“I just don’t understand how someone could have come in and out without you seeing them.” Anson wasn’t going to let that go.
“Maybe I closed my eyes for a few minutes,” I said. “And maybe dozed just enough to miss them? It was lucky if they walked out just then.”
Anson looked away. “It feels coincidental.”
“Then what are you saying?” I asked.
“Well, you were the only one out there. And you didn’t see anyone going in or out…”
“So you’re saying I did it?” My voice raised higher. I was both terrified of the idea of being accused and angry that he’d say something like that. But perhaps that was the ghost’s plan after all. I was too guarded to be killed, but if she could make it look like I had murdered someone that would be punishment as well. Besides, in prison I wouldn’t be in control of lights or environment.
Anson was already shaking his head. “There wasn’t that much blood, but you had none on you. There’s no way. You were wearing the same clothing and brought only your handbag with you.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“Maybe there was something weird about it. Maybe there’s a secret entrance through the back? Maybe it started as a service entrance and got changed. Or maybe there’s a basement that we don’t know about. Or maybe…”
I waited for Anson to finish what he was saying.
He didn’t.
“You know that all of those are about as likely as me killing her? Or the trucker who I saw talking on the phone and who left when the cops showed up.” I hated to suggest such a thing, but Anson couldn’t walk down that path. He’d never let go of it.
Anson wouldn’t let it rest. “Deborah is dead. Something happened to her in there. Nils and I didn’t hear anything in the men’s room and we weren’t in there that long. If we’d gone in as soon we finished and found you waiting, we probably would have caught whoever, or whatever, killed her.”
If she was killed by a ghost, would he have seen something? It was an interesting question. The ghost had disappeared when I was in the rest stop and the other girls had come in. If he’d gone in and the ghost was terrifying Deborah into silence then he’d have seen nothing and she’d have left, probably shaking. Knowing Deborah, surrounded by those of us she knew, she’d have talked about the experience, talked about thinking she was going to die.
Out in the lobby I hadn’t heard a faucet drip. Not until I went into the bathroom. Had the men heard it out there? Had it happened for Deborah?
“I know it sounds crazy.” Anson wouldn’t look at me. “You probably think I am crazy and I deserve that, I’m sure, but I can’t wrap my head around what happened.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” I said. “I hated talking to you and Deborah about what happened at Steely Woods because I had an incident happen to me there, too. It terrified me. I think the only reason I’m alive is because two teenagers happened along with their mother late at night and stopped whatever was going to happen. It’s why I always use Nils’ private bathroom and why I was so scared about going in after Deborah. Public restrooms with stalls remind me of what happened… and I’m still scared.”
Anson was now looking at me with interest.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s hard to remember exactly what. But I do recall that I was terrified and that I was certain I was going to die. I have no idea what happened to Deborah or if it was connected to Steely Woods or if that guy I noticed on the phone did somehow get in there and do something to her, but I know what it’s like to think you’re crazy.”
Anson looked around the office for a long time, his eyes taking in the view outside, the sunshine and the tall cream colored building that faced ours. He looked at the floor and the pattern on the carpet. Then he looked back down at the arms of the chairs, at the walls, at my brag wall with my diploma and awards.
Finally, he looked back at me. “Do you think you’re the connection?”
I sighed. “I hope not. But what if I am?”
My stomach knotted and I grabbed the edge of my desk, just a little, trying to keep my hands from shaking. What had I done? Would Anson go to Nils and tell him I was a mental case?
Instead he just nodded carefully. “I don’t know. But at least that makes some sense to me, you know? In a weird way. Because it’s not that there’s some random killer practically flying around the country murdering people in rest areas. It’s like it gives it a pattern and I can understand that.”
I breathed out, suddenly aware that I’d been holding my breath.
“Thank you for not thinking I’m crazy.”
“If you’re crazy, then I probably am too,” Anson said. “And maybe we are, but at least we can say it helps make sense of two killings on opposite sides of the country so close together. And if we aren’t crazy…maybe it gives us a place to start to try and figure out why.”
I smiled. Anson was so young, like I was once. And he hadn’t faced what I had. But he was willing to work with me. To help me. Maybe I could do this. I just needed to figure out how.
16
Traci: September Now
At some point I had to leave work and go home. It helped that Anson seemed to believe that there was a link between Deborah’s death and the murder at Steely Woods. It was a silly thing, really, because I knew he couldn’t actually help me. Even so, it felt good to have someone who believed me. It also gave me an excuse for thinking I was the link. After all, as Anson said, it made sense for our minds to try and find some connection with two senseless murders in such a short time, even if they were thousands of miles apart.
I hadn’t told him I was studying the issue. I needed to learn about ghosts and ghost hunting. I hated the way that sounded, as if I expected to enroll in a university class and then have it all be over. Were such a thing possible, I’d have my life back by now.
