“The girl that you’re going searching for. With the woman with the dog?”
I nodded.
Ronette nodded as she ate. “Even if you aren’t actually being haunted, if it’s not about her, I think this will make you feel better. It’s important. You’ve been letting the incident haunt you all this time. If there is a ghost, then you’ve been haunted twice, don’t you see? Once from the ghost and once from your memories of this.”
It was an interesting take. A little like Anson’s but more like Anson’s and mine together rather than an either or.
“A guy at worked talked like that, a little. But then when I started doing something about it, he kept on about how it couldn’t be a ghost because they didn’t exist. He was really adamant. I guess he felt like he was influencing me to go to do something stupid.” I watched Ronette for her reaction.
“He’s an idiot.” She took a bit of food and chewed before continuing. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. He hasn’t experienced what you have…”
“He was at the rest stop in North Carolina when Deborah was murdered,” I interrupted.
“I don’t care. He didn’t see what you saw. He can’t say whether you made up something to explain some bizarre thing or if you actually saw a ghost or a demon or something we don’t have a name for. He can’t. He might explain things his way and that’s his comfort. You have to find your truth. I’ll believe you no matter what.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t believe how supportive Ronette was being.
“You shut me out all those years ago,” Ronette said. “I don’t want you to do it again. I know we live on other sides of the country now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t stay close. We were once.”
I wanted to deny that I had shut her out but looking back she was probably right. I was so scared of everything, I couldn’t even talk about the experience. I had tried but I was scared not only of repeating what I had seen, perhaps making it real, but of what people would think if I had told them.
I was haunted in more ways than Ronette knew.
29
Traci: September Now
We took Ronette’s car to the rest stop. I’d been attacked at the rest stop on the south side of the freeway so when we left the rest stop, we’d have to drive to the next exit and turn around. Ronette would take the exit with the Burger King and drop me off at my car. If all went well, I’d see her again in a couple of days, at least for a short visit. If things didn’t go well, it probably didn’t matter.
Ronette drove a blue Prius. I settled into the comfortable seats, smelling the slight scent of Chinese food, probably something Ronette picked up to eat far too often. It also smelled like her, that indefinable smell that I remembered from living with her in the dorm room. It was a tidy car, a small trash bag hanging on the side, one of those things you could purchase through the internet for the person who had everything. There wasn’t any trash in it.
There were no extra napkins around. Two cloth shopping bags were folded neatly in the backseat on the driver’s side. No crumbs dotted the floor or seats and the dash was suspiciously free of any dust. Her daughters were both in high school, but teenagers could be messy, although I wasn’t surprised that Ronette’s girls weren’t. She’d been good about tidying up, though not quite obsessively. It occurred to me at some point that perhaps the car was as neat as it was because she hadn’t seen me in so long and she wanted to put on a good face.
We talked about easy things as we drove back the way I had come. I watched the trees. The sun remained high in the sky. The clouds seemed a little heavier but they hadn’t completely crowded out the blue beyond. From the looks of the sky, it would be clear when we met Lois.
It seemed like a good omen and I wanted to take good omens where I could.
We passed a semi-truck and Ronette pulled over into the right hand lane. A few minutes later I saw the blue sign for the rest area. Our conversation fell silent.
The trees whipped past even as we slowed down to take the exit.
In this particular rest area, semis went to the first parking lot and the cars to the second. The buildings had been placed in the middle. Two buildings housing restrooms framed a smallish middle area where volunteers often offered coffee and cookies. Two men sat at the table that day, both older men, the lines on their faces attesting to their age. They laughed easily and whatever bad had happened, I knew they’d not just survived as I was doing, they actually lived.
Several cars were parked in the car lot and a man and woman sat eating sandwiches at a picnic table over to one side, beneath several large trees. Across the way, a tall young woman dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt emblazoned with WSU walked a German Shepherd. She didn’t look at us as she watched where she walked.
“That’s not her is it?” Ronette asked.
I didn’t answer right away, looking at the evergreen trees interspersed with broad leafed trees that lined the far side of the lot. I remembered that night, the night everything began, when their branches had appeared to reach out to me, echoing the skeletal fingers that had reached for me in the bathroom.
“No,” I said, finally. “Lois has a standard poodle.”
Ronette and I got out of the car. It felt good to stretch, though I didn’t like being there. I wasn’t terrified the way I had expected. I just felt dread, the way you do when you know you have to have a root canal and don’t want to. It was almost as if by getting here, I just wanted things to be over and done with so I could get on about my life.
Ronette looked at her phone. “It’s not even noon yet,” she said. “We both made really good time.”
We had and for that I was grateful. Without a word we both wandered towards the dog walking area. It was a large grassy area with trees beyond. I smelled the scent of evergreen cedars and firs and noted the thin birches that were often used as a windbreak, so different from trees in the south. It was cooler than I was used to, and even with my jacket I felt chilly. The sun didn’t seem as warm in this part of the world. It had been foolish of me to expect it to considering how much further north I was.
