The Sun Down Motel (Simone St. James [St. James, Simone])

ALSOBYSIMONEST.JAMES
TheHauntingofMaddyClare
AnInquiryintoLoveandDeath
SilencefortheDead
TheOtherSideofMidnight
LostAmongtheLiving
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Title:Thesundownmotel/SimoneSt.James.
Description:Firstedition.|NewYork:Berkley,2020.
Identifiers:LCCN2019026692|ISBN9780440000174(hardcover)|ISBN9780440000181(ebook)Subjects:GSAFD:Suspensefiction.|Mysteryfiction.
Classification:LCCPR9199.4.S726S862020|DDC813/.6—dc23
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FirstEdition:February2020
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Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
Version_1Fortheoddgirls,thenerdygirls,andthemurderinos.Thisoneisyours.Contents
AlsobySimoneSt.James
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
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Acknowledgments
ReadersGuide
AbouttheAuthorFell,NewYork
November1982
VIV
Thenightitallended,Vivianwasalone.
Thatwasfinewithher.Shepreferredit.Itwassomethingshe’ddiscovered,workingthenightshiftatthisplaceinthemiddleofnowhere:Beingwithpeoplewaseasy,butbeingalonewashard.Especiallybeingaloneinthedark.Thepersonwhocouldbetrulyalone,inthecompanyofnoonebutoneselfandone’sownthoughts—thatpersonwasstrongerthananyoneelse.Moreready.Moreprepared.
Still,shepulledintotheparkinglotoftheSunDownMotelinFell,NewYork,andpaused,feelingthefamiliarbeatoffear.Shesatinherbeat-upCavalier,thekeyintheignition,theheatandtheradioon,hercoathuddledaroundhershoulders.Shelookedattheglowingblueandyellowsign,thetwostoriesofroomsintwolongstripesintheshapeofanL,andthought,Idon’twanttogointhere.ButIwill.Shewasready,butshewasstillafraid.
Itwas10:59p.m.
Shefeltlikecrying.Shefeltlikescreaming.Shefeltsick.
Idon’twanttogointhere.
ButIwill.BecauseIalwaysdo.
Outside,twodropsofhalf-frozenrainhitthewindshield.Atruckdronedbyontheroadintherearviewmirror.Theclocktickedovertoeleveno’clock,andthenewscameontheradio.Anotherminuteandshe’dbelate,butshedidn’tcare.Noonewouldfireher.Noonecaredifshecametowork.TheSunDownhadfewcustomers,noneofwhomwouldnoticeifthenightgirlwaslate.Itwasoftensoquietthatanobserverwouldthinkthatnothingeverhappenedhere.
VivDelaneyknewbetter.
TheSunDownonlylookedempty.Butitwasn’t.
Withcoldfingers,shepulleddownthedriver’s-sidevisor.Shetouchedherhair,whichshe’dhadcutshort,asharpstylethatendedbelowherearlobesandwassprayedoutforvolume.Shecheckedhereyemakeup—
notthefrostykind,likesomegirlswore,butasoftlavenderpurple.Itlookedalittlelikebruises.Youcouldstreakitwithyellowandorangetocreateadays-old-bruiseeffect,butshehadn’tbotheredwiththattonight.
Justthepurpleonthedelicateskinofherlids,meetingthedarkerlineofhereyelinerandlashes.Whyhadsheputmakeuponatall?Shecouldn’tremember.
Ontheradio,theytalkedaboutabody.AgirlfoundinaditchoffMelbornRoad,tenmilesfromhere.Notthatherewasanywhere—justamotelonthesideofatwo-lanehighwayleadingoutofFellandintothenothingnessofupstateNewYorkandeventuallyCanada.Butifyoutookthetwo-laneforamileandmadearightatthesinglelightdanglingfromanoverheadwire,andfollowedthatroadtoanotherandanother,you’dbewherethegirl’sbodywasfound.AgirlnamedTracyWaters,lastseenleavingafriend’shouseinaneighboringtown.Eighteenyearsold,strippednakedanddumpedinaditch.They’dfoundherbodytwodaysafterherparentsreportedhermissing.
Asshesatinhercar,twenty-year-oldVivDelaney’shandsshookasshelistenedtothestory.Shethoughtaboutwhatitmustbeliketolienakedasthehalf-frozenrainpeltedyourhelplessskin.Howhorriblycoldthatwouldbe.Howitwasalwaysgirlswhoendedupstrippedanddeadlikeroadkill.
Howitdidn’tmatterhowafraidorhowcarefulyouwere—itcouldalwaysbeyou
Especiallyhere.Itcouldalwaysbeyou.
Hergazewenttothemotel,tothereflectionofthegaudylit-upblueandyellowsignblinkingendlesslyinthedarkness.VACANCY.CABLETV!
VACANCY.CABLETV!
Evenafterthreemonthsinthisplace,shecouldstillbescared.Awfully,perfectlyscared,herthoughtsskitteringupthebackofherneckandaroundherbraininpanic.I’maloneforthenexteighthours,aloneinthedark.
Alonewithherandtheothers.
Anddespiteherself,Vivturnedthekeysotheheatandtheradio—stilltalkingaboutTracyWaters—wentoff.Liftedherchinandpushedopenthedriver’s-sidedoor.Steppedoutintothecold.
Shehuncheddeeperintohernyloncoatandstartedacrosstheparkinglot.Shewaswearingjeansandapairofnavybluesneakerswithwhitelaces,thesolestoothinforthecoldanddamp.Therainwetherhair,andthewindpusheditoutofplace.ShewalkedacrossthelottowardthedoorthatsaidOFFICE.
Insidetheoffice,Johnnywasstandingbehindthecounter,zippinguphiscoatoverhisbigstomach.He’dprobablyseenherfromthewindowinthedoor.“Areyoulate?”heasked,thoughtherewasaclockonthewallbehindhim.
“Fiveminutes,”Vivarguedback,unzippingherowncoat.Herstomachfelttight,queasynowthatshewasinside.Iwanttogohome.
Butwherewashome?Fellwasn’thome.NeitherwasIllinois,whereshewasborn.Whenshelefthomeforthelasttime,afterthefinalscreamingfightwithhermother,she’dsupposedlybeenheadedtoNewYorktobecomeanactress.Butthat,likeeverythingelseinherlifetothatpoint,hadbeenapartshewasplaying,astory.ShehadnoideahowtobecomeaNewYorkactress—thestoryhadenragedhermother,whichhadmadeitgoodenough.WhatVivhadwanted,morethananything,wastosimplybeinmotion,togo.
Soshe’dgone.Andshe’dendeduphere.Fellwouldhavetobehomefornow.
“Mrs.Baileyisinroomtwo-seventeen,”Johnnysaid,runningdownthemotel’sfewguests.“Shealreadymadealiquorrun,soexpectaphonecallanytime.”
“Great,”Vivsaid.Mrs.BaileycametotheSunDowntodrink,probablybecauseifshediditathomeshe’dgetinsomekindoftrouble.Shemadedrunkenphonecallstothefrontdesktomakedemandssheusuallyforgotabout.“Anyoneelse?”
“ThecoupleontheirwaytoFloridacheckedout,”Johnnysaid.“We’vehadtwoprankphonecalls,bothheavybreathing.Stupidteenagers.AndIwroteanotetoJaniceaboutthedoortonumberone-oh-three.There’ssomethingwrongwithit.Itkeepsblowingopeninthewind,evenwhenIlockit.”
“Italwaysdoesthat,”Vivsaid.“YoutoldJaniceaboutitaweekago.”
Janicewasthemotel’sowner,andVivhadn’tseenherinweeks.Months,maybe.Shedidn’tcometothemotelifshedidn’thaveto,andshecertainlydidn’tcomeatnight.SheleftVivian’spaychecksinanenvelopeonthe
desk,andallcommunicationwashandledwithnotes.Eventhemotel’sownerdidn’tspendtimehereifshecouldhelpit.
“Well,sheshouldfixthedoor,”Johnnysaid.“Imean,it’sstrange,right?
Ilockedit.”
“Sure,”Vivsaid.“It’sstrange.”
Shewasusedtothis.Nooneelsewhoworkedatthemotelsawwhatshesaworexperiencedwhatshedid.Thethingsshesawonlyhappenedinthemiddleofthenight.Thedayshiftandtheeveningshiftemployeeshadnoidea.
“Hopefullynooneelsewillcheckin,”Johnnysaid,pullingthehoodofhisjacketoverhishead.“Hopefullyit’llbequiet.”
It’sneverquiet,Vivthought,butshesaid,“Yes,hopefully.”
Vivwatchedhimwalkoutoftheoffice,listenedtohiscarstartupanddriveaway.Johnnywasthirty-sixandlivedwithhismother.Vivpicturedhimgoinghome,maybewatchingTVbeforegoingtobed.Aguywhohadnevermademuchofhimself,livingarelativelynormallife,freeofthekindoffearVivwasfeeling.AlifeinwhichheneverthoughtaboutTracyWaters,excepttovaguelyrecallhernamefromtheradio.
Maybeitwasjustherwhowasgoingcrazy.
Thequietsettledin,brokenonlybytheoccasionalsoundofthetrafficonNumberSixRoadandthewindinthetreesbehindthemotel.Itwasnow11:12.Theclockonthewallbehindthedesktickedoverto11:13.
Shehungherjacketonthehookinthecorner.FromanotherhookshetookanavybluepolyestervestwiththewordsSunDownMotelembroideredontheleftbreastandshruggeditonoverherwhiteblouse.
Shepulledoutthehardwoodenchairbehindthecounterandsatinit.Shesurveyedthescarred,staineddesktopquickly:jarofpensandpencils,theblacksquarethatmadeaclackingsoundwhenyoudraggedthehandlebackandforthoveracreditcardtomakeacarbonimpression,puke-coloredrotaryphone.Inthemiddleofthedeskwasalarge,flatbook,whereguestsweretowritetheirinformationandsigntheirnameswhencheckingin.TheguestbookwasopentoNovember1982.
Pullinganotebookfromherpurse,Vivpulledapenfrombetweenitspages,openedthenotebookonthedesk,andwrote.
Nov.29
Doortonumber103hasbeguntoopenagain.Prankcalls.Noonehere.
TracyWatersisdead.
Asoundcamefromoutside,andshepaused,herheadhalfraised.Abang,andthenanotherone.Rhythmicandwild.Thedoortonumber103
blowingopenandhittingthewallinthewind.Again.
Forasecond,Vivclosedhereyes.Thefearcameoverherinawave,butshewastoofarinitnow.Shewasalreadyhere.Shehadtobeready.TheSunDownhadclaimedherforthenight.
Sheloweredthepenagain.
WhatifeverythingI’veseen,everythingIthink,istrue?BecauseIthinkitis.
Hereyesglancedtotheguestbook,tookinthenamesthere.Shepausedastheclockonthewallbehindhershouldertickedon,thenwroteagain.
Theghostsareawaketonight.They’rerestless.Ithinkthiswillbeoversoon.Herhandtrembled,andshetriedtokeepitsteady.I’msosorry,Tracy.
I’vefailed.
Asmallsoundescapedthebackofherthroat,butshebititdownintosilence.Sheputthependownandrubbedhereyes,someoftheprettylavendereyeshadowcomingoffonherfingertips.
ItwasNovember29,1982,11:24p.m.
Bythreeo’clockinthemorning,VivDelaneyhadvanished.
Thatwasthebeginning.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Thisplacewasunfamiliar.
Iopenedmyeyesandstaredintothedarkness,panicked.Strangebed,strangelightthroughthewindow,strangeroom.Ihadaminuteoffreefall,frighteningandexhilaratingatthesametime.
ThenIremembered:IwasinFell,NewYork.
MynamewasCarlyKirk,Iwastwentyyearsold,andIwasn’tsupposedtobehere.
Icheckedmyphoneonthenightstand;itwasfouro’clockinthemorning,onlythelightfromstreetlampsandthetwenty-four-hourDenny’sshiningthroughthesheerdrapesonthehotelroomwindowandmakingahazysquareonthewall.
Iwasn’tgettingbacktosleepnow.Iswungmylegsoverthesideofthebedandpickedupmyglassesfromthenightstand,puttingthemon.I’ddrivenfromIllinoisyesterday,alongdrivethatleftmetiredenoughtosleeplikethedeadinthisblandchainhotelindowntownFell.
Itwasn’tthatimpressiveaplace;GoogleEarthhadtoldmethatmuch.
Downtownwasagridofcafés,laundromats,junkyantiquestores,apartmentrentalbuildings,andused-bookstores,nestledreverentlyaroundagrocerystoreandaCVS.ThestreetIwason,withthechainhotelandtheDenny’s,passedstraightthroughtown,asifalotofpeoplegottoFellandsimplykeptdrivingwithoutmakingtheturnoffintotherestofthetown.
TheWELCOMETOFELLsignI’dpassedlastnighthadbeenvandalizedbyawitwhohadusedspraypainttoaddthewordsTURNBACK.
Ididn’tturnback.
Withmyglasseson,IpickedupmyphoneagainandscrolledthroughtheemailsandtextsthathadcomeinwhileIslept.
Thefirstemailwasfrommyfamily’slawyer.Theremainderoffundshasbeendepositedintoyouraccount.Pleaseseebreakdownattached.
Iflippedpastitwithoutreadingtherest,withoutopeningtheattachment.
Ididn’tneedtoseeit:IalreadyknewI’dinheritedsomeofMom’smoney,splitwithmybrother,Graham.Iknewitwasn’triches,butitwasenoughtokeepmeinfoodandshelterforalittlewhile.Ididn’twantnumbers,andIcouldn’tlookatthem.Losingyourmothertocancer—shewasonlyfifty-one—madethingslikemoneylookpettyandstupid.
Infact,itmadeyourethinkeverythinginyourlife.Whichinmycrazyway,afterfourteenmonthsinafogofgrief,Iwasdoing.AndIcouldn’tstop.
TherewasastringoftextsfromGraham.Whatdoyouthinkyou’redoing,Carly?Leavingcollege?Forhowlong?Youthinkyoucankeepup?
Whatever.Ifallthattuitionisdownthedrain,you’reonyourown.Youknowthat,right?Whateveryou’redoing,goodluckwithit.Trynottogetkilled.
IhitReplyandtyped,Hey,dramaqueen.It’sonlyforafewdays,andI’macingeverything.Thisisjustasidetrip,becauseI’mcurious.Sosueme.I’llbefine.Noplanstogetkilled,butthanksforchecking.
Actually,Iwashopingtobehereforlongerthanafewdays.SincelosingMom,stayingincollegeformybusinessdegreeseemedpointless.
WhenI’dstartedcollege,I’dthoughtIhadallthetimeintheworldtofigureoutwhatIwantedtodo.ButMom’sdeathshowedmethatlifewasn’taslongasyouthoughtitwas.AndIhadquestionsIwantedanswersto.Itwastimetofindthem.
Hailey,Graham’sfiancée,hadsentmeherowntext.Hey!YouOK??
Worriedaboutyou.I’mheretotalkifyouwant.Maybeyouneedanothergriefcounselor?Icanfindyouone!OK?XO!
God,shewassonice.I’dalreadydonegriefcounseling.Therapy.Spiritcircles.Yoga.Meditation.Self-care.Indoingallofthat,whatI’ddiscoveredwasthatIdidn’tneedanothertherapysessionrightnow.WhatIreallyneeded,atlonglast,wasanswers.
Iputdownmyphoneandopenedmylaptop,tappingitawake.Iopenedthefileonmydesktop,scrollingthroughit.Ipickedoutascanofanewspaperfrom1982,withtheheadlinePOLICESEARCHINGFOR
MISSINGLOCALWOMAN.Beneaththeheadlinewasaphotoofayoungwoman,clippedfromasnapshot.Shewasbeautiful,vivacious,smilingat
thecamera,herhairteased,herbangssprayedinplaceupfromherforeheadastherestofherhairhungdowninaclassiceightieslook.Herskinwasclearandhereyessparkled,eveninblackandwhite.Thecaptionbelowthephotosaid:Twenty-year-oldVivianDelaneyhasnotbeenseensincethenightofNovember29.Anyonewhohasseenherisaskedtocallthepolice.
This.ThiswastheanswerIneeded.
I’dbeenanerdallmylife,mynoseburiedinabook.ExceptthatonceIgraduatedfromreadingTheBlackStallion,thebooksIreadwerethedarkkind—aboutscarythingslikedisappearancesandmurders,especiallythetrueones.WhileotherkidsreadJ.K.Rowling,IreadStephenKing.WhileotherkidsdidhistoryreportsabouttheCivilWar,IreadaboutLizzieBorden.ThereportIwroteaboutthatone—completewithdetailsaboutexactlywheretheaxehitLizzie’sfatherandstepmother—gotmyteachertocallmymotherwithconcern.IsCarlyallright?Mymotherhadbrusheditoff,becausebythensheknewhowdarkherdaughterwasShe’sfine.Shejustlikestoreadaboutmurder,that’sall.
Whatmymotherdidn’tmention—whatshehatedtotalkaboutatall—
wasthatIcamebyitnaturally.Therewasanunsolvedmurderinmyfamily,andI’dbeenobsessedwithitforaslongasIcouldremember.
Ilookedatthenewspaperclippingagain.VivDelaney,thegirlinthephotograph,wasmymother’ssister.In1982,shedisappearedwhileworkingthenightshiftattheSunDownMotelandwasneverfound.
Itwasthehuge,gapingholeinmyfamily,thethingthateveryoneknewaboutbutnoonespokeof.Viv’sdisappearancewasalosslikeamissingtooth.Neveraskyourmotheraboutthat,myfathertoldmetheyearbeforeheleftusallforgood.Itupsetsher.Evenmybrother,theeternalpainintheass,wassensitiveaboutit.Mom’ssisterwaskilled,hetoldme.Someonetookherandmurderedher,likethatguywiththehook.Itcreepsmeout.NowonderMomdoesn’ttalkaboutit.
Thirty-fiveyearsmyauntVivhadbeenmissing.Mygrandparents—
MomandViv’sparents—weredead.TherewerenopicturesofVivinourhouse,nomementosofher.TheyearbeforeMomdied,whenIwashomeforthesummer,I’dfoundastoryonlineandseenViv’sfaceforthefirsttime.I’dthoughtmaybeenoughtimehadpassed.I’dprintedtheclippingoutandgonedownstairstoshowittoher.“LookwhatIfound,”Isaid.
Momwassittingonthesofainthelivingroom,watchingTVafterdinner.Shetooktheclippingfrommeandreadit.Thenshestaredatitfora
longtime,hergazefixedonthephotograph.
Whenshelookedbackupatme,shehadastrangelookonherfacethatI’dneverseenbeforeandwouldneverseeagain.Pain,maybe.Exhaustion,andsomekindofold,rotted-over,carved-outfear.InthatmomentIhadnoideathatshehadcancer,thatIwouldloseherwithinayear.Maybesheknewthenanddidn’ttellme,butIdidn’tthinkso.Thatlookonherface,thatfear,wasallaboutVivian.
Hervoice,whenshefinallyspoke,wasflat,withoutinflection.“Vivianisdead,”shesaid.Sheputdowntheclippingandgotupandlefttheroom.
IneveraskedMomaboutitagain.
???
ItwasonlyafterMomdiedthatIgotmad.NotatMom,really—shewasateenagerwhenVivdisappeared,andtherewasn’tmuchshecouldhavedone.Butwhatabouteveryoneelse?Thecops?Thelocals?Viv’sparents?
Whyhadn’ttherebeenastatewidesearch?WhyhadVivbeenallowedtovanishintonothingnesswithbarelyaripple?
ThefirstpersonIaskedwasGraham,whowasolderandrememberedmorethanIdid.“GrandmaandGranddadweredivorcedbythen,”Grahamsaid.“WhenVivdisappeared,Grandmawasasinglemother.”
“So?Thatmeantshedidn’tlookforherdaughter?Granddad,either?”
Grahamshrugged.“Grandmadidn’thavemuchmoney.AndMomtoldmethatsheandVivusedtofightallthetime.Theydidn’tgetalongatall.”
I’dstaredathim,shocked.Weweresittinginmymother’srentalapartment,inthemiddleofboxingupherthings.Weweretakingabreakandeatingtakeout.“Momtoldyouthat?Shenevertoldmethat.”
Mybrothershruggedagain,leaningbackonaboxandscrollingthroughhisphone.“Theydidn’thavetheInternetbackthen,orDNA.Ifyouwantedtofindamissingperson,youhadtogetinyourcarandgodrivingaroundlookingforthem.Grandmacouldn’ttaketimeoffworkandgotoFell.AndGranddadwasalreadyremarried.Idon’tthinkhecaredaboutanyofthemallthatmuch.”
Itwastrue.Momhadn’thadagoodrelationshipwithherfather,whohadlefttheirfamilytosinkorswim.Shehadn’tevengonetohisfuneral.“Whataboutthecops,though?”Isaid.
Grahamputhisphonedownbrieflyandthoughtitover.“Well,Vivhadalreadylefthome,andshewastwenty,”hesaid.“Iguesstheythoughtshe’djusttakenoffsomewhere.”Helookedatme.“You’rereallyintothis,aren’tyou?”
“Yes,I’mreallyintothis.Theydidn’tevenfindabody.Itisn’t1982
anymore.WehavetheInternetandDNAnow.Maybesomethingcanbedone.”
“Byyou?”
Yes,byme.Theredidn’tseemtobeanyoneelse.AndnowthatMomwasgone,IcouldaskallthequestionsIwantedwithouthurtingherfeelings.MomhadtakenallofhermemoriesofVivwithherwhenshedied,andI’dneverhearthem.Myangeratthatwashelpless,somethingthatthetherapistsandcounselorssaidIneededtoworkthrough.Butmyangerateveryoneelse,myoutragethatmyaunt’slikelyabductionanddeathwerewrittenoffasjustsomethingthathappened—IcouldworkthroughthatbycomingtoFellandgettingmyownanswers.
IclickedtheotherscannedarticleIhadonmycomputer.ItwasheadlinedsimplyMISSINGGIRLSTILLNOTFOUND.Thedetailsweresketchy:Vivwastwenty;shehadbeeninFellforthreemonths;sheworkedattheSunDownMotelonthenightshift.She’dgonetoworkanddisappearedsometimeinthemiddleofhershift,leavingbehindhercar,herpurse,andherbelongings.Herroommate,agirlnamedJennySummers,saidVivwas“aniceperson,easytogetalongwith.”Shewasalsodescribed—bywhowasnotcited—as“prettyandvivacious.”Shehadnoboyfriendthatanyoneknewof.Shewasnotintodrugs,alcohol,orprostitutionthatanyonecouldtell.Hermother—mygrandmother—wasquotedasbeing“worriedsick.”
Shewasabeautifulgirl,gone.
Onfoot.Withoutanymoney.
Vivianisdead.
Viv’scasehadn’treceivednationalorevenstatewidemediaattention.
ThelocalFellnewspapersweren’tdigitized—theywerestillphysicallyarchivedintheFelllibrary.WhenIstarteddigging,allIfoundweretrue-crimeblogsandRedditthreadsbyarmchairdetectives.NoneoftheblogsorthreadswereaboutVivian,butalotofthemwereaboutFell.BecauseFell,itturnedout,hadmorethanoneunsolvedmurder.Forsuchasmallplace,itwasatrue-crimebuff’sparadise.
ThesecondarticlewasinMom’sbelongings.I’dfounditwhenI’dgonethroughherdresseraftershedied,tuckedinanenvelopeinthebackofadrawer.Theenvelopewaswhite,crisp,brand-new.Writtenontheback,inMom’slovelyhandwriting,was:27GrevilleStreet,apartmentC.
Viv’saddress,maybe?Thepieceofnewsprintinsidetheenvelopewasnearlydisintegrating,soI’dscanneditandaddedittothefirstoneIfound.
Vivianisdead.
Momhadwantednomemoriesofhersister,nodiscussionofher,andyetshe’dkeptthisarticleforthirty-fiveyears,alongwiththeaddress.She’devenputitinanewenvelopesometimerecently,recopiedtheaddress,whichmeantshe’datleastpulledthearticleoutoftheoldenvelope,maybereaditagain.
Vivwasreal.Shewasn’taspookytaleoraghoststory.Shehadbeenreal,shehadbeenMom’ssister—andsomehow,lookingatthatcrispwhiteenvelope,IknewshehadmatteredtoMom,alot,inawayIhadlostmychancetounderstand.
ThiswasallIhad:twonewspaperarticlesandamemoryofgrief.ExceptnowIhadmorethanthat.IhadalittlemoneyandIhadaveryclearmapfromIllinoistoFell,NewYork.IhadanaddressforViv’sapartment,maybe,andtheSunDownMotel.IhadnoboyfriendandacollegecareerIhadnopassionfor.Ihadacarandsofewbelongingsthattheyfitintothebackseat.Iwastwenty,andIstillhadn’tstartedmylifeyet.JustlikeVivhadn’t.
SoI’dleftschool—Grahamreallywasblowingthisoutofproportion—
andgotinmycarforaroadtrip.AndhereIwas.I’dlookaroundtownanddigupthelocalarticlesinthelibrary.I’dgoseetheSunDownformyself,sincemyInternetsearchsaiditwasstillinbusiness.MaybesomeonewholivedherehadknownViv,rememberedher,couldtellmeabouther.MaybeIcouldmakehermorethanafadingpieceofnewsprinthiddeninmymother’sdrawer.Herdisappearancewasthebigmysteryofmyfamily—Iwantedtoseeitfirsthand,andallitwouldcostwasafewdaysoutofschool.
Trynottogetkilled.Thatwasmybigbrother,tryingtoscareme.Itwasn’tgoingtowork.Ididn’tscareeasily.
Still,IclosedmylaptopandtriednottothinkaboutsomeonehurtingthegirlI’dseeninthephoto,someonegrabbingher,takinghersomewhere,doingsomethingtoher,killingher.Dumpinghersomewherelonely,where
maybeshestillwas.Maybeshewasonlybonesnow.Maybethatperson,whoevertheywere,wasdeadnow,orinprison.Maybetheyweren’t.
Vivianisdead.
Itwasn’tfairthatVivianwasforgotten,reducedtoafewpiecesofnewsprintandnothingelse.Itwasn’tfairthatMomhaddiedandtakenhermemoriesandhergriefwithher.Itwasn’tfairthatVivdidn’tmattertoanyonebutme.
IwasinFell.Ididn’tbelonghere.IhadnoideawhatIwasdoing.
AndstillIwaited,withoutsleeping,forthesuntocomeupagain.Fell,NewYork
August1982
VIV
Comingherewasanaccident.AdetoursentherbusintoPennsylvania,andfromthereshehitched,tryingtosavecash.ThefirstridewasonlygoingtoBinghamton.ThesecondridetoldherhewasgoingtoNewYork,butanhourlatersherealizedhewasdrivingthewrongway.
“We’renotgoingtoNewYork,”Vivsaidtotheman.“We’redrivingupstate.”