While it stays pretty bright in September, I had to admit that my home felt dark. I had all the lights on and afternoon sun still streamed all gold and pink through the windows, but too many shadows lurked in the corners and the overhead lights appeared dull rather than bright. I had my air conditioning off, which made the place quieter than normal, but I still felt cold. If the chill hadn’t come and gone from moment to moment, I’d have turned on the heat. Even so, I was tempted to do so.
The neighbors, at least, were normal. I heard the usual periodic flush of a toilet and the woman upstairs walking across the floor. I’d hear an additional heavier tread later in the evening when her husband or boyfriend was home. I smelled them having pizza. I had brought in a deli sandwich and cup of soup. It didn’t smell nearly as much, but it would be warm and filling and allow me to work at my dining room table while the sun lasted.
I googled through a hundred different links about getting rid of ghosts. Ideas ranged from smudging with sage to protecting the entryways with garlic or salt. Given my love of Italian food, I had a feeling garlic wasn’t going to work. An Asian ritual used orange peels and water. I bit my lip thinking how all of these rituals cleansed a place. My apartment wasn’t haunted, I was.
The ghost had noticed me at Steely Woods and if a place needed cleansing, the rest stop was it.
Though my eyes tired and my brain tried to process all this new information, I kept reading. Ghosts usually had a reason for sticking around. If I could find out why the ghost did what she did, I might be able to stop her. The ritual of every nineteen to twenty years was interesting. Maybe that was how long it took her to have the power to kill, but I had a feeling the timing was more important than that.
I kept reading while the sun went down and my condo darkened despite the lights. I had my electric lanterns set so that they minimized shadows. Mostly, my home felt safe, but tonight, as last night, I sensed something had changed. I hadn’t moved anything. The lights still worked. I’d gotten several new batteries for the lanterns, which, given the size of them, weren’t cheap, and still shadows lounged
in the corners, seeming too long and large to be normal.
I sighed. The kitchen sink dripped once. It echoed differently than the drip in the bathroom and that resonance didn’t terrify me as much as the one in the bathroom did. I breathed in and out, feeling proud of myself for an instant.
The bathroom faucet dripped. Suddenly sweat broke out over my palms and I turned to stare down the hallway.
The hallway light flickered, once, then twice, threatening to leave the corridor in full dark. I held my breath waiting, noticing then that the other lights in the condo began to flicker, some going out all together for seconds at a time.
My heart began to pound and my breath came shorter. I wanted to stand, to flee the place, but my legs shook so badly I couldn’t even begin to stand. I felt a breath of cold against my back.
I turned my head, so very slowly, knowing I would see nothing.
I turned back to the hallway, but nothing had moved. Even the lights had stopped their flickering.
I tried to calm myself again. I breathed in and out, the way one of the therapists had suggested. She’d actually suggested I close my eyes and do it, but I knew there was no way I’d calm down if I had my eyes closed.
I counted my breaths, breathing in for a count of three and breathing out for a count of three. The band of fear no longer pressed against my chest. My heart still pounded too fast and too hard, though.
I stayed alert for any other sounds, any other sensations, but nothing happened though I sat there until I heard the husband upstairs walking towards their bedroom. I drew in another breath and pushed myself up from the computer. I wouldn’t work there any longer. It was getting late and I ought to pretend to be on a schedule for work.
I hoped to be clear enough at work tomorrow that I could get something done. I’d cleared my emails for the day, today, though it had taken me four times as long leaving me no time to consider any other projects. My mind remained too focused on Deborah’s death and the connection it might have to Steely Woods.
Anson was right to question the timing of Deborah’s death. I should have heard something. At the very least, Deborah should have moved a little bit, perhaps gasped, but I’d heard nothing. I didn’t understand how someone could die so quietly.
If the ghost did it, the doors and walls wouldn’t really offer protection, though I recalled the skeletal fingers holding the top of my door, a head about to peer over it and into the stall where I was, as if it couldn’t just slip through them like Casper in an old cartoon.
I made a mental note about that. Could the ghost just come through walls or did it have to disappear and reappear in another place? Did that take some sort of concentration on the part of the apparition?
I still didn’t know enough about ghosts. No matter how much I read, my answers weren’t there. Information on ghosts was all guesswork and supposition. I’d picked up any number of books on hauntings, becoming known to the librarians around Portland after I’d first been attacked. It’s why I moved across the country, putting as much running water between me and the rest stop ghost as I could, but there’d been no real answers and I hadn’t had the heart to keep searching.
I may have lived in terror, but I’d assured myself I was safe. I existed in a state of fear, eschewing a normal life in order to remain safe from something I didn’t understand. Deborah hadn’t known about me, but she’d been fascinated by the deaths, thinking there was some story there. She’d wanted me to tell her what I knew, if anything. I’d failed her. Maybe if I’d talked to her, she’d have been warned or been able to call out when she’d been trapped in that bathroom.
If she had called out and I’d gone in, would I have seen the creature? Would we both have died? Could the two of us have made enough noise to bring Anson and Nils running to help, and perhaps turn the tide in favor of the living rather than the dead?