A sidewalk separated the field from the parking lot and Ronette and I walked along it. We reached the end, as the parking area became an off ramp and then turned to go back the other way. I saw a green Forester drive into the parking lot and find a space facing the dog park. A black poodle raised its head in the backseat.
“I bet that’s them,” I said.
A gray-haired man got out. He wore a jacket in dark blue that hung on him as if it were a size too large. He was average height, and while on the thin side, he wasn’t skinny. He wore khaki trousers and tennis shoes. The woman who came around from the passenger side looked like the picture Lois had sent me so that I’d recognize her. She was taller than I had expected, almost half a head taller than the man.
She looked spryer than he did, in jeans, albeit elastic-waist jeans, tennis shoes, and a red fleece jacket. She moved with an ease he lacked. I guessed he had arthritis in his back or hips and perhaps his shoulders as well. He took care with movements. She took them for granted.
Together they leashed up the poodle which leaped out but didn’t go running off. It did raise its head and began sniffing the air. It pranced around looking at both of its owners as if asking what was next, making sure they knew it was ready for adventure. Lois held the dog while her husband slammed the door and locked it.
They looked around, as if uncertain what to do next.
Ronette and I hurried over.
Introductions went easily. Lois’ husband was named Scott. I introduced Ronette by her first name only. If this was a scam of some sort, no need to give them any more information than necessary. We probably should have taken the rental car. That way a license plate search wouldn’t lead them back to Ronette. However, I had a feeling these two were on the up and up, unless Scott was the one who had killed Lucy all those years ago. Mentally doing the math, I realized that he was too young to have been involved, even if he did
look old.
“Let’s go that way.” Lois pointed off to the south and west. “I was researching and I think that area is more likely to be unused. The body they found when they were building this particular rest area was under the south building and I’d think that they’d have found something closer if there were more. I want to start on this side, by the trees. That wouldn’t have been as explored.”
Scott had little to say, as if he wasn’t sure about this. He had the look of a man who was used to giving into what he probably thought of as his wife’s whims. He followed along with her and the dog, shuffling a little now and then. Fortunately, the dog, Mercedes didn’t hurry. Lois told her to search and she got right down to it. I was impressed.
Mercedes led us into the treed area. It wasn’t a woods, exactly but more a tamed wooded land that extended back further than I could measure, not that I was good at eyeballing distances. There were plenty of trees and some low ferns growing near the ground along with a greenish yellow ground cover. Few small bushes and no fallen trees marred our trek. I was reminded of the areas just off the paths of most Northwest hiking trails. Clearer than virgin forest but not totally clear, merely tamed a little.
Mercedes sniffed around the trees and ferns. A squirrel charged through the ferns and scampered up a tree, distracting her, but only for a few moments. I thought I saw a look of longing on the dog’s face but it disappeared quickly and she got back to work.
When we were a few yards into the woods, they got less tamed and darker. The pine and cedar branches formed a tighter mesh overhead so the sun didn’t peak through quite as much. Looking up, the clouds had come in, though they didn’t seem like they would bring rain. A cold breeze filtered through the leaves and branches. I noticed Scott shiver a little.
Shadows moved with the breeze and mentally I had to make sure all of them belonged to a tree or bush. There were some I couldn’t account for, but I also couldn’t account for every branch at that angle of the sun. Still, I felt unsettled. My stomach tied itself in knots. I wanted this to be over.
Mercedes continued on, unaffected by the breeze and the clouds. Her tail was up and it twitched now and then before going straight and still. She was all business. Lois kept her close and sometimes had to tramp off into taller ferns and grasses under the trees, but Mercedes was good about staying to more open areas, as if she was used to having a person who couldn’t trample through the underbrush as easily as she could.
I heard Ronette sigh a little.
“This is nothing,” Lois said. “Searching can take hours.”
I glanced at Ronette who just smiled at me. Scott said nothing but he looked ready to go back and sit down.
Mercedes pushed us onward. Fortunately the hills in the area were low and the brush wasn’t too thick. This area had been semi-civilized for some time. We came to a break in the trees and looked over an overgrown field. Two old cars lay piled in a heap, all rust-brown and dented, the glass on the windshields and doors having long since broken out or been taken out. One had the hood up and there appeared to be more plants than machinery inside the engine compartment.
Beyond the cars, I saw an old square building in untreated wood, now kind of a brownish-gray. The building had stood out in the weather for a very long time with little or no upkeep.
Mercedes sniffed at the long grass and then detoured back into the wooded area, keeping to the edge until the overgrown field was behind us. I wasn’t sure how far we were from the rest area parking lot. I could still hear cars on the freeway. A semi must have started up because I heard the hiss of brakes once.
We kept walking. The clouds shifted and the sun came out a little more. My southern blood soaked it up and wished it would stay longer. Mercedes headed into darker woods with more undergrowth. She dug around under a bush and came out with what looked like the bones of part of a hand.
“Scott?” Lois said quietly.
Scott came forward and squatted down, his hand against a tree trunk to keep his balance. He looked more closely at what Mercedes had.