“Well,”themansaid.Hewasinhisforties,wearingapaleyellowcollaredshirtanddresspants.Hewasclean-shavenandworerimlessglasses.“Youshouldhavebeenmoreclear.WhenyousaidNewYork,Ithoughtyoumeantupstate.”
She’dbeenclear.Sheknewshehad.Shelookedoutthewindowatthesettingsun,wonderingwherehewastakingher,herheartstartingtoaccelerateinpanic.Shedidn’twanttoberude.Maybesheshouldbeniceaboutit.“It’sokay,”shesaid.“Youcanletmeouthere.”
“Don’tbesilly,”themansaid.“I’llbringyoutoRochester,whereIcanatleastgetyouameal.Youcangetabusfromthere.”
Vivgavehimasmile,likehewasdoingherafavor,drivingherawayfromwhereshewantedtobe.“Oh,youdon’tneedtodothat.”
“SureIdo.”
Theywereonatwo-lanestretchofroad,andshesawthesignforamotelahead.“Ineedtostopforthenightanyway,”shesaid.“I’lljuststayhere.”
“Thatplace?Lookssketchytome.”
“I’msureit’sfine.”Whenhedidn’tspeak,shesaid,“Idon’tmeantobeabother.”
Herthroatwentdryasthemanpulledover.Shethoughtshemightthrowup.Shecouldn’thavesaidwhatshewasafraidof,whatmadehersorelievedthathedidassheasked.Whatelsewouldhehavedone?shechidedherself.Hewasprobablyanicemanandshewasbeingridiculous.Itcamefrombeingontheroadalone.
Still,oncehestoppedthecarsheopenedthedoor,puttingonefootontheroadsidegravel.Onlythendidsheturnandgetherbagfromthebackseat.Theentiretimeshehadherbacktohim,sheheldherbreath.
Whenshehadfinishedwrestlingthebagintoherlap,shefeltsomethingwarmonherthigh.Shelookeddownandsawtheman’shandrestingthere.
“Youdon’thaveto,”hesaid.
Viv’smindwentblank.Shemumbledsomething,pulledoutfromunderhishand,gotoutofthecar,andslammedthedoor.Theonlywordsshecouldmanage—spokenasthecarpulledaway,whenthemancouldn’thearher—were“Thankyou”and“Sorry.”Shedidn’tknowwhyshesaidthem.
Sheonlyknewthatshestoodatthesideofanemptyroad,infrontofanemptymotel,herheartpoundingsoharditfeltlikeitwassqueezingherchest.
BackinGrisham,Illinois,Vivwastheproblemdaughter.Afterherparents’divorcefiveyearsearlier,shecouldn’tseemtodoanythingright.
Whileheryoungersisterobeyedtherules,Vivdideverythingshewasn’tsupposedto:skippingschool,stayingoutlate,lyingtohermother,cheatingontests.Shedidn’tevenknowwhyshedidit;shedidn’twanttodohalfofthosethings.Itsometimesfeltlikeshewasinsomeoneelse’sbody,onethatwasangryandexhaustedinturns.
Butshedidallthethingsthatmadeherbad,thatmadehermotherfuriousandembarrassed.Onenight,aftershe’dbeencaughtcominghomeattwointhemorning,herpanickedmotherhadnearlyslappedher.Youthinkyou’resodamnedsmart,hermotherhadshoutedinherface.Whatwouldyoudoifyoueversawrealtrouble?
Now,standingonthesideofalonelyroadfarfromhome,withtheman’staillightsvanishinginthedistance,thosewordscameback.Whatwouldyoudoifyoueversawrealtrouble?
TheAugustskywasturningred,theloweringsunstinginghereyes.Sheworeasleevelessturquoisetop,jeanswithawhiteandsilverbelt,andtennisshoes.Sheheftedherbagonhershoulderandlookedupatthemotelsign.Itwasblueandyellow,thewordsSUNDOWNintheclassicold-style
kindoflettersyousawfromthefiftiesandsixties.Underneaththatwereneonlettersthatprobablylitupatnight:VACANCY.CABLETV!
BehindthesignwasamotellaidoutinanLshape,themainthrustleadingawayfromtheroad,thefootoftheLrunningparalleltoit.Ithadanoverhangandaconcretewalkway,theroomdoorslinedupintheopenair.
Anunremarkableplacedecoratedindarkbrownanddirtycream,thekindofplacepeopledrovebyunlesstheyweredesperatetosleep.AtthejointoftheLwasasetofstairsleadingtotheupperlevel.Therewasonlyonecarintheparkinglot,parkednexttothedoornearesttheroadthatsaidOFFICE.
Vivwipedherforehead.Theadrenalinespikefromgettingawayfromthemaninthecarwasfading,andshewastired,herbackandshouldersaching.Sweatdampenedherarmpits.
Shehadtwentydollarsorso—allthecashshehadleft.Shehadabankaccountwithsavingsfromherjobbackhomeatthepopcornstandatthedrive-in,plushersmallearningsfrommodelingforalocalcatalog.She’dstoodinfrontofacameraforanafternoonwearinghigh-waistedacid-washjeansandabrightpurplebutton-downblouse,placingherfingertipsintothepocketsofthejeansandsmiling.
Herentiresavingstotaledfourhundredeighty-fivedollars.ItwassupposedtobeNewYorkmoney,themoneythatwouldsendhertohernewlife.Shewasn’tsupposedtospenditbeforesheevengotanywhere.Yetlikeeverythingelseaboutthistripsofar,sheseemedtohavemiscalculated.
Thisdidn’tlooklikeanexpensiveplace.Maybetwentydollarswouldgetherabedandashower.Ifnot,maybetherewasawaytosneakintooneoftherooms.Itdidn’tlooklikeanyonewouldsee.
Vivapproachedtheofficedoorandputherhandonthecolddoorknob.
Somewherefaroffinthetrees,abirdcried.Therewasnotrafficontheroad.IftheguyontheothersideofthisdoorlookslikeNormanBates,shetoldherself,I’mturningaroundandrunning.Shetookadeepbreathandswungthedooropen.
ThemaninsidedidnotlooklikeNormanBates—itwasn’tamanatall.
Itwasawomansittingonachairbehindanolddesk.Shewasaboutthirty,leanandvital,withbrownhairinaponytailandafacethathadhardlines.
Shewaswearingabaggygraysweatshirt,loose-fitjeans,andheavybrownboots,whichVivcouldseebecauseshehadthemproppedrightuponthedesk.Shewasreadingamagazinebutlookedupwhenthedooropened.
“Helpyou?”thewomansaidwithoutmovingherfeetoffthedesk.
Vivputhershouldersbackandgavethewomanhercatalog-modelsmile.“Hi,”shesaid.“I’dlikearoom,butIonlyhavetwentydollarsincash.Howmuchisit,please?”
“Usuallythirty,”thewomansaidwithoutmissingabeatorchangingherpose.Themagazinewasstillatchinheight.“ButI’mtheownerandthere’snooneelsehere,soI’mnotgoingtoturndowntwentybucks.”
Feelingarushoftriumph,Vivputhertwenty-dollarbilldownonthedesk.Andwaited.
Thewomanstilldidn’tmove.Shedidn’tputdownhermagazine,andshedidn’ttakethetwenty.InsteadhergazemovedoverViv.“Youpassingthrough,honey?”shesaid.
Itseemedasafeenoughquestion.“Yes.”
“Isthatso?Ididn’thearacar.”
Vivshrugged,tryingforvacantandharmless.Mostpeoplefellforit.
Thewomanfinallyclosedthemagazineandputitonherjean-cladlap.
“WereyouhitchingonNumberSix?”
“NumberSix?”Vivsaid,confused.
“NumberSixRoad.”Thewoman’seyebrowslowered.“IfIwasyourmother,Iwouldtanyourhide.Hitchingonthatroadisdangerousforlonegirls.”
“Ididn’t.Myridejustdroppedmeoffhere.HepickedmeupoutsideBinghamton.IwasheadingforNewYork.”
“Well,honey,thisisn’tNewYork.ThisisFell.You’regoingthewrongway.”
“Iknow.”Vivwishedthewomanwouldjustgiveheraroom.Sheneededtoputherheavybagdown.Sheneededashower.Sheneededsomethingtoeat,thoughwithoutthetwentyshedidn’tknowhowshewouldpayforit.Shepointedtothebigbooksittingopenonthedesk,obviouslyaguestregistry.“ShouldIwritemynameinthere?”Then,hersuburbanIllinoisgood-girltrainingcomingthrough:“IcanpayyouthethirtyifIcanjustgettoabanktomorrow.Butthey’reallclosednow.”
Thewomansnorted.Shetossedthemagazine—VivsawthatitwasPeople,withTomSelleckonthecover—ontothedeskandfinallyswungherfeetdown.“Ihaveabetteridea,”shesaid.“Mynightguyjustquit.
Coverthedesktonightandkeepyourtwentybucks.”
“Coverthedesk?”
“Sithere,answerthephone.Ifsomeonecomesin,taketheirmoneyandgivethemakey.Keysarehere.”Sheopenedthedeskdraweratherrighthand.“Havethemsignthebook.That’sit.Youthinkyoucandothat?”
“Youdon’thaveanyoneelsetodoit?”
“Ijustsaidmyguyquit,didn’tI?I’mtheowner,soIshouldknow.
EitheryousitatthisdeskallnightorIdo.IalreadyknowwhichoneI’dratheritbe.”
Vivblewoutabreath.Theworkitselfdidn’tbotherher;she’dworkedplentyofservicejobsbackinIllinois.Buttheideaofstayingawakeallnightdidn’tsoundveryfun.
Still,ifshediditsheheldontohertwenty.Whichmeantshecouldeatsomething.
Sheglancedaroundtheoffice,lookingforasignalthattherewasacatch,butallshesawwasblandwalls,adesk,afewshelves,andthewindowontheofficedoor.Therewasthemuffledsoundofacargoingbyontheroad,andtheskywasgettingdarker.Surprisingly,Vivsmelledthefainttangofcigarettesmokefromsomewhere.Itwassharpandburning,nottheold-smokesmellthatcouldcomefromthewoman’sclothes.
Someonewassmokingacigarettenearby.
Forsomereason,thatmadeherfeelalittlebetter.Therewasobviouslysomeoneinthisplace,evenifshecouldn’tseethem.
“Sure,”shetoldthewoman.“I’llworkthenightshift.”
“Good,”thewomansaid,openingthedeskdrawerandtossingakeyonthedesk.“Roomone-oh-fourisyours.Washup,haveanap,andcomeseemeateleven.What’syourname?”
Thatsmellofsmokeagain,likewhoeveritwashadjusttakenadragandexhaled.“VivianDelaney.Viv.”
“Well,Viv,”thewomansaid,“I’mJanice.ThisistheSunDown.Lookslikeyou’vefoundyourselfsomewheretostay.”
“Thankyou,”Vivsaid,butJanicehadalreadygonebacktoTomSelleck,puttingherbootsonthedeskagain.
Shepickedupthekeyandhertwentyandleft,pushingopentheofficedoorandsteppingontothewalkway.Sheexpectedtoseethesmokersomewhereouthere,maybeaguesthavingasmokeintheeveningair,buttherewasnoone.Shewalkedoutontothegravellot,turnedinacircle,looking.Intheloweringlightofduskthemotellookedshuttered,nolightcomingfromanyoftherooms.Thetreesbehindtheplacemadeahushing
soundinthewind.Therewasthesoftsoundofashoescrapingonthegravelintheunlitcornerofthelot.
“Hello?”Vivcalled,thinkingofthemanwho’dputhishandonherleg.
Nothing.
Shestoodintheloweringdarkness,listeningtothewindandherownbreathing.
Thenshewenttoroom104,tookahotshower,andlayonthebed,wrappedinatowel,staringattheblankceiling,feelingtheroughcomforteragainsttheskinofhershoulders.Shelistenedforthesoundsyouusuallyheardinhotels—footstepscomingandgoing,strangers’voicespassingoutsideyourdoor.Humansounds.Therewerenone.Therewasnosoundatall.
Whatkindofmotelwasthis?Ifitwasthisdeserted,howdiditstayopen?Andwhydidtheyneedanightclerkatall?Atthemovietheater,themanagerhadsenteveryonehomeattenbecausehedidn’twanttopaythemafterthat.
Shewasn’tgettingpaid,notexactly.ButitwouldstillbeeasierforJanicetoturnthelightsout,locktheofficedoor,andgohomeinsteadoftryingtofindsomeonetositthereallnight.
Herfeetached,andherbodyrelaxedslowlyintothebed.Lonelyornot,thiswasstillbetterthanhitchingonthatdarkhighway,hopingforanotherstrangertopickherup.ShestartedtohopetherewasavendingmachinesomewhereintheSunDown,preferablyonewithaSnickersbarinit.
Themanintheyellowcollaredshirthadputhishandonherthighlikeitbelonged,liketheyhadanagreementbecauseshewasinhiscar.He’dcurledhisfingersgentlytowardtheinsideofherthighbeforeshepulledaway.Shefeltthatjoltinhergutagain,thefear.She’dneverfeltfearlikethatbefore.Anger,yes.Andshe’dsleptalotsinceherparents’divorce,sometimesuntiloneortwointheafternoon,anotherthingthatmadehermotheryellather.
Butthefearshe’dfelttodayhadbeendeepandsudden,almostlikeanumbingblow.Forthefirsttimeinherlife,itoccurredtoherhowerasableshewas.Howitcouldallbeoverinaninstant.VivianDelaneycouldvanish.Shewouldsimplybegone.
I’mafraid,shethought.
Then:Thisseemsliketherightplaceforit.
Shewasasleepbeforeshecouldthinkanythingelse.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
GrevilleStreetwasbarelythreeblockslong,astreetoflow-riseapartmentsendinginadeadendcoveredbyawarpedchain-linkfence.Thebuildingslookedliketheyweremadefromchildren’sblocksstackedonangles,aboxystyleinconcreteandvinylsidingthathadgoneoutoffavorsometimearound1971.Idroveslowlypasttheshort,squatdrivewaystoeachbuilding,lookingfornumbertwenty-seven.
IparkednexttoaduskygrayVolvowitharoundedrearandbaldingtires,feelingalittlelikeatimetraveler.I’dcomeheretoseewheremyaunthadlived,maybegetaglimpseintowhatherlifehadbeen,butIhadn’texpectedtostandonastreetthatlookedalmostunchangedfrom1982.Iftheaddresswascorrect,she’dstoodexactlywhereIdidnow,lookingatthesamelandscape.
Therewasnoonearoundexceptfortwokidsridingbikesupanddownthestreet,ringingthebellsontheirhandlebarsandlaughing.Iwalkedtothefrontdoorofnumbertwenty-sevenandfoundthatitwasunlocked,soIwentin.
Therewasashorthallwaylinedwithtenants’mailboxesandasetofstairs.ThemailboxtoapartmentCsaidATKINS,H.Ihadpokedmyheadaroundtheedgeofthestairwell,lookingupandwonderinghownottolooklikeastalker,whenagirlappearedintheupstairshallway.
Shewasaboutmyage,withaslight,firmbuildanddarkblondhairthatfellstraighttoherchin.Shehadtakenthefronthankofherhairandpinneditbackfromherforeheadinasinglebobbypin,andshelookedatmewitheyesthatwereclearandintelligentinanexpressiveface.Shewaswearingalargeknittedponcho,basicallyasquareplacedoverhershoulderswithaholeforthehead.
“Areyouhereforthead?”sheaskedme.
“I—”
“There’sonlyonepersoncoming,”shesaid.“TheroommateforapartmentC.”
Thatgavemepause.“ApartmentC?”
“Sure.Comeonup.”
Ididn’teventhinkofturningaround.
InsteadIfollowedPonchoGirlupanothersetofstairsandthroughadoor.Theapartmentinsidewassurprisinglybig,withalinoleum-flooredkitchen,aTVroom,andtwobedroomdoorsopeningfromoppositeends.
“I’mHeather,”theponchogirlsaidassheclosedthedoorbehindme.
Shestuckoutherhandfrombeneaththefoldsofwool.Itwasaslenderhand,porcelainwhite,andwhenIshookit,itgavemyskinalittlechill.
“Carly,”Isaid.
“I’llgiveyouatour.”
ThenextthingIknewitwastenminuteslaterandIhadseeneveryroom.IknewthatthehotwaterwasfussyandtheWi-Fireceptionwasunreliableandtherentwastwohundredpermonth.IalsoknewIwasabitofajerk,becauseIstillhadn’ttoldHeatherthetruth.
“Twohundredamonthisn’tverymuchmoney,”Ipointedout.
Heatherrubbedahandonthebackofherneck.Shehadfaintpurplecirclesbeneathhereyes,asifshewereverytired,butshestillgaveoffatightvitalitythatwashardtolookawayfrom.“Okay,Ican’tlie,”shesaid,thewordsinarush.“Idon’treallyneedthemoney.MyfatherpaysforthisplacewhileI’matFell.”
“AtFell?”
“FellCollege,”shesaid.“It’sweird,Iknow.Alocalgirlgoingtoalocalcollege,movedoutintoanapartmentpaidforbyherparents.Right?”Shetiltedherchinlikeshewantedmetoanswer,butshekepttalkingwithoutgivingmethechance.“Ineededtheexperience,orsotheparentalunitstellme.Tofeedmyselfandfendformyself,somethinglikethat.AndIlikeit,Ido.ButI’maloneallthetime,andthisapartmentmakesnoises.Andthere’snoonetotalkto.I’manightowlandIdon’tsleepatnight.IthinkIpostedtheadforaroommatejustsoIcanhavesomeonehere.Itisn’tthemoneyreally.Youknow?”
“Okay,”Isaid,becausesheseemedreallynice.“I’veneverheardofFellCollege.”
“Noonehas,”Heathersaid,shruggingherthinshouldersbeneathherponcho.“It’salocalplace.Notacollegeintheusualsense,really.It’sobscure,andwelocalsgothere.Makesusfeellikewe’regoingtocollegewithoutleavingtown.”
“Isn’tthepointofcollegetoleavetown?”
“Thepointofcollegeistogotocollege,”Heathersaidwithutterlogic.
“AndI’msurprisedyouaren’toneofus.Itookyouforafellowstudent.”
Ilookeddownatmyself:wornjeans,oldbootsthatlaceduptheankles,blackT-shirtthatsaidBOOKSAREMYLIFEbeneathastretched-outhoodie,messengerbag.Addmydark-rimmedglassesandponytailandIwasprettymuchacliché.“Iamastudent,actually.ButnotatFellCollege.
I’m…”Ilookedaround,clearedmythroat.“Okay,Ican’tlie,either.Ididn’tactuallycomehereabouttheroommatething.Youjustassumed.”
Heather’seyeswidened.“Thenwhyareyouhere?”
“Um,becauseIlikegrimSovietBlocarchitecture?”
Sheclappedherhandsonce,themotionmakingtheponchoripple.Hereyessparkled.“Ilikeyou!Okay,then!Tellmewhyyou’rereallyhere.Thedetails.”Sheclosedhereyestight,thenopenedthemagain.“You’remooningoveranex-boyfriend.There’saguywholivedinBwhowasn’tbad,buthemovedoutlastweek.”
“No,”Isaid.“Nomooning.”
“Curses.Okay.You’reanarchaeologystudent,andonadigyoufoundamapthatledyouhereandyouwanttoknowwhy.”
Istaredather.“That’sactuallysortofclose,butmyreasonisweirder.”
“Iliveforweird,”Heathersaid.
Istaredatheragain,becauseshemeantit.NooneinIllinoislivedforweird.NooneI’dmet,anyway.
“Myauntlivedhere,Ithink,”Itoldher.“Shedisappearedin1982.Mymotherdiedandnevertoldmeabouther,andIleftschool,andI’mheretofindoutwhathappened.”Itdidn’tsoundstupid.Inthisapartment,tellingthisparticulargirl,itdidn’tsoundstupidatall.
Heatherdidn’tevenblink.“Um,1982,”shesaid,thinking.“Whatwashername?”
“VivDelaney.”
Sheshookherhead.“Itdoesn’tringabell.Butthenagain,therearesomany.”
“Somanywhat?”
“Deadgirls.Therearelots.Butyousaidshewasn’tdead,right?Shedisappeared.”
“Y—yes.”
“Andshelivedhere,inthisapartment?”Heatherlookedaroundattheapartment,asifpicturingitlikeIwas.
“Yes,Ithinkshedid.”
“Haveyoufoundthetenantrecords?”
“DoyouthinkIcould?”
Heatherlookedthoughtful.“Thelandlordisafriendofmydad’s.Icouldprobablyaskhimifhehasanyrecordsfrom1982.AndthearchivesintheFellCentralLibrarymighthavesomething.Nothingisdigitizedhere.We’restuckinatimewarp.”
“I’mlookingforpeoplewhomighthaveknownmyaunt,”Isaid.“Ihaveherroommate’sname.AccordingtoGoogle,shemightstillliveintown.Iwanttofindherandtalktoher.AndmyauntworkedattheSunDownMotel.Maybesomeonethereremembersher.”
Heathernodded,asifallofthiswerenotatallstrange.“Icanhelpyou.
I’velivedinFellallmylife.Truecrimeiskindofahobbyofmine.”
Icouldn’tbelieveIwashearingthis.“Me,too.”
Hersmilewasn’texactlyeven,butIstilllikedit.“Gosh,thatsettlesit.
Don’tyouthink?”
“Settleswhat?”
“Ithinkyoushouldstayhere,”shesaid.“It’sfate.Comestayhereforaslongasyouneedto,andI’llhelpyoulookforyouraunt.”Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Heather,itturnedout,wasn’tlyingwhenshesaidsheknewalotaboutFell.“Mydadisadork,”shetoldmeplainly.“HisideaofavacationistodrivetoAmericanaVillageandwalkaround.He’sanerdabouthistory,soIgrewuplearningalotaboutthehistoryofthisplace.Beingadorkrunsinthefamily.”
ItwashourslaterandwewerebackinapartmentC.I’dretrievedmythingsfromthehotelandputtheminthesecondbedroom.We’dorderedpizza,andnightwasstartingtofall,eventhoughitwasonlydinnertime.IwassittingonthesofaandHeatherwaslyingonherbackonthefloor,stillswathedintheponcho.She’dhadabicyclingaccidenttwoyearsago,shesaid,thatgaveherdailybackpain.“Onevertebraissmushingdownintotheonebelowit,”washerexplanation.“TheysayIhavetohavesurgery,butIcan’tdoit.I’mtooneurotic.”SinceI’dseentheshelfofprescriptionpillsinthebathroomwhenIdumpedmythings,Ididn’taskquestions.
“I’mtalkingabout1982,”Iremindedhernow,droppingacrustbackintothepizzabox.“Idon’tneedtoknowaboutoldfortsandcannons.”
“Haha,”Heathersaidfromthefloor.Shehadherkneesbentandherfeetflat,herpalehandsrestingonherstomachasshestaredattheceiling.“Felldoesn’thaveanyfortsorcannons.It’sastrangeplace.Sortofmorbid,likeme.”
“Ireadafewthingsonline.Thisplacehassomeunsolvedmurders.”
“Wehaveplentyofthem.Itisn’tjusttheunsolvedmurders.It’sthesolvedones,too.Idon’tknowthestats,butwithoursmallpopulationwe’reprobablysomekindofpercapitamurdercapitalofthecountry.OratleastofNewYork.”SheliftedahandandIplacedapizzasliceintoit.“Ican’texplainit.It’sjustaweirdplace,that’sall.Tellmeaboutyouraunt.”
ItoldheraboutViv,aboutherdisappearanceinthemiddleofthenightfromtheSunDown.Igavehermytwonewspaperarticles.
“Hmm,”Heathersaid,leafingthroughthem.“Noboyfriend,nodrugs.
‘Prettyandvivacious.’Ugh.Wecanfindtheroommateinthephonebookifshe’sstillinFell.”Shehandedthearticlesbacktomeandlaystaringattheceilingagain.“Sosheworkedanightshiftanddisappeared.You’dbeamazedhowmanypeopledothat—disappearasifintothinair.Theyleavedoorsopenbehindthem,foodonthecounter,theirshoesbythedoor.Itdoesn’tseempossible,butitis.”
“Iknow,”Isaid.“Doyouthinkthecopswillletmelookattheirrecords?”
“Ihavenoidea,butanything’spossiblewithacasethatold,Iguess.AfewoftheInternetsleuthshavetriedtogetrecordsfromtheFellPDandnotgottenanywhere,butthisisdifferent.You’rethevictim’sfamily.”
“Areyoutrainingtobeadetective?”Iasked,puttingmyfolderaway.
Heatherlaughed.“Hardly.Myanxietycouldn’thandleit.No,I’mtakingmedievalliterature.That’smoremystyle.”
“TheyteachmedievalliteratureatthecollegeinFell?”
“It’spracticallyalltheyteach.Theschool’sfullnameisFellCollegeofClassicalEducation.Greekliterature,Latin,classicartandsculpture,Russianliterature,thatsortofthing.It’sasmall,privatecollegestartedahundredyearsagoasavanityprojectbytherichestmanintown.Weonlyhavethreehundredstudents.I’veneverhadaclassthathadmorethantenpeopleinit.”
“Areyougettingadegree?”
“Praytell,”Heathersaidinanamusedvoice,“whatexactlycanonedowithadegreeinmedievalliterature?UsefulnessisnotexactlyFellCollege’sforte.Youshouldapply.Ilikeitthere.”
“Iwastakingbusinessstudies,”Itoldher.
“Carly.”Hervoicewasshocked,likeI’dsaidIwastakingpornstarclasses.“Youcan’ttakebusinessstudies.You’reaFellgirl.Iknowitalready.”
Ihandedheranotherslice.Shewassmallunderthatponcho,butshecouldpackpizzaaway.“Townhistory,remember?”
“Okay,”shesaid,loweringtheslice.“TheSunDownMotel.Letmethink.TherewasatimeintheearlyseventieswhenpeoplethoughtFellwouldbeatouristdestination,eventhoughwedon’thavelakesor
mountainsoranythingtosee.Therewereplansforabigamusementparkthatwouldbringthousandsofpeopleayear,sobusinessesgotbuilt—theSunDown,afewothermotels,someicecreamshopsandrestaurants.Thentheamusementparkplanfellthroughandnoneofithappened.Mostofthoseoldbusinessesaregone,buttheSunDownisstillthere.”
“Itdidn’tgooutofbusiness?”
“It’sprettydodgy,”sheadmitted.“Maybeitgetsbytakingindrugdealersandsuch.Iwouldn’tknow.Afewkidsinhighschoollikedtogothereonweekendstodrink,butmyparentsareprudesandneverletmego.”
Ipulledmylaptoptowardmeonthesofaandopenedit,mymindworking.
“Theysayit’shaunted,”Heathersaid.
“Really?”Iaskedinsurprise.
“Well,sure,”Heathersaid.“Isn’teveryhotelhauntedsinceTheShining?
Peoplehaveprobablydiedthere,Ibet.”
