“A missing girl is hardly trivial.”
“When you get to my age, most everything’s trivial. Breakfast, lunch, the death of an old friend. A missing girl. Trivial.”
“That’s a rather dark view.” He’s too calm.
“Indeed. A dark view for a dark world. You’ll come to discover it, as well. I’m certain of that.”
“Is that some kind of threat?” Detective Holt makes a subtle movement with his hand to his holstered weapon underneath the table.
“No, not at all. Do I look like a person capable of making good on threats?” Latravious Wadlow chuckles.
“Well, that’s a very odd thing to say.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? Everyone feels that the world is perfectly ordered. You expect to elicit a certain reaction or response with a question. That things should naturally fall into some artificial construct we’ve created. That everything to figure out has already been figured. As if all that’s left for us to do is to glide through this world while some master puppeteer is pulling all the strings from above. But, alas, this is not the true order of things. The true order of things is constant change and adaptation.” His eyes blaze with intensity.
“Mr. Wadlow, I didn’t come for one of your lectures.”
“But why have you come? What yarn are you unraveling?” Latravious Wadlow lifts a brow at Detective Holt. “You should be careful how far you follow it. Often curious what you find at the end.”
“Let’s stop talking in riddles. Do you know something about the disappearance of Margo Combs?”
“No, I do not know the girl.”
“Then why come to a search party for her?”
“Sometimes the answers for what we seek are entangled, caught together—in the clutches of circumstance.” Latravious Wadlow’s eyes resonate with some deeper, hidden meaning.
“Goddammit! What did I just say? Enough with the fucking riddles!”
“Life is a riddle. One beautiful, terrible mystery. Is it not?” Latravious Wadlow gazes off into the dark corner of the room.
“What the hell does that even mean? You’ve been off the grid too long.”
“Precisely the opposite. I’m inside the grid. You’re inside the grid. This whole town’s inside the grid.” Latravious Wadlow brings his hands a few inches apart like he’s holding a ball. “There’s no escaping it, really. What’s been unleashed.”
“So, when’s the last time you had a visitor here?”
“You said yourself, I’m a shut-in. A recluse.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Detective Holt barks as he pulls on the side of his mustache with his thumb and index finger.
“I have visitors from time to time.”
“Like Brady Palmer?”
“He’s been here before, yes. Is there something wrong with that?”
“Other than it’s really strange that a recluse somehow knows a boy who’s been in juvenile detention for almost half his life. Yeah, nothing other than that.” Detective Holt tilts his head and bores his eyes into Latravious Wadlow.
“Paths sometimes collide unexpectedly.”
“Cut the shit. How do you know Brady Palmer?”
“I visited him a couple of times at the juvenile detention center.”
“Why?”
“He seemed like a troubled young man.”
“Did you know him before?”
“No. I read about him in the papers.”
“So, he was a troubled young man. There are a lot of troubled young men. Did you visit anyone else at the juvenile detention center?”
“I think it’s getting late, Detective Holt.” Latravious Wadlow plants a firm hand on the table to push himself up.
“Are you asking me to leave?”
“I think it would be best.” Latravious Wadlow’s face remains devoid of emotion.
“Best for what? I’ve got a missing girl. Why don’t you just answer my questions? What did you give to Brady Palmer tonight?”
“You will not find the answers you seek here, Detective Holt. Let me show you to the door.” Latravious eases his body from the kitchen chair.
“Fine. That’s fine. But don’t make any plans to leave town.”
“Detective Holt, again, you said it yourself. I’m a shut-in. Where would I go?” Latravious Wadlow smiles, and Detective Holt clenches his jaw as blotches of crimson bloom on his cheeks.
“Didn’t look like a shut-in this morning.”
Latravious Wadlow begins walking to the door, and a begrudging Detective Holt follows him. Latravious Wadlow opens the door and motions Detective Holt outside with his arm.
“Good evening, Detective Holt.”