“Looks like part of a human hand,” he said. “I’m not a forensic anthropologist, but I’ve seen hand bones in the office a time or two and that’s definitely human and not an animal paw.”
I took it to mean that at one time Scott had been a doctor.
Mercedes started whining and digging around near the plant. Lois called her over and gave her a treat. Mercedes ate it but then went back to look at the place and then looked at Lois and back to the bush. She couldn’t have been more clear about wondering why Lois wasn’t going over there to dig if she had a voice.
Lois got out a cell phone and started dialing. She seemed to know just who to call. Mercedes whined a little. Lois whispered that she should hush. I looked at the bone. It was surprisingly uneventful to find it. Did it belong to Lucy?
“No,” the wind whispered at me.
I looked around. Ronette didn’t seem to hear anything. She was looking a little creeped out by the hand bones which were on the ground near where Mercedes had found them.
Still, I had no doubt the words in the wind were meant for me.
30
Lucy: Early Fall Then
The truck stank of cigarettes and Alma didn’t let go of Lucy’s arm, squeezing it so tightly, it would likely bruise. The bearded man didn’t look at either of them as he navigated around the town. Lucy’s heart sank when he took a narrow dirt road that ran off into a field.
When he stopped, Alma pulled Lucy out.
“You can walk back,” Will said. He handed Alma a bunch of money. “If she’s not useful to you after, I’ll pay you more.”
Alma smiled and nodded.
“This is what happens when you try and run away.”
Lucy said nothing. No matter what happened, she wasn’t going back to Alma. Maybe someone would find her and take her to a doctor or a hospital. They’d want to know why she was hurt so badly. She’d tell them. She’d tell them everything.
Will pushed her back against the tree and started stripping off her clothing.
“Why not your place?” she asked.
Will pulled out a knife. “I hate messes.”
Lucy’s eyes widened and her breath came faster, shallower. She shivered and not just because she was wet and cold.
Turning away she slipped away from the tree and started to run into the woods. If she could get far enough away to hide, she might have a chance.
She’d barely taken two steps when Will was on her. He wasn’t just big. He was fast. Or maybe he’d just been expecting her to run so he was prepared. Lucy didn’t know.
He pushed her down in the dirt and started tearing at her clothing, ripping the fabric with his teeth and hands, using the knife only when he had to.
Lucy screamed as loudly as she could.
She heard rustling in the underbrush, perhaps small creatures who wouldn’t be able to help her leaving the area lest they be the next to be injured or worse.
The roughness, the way he grabbed her arms, too hard, too long, squeezing and twisting, guaranteeing a bruise, let Lucy know he didn’t care if she were hurt. He paid for this.
Twisting her over so she faced him, Will placed a knee in her stomach, slowly lowering his weight so that Lucy couldn’t get a breath in. And then he kneeled harder, forcing it down like he wanted her organs to pop out.
She groaned and whimpered which made him laugh.
Alma didn’t care that this man tortured her so long as she was paid.
Lucy’s sight went red. She was so angry that she was being used like this, tossed around, probably about to be killed, and her sister, the one person she had to count on, had put her in that position.
The anger let Lucy fight again. She started pounding and scratching and biting.
Now she wasn’t the only one groaning and grunting.
Then, she was free to run. She didn’t care that she had on only part of a shirt. Anger clouded her thoughts.
Distantly, Lucy heard cars
traveling back and forth on the freeway. She ran towards that, not caring. She’d get away.
Branches grabbed at her, loyal soldiers to the bearded animal who roared behind her. Lucy kept running.
There was little for the branches to grab onto but her skin. She was so angry that she felt nothing. Blood began to pour down her right arm where a particularly viscous blackberry bush had gotten her.
Lucy ran. She was nearly to a clearing and then there was a thin line of trees and she’d be at the Pacific Highway.
She glanced back, startled to see Will so close behind, blood running down the side of his face, his teeth bared like a feral animal ready to attack.
Lucy ran harder but tripped in a hole, splaying down. Before she could get back up, Will was on her.
He used his fists first and then began to kick her. Lucy didn’t see anything more, thankful he wasn’t using the knife, certain he’d tire, expecting to wake after and make her way to the freeway. By the time the knife came out, she was too far gone to feel all the tiny cuts he made to in hopes of waking her to see her reaction to the pain. Eventually, tiring of his game, Will began to cut more deeply.
Lucy came briefly to consciousness one last time. She tried to fight the knife but everything hurt, her body already beginning to die, her brain offering her one last chance to try and save herself.
“I’ll kill you. And I’ll kill her too,” she mumbled, too softly for Will to hear.
She would not wake up again.
31
Traci: September Now
I don’t know why I hadn’t counted on the police and the time it would take them to arrive if we found something. I had this idea that if we found some bones, we’d dig them up and leave. Then I’d be free to do my ritual clearing and that would be that. Instead, we were asked to wait where we were, sending one of our party to the edge of the rest stop to lead officers to our location. Scott was the only one willing to leave to help out, though I worried about his ability to make the trek back, alone.
The Haunting of Steely Woods Page 14