IlookedatmyGoogleMapofFell,withapininthespotwheretheSunDownwas.Ifitwasbuiltinthe1970s,thenitwasstillrelativelynewin1982.Haditbeenunsavorythen?Haditbeenhaunted?
AsidefromGraham’sstupidstoriesandtheoddscarymovie,I’dneverreallythoughtaboutghosts,whethertheywerereal.ButsittinginViv’sapartment,livingwhereshe’dlivedbeforeshedisappeared…Ithoughtaboutit.Ithoughtaboutghostsandwhethershewasheresomewhere,lookingthroughthewindowortrappedinadoorway,watchingus.Ifshe’dbeenkilled,wouldshecomeback?Wouldshecometothisplaceorsomewhereelse?Ifeverypersonwhodisappearedcameback,wouldn’ttheworldbefullofghosts?
Iscratchedmynoseundermyglassesandsaid,“Heather,areyoutired?”
Onthefloor,shesighed.“I’mnevertired.Itoldyou,Ihaveinsomnia.”
“Don’tyouhavetostudyorsomething?”
“I’vereadmytextbooktwice.Onehastoreadsomething.”
Ismiled.“Well,sinceonedoesn’thavetostudy,wouldoneliketogototheSunDownMotelwithme?”
Herheadappearedabovetherimofthevintagecoffeetable.“Really?”
Ishrugged.“Idon’tknowwhatI’llfind,butI’vecomethisfar.Imayaswellgo,andnowisasgoodatimeasever.”
Shelitup,likeI’dsuspectedshewould.“Onewouldbedelighted.”
Iclosedmylaptop.“Let’sgo.”Fell,NewYork
September1982
VIV
Shedidn’twanttostayinFell,exactly,yetsomehowshedid.SheworkedanothershiftattheSunDown,andanother.Janicepaidhersomemoney,andVivfoundanapartmentonGrevilleStreetthathadcheaprentandaroommatenamedJenny.Jennywasanightshiftnurseatalocalnursinghome,workingthesamehoursasViv.Shewastired,singleafterabadbreakup,andnotintheleastcurious.Thetwogirlscameandwent,sleptalldayandworkedallnight.
“Idon’tgetit,”Jennysaidoneevening.Shewaspreparingtoironablouse,fiddlingwiththeknobsontheironasitheatedup.“YouwereonyourwaytoNewYorkCity.Whydidn’tyougo?”
VivturnedthepageofthePeoplemagazineshewasreading,leaningagainstthekitchencounter.“That’sjustsomethingItoldmymother,”shesaid.“Ididn’treallywanttogo.Ijustwantedtoleavehome.”
“Igetthat,”Jennysaid.Shehadashblondhair,cutinfeatheredlayerslikeHeatherLocklear.Shelickedthepadofherfingerandlightlytouchedthefaceoftheirontoseeifitwashotenoughyet.“ButthisisFell.Noonewantstobehere.Imean,comeon.Peopleleave.”
“Youhaven’tleft,”Vivpointedout.
“Onlybecausethisjobisgood.Buttrustme,I’mgoing.”Shelickedherfingeragainandtouchedtheiron.Thistimetherewasasizzlingsoundandshejerkedherfingeraway.“I’mgoingtomeetarich,gorgeousguyandmarryhimthefirstchanceIget.Thewomen’slibberssayit’swrong,butIstillthinkit’sthebestthingagirlcando.”
“That’sit?”Vivaskedher.“Getmarried?”
“Whynot?”Jennyshruggedandtuggedtheblouseontotheironingboard,startedtoworkonit.
Vivdidn’twanttogetmarried.She’ddatedboys,madeoutwiththem.
She’devenletMatthewReardonputhishanddownherpants.Butshe’donlydonethatbecausetheywereontheirthirddate,andheexpectedit.Hisfingerssmelledlikecigarettes,andshehadn’tlikeditmuch.HerentirelifeinIllinoishadbeenaboutdoingwhatotherpeopleexpected,neverwhatsheactuallywanted.
“Don’tyouwanttodosomethingwithyourlife?Somethingbig?”sheaskedJenny.
Jennydidn’tlookimpressed.“Ifyouwantedtodosomethingbig,youshouldhavegonetoNewYork,don’tyouthink?”
Maybe.Itwasstupidtothinkyouhadsomekindofdestinyinlife.ItwasextrastupidtothinkthatFell,NewYork,wassomewhereyouwantedtobe.
ButGrishambelongedtoViv’sfamily,andNewYorkCitybelongedtoeveryoneelse.Fell,initsshadowyway,washers.
Sheboughtacar,ausedCavalier,thefirstcarshe’deverownedherself.
Shetooktwohundreddollarsoutofherbankaccounttobuyit,andshedidn’tfeelthepanicshethoughtshewould.
Therewasamovietheaterdowntown,aholeinthewallcalledtheRoyalthatshowedsecond-runmoviesforadollar.Vivwenttotheearlyshowbeforehershiftsometimes,sittinginthehalf-emptytheater.ShewatchedE.T.andAnOfficerandaGentlemanand,ononememorablenight,Poltergeist.SheatesandwichesfromtheFamousFellDeli,downthestreetfromthetheater,andsometimesshegotamilkshakefromtheMilkshakePalace,aroundthecorner,forfiftycents.Shecutherhair,whichshe’dwornlonglikealloftheothergirlsinGrisham.Goodgirlsdon’thaveshorthair,hermotheralwayssaid.Vivcutherlightbrownhairtoshoulderlengthandteasedthetopandthesideswithhairspray.
Shecalledhermother,whowasfuriouseventhoughVivhadn’tendedupinthedenofsinthatwasNewYorkCity.“I’mnotsendingyoumoney,”
hermothertoldher.“You’lljustspenditondrugsorsomething.Iguessyou’llseewhatit’sliketobeagrown-upnow.Whycan’tyoubelikeDebby?”
Debby,Viv’slittlesister,thegooddaughter.Ateighteen,Debbywantedtobeateacher;shewantedtostayinGrisham,workinGrisham,getmarriedinGrisham,andmostlikelydieinGrisham.ShelookedatViv’sangryrestlessnessassomethingalien.“I’mworkingextrashiftsattheice
creamshopandsavingforcollege,”Debbysaidwhenshegotonthephone.
“Ithinkyou’recrazy.”
“Youcanbeasperfectasyouwant,”Vivtoldher.“Dadstillisn’tcomingback.Andhestilldoesn’tcare.”
“That’smean,”Debbysaid.“He’sgoingtocall.Heis.”
“No,heisn’t,”Vivtoldher.“Hehasanewwife,andhisnewwifeisgoingtohavenewkids.I’mnotwaitingaroundforlifetogobacktothewayitwas,andneithershouldyou.”
Debbysaidsomethingelse,butVivdidn’thearit.Shetookthephonefromherearandmadeherselfhangup,listeningtotheclickitmadeinthecradleasitdisconnected.
???
Theworldwasdifferentatnight.Notjustdark,notjustquiet,butdifferent
Soundsandsmellsweredifferent.NumberSixRoadhadaneerielight,greenishundertheemptyexpanseofsky.Viv’sbodygotcold,thendampwithunpleasantsweat;shewashungry,thenqueasy.Shewasn’ttiredafterthefirstfewnights,butthereweretimesshefeltliketherewassandunderhereyelids,blurringhervisionashertemplespounded.Threeo’clockinthemorningwastheworsttime,almostdelirious,whenshecouldhalfbelieveanythingcouldhappen—ghosts,elves,timetravel,everyTwilightZoneepisodeshe’deverseen.
Andshesortoflikedit.
Nightpeoplewerenotthesameasdaypeople.ThegoodpeopleofFell,whoevertheywere,weresoundasleepatthreea.m.ThosepeopleneversawthepeopleVivsaw:thecheatingcoupleshavingaffairs,thetruckersstrungoutonwhatevertheytooktostayawake,thewomenwithblackenedeyeswhocheckedoutatfivea.m.tofutilelygohomeagain.Theseweren’tpeoplesuburbanVivDelaneywouldeverhaveseeninahundredyears.
Theyweren’tpeopleshewouldeverhavetalkedto.Therewasanedgetothem,ahardcollisionwithlife,thatshehadn’tknownwaspossibleinhersoftcocoon.Itwasn’tromantic,butsomethingaboutitdrewher.Itfascinatedher.Shedidn’twanttolookaway.
AnditwasinthedepthsofnightthattheSunDownitselfseemedalive.
Thecandymachinemadeadeepwhirringnoiseinthemiddleofthenight,andtheicemachinenexttoitclatteredfromtimetotimelikesomeonewas
shakingit.Theleavesswirledinthepool,whichwasemptyofwaterandfencedin,eventhoughitwasthelastmonthofsummer.Thepipesinthewallsgroaned,andwhenoneofthebuttonsonthephoneinfrontofherlitup—indicatingsomeoneinoneoftheroomswasmakingacall—itmadeafeatherlightclicksound,audibleonlyintheperfect,silenthushofnight.
Thesmellofcigarettesmokecamebackagainandagainwhenshewasinthefrontoffice.Alwaysthestingoffreshsmoke,neverold.Atfirstshethoughtitmustbecomingthroughtheventsfromoneoftherooms,soshetookafoldingchairandmoveditaroundtheroom,standingonitbeneatheachventsoshecouldclosehereyesandinhale.Nothing.
Shestoodnexttotheofficedoorforanhouronenight,stayingstill,nostrilsflaring,waitingforthesmoketocome.Whenitdidsherotated,leftthenright,tryingtofigureoutthedirectionitcamefrom.Shehadgottennowherewhenthefrontdeskphonerangandinterruptedher,thesoundshrillinthenightair
Shepickedupthephone,hervoicealmostcrackingwithdisuse.“SunDownMotel,canIhelpyou?”
Nothing.Justthefaintsoundofbreathing.
Shehungupandstaredatthephoneforaminute.She’dhadasimilarcallbefore,andshewasn’tquitesurewhattodoaboutit.Whocalledamotelinthemiddleofthenightandbreathedintothephone?
Thenextnightfoundherstandinginfrontoftheofficedooragain,waitingforthesmoke.Ifsomeonehadaskedherinthatmoment,shecouldnothavetoldthemwhatshewaslookingfor.Aman?Amalfunctionintheductsystem?Anillusioninherownmind?Itwasn’tclear,butthesmokebotheredher.Itwaseerie,butitalsomadeherfeellessalone.Ifshehadtoputitintowords,perhapsshe’dsaythatshewantedtoknowwhowaskeepinghercompany.
Shewasinterruptedthatnightbysomeoneactuallycomingthroughtheofficedoor—arealperson,onenotsmokingacigarette.Hewasatruckergettingaroomtocatchafewhours’sleepbeforecontinuingsouth.Vivtookhisthirtydollarsandheinkedhisnameintotheguestbook.Afterhimcameanotherman,alsosolo,wearingasuitandtrenchcoat,carryingasuitcaseandabriefcase.He,too,paidthirtydollarsandwrotehisnameintheguestbook:MichaelEnnis.Hemightstayanextranight,heexplained,becausehewaswaitingforaphonecalltotellhimwheretotravelnext,andhemightnotgetittomorrow.
“Soundsexciting,”Vivsaidabsentlyassheopenedthekeydrawerandtookoutthekeytoroom211.Shewasputtinghimseveraldoorsawayfromthetrucker;shealwaysgavepeopletheirspace.Nightpeopledidn’tliketohaveneighborstooclose.
Hedidn’treply,sosheraisedhergazeandsawhimlookingather.Hislookwascalmandpolite,butitwasfixedonhernonetheless.“Notreally,”
hesaid,inreplytohercomment.“I’masalesman.Igowheremybossestellmetogo.”
Shenoddedandgavehimthekey.Shedidnotaskwhathesold,becauseitwasnoneofherbusiness.Whenheleft,shecouldnothavesaidwhathelookedlike.
???
Thenextnight,shetriedadifferenttactic:Shestoodoutsidetheofficedoor,herbacktothewall,andwaitedforthesmellofsmoke.Shesuspecteditcamefromoutsidethedoornow,notthroughthevents,soshemovedclosertothesupposedsource.Itwasabeautifulnight,silentandwarm,thebreezejustenoughtoliftherhairfromherneckandfanhersweatycheeks.
Ittooklessthantwentyminutesthistime:Thetangoffreshcigarettesmokecametohernostrils.Jackpot.Sheshuffleddownthewalkway,followingitslowlyawayfromthedirectionoftheroomsandaroundtheothersideofthebuilding,towardtheemptypool.Shelostthesmelltwiceandstoodstillbothtimes,waitingforittocomeback.Silentlytrackingherprey.
Sheedgedouttowardthedrainedandemptiedpool,stoppingnexttothefencethathadbeenarounditallsummerforreasonsunknown.Shelookedaroundinthedark,seeingnothingandnoone.Maddeningly,thesmellcameandwent,asifwhoevercreateditwasmoving.“Hello?”shesaidintotheblackness,theconcreteandtheemptypoolandthetreesbeyond,thedesertedhighwayfartoherleftpasttheparkinglot.“Hello?”
Therewasnoanswer,butthehairprickledonthebackofherneck.Herthroatwenttight,andshehadamomentofpanic,hardandnauseating.Shehookedherfingersthroughthepool’schain-linkfencetoholdonandclosedhereyesuntilitpassed.
Shesmelledsmoke,andsomeonewalkedpasther,behindherback,infiveevenlypacedsteps.Aman’sheavyfootsteps.Andthentherewas
silenceagain.
Herbreathwasfrozen,herhandscold.Thathadbeensomeone,something.Somethingreal,butnotarealperson.Thestepshadstartedandstopped,likeafigurecrossinganopendoorway.
Vivhadheardghoststories.Everyonehas.Butshehadneverthoughtshe’dbestandingholdingachain-linkfence,tryingnottovomitinfearasherknuckleswentwhiteandsomethingothercrossedbehindherback.Itwascrazy.Itwasthekindofstoryyoutoldyearslaterwhileyourlistenersrolledtheireyes,becausetheyhadnoideahowtheterrorfeltonthebackofyourneck.
BehindViv’sshoulder,themotelsignwentdark.
Thegarishlightvanished,sheheardasadzapasthebulbsgaveup,andsheturnedtoseethesigndark,thewordsSUNDOWNnolongerlitup,thewordsVACANCY.CABLETV!flickeringoutbeneaththem.Shewalkedtowardthesign,unthinking,ahardbeatofpanicinherchest.Shehadnoideawheretheswitchtothesignwas,whethersomeonecouldturnitoff.Shehadneverhadtoturnthesignonoroffinherweekshere—theeveningclerkalwaysturnediton,andthemorningclerkalwaysturneditoff.Thelossofitsbright,uglylightwaslikeanalarmgoingoffupherspine.
Sheturnedthecorner,openingupherviewoftheinteriorofthemotel’sL.Shestoppedandcriedout,becausethelightsweregoingout.
AttheendoftheshortlegoftheL—room130andtheoneaboveit,room230—thelightsonthewalkwayinfrontblinkedout.Thenthelightsinfrontofrooms129and229,andon,andon.Asifsomeonewereflickingoutarowofswitchesonebyone,leavingtheentiremotelindarkness.
Vivstoodfrozen,unabletodoanythingbutwatchastheSunDownMotelwentdark.Thelastlightstogooutweretheoffice,closesttoherattheendofthelongrowoftheL,followedbytheneonsignthatsaidOFFICE.
Andthenshewasstandinginfrontofablackholeontheedgeoftheroad,withoutasoundorashuffleoffeet,withoutanothersoulformiles.
Shecouldhearherbreathsawinginandoutofherthroat.Whatthehellisgoingon?Herminddidn’tgotomundaneexplanations,likeanelectricalmalfunctionorevenablackout;itwasthreeo’clockinthemorning,thesodiumlightsonNumberSixRoadwerestilllit,andshe’djustheardthesmokingman’sfootstepsbehindher.No,thiswasnomalfunction,andsomethingtoldheritwasjuststarting.
Andnowamutedclickingsoundcamefromthemotel.Click,click.Vivpeeredthroughthedarktoseeoneofthemoteldoorsdriftopen,thenanother.Thedoorswereopeningontheirown,eachrevealingastripofdeeperdarknessoftheroominside,asifinvitingher.Comeintothisone.
Thisone.Thisone…
Herpanickedgazewenttohercar.Shecouldgetin,gotothenearestpayphone.Call—who?Thepolice,maybe.Orgotoanall-nightdinerandsitthereuntilwhateverthiswaswentaway.Theproblemwasthatherpurse,withherkeysinit,wasintheoffice.
Thewindwassoftandcoolinherhair,makinghershiver.Thedoorshadfinishedclickingopenandwerequiet.TherewasnotasinglesoundfromNumberSixRoadbehindher.
Doit.Shecould.Gototheofficedoor,pushitopen.Herpursewasnexttothechairbehindthereceptiondesk.Fourstepsintotheoffice,swoopdownandgrabthepurse,thenturnandleave.
Shemadeherfeetmove.Hersneakersshuffledagainstthegravelagain,andshefoundherselfliftingherfeettomovemorequietly.Asifwhateveritwascouldbefooledintothinkingshewasn’tcoming.Asifwhateveritwascouldn’tseeheralready.
Still,shefoundherselfrunningtowardthedoor,tryingtokeepherstepslightInandout.Justinandout.Icandoitquickand—
Herfoothitthesteptothewalkway,andsomethingbangedoverhead.
Oneoftheroomdoors,bangingopen.Vivjumpedandmadeasoundinherthroatasfootstepspoundedthewalkaboveher,shortandstaccato,afullstompingrun.ThestepspoundeddowntothebottomoftheL,thenturnedthecorner.Avoicerangoutintothenightair—achild’s.Iwanttogointhepool!
Vivtwistedtheknobtotheofficedoorandduckedintothedarkness.Shestumbledthroughtheoffice,herbreathinwhoopinggasps,herhandsflailingforherpurse,herkeys.Hereyesstung,andsherealizeditwasbecausethesmellofsmokewassostrong,asifsomeonehadbeensmokinginhereforhours.
Shehadjustfoundherpurseinthedark,herhandsclutchingthebulgeofdarkpurplefakeleather,whensheheardthevoice.Aman’svoice,cryingoutfromtheothersideofthedesk.
ForGod’ssake,callanambulance!thevoicesaid,ascloseasifthemanwasstandingthere.Someonecallanambulance!
Vivdroppedherpurse,thekeysflyingoutandlandingonthefloorinatinkleofmetal.Shegaspedanotherbreath,snatchingthemupandrisingtoruntothedoor.SherantoherCavalierandwrenchedopenthedriver’sdoor,launchingherselfinside.Shethrewherpurseontothepassengerseat,gotbehindthewheel,andslammedthedoor.
Themotelinfrontofherwindshieldwasstilldarkassheturnedthekeyandpumpedthegas,herfoothittingthefloorboard.Nothinghappened;thecardidn’tstart.Shepumpedthegasandcrankedthekeyagain,asoundofpanicinherthroat,tearstrackingdownhercheeks,butstillnothing.
Sheraisedhergazeasafiguresteppedinfrontofthecar.Itwasawoman.Shewasyoung,thirtymaybe,andhaddarkblondcurlyhairpulledbackfromherfaceandfallingdownhercollarbones,darkeyes,afaceofperfectoval.Intheshockofthemoment,Vivsaweverythingclearly:thewoman’sslimshoulders,herlong-sleeveddressinapatternoflarge,darkpurpleflowers,thebelttiedinabowatherwaist.ShewasstaringthroughthewindshieldatViv,andhereyes…hereyes…
Vivopenedhermouthtoscream,thenfroze.Nosoundcameout.Sheinhaledabreath,fixedforalongmomentinthewoman’sgaze.
Thewomanwasn’treal,andyet—Vivsawher.Lookedather.Andthewomanlookedback,hereyesblazingwithsomekindofungodlyemotionthatmadeVivwanttoscreamandweepandthrowupallatonce.
Shegrippedthesteeringwheel,feelinghergorgerise.
Therewasabangasthewoman’spalmsslammedthehoodofthecar—arealsound,hardandviolent.Thewomanstoodwithherarmsbraced,staringthroughthewindshieldatViv.Hermouthmoved.Vivcouldhearnosound,orperhapstherewasnone.Butitwasn’thardtotranslatethesingleword.
Run.
Vivmadeastrangledsoundandjerkedthekeyagain.Theenginedidn’tturn.Shetwistedthekeyandstompedthepedal,tearsstreamingdownherfaceasafrustratedscreamcameoutofhermouth.Whenshedaredtolookupagainthewomanwasgone,butthemotelwasstilldark,thenightaroundherevendarker.
Theenginewasflooded.Thecarwouldn’tstart.Shehadnowheretogo.
Vivpusheddownthelocksonherdoorsandcrawledintothebackseat,curlingintoassmallaballasshecould,crouchingbehindthepassenger
seatsoshecouldn’tseethroughthewindshieldanymore.Likesomeoneescapingthelineoffire.Shestayedthereforalongtime.
Whenthelightswentonagainandthesignlitup,shewasstillweeping.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Afterallofmyresearch,Iwasn’tsurewhatIexpectedattheSunDown.I’dseenanimageofitonGoogleEarth,anditlookedlikeaneverydayroadsideplace:astripofrooms,asign.Iknewfullwellthatmyfamilyhistory,andmyoddfixation,gaveitahaloofimportanceinmymind.Buttoanyoneelse,IfiguredtheSunDownwouldbemundane.
TheSunDownwasnotmundane.
Isteppedoutontothegravellotandlookedaround.ThebuildingwasshapedlikeanL,withdoorsfacinganopen-airwalkway.Itwasfulldarknow,andtheblueandyellowsignblinkeddownonuswithitsshrillmessageaboutcableTVandvacancy.Therewasasinglecarinthelot,anoldTercelparkedintheshadowsofthefarcorner.Therewerenoothercarsparkedinfrontofthemotel’sdoorways,nosignofanyoneatall.
Heathergotoutofthepassengersideandwestoodinabreathofsilence.
Notrafficpassedontheroadbehindus.Beyondthemotelwereonlytreesanddarknesswithahalf-moonhighinthesky.Izippedthecollarofmycoatupandstaredatthebuilding,transfixed,takinginthedimlightsonthewalkway,theunevenpatternstheymade,theblankreflectionsonthemotelwindows.Foraplacethatwasbuiltforpeopletocometo,ithadanairsodesertedandquietIfeltforaminutelikeIwassomewhereunearthly,likeagraveyardoranIcelandiclandscape.
Heatherseemedtofeelthesame,becauseshestoodnexttomeinsilence.Shehadlefttheponchobehindandwasnowswathedinablackpuffycoat,practicallyaparka.IhadtheideathatHeatherwasperpetuallycold.
“Notcreepy,”myroommatefinallysaid,hervoicelowinthenightair.
“Notcreepyatall.”
MygazetraveledtotheOFFICEsign,whichwaslitup.Intheory,someonemustbeinside,butIfoundIdidn’treallywanttoknow.“Let’slookaround,”Isaidinstead.
Wecircledthebuilding,lookingatthewalkwaysandthecloseddoors.
Thewalkwaysweredated,andthedoorsstillhadknobswithkeyholes;itwaspracticallythesameplacemyaunthadseenthirty-fiveyearsago.
Aroundtheothersideofthebuildingwefoundanemptypool,surroundedbyadilapidatedchain-linkfence.Itwasdarkerhere,butevenwithouttheextralightIcouldseethatthepoolhadn’tjustbeenclosedfortheseason.
Theedgesoftheconcretewerechippedandcracked,andtheentirepoolwasfilledwithdirtandoldleaves.Thepoolhadclosedyears,maybedecades,agoandwasnevergoingtoopenagain.
Imademyselfthinkpastthecreepfactor,thinkpasttheclammycoldinmyspine,andremembermyauntViv.Ifyouweregoingtodisappearfromthisplace,wherewouldyougo?
Themostobviousanswerwastheroad.Vivhadlefthercarbehind,butsomeonecouldhaveshovedherintotheircaranddrivenaway.Butthatopenedupanewlistofquestions.Howhadthepersondoneit?Hadtheyknockedherunconscious?Thenewspaperreportsdidn’tmentionanybloodorsignofastruggle.HadthepersonluredVivoutofthefrontofficesomehow?Beggedforemergencyhelp,perhaps,orpretendedtoneedherforsomething?HadthepersonplannedtotakeVivspecifically,orwasitdoneonthespurofthemoment?
Iwalkedawayfromthepoolandstartedtocirclebackaroundthefrontofthemotel.IwishednowI’dcomeindaylight,soIcouldseethelandscapebetter.Maybeindaylightthemotelwouldn’tloomquitesoweirdandsinister.
Iwaslucky,actually,thattheSunDownwasstillalmostexactlyasitwasin1982.Ifithadbeenbulldozedandreplacedwithastripofbig-boxstores,Iwouldn’tbeabletomapoutwhereVivcouldhavegone.Whatifshehadn’tleftbycar?Couldshehaverunsomewhereonfoot?
“Heather,”Isaid,“doyourememberwhat’saroundhere?Say,ifsomeonewerewalking?”
“Oh,God,letmethink,”Heathersaid,followingmyfootsteps.“Ithinkit’sjustwoodsandmaybefarmlandoverthatway,behindthemotel.You’dhavetogomilesbeforeyouhitanything.”
“Whatabouteitherwayuptheroad?”
“You’dhitagasstationthatway,”Heathersaid,pointingalongNumberSixRoadinthedirectionoutofFell,“butagainit’samile.AndIdon’tknowifitwastherein1982.Thatway”—shepointedinthedirectionofFell,theroadwe’djustdrivenuptogethere—“there’saturnofftowardCoopersvilletwomilesup,andpastthatareafewoldhousesandaValueMartbeforeyouhittheedgeoftown.”
“IwonderifIcanfinda1982map,”Isaid.
“Probablyinthecitylibrary,”Heatheragreed.“Someonediedinthatpool,bytheway.”
Iturnedandlookedather.“What?”
“Seriously,Carly.”Herpalecheekswerereddenedbythecoldbreeze,herblondhairtouslingarounditsbobbypin.“Imean,comeon.I’dbetathousanddollars.Someonedied,andtheyemptieditandcloseditoffandnooneeverwentthereagain.”
Ipressedmylipstogether.“Maybetheycloseditbecausetheydon’thaveenoughcustomerstokeepopeningit,”Isaid.“Like,none.”
“Duh,”Heathersaid,“theyhavenocustomersbecausesomeonediedinthepool.”
Iopenedmymouthtoanswerher,butavoicecalledout,“Heythere!
CanIhelpyou?”
Weturnedandsawamanstandinginfrontoftheoffice.Hewaswatchingus,thoughhehadnotcomeoffthewalkwaytogetanycloser.
Withthelightfromthesignoverhisshoulder,wecouldonlyseethathewastall,beefy,andsomewhatyoung.
“Sorry!”Icalledouttohim.“We’rejustlookingaround.”
Themanshiftedhisweightuneasily.“Thatisn’tagoodidea,”hesaid.
“Nooneissupposedtogoneartheoldpoolarea.”
“Okay,”Isaid,tryingtosoundagreeable.Istartedtowardhim,Heatherfollowingbehindme.
