Hunted: A Suspense Collection

by J. L. Drake

  The lighting was poor on the second floor, so I unplugged a small desk lamp in the bedroom and brought it over close to the wall. Sure enough, the light revealed tiny scribbled lines where someone had marked their child’s height, and there were names written beside each squiggly line.

  I stared at the messy, faded traces of writing, trying to make out the individual letters in their names. I hated to be sexist, but I was sure it had to be a man’s handwriting because it looked so messy. I squatted down on my haunches, squinting at the lines. Despite the scribbly words, I could make out three names. The shortest line said ‘Zach’ beside it. Good old Zeke, I thought, narrowing my eyes at his line.

  Sure enough, the taller line belonged to James, aka Joey. I thought about that thuggish boy, the one I’d coveted as a young teen. I could remember the contours of his face so clearly. He was dead now, and I didn’t feel a bit sorry for him, especially after what he and his brother did to me and Claire.

  I squinted at the line drawn above his, trying to make out the name. It was ‘Jennifer.’ I ran the tip of my finger across each letter, certain that’s what it read. I took a step back, my mind spinning. Could Jennifer possibly be my Jeanna? I rested my pointer finger on the letter ‘J’ in her name, my heart beating fearfully.

  Chapter 36

  I sat on the couch, staring at the cheap flip phone on my lap, willing the pieces to come together in my mind. Looking over the list I’d made, there were still so many unknowns. I had to get some answers from Ruth, but the last thing I needed or wanted to do was arouse her, or her husband’s, suspicions of me. I needed to handle this carefully; there could be no mistakes or else I’d be putting mine and my parents’ lives in jeopardy.

  I reviewed what I was going to say in my mind several times, and then I dialed the telephone number Ruth had listed on the lease agreement. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying it wouldn’t be Charlie who answered. The last thing I wanted to hear was that dry, gravelly voice of his.

  “Hello?” It was Ruth. Now it’s time to hone in on your acting skills, I reminded myself anxiously.

  “Hey, Ruth! I’m so sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to call and thank you again for dinner. You’ve treated me with such kindness…”

  “No mind, dear! We enjoyed your company! Even Charlie, and he’s a quiet, old grump normally,” she said jokingly.

  “That’s fantastic, Ruth. I truly appreciated the dinner. The food was delicious. And I’m grateful for you letting me stay here. It’s truly a wonderful place.”

  “I’m so glad to hear it, Elsie. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?” Ruth asked, sounding curious as to why I was calling so late.

  “Mainly, this was just a courtesy call, but I did want to mention something to you about some writing on the wall in the house.”

  When Ruth didn’t answer, I went on. “I’m not sure if it was one of your past renters, but I saw the name Jennifer on the wall by the bathroom…I couldn’t read any of the other names very well, but I’m bringing it up…because I don’t want you to think it was me that did the damage…I’d never write on the walls, Ruth,” I promised sweetly, immensely impressed by my own acting skills.

  “Oh, honey, no worries! I already knew about the writing upstairs.” For a moment, I was scared she was just going to leave it at that, and hang up the phone without supplying any answers.

  But then she said, “Jennifer wasn’t my biological daughter, but she was basically mine. You see, I had James when I was young, with a boy I met right out of high school. After I had him, his father ran off and never built a relationship with his son. That’s when I met Hank. Hank was older than me and had a teenage daughter named Jennifer. We bought a house—the house you’re in now, in fact—and we started a life together. Jennifer didn’t have a mom and James didn’t have a dad, so we raised our children together. It was great for both of us, and James and Jennifer got along so well. Jennifer was nearly ten years older than James, but they still played together and adored one another.”

  There was no stopping Ruth from chattering now. “When I found out I was pregnant with Zach, it was perfect. Hank and I were raising each other’s babies, and now we were having one of our own. But the house was too crowded, and we eventually bought something bigger. That’s when we started renting out the house you’re in now…I’m sorry, honey…here I am, telling a young girl my boring life story…”

  “No, I appreciate you sharing your story with me, Ruth!” I declared, a sickening sweetness to my tone. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to you and Hank?” I asked timidly, wondering if I was pressing my luck and raising suspicion.