“This conversation’s not over. I meant what I said. Don’t leave town.”
“Good night, Detective.” Latravious Wadlow closes the door.
A rapid succession of locks and deadbolts close on the other side of the door. The porch light cuts off leaving Detective Holt in darkness. He makes his way to his vehicle, still pondering his odd exchange with Latravious Wadlow. It hadn’t turned out anything like what he anticipated.
Chapter 23
Visit
“I’M FINE, MOM. I told you. I wrecked my bicycle, but I’m fine.”
My mom points to my various injuries. “But your elbows. They’re so torn up and the back of your head. Ooh, it’s been bleeding.”
“Mom, I told you. When I wrecked on my bike, my head hit the concrete.”
“But maybe we should take you to the hospital. Just to be safe. You might have a concussion.”
“Mom, I’m fine. I promise.”
“Okay, but promise you’ll tell me if you start to not feel right.”
“I promise.”
“It’s late. Why don’t you go and get cleaned up for bed?”
“Okay, mom.”
“I love you, Brooks. Just let me know if you need anything. Okay, honey?” She squeezes my cheek and kisses the top of my head.
“I love you too, mom.”
I climb the staircase. I walk into my bathroom, click on the lights, and close the door. I shed my clothing in an instant and start the shower. I study myself in the mirror. I wince as I touch the small abrasion on my cheek bone. A line of rope burn stretches across the entirety of my chest, the skin pinkish and tender. Glad I didn’t have to explain this one. Mom’d go on the warpath. Raising my elbows, I examine the extent of my injuries. The skin is abraded, but the wounds appear to be mostly superficial. I’m gathering my courage to face the sting of the shower.
I turn on the sink faucet and put my hands underneath the cool running water. I close my eyes and douse my face several times. I reach for the hand towel, and a small hand wraps around mine.
“Mom, I said I was fine.”
The hand releases mine and I open my eyes. There’s no one there. A chill races through my spine. I rip open the door and fling my eyes down the staircase, but it’s empty. That was a hand. I felt it. How’s that possible? Is Mom right? Do I have a concussion, and it’s playing tricks on my mind? My body trembles, my eyes surveilling my surroundings. I hum a song to myself, trying to settle my nerves as I get into the shower.
I wince as the warm water rushes over my raw elbows sending tendrils of pain shooting the length of my arms. I clench my teeth together before the sting levels off, and I return to my humming. The water sheeting off me into the white tub collects the filth of the day from my body, turning it brown and murky. Moving forward, I let the water douse my hair. I take a deep breath, exhaling through my nose, the stress of the day leaving my body as the warm water cascades my skin. My heart rate drops. I reach for the shampoo and lather my hair. Closing my eyes to rinse it, I can no longer contain myself to humming.
I belt-out my favorite song. “A love lost-and-found box - is a place where no tears drop. It’s a place where you can settle - those old bad memories. And with a love lost-and-found box, you can turn back the clock—”
“And you can change - your past hist
ory.” A young girl’s whisper finishes the lyric.
My terrified eyes shoot open. I listen, frozen, to the patter of the shower water hitting the tub and the gurgle of the water passing through the drain. Through the translucent shower curtain, I spot the outline of my bathroom vanity and the toilet, but I can’t make out any shapes that resemble the outline of a person. My heart’s thundering in my chest, and my muscles set like hardening plaster.
I turn off the faucet, my gaze still fixated on the bathroom, hands shaking. I stand there, listening. The last bit of water in the tub gurgles through the drain followed by the haunting still of silence. Beads of water lurch like inchworms, descending my trembling body, a bit of a chill ushering in goosebumps.
I ease my hands to the edge of the shower curtain, gripping it with both hands. Courage building. One…Two…Three. I yank the shower curtain. A billow of steam rolls out of the tub, but there’s no one there. I grab a towel from the rack and begin drying myself, careful not to lose eye contact with the rest of the bathroom.