Whenwegotcloser,Icouldseehewasaboutthirty,withdarkhaircutclosetohisscalp.Hewaswearingawhiteshirtandabluepolyesteruniformvestwithdarkdresspants.ThevesthadthewordsSunDownMotelinyellowovertheleftbreast.“Doyouneedaroom?”heaskedus.
“No,”Isaid.“Sorry,we’rejustcurious.”
Thatseemedtoconfusehim.“Aboutwhat?”
“Ilikeoldmotels,”Isaid,inspired.“Youknow,thesemidcenturyones.Ithinkthey’reneat.It’ssortofahobbyofmine.”
Westeppedontothewalkway.Theman’sgazemovedbetweenmeandHeather.“I’veneverheardofanyonewithahobbylikethat,”hesaid.
Ilookedathisuniformvestandfeltmyfascinationrampingup.ThiswastheplacewhereVivhadworkedformonthsbeforeshedisappeared.
She’dlikelystoodinthisexactspot.Hadthevestsbeenthesamein1982?IhadthefeelingofVivnearby,lookingovermyshoulder,likeI’dhadinapartmentC.Iwassoclose,withjustthethinshimmeroftimebetweenmeandher.InFell,thatshimmerseemedtobarelyexist.“CanIseetheoffice?”Iaskedhim
Helookedevenmoreconfused,butHeathergavehimapolitesmile,andheshrugged.“Isuppose.”
Theofficewasdated,thewallsdullbrown,thereceptiondesklargeandheavy.Istaredinshockedaweatthebiglandlinetelephonewithitsplasticbuttonsforvariouslines,theleatherbookwithhandwrittenguestentries,thewornofficechair,thecoathookinthecorner,eventhespaceheaternexttothedeskthatlookedlikeafirehazardwithitsyellowedcord.“Jesus.
Whatisitwiththisplace?”Iaskedmyselfinamurmur.
“Whatwasthat?”themansaid.
“Nothing,sorry.”Itriedgivinghimasmile.“Haveyouworkedherelong?”
“Afewmonths,Iguess.”Nowtheman’slookhadturnedalittlesullenandcuriouslyblank,asifhewasrapidlybecominguninterestedinus.
“Doyoulikeit?”Heatherasked.
“Notreally.”Helookedaround,likesomeonemighthear.“It’sokay,Iguess,”heamended.“Wedon’tgetverymanycustomers.”
Itriedtogetmoreinformationfromhim,butitgotharderandharder.
HisnamewasOliver.Yes,itwasveryquietouthere.No,hehadnoideahowoldthemotelwas.No,hedidn’tthinkthey’deverrenovatedit,buthedidn’treallyknow.Heatherwanderedtotheofficedoor,whereshelookedoutthelittlewindowattheworldoutsidewhilewetalked.
BythetimeI’dgivenuponOliverandweweredrivingbacktotown,thefascinationandexcitementhaddrainedoutofme,leavingonlyfrustration.“Idon’tknowwhatI’mdoing,”IadmittedtoHeather.“Imean,whatdidIthinkIwouldlearn,goingthere,standinginthatoffice?HowdidIthinkthatwouldhelpme?”
“Youwantedtofeelclosertoher,”Heathersaid,asiftheanswerweresimple.“Youwantedtoseewhatherlifewaslike.”
“Well,IguessIaccomplishedthat,sincenothingatthatmotelhaschangedsince1982.”
Wewerequietforaminute,thedarkroadgoingbyoutsideourwindow.
Heatherbitherlip.
“What?”Isaid.
“I’mnotsureIshouldshowyou.”
“Well,nowyouhavetoshowme.Whatisit?”
Shehesitated,thentookapieceofpaperfromherpocketandunfoldedit.
Helpwanted.Nightshiftdeskclerk.Startimmediately.Pleaseinquire.Aphonenumber.
“Noway,”Isaid,staringatitindisbelief.“Nofreakingway.They’rehiringformyaunt’sactualshift?”
“Iknow,it’sweird,”Heathersaid.
“Weirddoesn’tevendescribeit.”Isighed,runningahandovermyponytail.“WhyamIactuallytemptedtoapply?AmIinsane?”
“Itwouldbecreepy,right?Butitwouldalsobekindofcool.”
ItwasexactlywhatIwasthinking.SpendmynightsattheSunDown?Iwasthekindofgirlwhowouldspendthenightinasupposedlyhauntedhouse,justtoseewhatwouldhappen.Thatsoundedlikemyidealvacation.
“Maybetheywon’thireme.”
“Um,Idon’tthinkthey’reexactlyoverrunwithoptions.”
Myheartwasbeatingfaster.Excitement,orfear?“Wecouldstayintouchthroughthenight.Doregularcheck-ins.”
“YoucanbringmyMacewithyou.Ihaveextra.”
“Heather,myauntvanishedfromthatsamespot.Onthenightshift.”
“Sure,butthatwasthirty-fiveyearsago.Doyouthinkwhoeverdiditisstillhangingaround?Hemightnotstillbealive,andifheis,he’soldnow.”
“I’mnotsupposedtobehereverylong.YetIthinkIwanttodothis.Iwanttostay.Why?”
“Becauseyou’reaFellgirl,”Heathersaidwithanod.“IcalleditwhenImetyou.”
“Thisplaceisdark.”
“Someofuslikethedark.It’swhatweknow.”
ImadeaturnnexttoanoldtheatercalledtheRoyal,whichhadboarded-upwindows.ThemarqueestilladvertisedashowingofYou’veGotMail.“Icouldworkafewshifts,findwhatthereistofind,andbail,”Isaid.“Ican
doitforafewnights,right?DowhateverVivdid.Seethingsthroughhereyes.”
“You’vecomethisfar,”shesaid.“Areyougoingtoturnaroundnowandgobacktocollege?Itdoesn’tseemright,leavingyourauntinthelurchlikethat.”
Viv.WhateverIwasafraidof,Vivhadgonethroughworse.She’dgonethroughsomethingawful,somethingterrifying,andinallthistime,noonehadeversolvedit.Noonehadevenfoundherbody.Iwastheonlyonetodoit.Todoanything.
WhichmeantIneededtoworknightsattheSunDownMotel.
“Okay,”Isaid.“I’lldoit.Whatcouldpossiblygowrong?”Fell,NewYork
September1982
VIV
Aweekafterthenightthemotelwentdark,VivhadtocallthepoliceforthefirsttimeinhercareerattheSunDown.
She’dthoughtaboutquittingafterthatterriblenight.She’dthoughtofpackingherbagsandgoingbacktoIllinois.Butwhatwouldshesaywhenshegotthere?Isawaghost,soIranhome?
Shewastwentyyearsold.Whatwouldyoudoifyoueversawrealtrouble?hermotherhadsaid.Goingbacktoheroldbedroom,toworkingatthepopcornstandatthedrive-in,wasoutofthequestion.
Besides,partofherwonderedwhothewomanintheflowereddresswas.
Somethingaboutthewoman’sanger,herobviousanguish,spoketoher.
SoshewentbacktoworkattheSunDown.
Thenightofthepolice,shebroughtabolognasandwichwithhertowork—WonderBread,bologna,oneKraftsingle,adabofmustard.Thebestmealyoucouldhaveinthemiddleofthenightwhenyoumadethreedollarsperhour.Itusuallysufficedjustfine,buttonightthebolognadidn’tcutit.Shefoundherselfthinkingaboutthecandymachine.
ThecandymachinewasbehindadoormarkedAMENITIES,onthefirstlevelnexttoroom104,inatinyroomitsharedwiththeicemachine.Thecandymachineworked,andithadcandyinit;Vivfigureditmustberefilledduringthedaylighthours.ItcarriedSnickers,andtheyweretwentycents,andVivhadtwodimesinherpocket.
Shetookherjacketfromthehookandputitonoverheruniformvest.
Pullingthezipperup,shesteppedoutsidetheofficeandturnedthecorner.
TheSunDownactuallyhadafewgueststonight,soshewasn’tentirelyalone.TherewasacoupleontheirwaytovisitfamilyinNorthCarolina;
therewasayoungguywholookeddeadonhisfeet,asifhe’dbeendrivingfordays.Therewasamanwhohadtakenaroomalonewithnoluggage.
Still,shefeltthelow-levelfearshealwaysfeltwhensheturnedthecornerandsawthelonglegoftheLstretchingawayfromher,therowsofdoors,thefeeblebeamsfromtheoverheadlightbulbs,someofthemburnedoutlikebrokenteeth.Herspinetightenedandsherememberedthefeelingofthesigngoingout,thebuzzingblinkingintosilence,thedoorsopeningonebyone.Thefootsteps,thevoices,thesmoke.Andthewoman.
Run.
Shelookedaroundtheparkinglot,atthebuilding.Shesawnosignofthewomannow,butsheimaginedshecouldfeelher.Maybeitwasnothing;shedidn’tknow.Ican’tleaveher,shethought.
Vivhadboughtaspiralnotebookandapenatastationerystoreafterthatnight.Atfirstshejustthoughtaboutit,glancingatthebookeveryonceinawhile,buteventuallyshestartedwriting.Shewrotedownwhathadhappenedthatnight,whatthewomanlookedlike,whatthevoiceshadsaid.
Itgotthethoughtsoutofherownhead,madethemreal.Thenotebookbecameheronlycompanyonthelongnights—thatandausedcopyofTheHotelNewHampshire,whichshedoggedlykeptreadingthoughshedidn’tfullyunderstandit.
Shewasthinkingvaguelyofthenovel,ofwhethershe’dtakeitoutofherpurseandtryagain,assheenteredtheAMENITIESroomforherSnickersbar.Summerhadturnedintoearlyfall,theheatfallingaway,thenightsgettingcoolerandbreezier.Shesidledintothetinyroom,whichwasbigenoughforonlyoneperson,andcontemplatedthecandymachine.
Outside,anew-lookingThunderbirdpulledintotheparkinglot.Awomangotout,puttingherkeysinherpurse.Vivpeekedaroundthedoorandwatchedher.Thewomanwasinherlatetwenties,wearingpalebluejeansandawhiteblousewithsmallredpolkadotsonit.Asilverbeltandanklebootscompletedtheoutfit.Herdarkhairwascutshortandteased,sprayedbackfromhertemplesandawayfromherforehead.Shehadblueeyesunderdarkslashesofbrowsandacurltoherlipthatwassensualandfullofattitude.ShelookedlikePatBenatar’snot-so-coolsister—prettyandfashionable,rebelliousbutnotquiterock-’n’-roll
Shedidn’theadforthemotelofficetocheckinbutinsteadwalkedtothedoortoroom121,theroomVivhadgiventhemanwithnoluggage.
Vivduckedbehindthedoorandwatched.Themanin121,sherecalled,wasn’tbad-looking,buthewasnearforty.Whatwasthisgirldoingmeetinghimatamotel?ThehookerswhocametotheSunDownwerewashed-outwomenwithstringyhairandtightclothes,whospentafewhoursinaroomandpaidincrumpledfivesandtens.Thiswomanlookednothinglikethat.
ShelookedlikeshecouldhavecomefromViv’ssuburbinGrisham.Vivwatchedasthewomanknockedonceonthedoorofroom121.ThedoorwasopenedbythemanVivhadcheckedin;hehadtakenoffhiscoatandwaswearingdresspantsandashirtunbuttonedatthethroat,hisshoesoff.
Hesmiledatthewoman.“Helen,”hesaid.
Thewomancockedherhip,givingthemanapose,thoughhersmilewaswarm.“Robert.”
Robertheldouthishand.“Comein.”
BehindViv,theicemachinemadeawhirringnoiseandkickedtolife,makingVivjump.SheduckedbackintotheAMENITIESroombeforetheycouldseeherlooking.Shescrambledforhertwodimesandshovedthemintothecandymachine,andwasjustdiggingbehindthemachine’sflapforherSnickersbarwhenthedoorswungshutandshewassuddenlyinthedark.
Vivfroze.Shecouldseeabsolutelynothing—shetriedwavingherhandinfrontofherfacebutsawonlyblackness.Shewavedherarmsinfrontofher,touchingthefrontofthecandymachine,feelingherwayalongit.Theicemachinecontinuedtoclickandwhirrbehindherlikeitwasspeakinganancientlanguage,andicecubesclickedintoitsplasticcontainerwithachatteringsound.Vivfeltfranticallyforalightswitch,herbreathinherthroat.
Therewasnolightswitch,justblankwall.Shefoundtheoutlineofthedoorbeneathherfingertipsandfollowedittothedoorknob,whichsheturnedandpushed.Aglimpseofparkinglot,arushofsweetcoldair—andthedoorswungclosedagain.
“Hey,”Vivsaidaloud,hervoicecracking.Then:“Hey,”alittlebitlouder.Shefoundthedoorknobagain,graspedit.Itwouldn’tturn.
Theicemachineshutoffabruptly,andnowallshecouldhearwasherownbreathsawinginandoutofherlungs.“Hey,”shesaidagain,louder,thoughshedidn’tknowwhoshewastalkingto.Shebangedthesideofherfistonthedooronce,wonderingifanyoneinanyoftheroomswouldhearher.Iftheydid,wouldtheybothertocomeout?
Shebangedagainandwasshovedbackwardbyaforceagainstherchest.
Shestumbled,thehardboneofhershoulderbladehittingtheedgeofthecandymachine,painflaringupward.Sheflungherhandsbackandtriedtoscrabbleforpurchase.
Run,avoicesaid,abreathofwind,ahissofair.
Thedoorflungopen,sohardithitthewallbehinditwithabang.Thenithunglimply,creakingintheSeptemberwind.
Vivboltedoutofthedoorandintotheparkinglot.Shewasgaspingforbreath,butonethingrangaroundandaroundinhermind,likeanalarmgoingoffwithoutstopping:Thosewerehands.ThosewereHANDS.Twohands,twopalms,theirdistinctshapeagainstherribcageastheyshovedher.Vivstumbled,putherhandsonherknees,tryingnottothrowupwithfear.
Thatwaswhen,throughthepanickedringinginherears,shefinallyheardtheshouting.
???
Theofficewasquietandtidy,justasshe’dleftit.Shecamethroughthedooronnumbfeetanddroppedintothechairbehindthedesk,herhandsshaking,lookingforsomethingJanicehadpointedoutonherfirstnight.
Shefoundittackedtothewallnexttothedesk:apieceofpaperlabeledFELLPOLICEDEPTIncaseanyonegetsrowdy,Janicehadtoldher.Theyknowwhoweare.Vivpickeduptheofficephone.
Therewasnodialtoneontheotherendoftheline.Instead,therewasaman’svoice.“Helen,justtellmewhat’sgoingon.”
Vivwentstill.
“Ihavenoidea.”Thewoman’sreplywascalm,hervoicelowandsexyaswhiskey.“Someoneisarguingintheparkinglot.Twomen.Theylookliketruckers.Thenightshiftgirlsaidshe’dcallthepolice.”
Thatwasme,Vivthought.Isaidthat.
“Howlatewillyoube?”themansaid.
“Ihavenoidea,”Helenreplied.“Icouldbeallnight.”
Vivwentverystill,tryingnottobreatheandlistening.Ihavenoideahow,butI’mhearingthephonelinefromroom121.
Thenshethought,Ishouldhangup
“Ijustwantyouhomesafe,”themansaid.“I’mwaitingforyou.I’llstayup.”
“Youknowthatisn’tagoodidea,”Helensaid,hervoicetired.“I’llcallyouwhenI’mfree,okay?”
Vivlistenedastheysaidafewmorewords,thenhungup.Shefeltalittlebitsick.Ishouldhavehungup,shethought.Whydidn’tIhangup?Shepicturedherselfcallingthemanback—thoughshedidn’thaveaphonenumber—andsaying,Yourwifeislyingtoyou!
Butofcourseshewouldn’tdothat.
Insteadshetoggledthephoneafewtimestomakesurethelinewasclear,thendialedthenumberfortheFellPoliceDepartment.
Abored,gravellymalevoiceanswered.“FellPD.”
“Hi,”Vivsaid.“I,um,IworkattheSunDownMotel.Atreception.”
“Yeah.”
“There’safightgoingoninourparkinglot.Twotruckers.They’re,um,fighting.”
Thisdidn’timpresshim.“Theyarmed?”
“Idon’tthinkso?”shesaid,hatinghowshesoundedlikeastupidgirl,whichofcourseheassumedshewas.Shethoughtofthewomanwiththewhiskeyvoice,howeffortlesslydignifiedshewas,andshemadeanefforttochangehertone,soundmoreworldly.“Ididn’tseeanyweapons.Butthey’rehavingafistfightandpunchingeachotherrightnow.”
“’Kay,”themansaid.“Holdtight.Chancesarethey’llsortitoutthemselves,butwe’llsendsomeoneanyway.”
Tenminuteslater,thefightwasstillhappening.TheguestshadstayedintheirroomsandVivwasstandingbytheofficedoor,pokingherheadoutandbitingthehangnailonherthumb.Hershoulderthrobbed.Shecaughtafaintwhiffofcigarettesmoke.Notnow,shepleadedsilentlytothesmokingman,Notnow
Apolicecruiserpulledintotheparkinglot,silent,cherrylightsoff.Itpulledupinfrontofthetwotrucksthatwereparkedinthelot,nexttothefightingmen,andacopgotout.Vivbreathedasighofrelief,andthensherealizedthecopwastoosmall,tooslight,thehairtiedupatthebackofherneck.Itwasawoman.
Shetookanotherstepoutontothewalkwaytoseemoreclosely.Awomancop?She’dneverseenoneexceptonCagney&Lacey.
Butthiscopwasreal.UnlikeCagneyandLaceyshewaswearingauniform,darkbluepolyesterwithacaponherhead.Herbeltwasheavywithagunholster,anightstick,andaradio,butitfitherhipssnuglyandshewalkedwithaswaggerthatlookedpowerfulandconfident.AsVivwatched,shewalkedstraighttothefightingtruckersandpulledonemanofftheother,breakingthemup.
Thetruckersobeyed.Theylookedangryandonespitonthegroundnexttothecop’sfeet,buttheystoppedfightingandstoodstillasthecopspoketothem.Vivwatchedhertakeoutanotebookandpenandstartwritingdowninformation,likeshewasn’tatleastfiftypoundslighterthaneachman.
Whenthecopfinishedwriting,shetooktheradiofromherbeltandtalkedintoit.Bothtruckersretreatedtotheirtrucks.Theonewhohadspitturnedandaddedasecondgob,aimingitsoithitclosetothecop’sheelwithouthittingher.Thecopdidn’tseemtonotice,orcare.
SheturnedandsawVivstandingatthecorneroftheoffice.Caughtgawking,Vivraisedahandinashyhello.ThecopnoddedandstartedinherdirectionasVivduckedbackintotheoffice.
“Crazynight,”thecopsaidasshefollowedVivthroughtheofficedoor.
Upclose,Vivcouldseethatthecopwasn’tmorethanthirty,withdarkbrownhairtiedneatlybackunderhercap.Shewasn’tpreciselypretty,butshehadhighcheekbones,darkbrowneyes,andatiredairofcompleteconfidence.Vivretreatedbehindthedeskandtouchedherteasedhair,suddenlyself-consciousaboutherwhiteblouseonitsthirdwearandheruglyuniformvest.
“Crazy,”Vivsaid,thinking,Youhavenoidea.Noideaatall.Shepressedhershakinghandstogetherandhidthemunderthedesk.Shecouldstillfeeltheimprintofthetwopalmsonherchest,shovingherbackward.
Sheworkedhardtotakeadeepbreath.
Thecopyankedachairfromitsspotagainstthewallnexttotherackofancientandwiltedtouristbrochuresandploppeddowninit,pullingouthernotebookandcrossingherlegs.“ItsayshereitwascalledinbyoneVivianDelaney.Isthatyou?”
“Yes,ma’am,”Vivsaid.
Thecopgaveheranamusedlook.“I’mnomoreama’amthanyouare,honey.MynameisAlmaTrent.OfficerTrent.Okay?”
“Yes,okay,OfficerTrent,”Vivsaid.Whywasitsocomfortingtohaveacoparound?Itwasaninstinctivething.Shecan’tprotectyoufromghosts,Vivremindedherself.Noonecan.
OfficerTrenttiltedherheadadegree,studyingViv.“Howoldareyou,anyway?”
“Twenty.”
“Uh-huh,”AlmaTrentsaid.Shehadano-boneswayofspeaking,buthereyesweren’tunkind.Withoutknowingshewasdoingit,Vivglancedandsawsheworenoweddingring.“Youfromaroundhere?”thecopasked.
“Huh?”Stupid,shesoundedsostupid.
“Here.”Thecopmadeacirclewithherindexfinger.“Aroundhere.Areyoufromit?”
“No,ma’am.OfficerTrent.I’mfromIllinois.”Vivclosedhereyes.“I’msorryIsoundlikethis.It’sbeenalongnight.I’venevertalkedtoapoliceman—woman—before.”
“That’sanicesortofpersontobe,”OfficerTrentsaid,againnotunkindly.“Thekindwhohasnevertalkedtothepolice,Imean.You’rethenightgirl,Itakeit?”
Thistime,shesoundedslightlylessidiotic.“Yes.”
“Onshifteverynight?”
“Yes,thoughIgetonenightaweekoff.”
“Workedherelong?”Thequestionswererapid-fire,probablytohelpVivkeepherthoughtsstraight.Itwasworking.
“Fourweeks,”Vivsaid,andthensherealizedshecouldn’trememberthelasttimeshe’dlookedatacalendar,takennoteofwhatdayitwas.“Five,maybe.”
“Youcalledusinbefore?”
“No.”
“Firsttime,then.”Itwasconversational,butOfficerTrent’sgazedidn’tleaveViv.“Nodisturbancesuntilnow?”
“No.”Unlessyoucountedthelightsgoingout,theghostscomingout,andwhateverhadbeenlurkingintheAMENITIESroom.Run.Vivclearedherthroatandtriednottoshudder.“It’susuallyquiethere.”
“Yeah,I’llbet,”thecopsaid.“Wesometimesgetcallsabouthookersanddealersouthere.Youseeanythinglikethat?”
Wasshesupposedtotellonheremployer?Whatifshegotfired?Shesawhookersanddealerseveryday;ifAlmaTrentdidn’tknowthat,she
wasn’taverygoodcop.“Idon’tknow,”Vivsaid.“Itkindofseemslikenoneofmybusiness.”
“Aphilosopher,Isee,”OfficerTrentsaid.“You’llfitrightinattheSunDown.”ShegaveVivasmileandleanedbackinherchair.“Iworknights,soit’susuallymewhogetsthecall.Drugdeals,drunkanddisorderly,fights,domestics,runawayteenagers.That’sthekindofthingthathappensouthere.Ifyou’vebeenherefiveweeks,Ithinkyouhavetheidea.”
Vivsatupinherchair.Forasecond,theghostswereforgotten.“Youworknights?Doyoulikeit?”
Almashrugged.“I’mtheonlywomanatthestation,sotheyputmeonnightsandtheywon’ttakemeoff,”shesaidmatter-of-factly.“Theyprobablywantmetoquit,butIhaven’tyet.TurnsoutIsortoflikethenightshift.Totellthetruth,Ibarelyrememberwhatdaytimelookslike,andIdon’tmissit.”
“I’mbarelyeventiredanymore,”Vivsaid.
Almanodded.“Theysayit’sbadforyou,butthenagain,everything’sbadforyou.Soda,cigarettes,younameit.Ifyoudon’thaveabodylikeOliviaNewton-John’s,thenyou’redoingsomethingwrong.Personally,Idon’tbuyit.Ithinkit’sinstructivetobeawakeinthemiddleofthenighteveryonceinawhile.Toreallyseewhatyou’remissingwhileyou’reusuallysleeping.”
“Noteverythingyouseeisgood,”Vivsaid.
“No,definitelynot.”Almasmiled.“Youseemlikeanicegirl.TheSunDownisalittleroughforyou,isn’tit?”
“Thepeoplearen’tsobad.”Thelivingones,anyway.Shechoseherwordscarefully.Shedidn’tevenknowOfficerTrent,butitfeltgoodtotalktosomeone,evenforafewminutes.“Ilefthome.Ijustwantedtobealoneforawhile,Iguess.”
“Fellisagoodplaceforthat.”Almastoodup.
ShehadwalkedmostofthewaytotheofficedoorwhenVivsaid,“Whodiedinthepool?”
Almastopped,turned.Hermouthwassetinaline.“What?”
Vivtookabreath,smelledsmokeagain.ForGod’ssake,callanambulance!Thevoicehadbeenrighthereinthisroom,nottwofeetaway.
AlmaTrenthadtoknow.“Someonediedinthepool,right?Akid.”
“Wheredidyouhearthat?”Alma’svoicewassharp,cautious.
Vivmadeherselfshrug.“Arumor.”
TherewasalongbeatofsilenceasAlmalookedather.Thenshesaid,
“Youshouldn’tbelieveeveryrumoryouhear.Butyes,aboydiedinthepooltwoyearsago.Hithisheadonthesideofthepool,hewentunconscious,andheneverwokeup.ButIdon’tknowhowyoucouldhaveheardthat,sinceJanicenevertalksaboutitandHenrycan’thavetoldyou.”
“Henry?”Vivasked.
“Themanwhoworkedhereatthetime,”Almasaid.“Hewastheonewhocalleditin.Hehadaheartattacksixmonthslater.”ShepointedtoViv.
“Hewassittinginthatverychair.”
Vivwassilent.Shethoughtshemightbesick.
“Somedayyou’regoingtotellmehowyouknewthat,”OfficerTrentsaid.“Thosearen’ttheworstthingsthathavehappenedhere.ButIthinkyouguessedthat,too.”Shenodded.“Haveanicenight,VivianDelaney.
Callmeifyouneedmeagain.”Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Theyhiredme.Thereprobablyweren’tverymanyotherapplicants;maybethereweren’tanyatall.ButIfoundmyselfateleveno’clockatnightfourdayslater,sittingintheSunDown’sofficewithamiserablemannamedChris,learningthejobofnightclerk.Chriswasaboutfifty,andhesaidhewasthesonofthemotel’soriginalowners.Heworeablueplaidflannelshirtandhigh-waistedjeans,andhewasasunhappyasanyguyI’devermet,eveninhighschool.Miserycameoffhimlikeasmell.
“Keysareinhere,”hesaid,openingthedeskdrawer.“Weneverchangedtoanelectroniccardsystem,becausethatcostsalotofmoney.Wehaveproblemswithelectronicsinthisplace,anyway.Wetriedabookingcomputerforawhile,butitneverworked,andeventuallyitjuststoppedturningon.Sowestillusethebook.”Hegesturedtothebigleatherbookonthedeskwhereguestswrotetheirnames.
“Okay,”Isaid.Myjobasabaristahadbeenwayhighertechthanthis.
“Landline,too,huh?”Igesturedattheoldphone.
Chrisglancedatit.“Youcanuseyourcellouthereifyougetreception.