  “Oh, Hank and I…the only thing that kept us together was our love for the children. We eventually went our separate ways. He and Jennifer got their own place, and I moved into the house I’m in now with the boys. I’d known Charlie for years, and we eventually got together. Charlie was a friend of the family, and one of Hank’s friends too.”

  I sat there for a moment, taking it all in. “So, they moved away? And you didn’t see Jennifer anymore? I’m sure that was hard since she was your stepdaughter…”

  “Oh, no! I still got to see her all the time! Hank and Jennifer moved to their own house on Clemmons Street, which was just a few streets away. Well, I’m tired, honey…thanks for calling, and we’ll get together again soon, I hope.”

  I thanked her again and hung up. I stared at the phone again thoughtfully. I got up, went to the kitchen, and grabbed a family-sized box of Fruit Loops. I sat back down and began eating the sugary cereal dry, digging it out with my hands.

  I ate quickly, my thoughts focused intently on the new information I had. Was it possible that Jennifer and Jeanna were the same person? Could the house of horrors be the house on Clemmons Street that Ruth spoke of? I still wasn’t sure who Hank was. Could he possibly be Jed, or one of the men whose faces I didn’t see in those darkened rooms? I considered the possibility that maybe this Hank was not even involved in my kidnapping, but that seemed unlikely.

  There was just so much for me to take in, and I was feeling overwhelmed. Maybe I was losing my mind. “Or…maybe I’m right,” I considered aloud, stuffing more cereal in my mouth.

  Chapter 37

  I tossed and turned all night long, images of faceless monsters chasing me through the dark, endless streets of Flocksdale. Specifically, I dreamt of the ominous streets surrounding what was now Mac’s Super Skateland. A super-duper place indeed, I thought angrily, rolling around in the dark.

  The last thing I wanted to do when my phone alarm rang was get up and go to work. But I did anyway, and I worked with a smile plastered across my face. I’d become so good at hiding my real emotions that it was second nature to me now.

  I was working the front counter today, which meant I would have to spend the day interacting with people. The early morning crowd was brutal. I rang up customers back to back for hours on end until it was nearly noon.

  We had about thirty minutes before the lunch rush started. A few of my co-workers smoked cigarettes, so I decided to go try to bum one. I needed a break, and smoking was a perfect excuse. It’s hard to work in the restaurant business and not smoke, I’d quickly realized since joining the McDonald’s crew. Smoking was a great excuse to take a break, and everybody likes breaks, including me.

  A small group of staff members were already standing outside next to the building, firing up their cigs simultaneously. I told my supervisor I was taking a five minute break and made sure my station was covered. An older worker named Melanie kindly offered me a cigarette, and I leaned against the backside of the building, sucking in deep, harmful puffs.

  Hordes of customers on their lunch breaks were already pulling in the lot. Crews of construction workers and business executives alike all came to eat at McDonald’s. As I eyed the parking lot, I saw a dark haired woman step out of a Jeep the color of burnt oranges. She was wearing a snappy, youthful skirt and blazer, but I could tell by the age spots on her l
egs as she stepped out that she was anything but young. The woman was clutching a fancy, sequined purse, and when she turned around to face the restaurant’s entrance, I gasped audibly. It may have been eight years since I’d seen her, but I’d recognize my mother’s face anywhere.

  For what seemed like an hour, I didn’t breathe or move. I stared as she approached the restaurant, unable to pull my eyes away from her face. Her movements were slow and drawn out, like I was on some acid trip.

  I couldn’t believe it! What luck I was having. I couldn’t let her see me. Not now, and not like this!