I wrap the towel around my waist and step out of the tub. What just happened? There’s no explanation for it. My eyes dart around, a pulley of nerves stringing them across the room. Maybe I do have a concussion. Should I go downstairs and have mom take me to the hospital? Maybe a little more time. It’s possible I imagined the voice. That’s the next lyric in the song after all. If something else strange happens, I’ll tell mom something might be wrong with me and that we should go to the hospital.
I take a couple of deep breaths and turn on the sink faucet. Condensation covers the mirror from the hot shower, so I rub it with my forearm revealing my reflection. I grab my toothbrush, stripe it with toothpaste, and begin brushing my teeth. The monotony of my normal routine levels off my tremble. That was a hard fall. But I feel okay. I finish brushing my teeth and wash my mouth out. I spit the sudsy water into the sink and raise my head.
“Jesus!”
Mysterious Margo’s reflection looms behind me in my mirror with her head cast to the floor. I whip my head around, but she isn’t standing behind me.
“Come home, Brooks. She has made a place for you.”
I shoot my head around. Margo glares at me through the mirror, but she looks different, a faint blue glow in her eyes and an unsettling grin on her face. I grab the door latch and yank, but it doesn’t move. I turn my body to the door, frantic hands trying to open it, but it won’t budge. My heart races and my hands convulse.
“Let her take away your tears,” Margo offers in a wicked voice.
“Leave me alone!” I scream as I make another desperate attempt on the door while tears stream my face.
“Come home, Brooks. Come to Grief Hollow.” Her horrid voice grows more and more distorted with each word.
“Mom! Help! Help me!” I scream at the top of my lungs as I pull on the door handle with all my strength.
“Why do you fight?” My eyes jump at the proximity of her voice.
I spin around. Margo stands behind me in my bathroom with her pale lips curled in an evil grin. My whole body is shaking. A gush of air swarms my head, tingles descending through my body, my vision flecking with glimmers of light. Scream! Just scream! Nothing comes. She plods forward, her wicked smile growing wider with each methodical step. I plaster myself to the bathroom door, all my weight thrust against it. My frantic hands rip at the doorknob. A blue glow swirls through her eyes and disappears. Oh Jesus! Other than the terrible grin, she looks identical to Margo.
As she closes in on me, she reaches out her arm. I turn around to the door, trying to escape. Her cold, bony fingers wrap around the soft flesh above my collar bone. I scream as her icy fingers burn my skin where they make contact. I’m hyperventilating and trying to burrow my body through the door to escape. The door swings in. I go tumbling onto the carpet and roll into the banister railing, my mother standing over me.
“Brooks! Brooks! Are you okay? What’s going on? Why are you screaming?” My mother grabs my arm, her eyes wide.
I heave my body into an animalistic stance and shoot my head sideways into the bathroom. It’s empty. There’s no sign of Margo. She’s gone. I jump to my feet and embrace my mother, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.
Chapter 24
Reunion
ANGELA MITCHELL IS sitting on her bed surfing the internet for places in Knoxville and listening to music on her iPhone. She starts college in the fall, and she bounces her head to the beat as she views more pictures of the college. Her acceptance letter created quite the stir when she ran into the house screaming. Startled at first, her parents joined in the celebration once they realized the reason for the uproar. Angela promises to become the first person in the Mitchell family to go to college, so the whole family celebrated her achievement.
Tee said, “Aw man, I thought we won the lottery.”
Angela gave him a big hug as she waved the letter in the air with a beaming smile on her face and said, “This is better than the lottery, Tee!”
The approaching reality of living on her own for the first time kindles a flame of possibility in her mind, and her eyes meld with the images on the screen until the grinning girls in the photos become projections of herself. Knoxville seems like such a big town compared to Harper Pass. So much to do. Sorority life, football games, restaurants, parties, shopping, and of course school. Ha! Oh, and the boys. There will be lots of boys! Not like the boys in Harper Pass. Sophisticated boys. Ones capable of having real conversations. Oh my God! I can’t wait!
