t worry,” Nia said. “You can leave if you want.”

  “I’ll stay if you want me to. Do you really wanna be in here by yourself?”

  “No but... I know you don’t wanna be here when they get here.”

  The two stared at each other, utterly unsure of what to do next. The only thing Nia knew for certain was that they would not be leaving for Destin that day. Jeneice was gone, and she had not left on her own. Something was very wrong, and Nia sensed there wasn’t going to be an innocent explanation. She finally spoke. “I’ll call her parents.”