  I wanted to see her again someday, but not until after I’d had my revenge. I wasn’t ready for a reunion just yet. I quickly darted to the back of the building, peering back around the edge of the building’s stucco façade, watching her approach the restaurant. My mother strutted through the front door, a serious look on her face. Her face was lined with worry and heartache. She looked as though she’d aged twenty years instead of eight since I’d last seen her. Losing a daughter will do that you, I thought guiltily.

  My mother has been cutting hair since she was a teenager, and I’d bet she was taking a break for her lunch hour. I couldn’t help thinking about the sadness in her face and eyes as she disappeared through the entrance and went inside.

  I wondered about the toll that losing her only child must have had on her—and my father too. I felt sick to my stomach with guilt. I imagined myself running inside, throwing my arms around her neck. Begging her to forgive me. What a shock that would be for her!

  But the truth was, revealing my identity now would spoil everything. I wasn’t ready for my family to know the truth, even though I wanted to reunite with them now. I was still concerned for their safety and my own. The news of my homecoming would spread throughout the town, and would eventually reach Ruth, Zach, and their entire family. It would reach Jeanna too, who I suspected was actually Ruth’s stepdaughter, Jennifer. I wanted to be with my mom. But I simply couldn’t do it. It was too risky.

  I hid out behind the building until I saw her get back in the Jeep and pull away, which was nearly thirty minutes later. I knew I was going to be in trouble with my supervisor for disappearing so long during the lunch rush. After gaining my composure, I finally went back inside, ready to face the music so to speak, and unable to erase the image of my mother’s face from my mind.

  Chapter 38

  My boss, Andrea, was surprisingly sympathetic about my extended break. I made up some stupid story about getting sick outside. I followed her back to her stuffy, cramped office space, and I waited for her to yell at me.

  But she didn’t. Instead she asked, “You’re not using again, are you, Elsie?” I don’t know why I was so surprised to hear that question. It only made perfect sense that Mark would tell her about my past drug issues when he sent over my transfer request, but it still stung. There’s just something about the stigma of being an addict; you carry it around for life. Any time you’re not yourself or you make a mistake, people will always ask that question: “Are you using drugs again?” It seriously pisses me off.

  “No, I’m not using drugs. I promise. But I still feel rough at times, and I do still have cravings,” I told her, which was partially true.

  “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Andrea suggested. She patted my shoulders thoughtfully.

  I hated to lose out on the money, but I did have my own work to do. Not to mention the fact I was seriously shaken up from seeing my mother so abruptly after all of these years.

  I headed back home, stopping again in front of the skating rink. It was a weekday afternoon, and I didn’t expect it to be very busy. Surprisingly though, the parking lot was crowded with cars, and there were young families standing out front, roller skates in hand. Business must be doing well.

  Taking a deep breath, I made a beeline for the door. I hadn’t planned on going in, but I suddenly felt compelled to do so. The front stone entranceway looked new and fresh, but the inside was still the same. All of the paint layers in the world couldn’t make me forget about this place. It wasn’t the house of horrors, but it was the site of my initial abduction, and just being here induced a deep, raw fear in my gut.

  There was a man perched on a stool at the door, collecting five dollar bills from kids and parents. There were nearly six people in front of me in line. What was I doing? Was I really going to pay and go inside? Would this really help my investigation?

  I decided it was worth a shot. As I approached the ticket taker, I suddenly froze in terror. The old man on the stool was the same old guy that took my ticket all those years ago. It’s not that I suspected his involvement in my kidnapping, but the thought of him seeing me and knowing who I was was horrifying.

  I turned away before he could see me and headed back out the door. That’s when I saw something even more disconcerting—a lone, grainy flier hanging at the bottom of a bulletin board in the entranceway. A picture of my face. It read in big, blockish letters:

  Have You Seen This Girl?

  I pulled my cap down low and slipped out of there as quickly as I could without attracting any attention.