A small tap on her bedroom window startles her. She lifts her head from her laptop computer. Beneath the glare, the black of night presses against the glass, but nothing stirs. She returns to exploring on the internet. But a few moments later, three louder taps strike her window. Deliberate and measured.
The glare of her lights transforms her window into a mirror, another version of herself casting frightened eyes back at her. A swirling tingle flits through the nape of her neck, but she gathers her courage and rises from her bed. She’s careful to keep her steps quiet as she creeps to the corner of the window and puts her face close to the glass. Out of the corner of her eye, a dark figure emerges.
“Jesus!” Angela staggers backward.
“Angela.” The muffled voice from behind the glass rings familiar.
As Brady Palmer steps into view, he puts his index finger to his lips. Angela returns to the window and unlatches it. She eases it up, careful not to wake her parents.
“What the hell are you doing here, Brady? I haven’t seen you in almost seven years, and you show up to my window at midnight? You scared the shit out of me!”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I had to see you.”
“It couldn’t have waited until the morning?”
“Can I come in?”
“What? Nooo! You’re going to get me in trouble.”
Brady locks eyes with Angela. “It’s important.”
“So is me not getting in trouble.”
“Angela, please.”
“Fine, but make it quick. My parents are going to kill me if they catch you in here. Actually, my dad will probably kill you first.”
Brady climbs in through the window. He’s grown into a man, standing at 6’1”, but still carries the pudge in his cheeks that he did as a child. Flashes of their time together as childhood best friends besiege her mind. She tries to expel the flood of painful memories, Brady convicted and sent to juvie—the end of their friendship. Accompanied with the memories, the sight of him conjures a flood of emotions that she’s kept locked up, compartmentalized. A sense of dread engulfs her, familiar but unplaceable.
Angela lifts her doe eyes, a heaviness spilling into them. “Why are you here, Brady?” Her voice trails off into a whimper.
“You’re in danger.” She draws her head back at his abrupt delivery.
“What? What do you mean I’m in danger? You’re kinda freakin’ me out, Brady.”
“Not just you. We’re all in danger.” Brad
y’s eyes grow wide and wild. “The whole town, really. It can take any of us any time it wants.”
“Brady, did you take something?” Angela’s eyes run to his, studying them.
“No, wait. What? What do you mean?”
“Are you on drugs? You come to my house at midnight and knock on my window. Then, you tell me I’m in danger. That the whole town’s in danger. I think you’d better go.”
“I’m not on drugs and I’m not crazy, Angela. This is serious.”
“And I’m serious, too. I think you need to leave.” Angela motions her agitated eyes to the open window.
Brady flashes his palms. “Just hear me out. Then, I promise I’ll go.”
“I don’t know. This is weird.” Angela crosses her arms high on her chest and wraps her hands around her shoulders.
His pleading eyes meet hers, lingering like a caged mutt. “Angela, we were best friends once. Come on. You know me.”
She shakes her head and sighs through her nose. “Okay. Fine. But make it quick.”
“So, this is going to sound crazy—”
“You’re not off to a good start.”
“Just listen. I’ve been meeting with Latravious Wadlow.”
“The crazy professor?”
“Yeah, but he’s not crazy. I know that’s what everyone thinks, but the guy’s not crazy. Actually, he’s really smart. He might be the only one who can save us.”
“Save us from what?”
“The thing that killed John Watson.”
“A bear? Save us from a bear?” She huffs through her nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“It wasn’t a bear that killed John Watson.” Brady’s wide eyes darken like train tunnels.
“Yes, it was, Brady. It’s been all over the news tonight. My parents told me not to go in the woods.”
Brady clenches his lips and shakes his head. “It wasn’t a bear. It was something else.”
“How do you know?”
“Me and the professor have been tracking it. Trying to figure out a way to stop it.”
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