Wedon’thaveWi-Fiunlessyoustealoneofthelocalsignalswhentheweatherisright.Again,theelectronicsproblem,andWi-Ficostsmoney.
Nancycomesatnooneverydaytomakeupanyroomsthathavebeenused
—you’llneverseeher.Dirtylaundrygoesinthebinintheback.Laundryispickedupanddroppedoffeveryweek,againduringtheday.Youwon’tseethem,either.”
IwasstillstuckontheInternetthing.“There’snoInternet?Noneatall?”
Thatgotmealookofdisdain.“Iguessthat’saproblemforsomeoneyourage,right?Ibetyou’dliketogetpaidtostayupallnightandTwitter.”
Igavehimmybestpokerface.“Yes,”Isaid.“It’sadreamofminetomakeminimumwagetositinamotelofficeandTwitter.Like,totally.
WhenIgetextraambitious,IFacebook.”
“Thiscountryisgoingtotheshitterinahandbasket,”Chrissaid.
“It’s‘hellinahandbasket,’actually.Thesaying.”
“Whatever.Wearthis.”Hehandedmeadarkbluevestwiththelogoonthebreast.“Honestly,Iwon’tknowifyouactuallywearit,butyou’resupposedto.Weweregoingtoupdatethem,but—”
“Thatcostsmoney,”Ifilledinforhim.
Igavehimasmile,buthejustlookedsad.“Myparentspaidasongforthisplace,”hesaid.“Dadboughtthelandoffofsomeoldfarmerandhadthemotelbuiltforcheap.Thelandwassupposedtobetherealinvestment,withthemoteljustawaytomakemoneytopaythetaxes.Iguesstheyweregoingtosellwhenthevaluewentup.”Hesighed.“Itneverdid,becausetheyneverbuiltthatdamnamusementpark.Nowmyparentsaredeadandtheplaceismine.Itriedtosellitaround2000,butnotakers.Sohereweare.Thefewthousandbucksayearitmakesischeaperthanpayinganagenttosellit.”
Itookthepolyestervest,feelingitsthickplastickytexturebetweenmyfingers.“Thenhowdoyoumakealiving?”Iasked.
“Isellcarinsurance.Alwayshave.StatelineAutointown.Ifyouneedinsurance,callme.”Helookedaround,hiseyestired.“Frankly,Ihatethisplace.Icomeouthereaslittleaspossible.EverymemoryIhaveofthisplaceisbad.”
Iwantedtoaskwhatthatmeant,buttheexpressiononhisfacehadshutdown.SoIsaid,“Ifyouwanttosavemoney,whyhaveanightclerkatall?”
“Wetriedgoingwithoutoneinthenineties,andfranklythehookerstookover.Theystayedhereallnight,diddamageIhadtofix,andtookoffwithoutpaying.Profitsactuallywentdown,ifyoucanbelieveit.Turnsouthavingsomeoneheremakespeoplebehave,atleastalittle.”Hepointedtoapinboardonthewallnexttothedeskwithanoteonit.“Callthecopsifyouneedto.Mostpeoplearejustjerkswhobackdownwhenyoutellthemtoknockitoff.We’veneverhadanyonegetviolentwithanightclerk.”
“Exceptfortheonewhowentmissing,”Isaid.
Chrisblinkedatme.“What?”
“Thenightclerkwhowentmissingin1982.”
“Howthehelldidyouhearaboutthat?”
“Itwasinthepapers,”Isaid,whichwasn’talie.
“Oh,God,”hesaid,runningahandthroughhisthinninghair.Heseemedhorrified.“Don’tbringthatup,okay?Ithoughteveryonehadforgottenaboutthat.Thatwasinmyparents’time.Youweren’tevenborn.”
“Didyouknowher?”Iaskedhim.
“Iwasakid,sono.”
“Whatdoyouthinkhappenedtoher?”
“Whoknows?It’sancienthistory.Pleasedon’tbringitup.Wedon’tneedevenfewercustomersthanwealreadyhave.”
ThatwastheendofmyinterviewwithChrisaboutmyaunt’sdisappearance.ScorezeroforNancyDrew.
WhenChrisleft,Idroppedthebluepolyestervestonachairandwenttowork.Istartedwiththedesk,openingallthedrawersandriflingthroughthem.Exceptfortheroomkeys,eachofwhichwasonaringonaleathertabwithanumberstampedonit,therewasnothinginteresting.
Next,Imovedtothedesktop.ItwaschippedwoodwithaFormicatop.
Therewasablotter,pencilsandpens,theoldtelephonewithbigsquarebuttonsacrossthebottomtoopendifferentlines.Noneofthebuttonswerelitatthemoment.Onthecornerwastheguestbook,alargeleatherbinderwithpagesinside.Ihoveredmyhandovertheguestbook,thenstopped.
Foracrazyminuteitseemedliketimehadfoldedinonitself,liketherewasnogapbetween1982andthismoment.ThiswasthedeskVivDelaneyhadsatat;thiswastheexactphoneshehadused.Thebluepolyestervestmayhavebeentheoneshewore.Shehadsatinthischair,lookedatthispinboardwiththepolicephonenumberpinnedtoit.Whatyearisit?avoiceinthebackofmymindasked.Isit1982or2017?Doyoureallyknow?
Ipickeduptheguestbookandopenedit.Therewerefourroomsoccupiedtonight:twomen,acouple,andawoman.Ididn’trecognizeanyofthenames.Ifoundanoldnotepadandapen,scribbledthemdown,andpulledoutmyphone.Ialreadyknewtherewasnosignalinhere,butIputonmycoat,slippedouttheofficedoor,androamedthewalkway,thentheparkinglot,lookingatthescreentoseeifasignalwouldappear.
WhenIstoodalmostnexttothesign(VACANCY.CABLETV!)thesignaliconpoppedup.IquicklytriedtoGooglethenamesonmypaper,butnoteventhefirstsearchwouldload.Thesignalwastooweak.
Istuffedthepaperintomypocket.ItextedHeather,knowingshewouldbeawake.We’dstayedawakethepasttwonights,watchingmoviesand
gettingmepreparedtotakethenightshiftonceIknewIhadthejob.
Nofiles,nocomputer,noInternet,andmybosssaysnottoaskhimaboutViv.I’mstrikingoutsofar,Itextedher.
Herreplywasimmediate.Carly,it’seleventhirty.
Right.IwasjustheretoworkafewshiftsandfindwhatIcouldfindbeforequitting.Ihadplentyoftimeleftinthenight.Carryingon,Itexted,andputthephonebackinmypocketasthesignalwentdeadagain.
Thewindsliceddownmyneck,andthesignmadeaweirdelectricbuzzingsoundoverhead.Imovedawayfromitandwalkedtotheparkinglot,lookingupatthemotel.Theroomsweredarkexceptfortwothathadlampson,thecurtainsdrawn.Themotelitselflookedasleepinthedarkness,yetithadthateerievibeI’dfeltwhenIfirstcamehere.IrubbedmyhandstogetherandwonderedhowIwouldspendthenextsevenandahalfhourshere.IwonderedwhattheheckIthoughtIwasdoing.
Onthesecondlevel,thedoortooneoftheunoccupiedroomsswungopen,showingthedarknesswithin.
Isquinted.Therewasdefinitelynoonestayingintheroom,nooneinthedoorway.Yetthedoorhungopennow,banginggentlyinthewind.
Thelockmustbebroken,ortheknob.Icrossedtheparkinglotandclimbedthestairs,huddlingdeeperintomycoatbecauseitseemedcolderuphere.LatefallinupstateNewYorkisnojoke.Myearswerestingingandmynosewasstartingtorun.
Igrabbedtheknobtotheroomdoor—itwasroom218—andpulleditclosed.Itriedturningtheknobandfounditwasunlocked,andIhadnokey.
Iopenedthedooragainandfoundithadadiscontheinsideoftheknobthatlockedit.Iturnedthediscandclosedthedooragain.
Twodoorsdown,room216opened.
Thatwasit—justthesoftsqueakofthedooropening,thennothing.Thewindblewandthedoorcreaked,waving.
Somethinginsidemymindsaid,Thisisnotright
Still,Iwalkedtothedoorwayandgrabbedtheknob,thistimetakingasecondtosweepaglancethroughthedarkroom.Bed,dresser,TV,doortothebathroom.Nothingelsethere.
Iturnedthediscandshutthedoor,makingsuretopullitallthewayclosed.Itswungbackopenagain,eventhoughtheknobdidn’tturn.Igrabbeditandbangeditclosedagain,harderthistime.Itstayedshutforastretchofmaybetenseconds,thencreakedopenagain.
Therewasafaintsoundfrombehindthedoor,asifsomeonewerestandingthere.Arustleofcloth.Thesofttapofafootstep.Icaughtawhiffoffloweryperfume.
“Hey,”Isaid,andreachedmyhandout.BeforeIcouldtouchthedooritslammedshut,sohardthedoorframenearlyrattled.
Mybreathhadstopped.Myarmwasstillout,myhandup,myfingerscold.Awashoffreezingairbrushedintomyface,downmyneck.Icouldn’tthink.
WhileIstoodfrozen,thedoorto210opened.
Mychestsqueezedinsidemycoat.Imademyfeetmove,bumpedbackagainsttherailing.Dullpainthuddedupmyspine.MyhandswerelikeiceasItriedclumsilytoturnmybody,tobackaway.Therewereheavyfootsteps.
Amansteppedoutofroom210andintothecorridor.Hewasafewyearsolderthanme,maybe.Brownhair,croppedshort.WornjeansandanolddarkgrayT-shirt.Stubbleonhisjaw.Laserblueeyes.Hishairwasstickingup,likehe’dbeensleeping.
Istaredathim,dumbfounded.Hewasreal,butI’dlookedattheguestbook,andhewasn’tsupposedtobehere.Room210wasunoccupied.
WhichmeantIhadnoideawhohewas.
“Hey,”themansaidtomeasifhebelongedhere.“Whothefuckareyou?”
???
Iexhaledabreaththatsteamedinthecold.Itookastepback.“Um,”Isaid,
“I’m—”
“Bangingdoorsinthemiddleofthenight,”hefinished.“I’mtryingtosleepinhere.”
Thatwasn’tme.Atleast,Idon’tthinkso.“You’renotsupposedtobehere,”Isaidtotheman.Ipointedtothedoorwaybehindhim.“Inthatroom.”
Hescowledatme.“Whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?”
“I’mcallingthecops,”Isaid.IwasimpressedwithhowIsounded,consideringIwasterrifiedoutofmymind.Toolate,IrememberedthatthepeppersprayHeatherhadgivenmewasinmypurse,backintheoffice.Imovedmyfeetbackagainandturnedtoleave.
“Wait,”themansaidafterme.“I’mstayinghere.It’slegit.Ihaveakeyandeverything.”Therewasaclinkingsound,andIturnedtoseehimholdupafamiliarleathertabwithakeydanglingfromit.
Ipaused.“What’syourname?”
“NickHarkness.”
“You’renotintheguestbook.”
“Ineversignedtheguestbook.It’slegit.”Heputthekeyawayandreachedintohisbackpocket.“Youwanttocheckmeout?Here.”Hepulledouthiswalletandtossedittothegroundbetweenus,whereitmadeaheavysoundagainsttheconcretefloor.“MyID,everything,”hesaid.“Ididn’tmeantofreakyouout.”
Ipaused.Wasitamistaketobenddownandpickupthewallet?
Everyoneknowsaserialkillercangetyouinanunguardedmoment.ItoedthewallettowardmeandgrabbeditasfastasIcould.HisIDwasinthere,asadvertised.Hehadsixtydollars,too.
“Okay,”Isaid,mostlytomyself.Iclosedmyeyesandmassagedthebridgeofmynosebeneathmyglasses.“Right,okay,fine.Thisisundercontrol.”
NickHarknesswatchedme,buthedidn’tmakeamove.“Youokay?”heasked.
“Sure,I’mgreat,”Isaid.“I’mjustgreat.I’mthenightclerk.”
Nickblinkedhisiceblueeyesindisbelief.IrememberedthatIwaswearingmycoatandIhadn’tputonthebluepolyestervest.“You’rethenightclerk,”hesaid.Itwasn’taquestion.
“Yeah,Iam.Sorryaboutthenoise.Ididn’trealizeyouweresleeping.”
“Youdidn’tthinkyou’dwakepeopleupbybangingdoorsinthemiddleofthenight.”
Histonedrippedwithsarcasm,andIwantedtoflinghisstupidwalletathishead.Somethingwasopeningandslammingthedoors,youidiot,andI’vehadashittynight.ButIcouldn’tquitegetmadasIlookedathimagain,standingthereintheNovembercoldinhisT-shirt.Somethingabouthisface.Itwasagood-lookingface.Itwasalsoedgedwithexhaustion,asifhesleptaslittleasIdid.“Youcouldtrynottobeajerk,”Itoldhim.“Iwasjustdoingmyjob.”
Amuscletickedinhisjaw,andhelookedaway.
“Thedoors,”Isaid.“Have,um,haveyounoticedanyproblemwiththem?”Whenhestilldidn’tsayanything,Isaid,“Theywereopeningand
closing,andIthink…Itwasreallystrange.”
NowIsoundedditzyandlameatthesametime,buthedidn’tseemtonotice.Hestilllookedawayandabsentlyscratchedhisstomach.Themotionmadehisshirtlift.UndertheT-shirt,hisstomachwasveryflat.
“Christ,”hesaid,almosttohimself.
“Right,”Isaid.“Youweresleeping.Here’syourwalletback.I’llgo.”
“Younewhere?”heasked.Hedidn’treachtotakethewalletIheldout.
“Sortof.”Yes.
“You’renew,”NickHarknesssaid.Hedroppedhishandfromhisstomach,whichmadehisshirtdrop,unfortunately.“Jesus,Ididn’tthinkthey’dactuallyhiresomeone.Thelastguyleftweeksago,andChrisneverevencomesouthere.Ithoughthe’dgivenup.”
“It’stemporary.Atleast,Ithinkso.Doyou…You’vebeenhereforweeks?”
“ChrisandIhaveanarrangement.”
“Whatarrangement?”
Nickgavemeanotherglare—hewasgoodatit—andsaid,“AnarrangementwhereIstayhereandcallthecopsifthere’strouble,andheleavesmethefuckalone.Isthatenoughdetailforyou?”
Jesus.NowIreallydidtossthewallet,droppingittothefloorthewayhehaddonewithme.“Well,someonecouldhavetoldmeinsteadofscaringtheshitoutofme,”Isaid.“Itwouldhavebeennice.Icanseewhyyou’restayingherealone.Haveanicenight.”
Iturned,buthecalledafterme.“Letmegiveyouawordofadvice,NewNightClerk.Ifyouthinkyouhearthedoorsuphere,don’tcomeupandfixit.Stayintheofficeanddon’tcomeout.Infact,don’tcomeoutoftheofficeforanything.Justclosethedoorandsitthereuntilyourtime’sup.
Okay?”
Iturnedbacktotellhimhewasrude,thatitwasuncalled-for,thatheshouldn’ttreatpeoplethatway.ButforasecondIcouldseepasthimintohisroom.Thewordsstoppedinmythroat.Ijuststared.
Hedidn’tnotice.“Okay,go,”hesaidtome.“Go.”
Iturnedandwalkedbacktothestairs,mynumbhandsgrippingtherailsoIwouldn’tstumbleonthewaydown.Myeyeswerewateringwithcold,mybloodracinginmyveins.
TwothingskeptmovingthroughmybrainasIwalkedbacktowardtheoffice.
One,heknewaboutthedoors.Heknew.
Andtwo,whenI’dseenpasthimintohisroom,I’dseenabed,aTV,alitlamp.Thebedwasmade,butthepillowhadanindent,asifhe’dbeenlyingthere.
Andonthenightstandnexttothebedwasagun,gleaminginthelamplight.Asifsomeonehadjustputitdown.Asifhe’dbeenholdingitbeforeheopenedthedoor.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Waitaminute.Backup,”Heathersaid.“Tellmethatlastpartagain.”
Itookanotherbiteofmypeanutbuttertoast.Itwasthenextday,afterI’dcomehomefrommyfirstshiftattheSunDownandfallenintobed,deadasleepforninestraighthours.NowIwasinpajamapantsandmyfavoriteT-shirt,ababyblueonethatreadEATCAKEFOR
BREAKFASTonthefront.Iwouldhavelikedtoeatcakeforbreakfast,exceptthatIonlyhadtoastanditwasfiveo’clockintheafternoon.“Iknow,”Isaid.“Maybehewasacoporsomething.”
“Carly.”Heatherglaredatme,alittlelikeNickhad.Shewaswearingherblackponcho,andweweresittingacrossfromeachotherattheapartment’ssmallkitchentable,Heatherwithherlaptopinfrontofherwhereshewaslistlesslyworkingonanessaythatwasn’tdueforanothersixdays.“NocopisstayingattheSunDownMotelforweeksonend.Deadgirls,remember?Thegoalisthatyouarenotone.Menwithgunsarethefirstthingtosteerclearof.YoushouldhaveMacedhim.”
“Idon’tthinkhewouldhavehurtme,”Isaid.“Ididn’tneedtheMace.IwentbacktotheofficeandIsatthere,likehetoldmeto.”
“Allnight?”
Idroppedmytoastcrustontomyplate.Ididn’tquitewanttoadmitthatI’dbeentooscaredtoventureoutoftheofficeafterthatencounter.Thedoors,thatrustleoffabricandwhiffofperfume,NickHarkness—ithadbeentoomuch.I’dbeeninafogoffear,vagueandunfocused,likeIknewsomethingwasgoingtohappenandIdidn’tknowwhat.Itwasapiercing,lonelyfeeling,oneI’dneverhadbefore.“Ifoundanoldcomputerinacabinetintheoffice,”ItoldHeather.“Ispentafewhourstryingtobootit
upandmakeitwork.Iansweredthephonethreetimes.Onewasawrongnumber,andtwootherswereheavybreathing.”Ilookedupather.“Whomakesheavy-breathingphonecallsin2017?”
Heatherwinced.“Noonegood.Didyougetthecomputertowork?”
Ishookmyheadandtookasipofmycoffee.Ithadfeltstrangeatfirsttoeatbreakfastwheneveryoneelseatedinner,butIalmostlikedit.“Chris,theowner,saidtheytriedacomputerbookingsystem,butthemotelhasanelectronicsproblem.Igotithookeduptoamonitor,butitwouldn’tactuallyturnon.ThenIfoundanoldcopyofFirestarterunderashelf,soIreadthatforawhileuntilitwastimetogohome.”
“Hmm,”Heathersaid,clickingawayatherlaptop.“Maybetonightwillbemoreeventful.”
Istaredatheracrossthetable.“Didyoumissthepartwherethedoorsopenedontheirown?Severalofthem?”
“Itoldyouthemotelwashaunted,”shesaidmatter-of-factly.“Iguesstherumorsaretrue.Howmanypeopledoyouthinkhavediedinaplacelikethat?Theremustbeplenty.Likethepersonwhodiedinthepool.”
“Wehavenoevidenceanyonediedinthepool.”
“I’mright.You’llsee.”
Itookmyglassesoffandsetthemonthetable.ThenIrubbedmyeyesslowly,pressingmyfingertipsintomyeyesockets.Theworldwentpleasantlyblurry,andIdidn’thavetoseethedetailsanymore.
Ihadtogobacktheretonight.Icouldn’tletafewopeningdoorsdefeatme.IhadtothinkofViv,maybelyinginagravesomewhereforthirty-fiveyears,withnogravestoneandnoonetocare.IcouldfindsomeoftheanswersattheSunDown—Ifeltit.
No,thecreepinessandtheboredomwerenotgoingtokeepmeaway.I’dhadsomesleep.Iwasgoingtowin.
“Ifthatguyisacop,maybehe’llhelpme,”Isaid,unabletoquitestopthinkingaboutNickHarkness.Iceblueeyes.I’dnevermetaguywithiceblueeyes.
“Hedefinitelyisn’tacop,”Heathersaid.
Idroppedmyhandsandlookedather.ShewasablondbluruntilIputmyglassesbackon.“Howdoyouknowthat?”
“IGoogledhim,”shesaid,turningherlaptopsoIcouldseethescreen.
“He’sfromFell.Excepthedoesn’tlivehereanymore,becausefifteenyears
agohisfathershotNick’sbrothertodeath,andafterhisfatherwenttoprison,helefttown.”
???
TherewasnooneinthemotelofficewhenIgotthereateleven.Thelightswereon,thedoorunlocked,buttherewasnoonebehindthedesk.Itlookedlikewhoeverwasworkinghadjuststeppedoutthedoor,buttherewasnocoatonthehookinthecornerandIalreadyknewtherewasnocarparkedinfrontoftheofficedoor.TherewasnocarinthelotatallexceptformineandatruckIrecognizedfromthenightbefore.NickHarkness’struck,Inowguessed.
Ipulledoffmymessengerbagandshruggedoffmyjacket.“Hello?”Isaidintothequiet.
Noanswer.Icaughtawhiffofcigarettesmoke—maybewhoeverIwasrelievingwashavingasmokesomewhere.ButIhadn’tseenanyoneoutside.
Ipokedmyheadbackoutoftheofficedoorandlookedleftandright.
“Hello?”
Awhiffofsmokeagain,andthennothing.
Ipulledbackintotheofficeandwalkedbacktothedesk.Icheckedtheguestregistry—someonenamedJamesMarchhadcheckedin.Hewastheonlynewguestsincelastnight.Itwaswrittennexttohisnamethathewasinroom103.So,justdownthecorridor.MaybeitwasJamesMarchwhowashavingacigarette,eventhoughwehadayellowedsignovertheofficedoorthatsaidNOSMOKINGINMOTEL.
Isatatthedeskandpulledoutasheafofprintoutsfrommymessengerbag.Beforecomingtowork,I’dspentafewhoursontheInternet,usinguptheprecioustoneronHeather’ssmallprinter.I’daddedtomycollectionofarticlesaboutFell—thefewI’dbeenabletofindbeforecominghere.AndI’daddedarticlesaboutNickHarkness.Therewereplentyofthose.
Accordingtothearticles,Nickwastwenty-nine.Hismotherhaddiedinaswimmingaccidentwhenhewasyoung,andhe’dlivedwithhisfatherandolderbrother,Eli.Hisfatherwasalawyer,wellknowninFell.
“He’dbecomeerratic,”MartinHarkness’spartneratthefirmsaidafterward.“Hewasangry,sometimesforgetful.Wedidn’tknowwhatwas
wrongwithhim,buthewasn’thimself.Idon’tknowhowwecouldhavestoppedit.”
Oneday,Martincamehomefromworkcarryingahandgun.Eliwasinthelivingroom,andNick—whowasfourteen—wasupstairsinhisroom,playingvideogames.Fromwhatthepolicecouldpiecetogether,MartinshotElitwicepoint-blankinthechest.Upstairs,NickopenedthedoortotheJulietbalcony,swungdowntotheground,andrantoaneighbor’stogethelp.
Whenaskedwhyhe’drun,Nickhadreplied,“Iheardthegunshots,andthenIheardEliscreamingandDadcomingupthestairs.”
WhenthecopscametotheHarknesshouse,theyfoundseventeen-year-oldElideadonthelivingroomfloorandMartininthekitchen,drinkingaglassofwater,thegunonthecounternexttohim.“Where’sNick?”hesaid.
SinceMartinwaswellknownintown,therewasafrenzyinthelocalmedia.PROMINENTLAWYERSNAPS,headlinesread.WHYDIDHEKILL
HISOWNSON?Noonehadanyanswers.“Itneededtobeover,”wastheonlycommentMartinevermadeaboutthemurder.“Allofitneededtobeover.”Hepleadedguilty,leavingnonewrevelationstoreport.Afterafewweeks,thepapersmovedontootherthings.
Ireadthroughthepagesagain,lookingatthephotos.Therewasaschoolpictureoffourteen-year-oldNick,withtheblueeyesandthecheekbonesIrecognized.Thefamily’sonlysurvivingson,thecaptionread.He’dlivedwithrelativesintownforafewyears,thenhadleftateighteen.WhatwasNickdoingbackinFell,stayingattheSunDownMotelaloneforweeks?
Whywashehere?Whatdidhewant?
Thelightsflickered,wentout,thenonagain,thefluorescentsoverheadmakingazappingbuzz.Istoodandwalkedtothedoor,peekingoutthewindowatthemotelsign.Itwason—andthenitflickeredoff,thenonagain.
Shit.Apowerproblem?Igrabbedmycoatandputitbackon,pullingtheofficedooropenandsteppingout.Behindme,thelightsflickeredagainasifwewereinthemiddleofathunderstorm,eventhoughtheairwascoldandstill.Fromdownthehallcamearhythmicthumping,ametallicclunkingsoundthatIcouldn’tquiteplace.Itsoundedmechanical,accompaniedbyahigh-pitched,motorizedwhirr.IsteppedoutandrealizeditcamefrombehindadoorlabeledAMENITIES.Itwasprobablyanicemachine,malfunctioningwiththepowerproblem.
Thewindslappedmeintheface,andIpulledmycoatclosed.Therewasanotherwhiffofcigarettesmoke,andsomethingbrushedbyme—actuallytouchedme,knockedmebackastep.Intheyawning,emptydarkness,aman’svoicesaid,“Goddamnbitch.”
Istumbledbackanotherstep.Goddamnbitch.I’dheardthat—reallyheardit.Astrangledsoundcamefrommythroat,andIturnedtolookbackatthemotel.
Thelightsweregoingout.StartingattheendoftheL,thecorridorlightswereblinkingoutlikearowofdominoes.Thedarknesssatheavierandheavier,gainedmoreandmoreweight.Afuseproblem,Itriedtotellmyself,thoughI’dneverseenafuseinmylife.ThedarknessmarcheddownonesideoftheL,thenstraightuptheother,stepbystep,endingattheoffice.Thelightoverthedoorblinkedout,andthenthesign.Iwasalone.Therewasnosound.
ThatwaswhenIsawtheboy.
Hewasaroundeightornine,onthesecondlevel.Hewassittingonthewalkwayfloor,cross-leggedinthedark,lookingatmewithapalefacethroughthelatticedbarsofthepanelbeneaththerailing.HewaswearingshortsandaT-shirtwithcolorssplashedbrightlyonit,asifhewereheadingforthebeach.AsIwatched,heputhishandonthepanelandleanedforward.
“Hey!”Ishoutedathiminsurprise.Thereweren’tanykidsstayinghereaccordingtotheguestbook,certainlynonewhowereunderdressedforthecold.Itookasteptowardthestaircase.“Hey!Hello?”
Theboystood,turned,andbolted,runninglightlydownthecorridorawayfromme.Iheardhissmall,evenfootstepsonthestairs.Iforgotaboutthesmokeandthedisembodiedswearingandtherestofitandjoggeddownthelengthofthemotel,hopingtocatchtheboyashedescended.
Theboyhitthebottomstepandvanishedaroundthecorner,towardthenothingnessofthedarkwoods.“Hey!”Ishoutedagain,asifIcouldmakehimturnaround.Ihadashiverupmyback,alongthebackofmyneck.Wasthatreal?Itlookedreal.Whatifitwasarealboy?