  ***

  I walked around to the back side of the skating rink and headed down the first street, taking the same route I’d taken that day when I was kidnapped. I could remember thinking that the houses on this street looked rough, with their clutter and covered windows. They looked basically the same as they always had. I imagined the sounds of Claire and the boys, chattering as we walked along the deserted street. I remembered the strange flutter in my stomach when I’d seen the limo approaching.

  I thought about the girl in the picture. I wondered why I didn’t see any pictures of Claire hanging up at the skating rink. Surely, they were still looking for her too. Did her parents somehow know she was already dead?

  I wondered who was responsible for hanging up that picture of me. I tried to imagine my mother, father, or both of them walking in the skating rink, hanging up the picture, full of desperation. The picture was my sixth grade school photo, so it had to be my parents that pinned it on the bulletin board.

  How many years had it been hanging there? Had my parents searched for me? Had the police looked for me too? I couldn’t help but wonder if my parents were still holding out hope that I’d come back some day. The thought that they’d given up on me was too much to bear.

  I cut through someone’s yard, crossing over to my house on Saints Road. But instead of going home, I strolled right past the rental house, heading for the adjacent neighborhood where the man in the limo had taken Jeanna her drugs. Was Ruth’s stepdaughter, Jennifer, and Jeanna the same person? I couldn’t shake that thought.

  I kept track of how long it took me to get to the house. It was nearly a fifteen minute walk. I wasn’t sure how that compared to a ten minute drive with a blindfold on, but I still wondered if this might be the house where I’d been held.

  I stood on the sidewalk in front of it, staring up at those old, stone steps that led to the two-story house. I’d been inside this house so many years ago, and it’s where I’d met Jeanna for the first time. I’d sat inside, uncomfortable as hell, while Jeanna did her drugs—but never once suspected what lay ahead in my future.

  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, or how it helped me to stand here in front of this house. But then I spotted a row of plastic mailboxes at the curb, and I nonchalantly strolled closer toward them.

  The house number was 114, and I immediately saw the corresponding mailbox. Stealing people’s mail is a federal offense, but after everything I’d been through and still planned to do, did one small crime really matter at this point? I decided that it didn’t.

  I looked around, trying to play it cool. Luckily, I didn’t see any random dog walkers or neighbors out working in their yards, not as far as I could see. I stuck my hand in the box quickly. Nothing. It was empty. Damn the luck.

  I turned to walk away, but then a voice called out, “What are you doing?” and I f
roze in place with fear.

  Chapter 39

  I looked up the steep staircase at the woman looking down at me. She was an elderly woman, and she looked as frail as a baby bird. I’d never seen her before in my life. “Ummm…I’m just out walking,” I replied defensively.

  “Oh. I saw you looking at the house, so I thought maybe you were lost or looking for someone in particular,” she said with a slight smile. I wondered if she saw my hand in her mailbox and if so, was she going to confront me about it?

  “Sorry. No, I’m just new to the neighborhood. I was checking out the scenery. Admiring your house. It’s lovely,” I said, wondering if I sounded like a phony idiot. I definitely felt like one.

  I turned to walk away, thanking my lucky stars to get out of there, and for not getting called out for rifling through her mail. The woman didn’t look familiar at all, and I was starting to wonder if this whole thing was a waste of time. If Jeanna had lived in that house before, she certainly didn’t seem to now. This old woman was far older than Jeanna would be now.

  “You said you’re new to the neighborhood. Whereabouts do you live?” the woman called out, stopping me dead in my tracks.

  “I live on Saints Road, in a rental house,” I said honestly, turning back around to look at her.

  “Ah. Ruth and Hank’s old place,” she said, shocking me.

  “You know the house?” I asked, trying not to seem surprised. I guess it made perfect sense, really. After all, this was a small town. Everyone around here probably knows each other. Dummy, I scolded myself.

  “Yes. I know that house well. Ruth used to be my daughter-in-law. Hank is my son, you see…he grew up right here in this house, and raised his daughter here when she was little. Small world, eh?”