I suspected I’d not have been able to scream even with someone else there, but perhaps my presence would have given Deborah the ability to do so. Too many if onlys. I’d gone through even more if onlys when I’d first escaped and heard about another death there. I couldn’t let regret paralyze me any more than fear.
I had to move forward. Even if it was just a baby step.
Telling Anson had been a baby step. I could keep going.
17
Lucy: Summer Then
The sun set earlier and earlier and soon enough fall would completely settle into the Pacific Northwest. Lucy had thought it was there already but then suddenly the weather turned brilliant with sunny skies and days warm enough to go without a coat. A few leaves were beginning to fall although the true autumn colors hadn’t begun for those trees and bushes that weren’t evergreen.
Lucy had expected to start back to school, but Alma had told her not to go.
“Isn’t it required?” Lucy asked.
Alma gave her a long look and shook her head. “Like the law looks after people like us.”
“But I need to learn. How will I ever get out of here if I don’t learn something?” Lucy missed her books, missed reading in the library because she didn’t have a card. She’d not dared to go anywhere since Alma had begun using her.
Lucy dreaded the days she went out to the cabin most of all. The bearded man still wrapped his large hands around her neck long enough and hard enough to leave bruises. Those allowed Alma to charge him even more, which, while it terrified Lucy, it pleased her sister.
Some nights Alma slept elsewhere. Lucy wondered where, but Alma had just waved her hand and said Lucy shouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t so much that Lucy was worried. Instead, she was terrified and angry that Alma would leave her there in the run down trailer while Alma spent the money Lucy was earning for them.
“People like us don’t ever get out of here,” Alma said. “We just keep doing what needs to be done to put food on the table.”
“I’d get an after school job,” Lucy said. “If I had a degree, I might even do secretarial work and that would feed us even better.”
Alma shook her head. “And what do we do until then? If you go to school looking like you do when you come home sometimes, people will start wondering what you’re up to. And believe me, taking money for sex ain’t legal. You want to end up in jail?”
“I’m not the one taking money,” Lucy argued. Maybe she should make the men give her money, put some in her hands so that Alma wouldn’t get it all. She could put a few dollars away and go somewhere else, somewhere no one knew her. She could walk as far as she could and camp out. They had stuff to do that.
A few months ago, she wouldn’t have considered walking through the woods along the highway until she got to a town. Now it seemed like a decent idea.
“Don’t you go splitting hairs. Lawyers love that and then we’d both be put in jail,” Alma said. “I have a reputation to protect.”
Lucy laughed.
Alma glared at her. “You better be here when I get home. If I find out you’ve been going to school when I specifically told you not to, you’ll be very sorry.”
Lucy glared, wondering what her sister thought could be worse than what she’d already done to her. She looked down at the table. “Why didn’t you just leave me when dad died?”
“Figured someone needed to look out for you. Foster homes are bad. Who knew you were such a selfish thing always wanting and wanting?” Alma didn’t say anything else but turned to leave.
Lucy thought that was wrong. She wasn’t the one always wanting. It was Alma. Maybe she’d always wanted but somewhere along the lines it had gotten too much for her to take care of her sister and now they were in this mess. Lucy wasn’t sure what to do about it. Wasn’t sure what she could do about it.
She finished the toast she’d made and then cleaned the table. She picked up another slice of bread and made a half of a sandwich with some left over chicken meat they had. She packed it carefully in an old sack and set off for school.
Alma couldn’t stop her from learning. Maybe at school she could
trace a map and find out where to head and who to talk to. She could talk to one of the school counselors about jobs. They all knew she and Alma were poor. Maybe there was something in town, something besides letting men pay Alma to use her body.
It was a long walk to the road and it was late so the bus had already gone. Lucy wasn’t going to get to the school any time soon. It didn’t matter, probably. She could talk to people. She’d already missed a day because Alma had kept her so busy the day before. She smiled, thinking about the teachers she liked and what subjects she might learn.
18
Traci September Now
I didn’t get much done on Friday, either. Nils passed along the tidbits of information Deborah’s family had given him about funeral arrangements. They were having the service back in Washington for themselves and friends who lived in the area. The coroner hadn’t released the body yet and no one knew when that would happen. The family suggested Nils contact a personal friend of Deborah’s, one who lived in Charlotte. Perhaps a small ceremony could be done for her friends and coworkers here.
Nils passed that information onto Sandy who would be in charge of contacting the friend and helping organize a service.
Anson and I had few chances to talk as he was busy finishing some designs for print ads to go with the new radio spots. He needed to get them in. Nils might not be pushing us, but upper management would start to push if our department didn’t keep up with our schedule. Money still needed to be made and the business still needed to grow.
When the day was finally over, I headed home promptly at five so no one could fault me for leaving early.
The sun still shone bright in the sky, although it hung lower than it had a month or so ago. Fall was coming and when it arrived, by the time I got to the condo, it would be dusk. I wondered if I would feel better moving further south, like maybe Florida where the sun would stay higher and brighter all year long.
The Haunting of Steely Woods Page 7