Iwasatthebottomofthestairsnow,andfromabovemeIheardafamiliarclick.Thesameclickfromlastnightwhenthedoorsopened.Isteppedback,tiltingmyheadbackandlookingupthroughtheslatsoftherailing.Itwasasingleclickthistime,followedbytheothersoundI’dheard
thatnight—therustleoffabric.Therewasafootstep,thedouble-clickofawoman’sheeledshoe.Thenanother.
Itookanotherstepback,lookingup.Thelightfromabovethedoortoroom216wasout,butIcouldvaguelysee.Thedoorwasopen,likeithadbeenlastnight.AsIwatched,awomanwalkedoutintothecorridor.
Shewasbathedinshadows,butIcouldseeenough.Sheworeadark,knee-length,long-sleeveddress.Itlookedpurple,ormaybeblue,withaflowerpattern.Onherfeetsheworelowheelswithmodestclosedtoes.Shewasslender,hercalvesslimbeneaththehemofthedress,herarmspaleandgraceful.Herhairwascurlyandspilledoverhershoulders.Sheputherhandsontherailandlookeddownatme,andforasecondIcouldseethedarklineraroundheralmond-shapedeyes,thepaleovalofherface.Shelookedlikeanyoneofamillionwomeninfamilyphotographsagenerationago,exceptthatshewaslookingatme,andshewasnotreal.
Hereyeswerewhite-hot,harsh,angry,andincrediblysad.Shewaslookingatme,andshewasnotreal
Sheopenedhermouthtospeak.
Imadeaterrifiedsoundinmythroat,andthenahandgrabbedmyarm—
abig,strong,realhand.IspunandsawNickHarknessstandingthere,staringatme,hisblueeyesblazing.
“Whatthehelldoyouthinkyou’redoing?”heshouted.
Igapedathim.“I—”Ilookedup,butthewomanwasgone.Ifeltpanicandunspeakablerelief.“Didyouseethat?”IsaidtoNick.
Hedidn’tanswer.Hishandwasstillonmyarm.Iheardthesnickofadooropeningoverhead,thenanother.Thenanother.Thedoorswereopeningonebyone.
“Comeon,”Nicksaid,tuggingmetowardtheparkinglot.
“Wherearewegoing?”Imanaged.
“We’releaving.Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingon,butI’mnotstickingaroundforit.Areyou?”Fell,NewYork
September1982
VIV
Shetriednottolisteninonpeople’sphonecallsonceshelearnedthephonetrick,butitwashard.
JamieBlaknik,forexample.Hewasayoungguyinjeansandaworn-thinT-shirtwhosmokedcigarettes,ignoringtheNOSMOKINGINMOTEL
signandmessingwithViv’sabilitytodetectthesmokingmaneverytimehecheckedin.Thesmoky-sweetsmellofhimtoldherhewasmostlikelyapotdealer,thekindofguyshehadnevertalkedtobefore—thekindofguywhowouldgivehermotheraragefitifsheeverbroughthimhome.Hewasattractiveinanedgy,I-won’t-be-nice-to-youway,andViv’sneckandcheeksalwaysgothotwhenhecheckedinandgaveherthatsmirkacrossthedesk.Nicenight,he’dsay,andshe’dnodlikeanidiot,untilonenightshesmiledathimwhenhewalkedinandhesmiledback.
“Nicenight,”hesaid,pullingarollofbillsfromhisbroken-injeanspocketandunwrappingafewtwenties.
Vivlookedathistousledbrownhair,hisgrayeyes—whichwereactuallyrathernice—andhisunaffectedslouchthatwentinaneasylinefromhisshoulderstohiships,andsaid,“Youcomeherealot.”
“Thatbotheryou?”hesaidinaneasydrawlashepickedupapenandscribbledhisnameintotheguestbook.
“No,”Vivreplied.“Whatisitaboutthisplace,though?Doyouliketheview?”
Helookedupatherfromtheguestbookandgaveherasmilethathadathousandpossiblemeaningstoit.Shejustwishedsheknewwhichone.
“Yeah,”hesaidwithatouchofhumorinhisvoice.“Iliketheview.”
“That’snice,”shesaid,holdinghisgaze.“I’mnotgoingtobotheryou.
Justsoyouknow.Itdoesn’tmattertomewhatyou’redoing.”
Jamiestraightened.“Okay,”hesaid,holdingouthishandforhiskey.Heworealeatherbraceletonhiswrist,woundwithoneofwovencloth.“Thatworksforme.Idon’tbotheryou,youdon’tbotherme.”
“Right.”Sherifledthroughthekeydrawertopickhimakey.
“Unlessyouwanttoparty,”headded.“Ifyoudo,justcomeonovertomyroomandknockonthedoor.”
Whoa!Thatwasastepbeyondwhatshewasreadyfor.ButVivhandedhimhiskeyandbattedherlashes,justtheatricalenoughforhimtoknowshewaskidding.“Oh,Icouldn’tdothat,”shesaid.“Imightgetfired.”
Helaughed,andhislaughwasjustaspleasantastherestofhim.“Haveityourway,GoodGirl,”hesaid.“Theparty’shappeninganyway.Haveagoodnight.”
Heleft,andwhenthelightblinkedonthephoneafewminuteslaterwithitswhisperedclick,sheliftedthereceiverandlistenedtothelow,pleasanthumofhisvoice.Hey,man,I’mcheckedin.Youonyourway?Hemadeandtookadozenphonecallsfromcustomers,andViv—whohadneverevenseenajointinreallife,letaloneheldortriedone—listenedtoallofit,learningthelingoofthemeasuredbitsofweedandhowmuchtheycost,appreciatingJamie’sdrollsenseofhumorathislineofwork.
Onanothernightaprostitutecalledherbabysitterinbetweentakingherclients,checkinginonherfour-year-olddaughter,Bridget,asVivlistenedin.Makesureshedrinkshermilk.Letherhavealittlepopcornbutnottoomuch.Didshegotosleeprightawayordidshegetup?Sometimesshehastogopottytwoorthreetimes.Callyoulater,Igottago.Thewomanleftatfivethirty,tyingbackherlonghairasshewalkedtohercarintightjeansandflip-flops.Itwasstilldarkbuttherewassomethingaboutthelightatthattimeofmorning,somethingthatletyouknowdawnwascomingsoon.
Itwasadifferentdarknessthanmidnightdarkness.Inthedarknessoffivethirty,Bridget’smotheralmostlookedpretty,herhairshinyandlong,hershouldersback.Aloneintheoffice,Vivwatchedherwalk,theeffortlesswayherhipsmoved,withperfectenvy.
“Don’tyouseecreepythingsinthatjob?”Viv’sroommate,Jenny,askedheronenightastheybothgotreadyforwork.Jennywaseatingyogurt,dressedinherhospitalscrubsasVivstoodatthekitchencounter,makingherbolognasandwich.TheTVwason,showingtheteno’clocknewswiththevolumeonlow.Vivwaswearinghigh-waistedjeansandawhiteT-shirt
thatwascutloosely,billowingfromwhereshehadtuckeditintoherpants.
She’daddedaslimredbeltshethoughtwasprettyinthebeltloops.
Shelookedatherroommate,startled.“Creepythings?”
Jennyshrugged.She’djustredoneherpermlastweek,andVivquietlyenviedtheperfectcurlsinherhair,wonderedifshecouldscrapeupthebudgetforapermherself.“Youknow,creepythings.Perverts.Homos.”
Vivwasmoreworldlynow,afternearlytwomonthsattheSunDown.
Sheknewwhathomoswere,thoughadmittedlyshehadnoideahowtoidentifyoneandnoideaifshe’deverseenone.“Iseelotsofhookers,”shesaid,pleasedthatshe’dusedaworldlywordlikehookers.“Nohomos,though.”
Jennynodded,takingascoopofyogurt,andVivfeltlikeshe’dpassedatest.“Thehomosprobablygotothepark.Still,itmustbecreepy,workingthatplaceatnight.”
Vivthoughtoftheghostwomantellinghertorun,theshoveintheAMENITIESroom.“Sometimes,yes.”
“Justbecareful,”Jennysaid.“You’llenduplikeCathyCaldwell.”
Vivwrappedhersandwichinwaxedpaper.“WhoisCathyCaldwell?”
JennywaggledhereyebrowsdramaticallyandputonaVincentPricevoice.“Murderedandfoundunderanoverpasstwoyearsago.Stabbedtodeath!”Shedroppedthedramaticvoiceandwentbacktoherregular,boredone.“Sheliveddownthestreetfrommyparents.Mymothercallsmeeveryweek.ShethinksI’mgoingtobeCathyCaldwellanydaybecauseIworknights.Itmustberubbingoffonme.”
“Wassheworkinganightshift?”Vivasked.
“No,shewascominghomefromwork,”Jennysaid,dippingherspoonintoheryogurt.Vivcouldsmellitssour-milkscent.“Itterrifiesmymother.
Shethinksshe’sgoingtogetamidnightphonecall:Yourdaughterisdead!
Oh,anddon’tgojogging,either.ThatwillturnyouintoVictoriaLee,whowaskilledanddumpedonthejoggingtrailontheedgeoftown.”
Vivstaredather,sandwichforgotten.Somethingwastighteninginherchest,likeabelltolling.“What?Youmeanthere’samurdererinFell?”
“No.”Jennyseemedsureofthis.“Victoria’sboyfrienddidhers.Itjustmakesusallscaredofjogging.ButCathyCaldwell…”Shewidenedhereyesandwaggledhereyebrowsagain.“MaybeitwasMichaelMyers.Or,like,thatstoryaboutthebabysitter.Thekillerisinsidethehouse!”
Vivlaughed,butitfeltforced.Sherememberedthemanwhohadputhishandonherthighwhenshewashitchhiking.Howshe’drealizedthathecouldleaveherinaditchandnoonewouldeverknow.
“Okay,nojoggingtrail,”VivsaidtoJenny.“Idon’tjoganyway.I’veneverhadanyonebothermeatthemotel,though.”EvenJamieBlaknikthepotdealerwasnice,inhisway.
“Noonehasbotheredyouyet,”Jennysaidinherpractical,no-nonsenseway.ShelookedVivupanddown.“Imean,you’repretty.Andyou’realonethereatnight.Wesinglegirlshavetobecareful.Idon’tleavethenursinghomeatnight,eventosmoke.Youshouldcarryaknife.”
“Ican’tcarryaknife.”
“Sureyoucan.Idon’tmeanabigmachete.Imeanasmallone,youknow,forgirls.Iwasthinkingofgettingonemyself.Andthenifoneofthoseoldguysatmyworkgetscreepy—whammo.”Shemimedjabbingaknifeintothecountertop.Vivlaughedagain.TheonlystoriesJennytoldaboutbeinganightshiftnurseinaretirementhomewerethatitwasboring,andoldpeoplewereweirdanduseless.Jennydidn’tseemtolikeverymanypeople,buttonightVivwasinhergoodgraces.
Jennyleftforwork,andVivbustledaroundtheapartment,gettingherlastfewthingstogethertogototheSunDown.TheTVwasstillon,andthesegmentonthenewsfeaturedabeautifulbrunetteanchorwiththewordsonscreeninfrontofher:SAFETYTIPSFORTEENS.“Alwaysgooutwithafriendifit’safterdark,”shewassayingfromherbeautifullylipstickedlips.
“Useabuddysystem.Nevergetintoastranger’svehicle.Considercarryingawhistleoraflashlight.”
VivturnedtheTVoffandwenttowork.
???
AtherdeskattheSunDown,wearingherbluevest,shepulledouthernotebookinthedesertedquiet.UsingthemeticulouspenmanshiplearnedsincefirstgradeinIllinois,herletterscarefullyswirledwithfeminineloops,shewrote:CathyCaldwell.Leftunderunderpass.VictoriaLee.Joggingtrail.Boyfriend?
Shetuckedherpenintothecornerofhermouthforaminute,thenwrote:Buyawhistle?Aflashlight?Aknife?
Outside,sheheardacarcomeintotheparkinglot.She’dexpectedthis;RobertWhite,thefortyishmancheatingwiththewomannamedHelen,hadcheckedinhalfanhourago.Alone,withnoluggage,asbefore.
Curious,sheputherpenandnotebookdownandslippedouttheofficedoor,takingaquicktriptotheAMENITIESroom.Helen’sThunderbirdpulledinandparkednexttoMr.White’scar,andasVivwatchedthroughthecrackintheAMENITIESdoorway,Helengotout.Shewaswearingaone-piecewrapdressofjewelbluethatsetoffhershort,styleddarkhair.ThistimeMr.
Whiteopenedthedoorbeforeshecouldknock.Theysmiledateachotherandthenhefollowedherintotheroom,closingthedoorbehindhim.
Vivwasabouttogobacktotheoffice,toherdeskandhernotebook,whenshesawthesecondcar.
Adarkgreensedanpulledintothebackofthelot,behindHelen’sThunderbird.Vivwaited,butnoonegotout.Now,withthedoorclosingbehindHelenandMr.White,Vivsawthepassengerwindowofthesecondcarrollupasacameralensduckedbackintothecar.
Vivwaited,hergazefixedonthesedan,butnothingelsehappened.Thedoorstayedclosedandthemysterycarstayedparkedatthebackofthelot.
Whoeverwasinthecarwaswatching,waitinghoweverlongittookforHelentocomeoutagain.ThepersoninthecarhadaclearviewoftheAMENITIESdoorandwouldseeherwhenshecameout.
Shecouldn’thidehereallnight,sosheduginherpocketandpulledouttwentycents.Sheputitinthecandymachine,gotaSnickersbar,andlefttheAMENITIESroom,closingthedoorbehindher.Sheheldthecandybarinherouterhandandangledherselfsubtlyjustso—intheatertheycalleditcheatingout—sothatthepersoninthecarcouldclearlyseeherSunDownMotelvestandtheSnickers.Justaninnocentemployeehittingthecandymachine,shethought.Shewalkedbacktotheofficeandclosedthedoorbehindher,thenpositionedherselfattheedgeofthewindow,lookingatthecaragain.Maybesheimaginedit,butshethoughttherewasaflickerofmovementbehindthepassengerwindow.Whichdidn’tmakesense,becausetherewasnoreasonforsomeonetotakeapictureofher.Noreasonatall.
???
Itwasastrangelybusynight.Atruckerstoppedinandaskedfordirections,andwhenVivcouldn’thelp,hepulledouthispapermapandthetwoofthemlookedatittogether,tryingtofigureouthowhecouldgetbacktotheinterstate.Therewasanotherphonecallwithonlybreathingattheotherendoftheline.Thelinencompanyhadleftabinofcleanlinensbehindthemotel,andVivhadtofigureouthowtoopentheUTILITIESdoorandpushitinside.Throughallofthat,herattentionkeptwanderingbacktothesceneintheparkinglot:theclosedmoteldoor,thetwocarsparkedinfrontofit,andthethirdcarinthebackoftheparkinglot,watching.Shewonderedifthemaninthethirdcarwasgoingtostaythereallnight.Shewonderedifhewasbored.Shewonderedifhehadseenher.
Itwasjustpasttwoa.m.whenanothercarpulledintothelotandamanwalkedintotheoffice.
Hewasalone.Heworeasuitandatrenchcoat,carriedabriefcaseandasuitcase.Vivrememberedhermannersandputonasmileassheraisedhergazetohisface.Shefaltered,becausehelookedoddlyfamiliar.Hewasinhisthirties,decent-looking,clean-shaven.Helookedlikeathousandothermen.Still,therewassomethinginhiseyesthatshehadseenbefore.
“Evening,”themansaid,thoughitwasthemiddleofthenightbynow.
Heapproachedthedeskandsetdownhissuitcaseandhisbriefcase.“I’dlikearoom,please.”
Vivkeptsomeofthesmileonherface.“Surething,”shesaid.“Aroomisthirtydollarsanight.”
“Iknow.”Themansmiledather,andVivfeltarushofsomething—thatfamiliarityagain,mixedwithsomethingstrangelylikefear,asifshewererememberingabaddreamshecouldn’tquitegrasp.Thismanshouldneversmile,shethoughtwildlybeforeshepushedthethoughtaway.Therewasnothingwrongwithhissmile.Helookedperfectlyfine.
“Oh?”sheaskedhimpolitelywhenhedidn’telaborate.
Hispausewasjustasecondtoolong,thesmilestillonhisface.“Youdon’trememberme?”hesaid.“Istayedhereafewweeksago.Irememberyou.Oh,well,IguessI’mjustthatmemorable.”
Nowsomethingclawedupthebackofhermemory.“Yes,Iremember,”
shesaid.“You’reatravelingsalesman.”
“Iam,”themansaid,smilingagain.“AndjustlikelasttimeIneedtostaytonight,butImayneedtostaylongerafterItalktomybossestomorrow.Igowherevertheytellme,yousee.”
Vivnodded,turningtheguestbookandpushingittowardhim.“That’sokay,”shesaid,fightingtheurgeshehadatthebaseofherspinetogetridofhim,gethimoutofhere.Sheneededtobepolite;itwasherjob.“That’sfine.”
“Thankyou.”Thesalesmantookthepenfromher—hisfingertipnearlybrushedhers,andshegrittedherteeth—andswiftlywrotehisname.Thenhehandedoverthirtydollars.“I’llbebacktomorrowifIneedtostayanothernight.”
Vivnoddedandtookthekeytoroom210fromthedrawer.“Hereyougo.Haveanicenight.”
“Thankyou…”Hepauseddramatically.“Whatisyourname?”
Shewascornered.“Vivian,”shesaid,unwillingtoaskhimtocallherViv.
“Vivian,”thesalesmansaid.Hetippedaninvisiblehattoher,thenpickeduphiscasesandlefttheroom.
Vivstoodinthesilence,hertemplespounding.Whenhehadgoneshepeekedouttheofficewindow,watchedhimclimbthestairstotheupperlevel.
Helen’scarwasgone,andsowasthecarinthebackoftheparkinglot.
Damnit—she’dmissedit.Theonlypieceofexcitementpromisedfortherestofthenight.
Shewalkedbacktothedeskandlookedattheguestregister.Thesalesmanhadwrittenhisnameinbig,boldletters:JAMESMARCH
Sheflippedbackinthebook,rememberingbacktothenightwiththesmokeandthevoices.Shepagedbackandbackuntilshesawthatsamebold,blackhandwriting.
MICHAELENNIS,he’dwritten.
Nooneheretellsthetruth,Vivthought.Notever.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Nickhadablackpickuptruck,abigmachinethatmadealotofnoiseandsmelledalittleofaftershave.Eveninmypanicked,half-deliriousstate,thetestosteronewaslikeabonghit.Icrouchedinthehugeleather-upholsteredseatasweroaredoffdownNumberSixRoad.Itwascomfortingandunsettlingatthesametime.Iwasn’taloneanymore.
Therewasamantakingcareofthingsnow.Andyet.
Andyet.
Wepulledintotheparkinglotofanall-nightDenny’s.Ihadnoideawhatdirectionwe’ddrivenorhowlongwe’dtraveled.Itfeltlikeminutesandhoursatthesametime.“Waithere,”Nicksaid,andgotout.
Iwatchedhimwalktowardtherestaurant.Myhandswereshaking,mybackcoldwithhalf-driedsweat.Hemovedwithaneasethatmademystomachswirlandmademetenseatthesametime.Youdon’tknowthisman,myhopped-upinstinctstoldme.Thelasttimeyousawhim,hehadagun.Hisfatherisamurderer.You’realoneinhiscarinthemiddleofthenight.I’dleftmymessengerbagatthemotel,withmycellphoneandtheMaceHeatherhadgivenme.Iputmyhandonthepassengerdoorhandle,pressingitexperimentally.Ofcourseitgave.Iwasn’tlockedin.Therewasnosuchthingaslockingsomeoneinyourtruck.
Thenagain,therewasnosuchthingaslittleboyswhovanishedorthewomanin216.
Igulpedbreathsinthequietofthetruck,tryingnottoletpanicovertakeme.Icouldgetout,goaskforhelpintherestaurant.ButwhatkindofhelpdidIwant?Thepolice?DidIjustwanttogetoutofhere?Togohome?
Wherewashome?Inthatmoment,Icouldn’tevenpictureIllinois.Ihadnoideawhatitlookedlike.TheonlythingIcouldpicturewasmy
apartmentwithHeatherandtheSunDownMotel.ShouldIcallHeather?
WoulditpanicherifIdid?
Thedriver’sdoorcrackedopenandIjumped.Ihadn’tevenseenNickcomeback.Heswungintothetruck,buthedidn’ttouchtheignition.
Insteadhehandedmeatake-outcupandkeptoneforhimself.
Iinhaled.Itwashotchocolate.Ipeekedthroughthegapinthelidandsawtherewaswhippedcreamonthetopofthedrink.Istaredforasecond,sosurprisedIdidn’tevensipit.
“Ididn’tknowifyoulikedcoffee,”Nicksaid.Iturnedtoseehimwatchingmestareatmydrink.“Iforgottoask.Ifiguredchocolatewasasafebet.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid,myvoicerusty.
Helookedatmeforanotherlongminute.Theharshlightfromtherestaurantwasdimmedbydistanceandtheshadowsofthetruck’scab.Itmadehisfacelookhalflit,halfslicedwithdarkness.Itwashardtofigureouthowoldhewasinthislight,eventhoughIknewhisagefromthenewspaperstories—hewastwenty-nine.Helookedhandsomeandjadedandalittlebitcrazy.Iprobablylookedcrazymyself,andI’dbetthelightglintingoffmyglasseswasn’tveryflattering.
“What’syourname?”heasked,hisvoiceharsh.
Iblinked,surprised.IrealizedI’dnevertoldhim.Well,ifhewasaserial-killer-slash-date-rapistwhospecializedinwomenwhohadjustseenghosts,itwastoolatenow.I’djustthrowmyhotdrinkathimandrun.
“Carly,”Isaid,sippingmychocolate.Itwasheavenly,thewhippedcreammeltingintothehotdrinkandmakingitteeth-achinglysweet.
“Carly,”Nicksaid,“tellmeyoujustsawwhatIsaw.”
“Isawit,”Isaid.“Isawthatlittleboy.AndIsawthat…woman.”Shewasawoman,yetshewasn’t.Shewassomethingelse.
“Jesus.”Herubbedahandoverhisface,andIheardtheraspofhisbeard.HewaswearingadarkblueplaidflannelshirtoveraT-shirt,andonceagainnojacket.Irealizedhemusthaverunstraightoutofhisroomwhenthecommotionstarted.
“You’vebeenstayingatthemotelforweeks,”Isaid.“Hasanythinglikethathappenedbefore?”
“No.”Hedroppedhishand,staredaheadoutthewindshield.“Therearenoises.Alwaysnoises,evenwhentheplaceisempty.Therearestrangesmells,andthedoorthing.Yousawwhatthedoorsdo.Thathappensalot.
Thelightsgoonandoff.Andonenight,thatwomanwasonmybed.Sittingonthefootofthebed.Iwokeupandshewasjustthere,lookingatme.Thebeddidn’tsagoranything—shehadnoweight.Shewasthere,andthenIblinkedandshewasgone.Icouldsmellherperfume,andsomethingbad.
Coppery,likeblood.Thatwasabouttwoweeksago.”
Myheartwasthumpingagainjustlistening.Icouldn’timaginebeingsoclosetothatwoman,soclosetowhatevershewas.“Andyoustayed?”Iaskedhim,incredulous.“Afteryousawthat,youstillstayed?”
“Iknow.ButIhavemyreasons.”
“Yourreasonsarecrazy,whatevertheyare,”Isaid.
Butheshookhishead.“They’renot.”Hisvoicehadtheslightestraggededgetoit—youcouldonlyhearitifyouwerelisteningclosely.Whateverhisreasonswere,hebelievedinthem.“Youshouldn’ttalkaboutcrazy,”hesaid.“Youknowdamnwellwe’regoingbackthereassoonaswefinishthisdrink.”
Iopenedmymouth,thewordsreadytogo.Noway.I’mnevergoingbackthereagain.Forgetaboutmywalletandallmystuff,andforgetaboutthejob.ForgetaboutViv.Nofreakingway.
ButIdidn’tsayanyofit,becausehewasright.WhateverhadgoneonattheSunDown,we’drunawayinthemiddleofit.Anddamnit,Iwantedtoknowhowithadended.
IwantedtoknowwhattheSunDownlookedlikerightnow.Weretheghostsgone?
Itiltedmycupandswalloweddownsomehotchocolate.Thewhippedcreamwaslikesoft,sweetcomfortinmythroat.Icouldn’treconcilethemannexttomewithwhippedcream.Iwipedmymouthandsaid,“IGoogledyou.”
Hedidn’tspeak,butIfelthimtenseintheairbetweenus.
“Ihadto,”Isaid.“You’restayingatthemotelwhereIwork.Atnight.
Youstayoffthebooks.Andyouhadagunonyourbedsidetable.”
“Ikeepthatforprotection.”Heopenedhisfreehand.“Somegooditdid.
Ididn’tevengrabitwhenIlefttheroom.Idon’thaveitrightnow.”Heglancedatme.“I’vebeengonealongtime.Youdon’tknowwhatit’sliketohaveunresolvedshitinyourpast,shitthatweighsyoudownanddrawsyoubacktoacertainplace.”
Oh,hewaswrong.Sowrong.
“Ido,”hecontinued.“Iguessyouknowwhathappenedtome.Somepeoplecangetpastsomethinglikethat,eventuallymoveon.Inevercould.
I’vebeenanopenwoundalltheseyears.Drugs,alcohol—nothinghelped.
SoIthoughtI’dcomeback,seethisplaceasagrownman.Facemypast.IcheckedintotheSunDownforonenight—onenight.Anddoyouknowwhathappened?”
“What?”
“Islept.”Hegavemehalfasmile,andforasecondIcouldseethehighschoolkidI’dseeninthenewspaperstories,thekidwhohadbeengood-lookinganddecentandreadytotakelifeon.“Imean,Ireallyslept.It’sbeenyearssincethathappened.I’manightperson.I’vehadinsomniaforsolongIdon’tevenrememberwhenitstarted.AndIcheckedintotheSunDownandsleptforelevenstraighthours.Justlikethat.”Hesnappedhisfingers,thesoundloudinthetruck.
“InFell,though?”Iasked.“Theplacewhereitallhappened?It’stheonlyplaceyoucansleep?”
“Ican’texplainit,either.”Helookedoutthewindow.“Eliisburiedhere.
Mymotherisburiedhere.Isureashellnevermadeahomeanywhereelse.
Maybethisfucked-upplaceisasclosetohomeasI’mevergoingtoget.”
Iwasquiet,thinkingaboutHeathersaying,Someofuslikethedark.It’swhatweknow.
“SoIstayed,”Nicksaid.“IpaidChrisastackofmoney,andheleftmealoneoncehesawIwasn’tdealingordoinganyothershit.Justsleeping.
EverytimeIliedowninthatplace,dayornight,Ifallasleep.YouwanttoknowwhatI’vebeendoingformostofthepastmonth?Catchinguponadecade’sworthofsleep.”
“Andwhenyouwokeuponenight,thewomanwasonyourbed.”
“Shewas,”Nickagreed.“Andafterthat,Ifellasleepagain.It’saweirdthingtodo,butIdid.That’swhatthatplacedoestome,andI’lltakeit.Idon’tcareaboutsoundsorsmellsorstrangewomen.I’mgoingbacktotheSunDowntonight,becauseit’stheonlyplaceI’vefoundintheworldwhereIcansleep.”
Ibitmylip.Intheupside-downnightworld,itmadeacrazykindofsense.“I’mnotleaving,either,”Isaid.“Idohaveshitfrommypastthatbringsmehere,asithappens.MyauntdisappearedfromtheSunDownin1982,andnooneeverfoundherbody.Iwanttoknowwhathappenedtoher.That’swhyI’mthere.”
ItwasatestamenttothestrangenessofthenightthatNickdidn’tseemfazed.“Wassheworkingtherewhenshedisappeared?Likeyou?”
“Yes.IcametoFelltofindoutwhathappenedtoher,becauseitlookslikenooneelseeverbotheredto.Andtheyhadthisjobavailableatthemotel.SoItookit.”
Henodded,likethatwasn’tweird.“Wasthather?Inthedress?”
Ishookmyhead.Iwasninety-ninepercentsure,butithadhappenedsofast.“Idon’tthinkso.Theclotheswereallwrong,andherhairwasthewrongcolorandstyle.Idon’tthinkthatwasViv.”
“Isawthedresswhenshewasinmyroom,”Nicksaid.“It’slikea1970sthing.Atleast,that’swhatitlooksliketome.Itmakeshertoooldtobeyouraunt.”Amuscleinhisjawtwitched.“Butshe’ssomeone.ThatmuchIknowforsure.She’ssomeone.”
Istaredaheadofmeoutthewindshieldattheuglyparkinglot.IhadseenthingstonightthateveryoneIknewwouldsaywereimpossible.Butinthedarkcabofthistruck,theywerereal.Notonlyreal,butunderstandable.
Possiblyevensolvable.Myeyesburnedandmychestwastight.Ifeltlikethenightwouldn’tbelongenough,thatIwouldn’thaveenoughhours.ThatIcertainlywouldn’tsleep.IfeltlikeI’dneverbetiredagain.
She’ssomeone.
“Wecanstartwiththedress,”Isaid.“Wecanfindoutwhateradresseslikethatarefrom.Wecanlookatthelocalnewspaperarchives.Shedied,weknowthatmuch.Right?Therearen’tghostsoflivingpeople.”Iglancedathim.
Nickwaswatchingme.Hetookasipofcoffeeandshrugged.“Ihavenoidea,butmyguessisno.”
“Soshediedintheseventies,maybe.Atthemotel.Thatwouldbeinthenews.Ifshewaslocal,theremightbefamilystillhere.Wecouldtalktothem.”Iglancedathimagain.“Icouldtalktothemifyoudon’twantto.
Theboy,too—hemusthavediedatthemotel.Ididn’tseewhathewaswearing,butifakiddiedattheSunDown,itmusthavebeeninthenews.”
“Ithoughtyouwantedtolookforyouraunt.”Nick’svoicewasalmostgentle.
Acidburneddownmythroat.“Ido,”Isaid.“That’swhatthisis.I’mlookingforher.BecauseIthink…”Itookabreath.“IthinkthatwhatevergotthewomanandtheboycouldhavegottenVivthatnightbackin1982.
Whichmeansshecouldbetherewiththem.”Ileanedbackagainstthe
passengerseat.Myeyeswerestillburning,buttheyweredry.“Imightseehernext,”Isaid.Therewasnowayaroundit,butitwashardtocontemplate:seeingthefacefromthenewspaperclippings,thoseprettyeyesandthatwidesmile,comingoutofoneofthedoorsattheSunDown.
HearingViv’sstepslikeI’dheardthewoman’s.Seeinghersittingontheendofabed.
Thethoughtwasterrifying.Andyet.
Andyet.
ThiswaswhatIwasherefor,wasn’tit?
She’ssomeone.
Iwasintherightplace.Andnowitwastimetogobacktoit.
???
Itwasn’tuntilwepulledintotheparkinglotthatIrememberedaboutthemotel’sotherguest.JamesMarch,whosenamewaswrittenintheguestbook.
ThelightswerebackonattheSunDown,includingthesign,sendingitsmessageoutoverNumberSixRoad.Thecorridorlightswerebackon,feebleandpaleinthedarkness.Myphonesaiditwas1:23a.m.
NickandIgotoutofthetruckandstoodintheparkinglot.TheSunDownlookedlikeanynormalmotel,butwebothknewitwasn’t.Itwasjust…sleeping,maybe.Napping.Comeonin,thebuildingseemedtosaywithitsjaggedup-and-downlights,itsblueandyellowneoncheeriness.
Getsomesleep.Takeiteasyuntilthesuncomesupagain.Andifyouseesomeonesittingattheendofyourbed,paythemnomind.That’sjustoneofmysecrets.AndI’mnotgoingtotell.
Theroomswerealldark.Thesignovertheofficedoorwaslit,andthelightwasbackoninside,butthatwastheonlylightinthebuilding.
“Roomone-oh-three,”IsaidtoNick.
Hecamearoundthetruck,hunchedalittleintohisflannelshirt.Irememberedagainthathedidn’thaveacoat.“What?”hesaidtome.
“There’saguestinroomone-oh-three,”Itoldhim.“Aman.Oratleasttherewasbeforeallthecommotionstarted.”
Nickfollowedmygazetowardroom103,whichwasdarkliketheothers.“Hmm,”hesaid,andstrodeacrosstheparkinglottowardthedoor.
“Weshouldn’tdisturbhiminthemiddleofthenight,”Isaid,hurryingtofollowhim.
“Ifheheardanyofthatshitearlier,he’salreadybeendisturbed,”Nickreplied.
“Doyouthinkhesleptthroughit?”Iasked.
“Ihavenoidea,”Nicksaid.“I’llaskhim.”
Buttherewasnoanswertoaknockonthedoortotheroom.Therewasnolighton,either.Instead,whenNickpoundedharderonthedoor,itdriftedopen,asifithadbeenbarelylatchedshut.
IlookedatNickaswestoodinthedark,opendoorway.Hefrownedatme,said,“Stayhere,”andslowlywalkedinside.“Hello?”Iheardhimcall.
Aminutelater,hecameoutagain.“There’snooneinthere.Itdoesn’tlooklikeanyone’sbeenthere,either.Thebedisn’ttouched,andneitherisanythingelse.”
“Hisnameisintheregister,”Isaid.“Maybeheleft.”
Nickcameouttothecorridorandlookedovertheparkinglot,whichheldonlymycarandhistruck.“Whatcarwashedriving?”
Ithoughtback.Therewasacar.Therehadtohavebeenacar.ButIrememberedpullinguptothemoteloffice,findingitemptywiththelightson.I’dthoughtthatwasstrangeatthetime.I’dlookedouttotheparkinglotandseenmyowncar,plusNick’struck.LikeIwasseeingrightnow.
Iturnedandwalkeddownthecorridortothemoteloffice.Thedoorwasunlocked,thelightson.Inside,theofficelookedlikeI’dleftit,withmymessengerbagonthefloornexttothedesk.IinhaledwhenIcameintotheroom,searchingforthesmellofcigarettesmoke.Therewasnone.
Nick’sfootstepscamebehindmeasIwalkedtothedesk.Iopenedtheguestbookandflippedtotonight’spage.Thenamewasthere:JamesMarch,room103.Thehandwritingwasdarkandspindly,andIdidn’trecognizeit.Iwalkedaroundthedeskandpulledopenthekeydrawer.Irifledthroughthekeys,andexceptforNick’skeytoroom210,theywereallthere.Thekeytoroom103wasrightthereinthedrawer.
IpickeditupbyitsleathertabandhelditoutforNicktosee.
“Hecouldhavereturnedit,”Nicksaid.“Theofficedoorwasunlocked,andsowasthatdrawer.”
“Therewasn’tacar,”Isaid.
“Whatdidhelooklike?Didyoucheckhimin?”
“Ihavenoidea,andno.”
“Whocheckedhimin,then?”Nickasked.
“TherewasnooneintheofficewhenIgotheretonight,”Ireplied.“Itwasopen,thelightson,andthisnamewasintheguestbook.That’sallIknow.”
Nickpulledtheguestbooktowardhimandlookedatthenamewrittenonthepage.“JamesMarch,”hesaid.“Ifheisn’there,thenwhereishe?”Fell,NewYork
October1982
VIV
TherewasadinercalledtheTurnaboutonastretchoftheNorthEdgeRoad,closetotheturnofffortheinterstate.Itwasontheoutskirts,whenyouwereintheterritoryofovernightdriversandtruckers,whereyoucouldfindaplacethatwasopenuntilmidnight.
TheTurnaboutwasn’tafancyplace,andthecoffeewasn’tparticularlygood,butVivfoundthatshedidn’tmindit.Forthreedollarsshecouldgetameal,andtherewerepeoplehere—realpeoplewhokneweachother,whosometimessataroundandtalked.She’dforgottenwhatitwasliketobearoundpeoplewhoweren’tjustpassingthrough.
Tonightshesatinaboothandwaited,fidgetyandimpatient.Shehadhernotebookandpenwithher,alongwithamanilafolderstuffedwithpapers.
She’dspentaweekgatheringeverything,andtonightshewouldfindoutifshe’dwastedhertime.
Youcan’tdothis.
Yes,youcan.
Tosayitwasarabbitholewasanunderstatement.EversinceJenny,herroommate,hadmadethosecommentsaboutCathyCaldwellandVictoriaLee,Vivhadfeltanuncomfortableitch,aneedtoknow.Itfeltlikecuriositymixedwithsomethingluridandmysterious,butVivknewitwasdeeperthanthat.Itfeltalmostlikeapurpose.Somethingshewasmeanttofind.
She’dlefttheapartmentearlyeverydayandgonetotheFellCentralLibrary,diggingthrougholdnewspapers.Itwasn’thardtofindarticlesaboutCathyandVictoria;theirmurdershadmadethenews.AfteraweekeachgirlhaddroppedoffthefrontpageoftheFellDaily,andthenyouhadtofindupdates—whatfewtherewere—inthebackpages,withheadlines
likePOLICESTILLMAKENOHEADWAYandQUESTIONSSTILL
REMAIN
ThewaitresspouredVivanothercoffee,andVivanxiouslyglancedatthedoor.BecauseAlmaTrenthadsaidshe’dcome.
Shedid.Shecamethroughthedoorfiveminuteslater,wearingheruniformandnoddingpolitelyatthewaitress.“Howarethings,Laura?”
“Notsobad,”thewaitresssaid.“Youhaven’tbeenhereinadog’sage.”
“Youhaven’thadtocallme,”Almasaidpractically.“ButI’dsurelikeacupofcoffee.”SheslidintotheboothoppositeViv.“Hello,Vivian.”
Vivnodded.Herpalmsweresweating,butshewasdeterminednottobethespeechlessidiotAlmahadmetbefore.“Thanksforcoming,”shesaid.
“Well,yousaidyouhadsomethinginterestingforme.”Almaglancedatherwatch.“I’mdueonshiftinforty-fiveminutes,andifI’mnotmistaken,soareyou.”
Vivputhershouldersback.Shewaswearingafloralblousetonight,andshe’dputonayellowsweateroverit.She’dconsideredwearingdarkercolorstomakeherselflookmoreserious,butshelikedtheyellowbetter.“Iwantedtotalktoyouaboutsomething.SomethingIthinkthatcouldhelpyou.”
“Okay,”Almasaidpolitely,acceptingacupofcoffeefromthewaitressandstirringsomesugarintoit.
“It’saboutCathyCaldwellandVictoriaLee.”
Almawentverystill.
Vivopenedherfolder.“Well,itisn’tonlyaboutthem.It’s—justlisten,okay?”
“Vivian.”Alma’svoicewasalmostgentle.“I’monlythenight-shiftdutyofficer.Idon’tworkmurdercases.”
“Justlisten,”Vivsaidagain,andtheremusthavebeensomethingurgentinhervoice,somethingthatwasalmostalarming,becauseAlmaclosedhermouthandnodded.
“CathyCaldwellwaskilledinDecember1980,”Vivsaid.“Shewastwenty-one.Sheworkedasareceptionistatadentaloffice.Shewasmarriedandhadasix-month-oldson.Herhusbandwasdeployedinthemilitary.”
Sheknewallofthesethings.Sherecitedthemliketheywerethefactsofherownlife.Almanodded.“Irememberit.”
“Shewenttoworkonedayandlefthersonwithababysitter.Shecalledthebabysitteratfiveo’clockandsaidshewaspickingupgroceriesonthe
wayhome,thatshe’dbefifteenminuteslate.Atsixthirty,thebabysittercalledhermother,askingwhatsheshoulddobecauseCathywasn’thomeyet.Themothersaidsheshouldwaitanotherhour,thencallthepolice.Soatseventhirty,thebabysittercalledthepolice.”ShelookedatAlma,thencontinued.“Thepolicesearchedforherforthreedays.Theyfoundherbodyunderanoverpass.Shewasnakedandhadbeenstabbedinthesideoftheneckthreetimes.Thestabsweredeep.Theythinkhewastryingtogetherartery.Whichhedid.”
“Vivian,honey,”Almasaid.“Maybeyoushouldn’t—”
“Justlisten.”Shehadtogetthisout.Ithadbeenboilinginhermindfordaysasshescribbledthoughtsintohernotebook.AlmaquietedandVivpulledahand-drawnmapfromherfilefolder.
“ThearticlesaidthatCathy’susualgrocerystorewasthisonehere.”Shepointedtoaspotonthemap,halfwaybetweentheXmarkedwithCathy’sworkandtheXmarkedwithCathy’shome.“Noonesawhertherethatnight.Hercarwasfoundjustoutoftown,parkedatthemall,sotherewasatheoryshewentshoppinginstead.Butthatwasn’tlikeCathyatall.Andyousee,itmakessense.Becausehedumpedherattheoverpass,here”—sheindicatedanotherX—“andthenhedrovehercartothemall,whichwastenminutesaway.Justbecausehercarwastheredoesn’tmeanshewaseverthere.”
“Igetit,”Almasaid.“You’vebeenplayingamateurdetective.”
Thewordsstung.Playingamateurdetective.Itdidn’tfeellikethat.“I’mgettingtoapoint,”Vivsaid,butAlmakepttalking.
“Wegetpeoplelikethissometimes,”Almasaid.“Theycallintothestationwiththeirtheories.EspeciallywhenitcomestoCathy.Peopledon’tlikethatitwasn’tsolved.Theyfeellikeherkillerisouttheresomewhere.”
“That’sbecauseheis,”Vivsaid.
Almashookherhead.“Ididn’tworkthatcase,butIwasontheforcewhenithappened.Weallgotbriefed.Theleadswereallfollowed.”
VivwaslosingAlma,shecouldtell.“Justhearmeoutthisonetime,”
shesaid.“Justuntilyouhavetogoonshift.Thenyou’llneverhearfrommeagain.”
Almasighed.“IhopeIhearfromyouagain,becauseIlikeyou,”shesaid.“Youseemlikeabrightgirl.Allright,I’lldrinkmycoffeeandlisten.
Carryon.”
Vivtookabreath.“TherewasatheoryaboutCathy.Theyfoundthatoneofhertireshadarepairedpunctureinit.Sohecouldhavepuncturedhertire,thentakenherwhenhepulledovertohelpher.Butthearticlesaidtheycouldn’tdeterminewhenthepuncturerepairwasdone.”Sheflippedapagetoanothersetofneatlywrittennotes.“IusedtheFellyellowpagesandcalledeveryautorepairshop.TheyallsaidtheyhadnorecordoffixingCathy’stire.Butitwastwoyearsagonow,soit’spossibleshecameinandtherecordislonggone.”
Therewassilence,andVivlookeduptoseeAlmalookingather.“Youcalledautorepairshops,”Almasaid.Itwasn’tspokenasaquestion.
Vivshruggedlikeitwasnobigdeal.Shewasn’tabouttoadmitthatshe’dbeenhunguponthreetimes.“Ijustaskedafewquestions.TheotherthingisthatifCathywasstabbedintheneckshewouldhavelostalotofblood.Like,gallons.Andthearticlesdidn’tsaythereweregallonsofbloodundertheoverpass.”
Alma’seyebrowswentup.“Soyousurmisethatshewaskilledelsewhere.”
“Ilookeduptheweatherrecords,”Vivsaid,ignoringAlma’sdrytone.
“TherewasathunderstormwithheavyrainthedayafterCathydisappeared.
Sohecouldhavekilledheroutsidesomewhere,andtherainwashedthebloodaway.”Sheranahandthroughhernewlyshorthair.“Ifyouweregoingtokillsomeonewithalotofblood,wherewouldyoudoit?Nottheoverpass,forsure.Therearecarsgoingbythere.Myguessisthecreek.”
Shepointedtothecreekonhermap,thebanktwohundredyardsfromtheoverpass.“Noneofthearticlessayiftheycheckedthecreek.OrifCathyhadmudonher.Ibetthat’sinthepolicerecords,though.IfCathywasmuddy.”
“Youlookedupweatherrecords,too?”
“Sure,”Vivsaid.“They’rerightthereinthelibrary.”Sheflippedtoanotherpageinhernotebook.“Personally,Ithinkthetirepunctureisacoincidence.Ifhedidn’tgetheronthesideoftheroad,andhedidn’tgetheratthegrocerystore,thenthatleavesoneplace.”ShepointedtoanXonthemap.“Cathy’swork.Hegotherwhenshegotintohercar.”
Almasippedhercoffee.Sheseemedtobegettingintoitnow.“It’satheory,sure.Butsofaryouaren’ttellingmeanythingIdon’talreadyknow,oranythingIcan’tlookupatwork.”
“VictoriaLee,”Vivsaid,ignoringherandflippingtoyetanotherpage,pullingoutanotherhand-drawnmap.“Shewaseighteen.Thearticlesaidshe’dhad‘numerousboyfriends.’Thatmeanseveryonethoughtshewasaslut,right?”
Almapressedherlipstogetherandsaidnothing.
“Itdoes,”Vivsaid.“Victoriahadanon-again,off-againboyfriend.Theyfoughtallthetime.Shefoughtwithherparents,herteachers.Shehadabrotherwhoranawayfromhomeandnevercameback.”ThatwasalmostallsheknewaboutVictoria.Therehadbeenconsiderablylesscoverageofherinthenewspapersnexttopretty,upstandingyoungmotherCathy.Afterall,Victoria’skillerhadbeenarrested.AndnexttoCathy,Victoriawasagirlwhodeservedit.
“Augustof1981,”Almasaid,breakingintoViv’sthoughts.“Irememberthatdaywell.”
Vivlookedupatherandnodded.“Victorialikedtogojogging.Shelefthomehere”—anXonthemap—“andwenttothejoggingtrailhere.”
AnotherX.“Shedidn’tcomehome.Herparentsdidn’treportituntillatethenextafternoon.TheysaidthatVictoriawentoutalotwithouttellingthem.Theyfiguredshefoundsomeofherfriends.”
“Wespunourwheelsforawhile,”Almaadmitted.“Theparentsweresocertainshe’dbeenoutpartyingthenightbefore.Sowestartedthere,questioningallherfriends,tryingtofigureoutwhatpartyshewasat.Itwasafulldaybeforewerealizedtheparentsjustassumed,andVictoriawasn’tatapartyatall.Wehadtobacktracktothelasttimeanyonehadseenher,whichwasheadingtothejoggingtrail.”
Vivleanedforward.Noneofthiswasinthenewspapers,none.“Thearticlesaidtheyusedtrackingdogs.”
“Wedid.Wegavethemashirtofhers,andwefoundher.Shewastwentyfeetoffthejoggingtrail,inthebushes.”Almablinkedandlookedaway,herhandssqueezinghercoffeecup.“Thecoronersaidshe’dbeendeadalmostthewholetime.Shegottothatjoggingtrailandhejustkilledherrightawayanddumpedher.Andshejustlaytherewhileeveryonescrewedaround.”
Theyweresilentforaminute.
“Wasitreallyherboyfriend?”Vivasked.
“Sure,”Almasaid.“They’dhadabigfight.Shenaggedhimalot,andhecalledherabitch.Therewereadozenwitnesses.ThenVictoriawenthome
andfoughtwithherparents,too.Theboyfriend,Charlie,hadnoalibi.Hesaidhewenthomeaftertheirfight,buthismothersaidhecamehomeanhourlaterthanheclaimedhedid.PlentyoftimetokillVictoria.Hecouldn’tsaywherehewas.Heeventuallytriedtoclaimhe’dspentthathourwithanothergirl,buthecouldn’tproducetheactualgirlorgivehername.
Thewholethingstunk,andhewasconvicted.”Shefrowned.“WhyareyouinterestedinVictoria?Itisn’tlikeCathy.It’ssolved.”
Vivtappedherfingersonhernotebook.Shecouldn’tsay,really.Thepapershadportrayeditasanopen-and-shutcase.ButitwasthosewordsJennyhadsaid:Don’tgoonthejoggingtrail.Wordsofwisdomfromonegirltoanother.Likeitcouldhappenagain.
“Theyweresoclosetogether,”shesaidtoAlma.“CathyinDecemberof1980,VictoriainAugustof1981.TwogirlsmurderedinFellinunderayear.Maybeitwasn’ttheboyfriend.”
Thisearnedherasmile—kind,butstillcondescending.“Honey,thepoliceandthecourtsdecidethat.Theydidtheirjobalready.”
Thecourt.Wasthereatranscriptofthetrial?Vivwondered.Howcouldshegetone?“Itdoesn’tfeelfinished,”shesaid,thoughsheknewitsoundedlamesaidoutloud.“Whythejoggingtrail?Whythereofallplaces?Heknewher.Hecouldhavekilledheranywhere.Hecouldhavephonedherandluredhersomewhereprivate,sayhewantedtoapologizeorsomething.
Andshe’dgo.Insteadhekilledherwhereanyonecouldwalkby.”
“Whoknowswhy?”Almasaid.“Itwasafrequentedspot,butitwasrainingthatday.Hewasangryandirrational.Hekilledherquickly,dumpedherinthebushes,andwenthome.You’reyoung,Vivian,butit’sanoldstory.Trustme.”Almasetheremptycoffeecuponthetableandgentledhervoice.“You’reanicegirl,butyouaren’ttrainedforthiskindofthing.Idon’tknowwhyyouthinkit’sconnectedtoCathy.Isthatwhatyou’regettingat?”
Shecouldn’thavesaid.Becausetheywerebothcautionarytales,maybe.
Don’tbelikeher.Don’tenduplikeher.Itwasagutfeeling.Whichwasstupid,becauseshewasjustacluelessgirl,notacoporajudge.Shehadnoareaofexpertise.
Exceptbeingapotentialvictim.Thatwasherareaofexpertise.
“Thereweren’ttwomurders,”Vivsaid.“Therewerethree.”
ShepulledanewspaperclippingfromherfileandputitinfrontofAlma.Localfamilystillsearchfortheirdaughter’skiller,theheadlineread.
“BettyGrahamwasmurdered,too,”Vivsaid.
Almalookedatthearticle,andforthefirsttimeherexpressionwenthard.“I’mnotgoingtotalkaboutBettyGraham,”shesaid.“Ishouldn’tbetalkingtoyouatall.”
Thiswaswhyshehaddoneallthisresearch.Thiswaswhatmattered.ToViv,itwasallaboutthewomanintheflowereddress.Who,shenowknew,wasBettyGraham.
“Bettywasunsolved,”Vivsaid,pushingher.“BeforeCathy.InNovemberof1978.”
Alma’sfacewasfullyshutdownnow.Sheshookherhead.“That’swhatthisisallabout,isn’tit?Igetitnow.YouheardaboutBettyandwhereherbodywasdumped.That’swhatsetallofthisoff.”
“Aschoolteacher,”Vivsaid.“Killedanddumped.Thearticlessayherbodywas‘violated.’Whatdoesthatmean?Doesthatmeanrape?Theydidn’tsayCathywasviolated.”
“Vivian,thisisn’thealthy.Thesekindsoftopicsaren’tnormal.Anicegirllikeyou,youshouldbethinkingabout—”
“Parties?Boys?Movies?CathyandVictoriacaredaboutthosethings,Ibet.Betty,too,maybe.”Shetappedthearticlesittingbetweenthem.“HerbodywasdumpedattheSunDownMotel.”
Alma’svoicewastight.“Itwasn’ttheSunDownMotel.Notthen.”
“No,itwasaconstructionsite.Hekilledheranddumpedherbodyonadirtheapataconstructionsite.”
“Itwasyearsago.”
Maybe,butBettyisstillthere.She’sstillattheSunDown.I’veseenher,becausesheneverleft.
She’sstillthere,andshe’stellingmetorun.
Bettyhadbeentwenty-four.Unmarriedwithnoboyfriends,noenemies,nowildhabits.GonefromherownhouseinthemiddleofaSaturday,neverseenaliveagain.Betty’sparentswerestillgrieving,stilllooking.“Wejustwanttoknowwhowoulddosuchathing,”Betty’sfatherwasquotedinthearticleassaying.“Wecan’tunderstandit.Isupposeitwon’thelpintheend.
Butwejustwanttoknow.”
ThephotoofBettywasofthewomanshe’dseenattheSunDown.Herhairwastiedbackandtherewasasmileonherfaceforthecamera,butitwasher.
“Whatdoes‘violated’mean?”Vivaskedagain.
Almashookherhead.“Youshoulddropthis,honey.Thesearedarkthings.Theyaren’tgoodforyou.”
“Darkthingsarerealthings,”Vivsaid.She’dsatreadingarticlesintheFelllibrary,herstomachsick.She’dgonehomeandweptsoundlesslyonherbed,thesobscomingasdrowninggasps,thinkingaboutthewomanintheflowereddress,howshewasstilltherewhereherbodywasdumped,asifshecouldn’tleave.“Listen,”shesaidtoAlmayetagain.Theywerebothdueonshiftintenminutes.“ThelastpersontoseeBettyalivewasaneighborwhosawwhatshethoughtwasatravelingsalesmanknockonBetty’sdoor.Sheopenedthedoorandlethimin.”Herbloodpoundedsohardinhertemplesthatsheheardherownvoicelikeanecho.“There’satravelingsalesmanwhocomestothemotel.Heusesfakenameseverytimehechecksin.”
ThatmadeAlmagostillforaminuteasshethoughtitover—butonlyforaminute.“Soyou’veseenatravelingsalesman,andyouthinkitcouldbeBetty’skiller?”
“AtravelingsalesmanwhocomestotheSunDown,whereherbodywasleft.Anddoesn’tsaywhoheis.”
“Okay.”Almalookedatherwatch.“Look,I’lltellyouwhat:Getmesomething,anythingIcanlookup,andI’lllookitupforyou.Hell,noonegivesashitwhatIdoonmyshiftanyway.Nexttimethisguycomesin,getmesomething.Trytogetaname,makeandmodelofcar,alicenseplate,thecompanywhereheworks,anything.Chathimupabit.Benice,butbecareful.You’reagood-lookinggirlandnoteveryoneisasniceasyouare.”
“Iknow.”Sheknewthatnow.
“Okaythen,wehaveadeal.Ihavetogotoworknow.Seeyoulater,Vivian.Andifnothingcomesofthis—pleasedropit.Ifnotforyourself,thenforme.”
Vivnodded,thoughsheknewshewouldneverdropit.Itwasinherbloodnow.Shegatheredherpapersandnotebookandwenttowork.
Therewasnooneintheofficeagain,thoughthelightswereonandthedoorwasunlocked.Sheputonheruniformvestandsatatthedesk.
Nexttimethisguycomesin,getmesomething.
Shehadn’ttoldAlmaabouttheghosts.Aboutthewomanintheflowereddress.Aboutthefactthateverytimethetravelingsalesmancheckedin,themotelwokeupandbecameakindofwakingnightmare.
AsiftheSunDowndidn’tlikehimatall.
Nexttimethisguycomesin,getmesomething.
Run.
Maybeitwasnothing.Itwasprobablynothing,andshewasjustastupidgirlwhodidn’tknowwhatshewastalkingabout.
“Betty?”shesaidaloudintothesilence.
Therewasnoanswer.Butwhenshebreathedin,Vivcaughtafainttraceoffreshcigarettesmoke.
Whatdoes“violated”mean?
Themaninthecar,hishandonherthigh.
Whatdoes“violated”mean?
Getmesomething.
Betty,thenCathy,thenVictoria.ThreewomenmurderedinFellinthepastfewyears.Theirbodiesdumpedliketrash.Evenifoneofthemwassolved,thatstilllefttwowhosemurdererwasstilloutthere.Thesalesmanwastheonlyleadshecouldthinkof,theonlyplacetostart.
Shehadaproblem:Shedidn’tknowwhenthesalesmanwouldcomeagain.Shewasstuckforhoweverlong,untilhechosetocheckin.Ifhechosetocheckineveragain.
Whenhewasherebefore,he’dleftnotraceofwhohewas.Except…
Vivthoughtitoverandsmiledtoherself.
Maybeshewasn’tstuckafterall.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Librariesweremyplaces.Iwasthatgirlwhomaxedoutherlibrarycardeveryweek,startingwithTheHobbitandTheWitchofBlackbirdPondandmovingupfromthere.IcouldkillanhourbywanderingintoanunfamiliarpartoftheDeweyDecimalSystemandcheckingitout.
Computers,cardcatalogs,microfiches—Icouldnavigatethemall.
SotheFellCentralLibrarywasimmediatelyfamiliar.Itwassetinthemiddleofdowntowninabuildingthatwaslarge-ishandsupposedtobeprestigiousbasedonitsfakemarbleandcolumns.Insideitwasmustyandboxy,ahugecubewithhighwindowsandopenstairstotheupperlevel.Ibypassedthecirculationdeskonthemainfloorandheadedforthebackofthebuilding,takingaguessatwherethemediaarchivesroomwouldbe.Ipassedafewretirees,athirty-year-oldwomanobviouslystudyingfeverishlyforanexam,andahandfulofstudentsmyagewhoprobablywenttoFell’stinycollege.TheylikelyassumedIwasoneofthem,sinceIwaswearingjeans,mylace-upboots,andasweaterunderawaist-lengthjacket,myhairinitsusualponytail.
Iheftedmymessengerbagandwanderedthestacks.Thebackofthelibrarywaspleasantlydustyanddim,farfromthewindowsandfullofemptycorners.Itsuitedmyexhaustion,sinceitwasfouro’clockintheafternoon—themiddleofthenightforme.I’dhadtorousemyselffrombedtogettothelibrarywhileitwasstillopen.Ihadn’thadthehearttowakeHeatheranddragherwithmesinceshesleptsorarely,andwasstillasleepinourapartment.
IhadtogoupstairstofindwhatIwanted,butitwasindeedatthebackofthelibrary:aglassdoorwiththewordsFELLARCHIVEROOMonthem.
InsidetheroomIhadtheplacetomyself—justme,acoupleofcomputer
terminals,afewlongtables,andafewshelvesofbooksandmagazines.Ididn’tevenbotheraskingalibrarian;Ijustsatdown.
TwentyminuteslaterI’dfiguredoutthearchivesystem.ItwastimetolearnaboutFell.
Istartedwiththeobvioussearches:VivDelaney,VivDelaneymissing,SunDownMotel.I’donlyeverhadthetwoarticlesI’dfoundinmymother’sbelongings,thosetwoscrapsofnewsprint,butinFell’sdatabasetherewasanotherarticlethatmostlyrepeatedthesameinformationIalreadyhad,aswellasonemoretitledWHOWASVIVIANDELANEY?
Localgirl’sdisappearanceleavesquestionsbehind.IenteredmycreditcardnumberandhitPrintonthatone.
TheSunDownMotelsearchgavemedifferentresults.Inarrowedthesearchparametersto1980–1983anddidn’tgetmanyhits,soIexpandedtheyearsandthendeletedtheparametersentirely.WhatIgotfromthatwas,initsbitsandpiecesofglory,achronologicalhistoryoftheSunDownMotel.
Itwasbuiltin1978onaplotoflandcalledCotton’sLandbecauseithadbelongedtoafarmernamedCottonbeforehesoldout.Itopenedinearly1979—stillthecoldseason,beforethetouristseasonbegan.Therewasn’tmuchfanfareaboutitsopeningexceptforaphotoofthemotel,takenfromjustpastthesignontheedgeofNumberSixRoad.Infrontofthemotelstoodawoman,aman,andayoungboy,theirhandsonhisshoulders.Thecaptionread:JaniceandCarlMcNamara,withtheirsonChristopher,infrontoftheirnewmotel,calledtheSunDown.Themotelisnowopenforbusinessandfeaturesapool,cableTV,androomsattwentydollarspernight.
Ilookedcloseratthelittleboy,recognizingChris,thedepressedguywhohadhiredme.Frankly,Ihatethisplace.Icomeouthereaslittleaspossible.EverymemoryIhaveofthisplaceisbad.
Ilookedatthephotoforanotherminute.TheSunDown,onthatdayinearly1979,lookedexactlylikeitdidwhenI’dworkedtherelastnight—
samedoors,samefixtures,samesign.ExceptforCarl’sbigcollar,Chris’sginghamshirt,andJanice’sultra-high-waistedpants—whichwerecomingbackinstyleanyway—Ilivedinthispicture.EventhemotelofficesignbehindCarl’sshoulderwasthesameoneIsaweverynight.Theparkinglotwasempty,thetreestallanddarkinthebackdrop.Therewassomethingcreepyandcomfortingatthesametimeaboutthefamiliarity,asifCarlandJanicehadneverdied,asifChrishadn’tgrownupmiserableandwishing
themotelhadneverexisted.Asifthewomanintheflowereddresscouldopenoneoftheroomdoorsandstepouttotherailing,askingpolitelywhenthepoolwouldopen.
Iprintedthephotoandflippedtothenextmentions.TheSunDownhadn’tdonewell,evenfromthefirst—therewasamarijuanabustthereinDecember1979,andarunawaygirlwasfoundtherewithherboyfriendinFebruary1980.
IscrolledtoanarticleinJuly1980andfroze.
BOYDIESINTRAGICPOOLACCIDENT,theheadlineread.ItwasburiedinthebackofthepaperonJuly13,1980,twoparagraphsinthe
“LocalNews”section.WilliamDandridge,knownasBilly,agenine,hadbeenstayingattheSunDownwithhisparents—theyweredrivingtoFlorida—whenhe’dhithisheadonthesideofthepool.He’dbeeninthehospitalforfourdays,hisbrainslowlyswellinganddying,beforehe’dfinallygone.Hisparentsrefusedtospeaktothepress.Whenaskedifthemotelwasgoingtohirealifeguard,JaniceMcNamarahadonlysaid,“No.Ithinkwe’lljustclosethepool.”
Istaredatthemonitor,myeyesgoingdrybehindmyglasses.Thatboy
—Ihadseenhim.Sittingonthemotel’ssecondlevel,hishandagainstthepanelasheleanedforward.I’dwatchedhimrunaway.
Itwashim.AndnowIknewwhohewas.
“Excuseme,”avoicesaidatmyshoulder.“Isthisyours?”
Iturnedtofindamanholdingastackofpapersouttome.Hewasaboutmyage,withsoftgoldenbrownhairwornalittlelongandbrowneyes.Heworeablacksweaterandjeans,andbehindhimIcouldseeajacketandbackpackonatable.Ihadn’tevenheardhimcomein.
Ilookedatthepapers.ItwasthestackofarticlesI’dprintedout—theywerelikelysittingintheprinterontheothersideoftheroom.ThearticleontopwastheheadlinethatreadWHOWASVIVIANDELANEY?
“Thanks,”Isaid,takingthestackofpagesfromhim.
“Didyoufigureitout?”heasked.Hisvoicewaslowbutnotquiteawhisper.Thiswasalibrary,butsofarwewerealoneinthisroom.
“Figurewhatout?”Iaskedhim.
Hepointedtotheheadline.“WhowasVivianDelaney?”hesaid.“Ihavetoadmit,Ikindofwanttoknow.”
Ilookedupathimagain.Iwasn’tusedtoseeingguysindaylightanymore,Irealized.Iscrambledtorecallhowpeoplewhoweren’tmeor
Heatherspoketoeachotherinthemiddleoftheday.“Shedisappearedin1982,”Itoldtheman.“Nooneeverfoundher.”
“Noshit,”theguysaid.“ShedisappearedfromFell?”
“FromtheSunDownMotel.Shewasworkinganightshiftthere.”
“Iknowthatplace.”Hepulledupachairandsatonitnexttome,thenseemedtorememberhimself.“I’mCallumMacRae,bytheway,”hesaid,holdingouthishand.
“Carly,”Isaid,shakingit.NowthatIwaslevelwithhimIcouldseethathehadevenfeatures,darkbrowneyessetbeneathsymmetricalbrows,aperfectnoseandcheekbones,agoodchin.Somethingabouthimradiatedclass—thesweater,maybe,whichIcouldnowseewasfarfromcheapandfithimtoeveryseam.Ortheeasywayhetookoverandleanedin,likeitwashisright.Orthecrispwayhesmelled,likehe’dputexpensivecologneonadayortwoago,itstangjustbarelydiscernible.Itwasanicepackage,andhegavemeasmile,butIstillkeptmyguardup.I’dspenttimeincollege,andhewasaninchtoofarintomyspace.Ifthisguywasacreeper,I’dhavenoproblemmakingascene.
“Sorry,”Callumsaid,thoughhistonesaidhewasn’treally.“I’minterruptingyou.ButI’mageekwhenitcomestothehistoryofFell.AreyouatFCCE?Doingaproject?”
Iwastiredandstupidforasecond.“What’sFCCE?”
Hesmiledagain,morewidely.“Iguessyouaren’tastudent,then.It’stheFellCollegeofClassicalEducation.”
Oh.Right.“No,Idon’tgothere.Doyou?”
“Notreally,”Callumsaid.“Sortof.Mymotherisoneoftheprofsthere,sotechnicallyIgettogoforfree.It’saperktheyhavefortheirprofs.Itrytogo,buttobehonestIdon’tmakeitthereveryoften.”Heshrugged.“It’sboring,atleasttome.Ifindthismoreinteresting.”Hetappedmypages.“Iguessit’sastupidquestiontoaskifyou’redoingaproject,sinceyou’relookingupFellnewspapersfrom1982andnotChaucerorsomething.Iwasjustsurprisedtoseesomeoneinhere.Theonlypersonwhoeverhangsoutinthisroomisme.”
Ilookedaround.“YouhangoutinthearchiveroomoftheFellLibrary?”
“Itsoundsweird,Iknow.Buttheyhaven’tdigitizedtheFellDailybefore2014.Iguessyouknowthat,sinceyou’rehere.Youcan’tgetolderissuesonline.”
“Iknow.”Itwasabigpartofthereasonforthiswholeadventure,actually.IhadwantedtocometoFelltoreadthearchives,acenturyagowhenIwasaseminormalIllinoisgirlwithaweirdreadinghobbyandaskeletoninthefamilycloset.
“ThereweretwootherFellpapers,”Callumcontinued.Hisfacehadlitup,andIknewthatwhateverthiswas,itwashisthing.“TheFellGazetteandtheUpstateNewYorkJournal.TheGazettewasdaily,theJournalweekly.TheGazettefoldedin1980,theJournalin1994.Neitherofthemaredigitized,either,andthey’refullofamazingstuff.Alotofthosetwoaren’teveninthemicroficheshere.They’reallpaperissuesinthestacks,ifyoucanbelieveit.AndIknowI’mtotallyboringyou,butI’mgoingsomewherewiththis,Ipromise.”Hesmiledagain,andIfeltmyselfsmilingback.“Thelibrarydoesn’thavethebudgetforthedigitizationproject.
WhenIheardthat,Idecidedtodoitmyself.Asavolunteer.”
Myeyebrowsrose.“Wow.Youcomeinhereeverydayanddigitizepapers?Forfree?”
“Yeah,Ihavepermission.It’snotcostingthelibraryanythingexceptforthescannertheyboughtandthecomputertheyletmeuse.Thelibrariansallknowmymotherbecauseshe’sanFCCEprof.TheyknowIwanttodothis.
SohereIam.”
“Butwhy?”Iaskedhim.“Shouldn’tyoubeinschoolorsomething?”Icringedinwardly,becauseIsoundedexactlylikemymother.“Ididn’tmeanthatthewayitcameout.Imeantthatifyoureallylikethiskindofthing,youcouldgotojournalismschool.Orinternatapaper.”
“Icoulddothat,”Callumadmitted,“butthenI’dhavetowriteaboutwhattheyassignmeandnotwhatIwant.”
Isighedandadjustedmyglassesonthebridgeofmynose.“Igetthat,actually.”
“Ithoughtyouwould,becauseyou’rehere,too.Sittinginthearchivesroomalone,justlikeIdo.”Heleanedforward.“ThisisFell.DidyouknowthatwhentheydugtomaketheparkinglotoftheSav-MartonMellerStreet,theyfoundsixbodies?Allchildren,alltwohundredyearsold.Thatwasin1991.Itwasn’tagraveyard—therewasjustapitwithsixkidsinit,alldeadoftyphoid.Thereweren’tevenanycoffins.Someonejustdugaholeandputthemin.”
“Holyshit,”Isaid.“Weretheysiblings?”
Callumheldupafinger.“No,”hesaid,relishingthemoment.“Notsiblings.TheywereEuropeans,too.Sowhathappened?Iftherewasanoutbreak,there’snorecordofit.Fellhasagraveyardthatdatesbackto1756andhasEuropeansettlersinit.Sowhyweren’tthesekidsthere?Whojustdumpedtheminaholeandran?Nooneknows.IfoundthestoryintheJournalwhenIwasdigitizinglastweek.Theywroteonestory,that’sit.It’sthecraziestthing.Just‘someonefoundthebodiesofsixkids,nooneknowswhythey’rethere.Also,it’sgoingtorainthisweekend.’That’swhatImeanaboutFell.”
“Yeah,I’mgettingtheidea,”Isaid.
“You’renotalocal,Icantell.”Callumleanedbackinhischair.“Fellattractsweirdtypes.Peoplewhoareabitmorbid.Nooffense.”
“Nonetaken.”Igesturedtothearticleonthetablebetweenus.“VivDelaneywasmyaunt.Mymotherwasheronlysibling,andshe’sdeadnow.
Iwanttofindoutwhathappened,becauseshedeservessomekindofjustice.Butnothing’sgoingthewayIthoughtitwould.”
Hedidn’taskwhatthatmeant.Hejustnodded.“Okay,then.You’renotgettingthefullstoryonthismicrofiche.Let’sfindsomeofthepapersfrom1982.”
???
Threehourslater,HeatherandIweresittinginourapartment,meonthesofaandhercross-leggedonthefloor.Thecoffeetablewascoveredinprintoutsandphotocopies,myspiralnotebooksatopenandscrawledin,andbothofourlaptopswereopen.
“Thisisabonanza,”shesaid.“I’vealwaysdonemytrue-crimestalkingontheInternet.IguesstheFellarchivesroomistheplacetobe.”
“Iknow.”Iwrappedablanketovermylap.NotallofthearticlesI’dpulledwereaboutViv;infact,veryfewofthemwere.HerdisappearancewasablipinthelifeofFell,justanotherthingthathappenedin1982.
“Here’swhatIdon’tunderstand,”Isaid,pickingupanarticle.Viv’sphotolookedbackatmefromthepage,apictureIhadn’tseenbefore.Shewasalone.Hershoulderswereturnedfromthecamerabutshewaslookingbackasifsomeonehadcalledhername,herchintilteddown.Thephotowasslightlyblurry,asiftakenfromadistance,butitwasstillclearlyher.TheotherphotoshadbeenposedsnapshotsofVivsmiling,butinthispicture
herexpressionwasserious,hermouthinafirmline,herbrowsslashesabovehereyes,whichwerefocusedonsomethingwithdeadlyintensity.
Sheworeabluesweaterwithahandbagoverhershoulder,andherbangswereflippedwithacurlingiron,herhaircutjustabovehershoulders.Nomatterhowfuzzythephotoorhowdatedthehairstyle,Vivhadbeenaprettyyoungwoman.“Thearticlesdon’tmentionasearchforher.Literallynothing.Itseemslikethecopsaskedaround,putafewarticlesinthepaper,anddidn’ttrymuchelse.”
“Maybeweshouldtalktocops,”Heathersaid.Sheheldupapieceofpaper.“ThisarticlequotesEdwardParey,chiefofFellPD.Let’sseeifhe’sstillalive.”
“Doyouthinkhewouldtalktous?”Iaskedher.
Heathershruggedasshetyped.“Whynot?We’reharmless.Whatdoeshethinkwe’regoingtodo?”
“Ifhe’sstillalive,he’sprobablyretired.Maybehedoesn’twanttotalkaboutoldcases.”
“Ormaybehedoes.IfI’dbeenchiefofpolice,andI’dretired,I’dbeboredoutofmymind.”Sheclickedthroughafewpages.“Doesn’tlooklikehe’sdied.Itwouldhelpifweknewsomeonewhoknewhim,though.”
“MaybeCallumcanhelp.”
Heatherlookedupatme,blank.
“Theguywhohelpedmeinthearchivesroomtoday.Itoldyou.”
“Oh,right.Anotheroneofyourmen.”
Icouldn’thelpit;Ilaughed.
“Well,youhavealotofthem,”Heatherpointedout.
Thatmademelaughmore.“Ilikethatyoudon’tknowhowpatheticIam,”Itoldher.“Idon’tthinkItalkedtoanactual,literalmanincollege.
OneofthemmighthavespokentomeatapartyandInearlychokedonmydrink.ThenIwenthomeandreadTheDeathlyHallowsagainsoIcouldtellmyselfthatwaswhyIwascrying.”
“MyGod,we’retrulysoulsisters,”Heathersaid.“Menarenotmybailiwick.”Atmycarefullyblankexpression,shesaid,“Relax.Menaremybailiwickintheory.Ijustdon’tlike…”Shemovedherhandsaround,mimingabubble.“Idon’tlikeanyonetouchingme.Anywhere,ever.”
“Igetthat,”Isaid.
“Carly,noonegetsthat.Notmyparents,notboys,notshrinks.Notanyone.”
Ithoughtagainaboutthelineupofmedicationsonourbathroomcounterandsaid,“Ido.Notwantingsomeone’shandsonyou.Igetit.”
Therewasaslowarcofseriousnessforalongmoment.Shelookedatme,andIcouldseeshewantedtosaysomethingimportant.Butintheendshedidn’t,andshelookedawaywithasmallsigh.
AndIwasn’tlying.Ididgetit.IthoughtaboutCallumMacRae,asniceashewas,andIgotit.ThenIthoughtaboutNickHarkness,andmyfirstthoughtwasthatIcouldpicturewantinghishandsonme.Icouldpictureiteasily,eventhoughhe’dneverdoit.
IsmoothedthephotocopiedpageinmylapandlookeddownatVivagain.Athowaliveandunrehearsedshewasinthispicture,likeshewasjustgoingaboutherbusinessinsteadofposingforacamera.Andthenitstruckmethatmaybeshehadn’tevenbeenawarethispicturewastaken.
Likesomeonehadtakenitandshehadn’tseen.
Ilookedatthebottomofthepictureandread:PhotobyMarnieMahoney.Fell,NewYork
October1982
VIV
HelenandRobertwereattheSunDownagain.Sowasthegreensedanthatfollowedthem.Itwasstillthereatseveninthemorning;ithadbeenthereallnight.Itwasrainingandthesunwasonlyafaintgrayishtingethroughthepourofwater.Vivwonderedhowthemaninthegreensedancouldgetanygoodphotosinthislight.
Hershiftwasfinished,sosheshedherpolyestervestandputonhercoat.SometimesJaniceshoweduptorelieveheratseven,andsometimesshedidn’t.Vivalwayslefteitherway.Thereweren’tanyrealrulesattheSunDown.
TherewasnosignofJanice,soVivlockedtheofficedoor,thoughshelefttheneonsignon.Sheputherhooduptofendofftherainandtookthepathawayfromtheparkinglot,headingtowardthepool.Shecircledtheedgeofthemotelproperty,herfeetintheirsneakerssplashinginthecoldpuddles.ShetrottedalongthethinstrandoftreesthatborderedNumberSixRoadandskirtedtothebackoftheparkinglot.Bythetimesheapproachedthegreensedan,fromtheothersideofthemotel,herfeetweresoakedandtherewasrainrunningdownherneck.
Thecarwasparkedatthebackedgeoftheparkinglot,thesameplaceasbefore,itsrighttiresonthelinewhereconcretemetdirtygravel.Theinsidewasdark,andintherainVivcouldn’tseethroughthewindows.Shewalkeduptothefrontpassengersideandknockedonthewindow.
Ashadowmovedinsidethecar,butnothingelsehappened.Obviouslyhewantedhertogoaway,soVivbentatthewaistandsaidloudlytotheglass,“They’llbeoutintenminutes.They’regettingreadytoleaverightnow.”
Anothersecondofnothing,andthentheshadowmovedagainandthewindowstartedtocrankdown.Vivcaughtawhiffofasmellthatwassurprisinglynice,likecleanperfume.Awoman’svoicesaid,“Whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?”
Vivstoodfrozenwithsurprise,butsherecoveredherselfquickly.“Thecoupleinroomone-oh-nine,”shesaid.“That’swhoyou’rewaitingfor,isn’tit?You’rewaitingtotakepictures.You’vebeenhereallnight.”
Silencefromthecar,thenabreathed“Shit”thatVivcouldhearovertherain
“Theyusuallydon’tstaythislong,”Vivcontinued.“Theyleavebyfour,thoughyoualreadyknowthat.Themanjustcalledhiswifetotellherhe’sonhiswayhome.She’llcomeoutanyminute.Shealwaysleavesfirst.”
“Shit.”Thisonewaslouder.“Getinthebackseat,forGod’ssake.I’mtryingtomakealivinghere.”
Vivopenedthebackdoorandslidintothecar.Shepushedherhoodback,drippingonthepleather,andlookedatthewomaninthefrontseat.
Thewomanturnedinthedriver’sseatandlookedbackather.Theotherwomanwasblack,slender,withnaturalhairinashortAfro.Shelookedtobeinherlatetwenties.Shewaswearingablouseinanunderstatedfloralprintandneatjeans.Shehadnomakeupandgoldstudsinherears.Ifshewastiredafterbeingawakeallnight,herfaceshowednosignofit.
Vivhadn’texpectedablackwoman.She’dexpectedaman,adetectivetypefromoneofherTVshows.Detectivesweren’tblackwomen,notevenonCagney&Lacey.Thenagain,whynot?Fellwasfullofsurprises.Vivwasalmostusedtoitbynow.
Nexttothewomanonthefrontpassengerseatwasabagofbulkycameraequipmentandalunchbagthathadobviouslycontainedherdinner.
Thewoman’sdarkbrowneyeslookedstraightintoViv’s,andVivsawsomeonewhowastough,wary,andnotalittleannoyed,becausesheknewexactlywhatVivwasthinking.
Thewoman’seyesnarrowedwithrecognition.“You’retheofficegirl.”
“Yes,”Vivsaid.“Andyou’retheonefollowingHelenwhileshecheatsonherhusband.”
“Thatbotheryou?Areyougoingtocallyourbossaboutit?”
“No,”Vivsaid.“Itdoesn’tbothermeatall.AndIdon’tknowwheremybossis.”
Thewoman’sfaceturnedharder.“Soyoucameintomycarexactlywhy?Becauseyoudon’thaveanythingbettertodo?”
Vivheldhergaze.“No.IcamebecauseIneedafavor.”
“Afavor?”Thewomanshookherhead,almostlaughing.“Shitanddoubleshit,”shesaid.“Thisisnotmynight.Ididn’tknowyoumademe,officegirl.Iobviouslyneedtobemorediscreet.”
“Theyhavenoideayou’rehere,”Vivoffered.“I’msureofit.”
“Uh-huh.AndhowdoyouknowwhatRomeosaysinhisphonecalls?”
“There’ssomethingdefectiveaboutthephoneline,”Vivreplied.“Whensomeonemakesacall,Icanliftthereceiverintheofficeandlistentoit.Idoitallthetime.”
Thewoman’seyeswidenedforabriefsecond.“Huh.That’shandy.”
Vivshrugged.“Itdependsonwhatyouwanttohear.Butifyouwantsomethinginreturnforafavorforme,IcantellyoueverythingeitherofthemhaseversaidonthetelephoneattheSunDown.”
Therewasamomentofsilenceasthewomanthoughtthisthrough.Thequietsettledthroughoutthecar.Vivwonderedifshe’dplayedhercardswrong.Maybeshehad.Shehadn’tplannedonsellingoutHelenandRoberttogetwhatshewanted,butshewasstartingtolearnthatyouhadtodowhatyouhadtodo.
“Okay,I’llbite,”thewomansaidfinally.Sheheldoutherhand.“MynameisMarnie.”
Vivshookit.“Viv.Ithinkthat—”
“Shh.”Marniedroppedherhandandgrabbedhercamera.“Getdownintheseat,willyou?Outofsight.”
Vivsawthatthedoortoroom109hadopenedandHelenwascomingout.Shewasdressedinjeansagain,withalong-waistedblackandwhiteshirtunderhercoat.Sheputapieceofpaperoverherhead—VivrecognizedtheyellowedWelcometotheSunDown!cardthatwasonthenightstandineveryroom—andhurriedthroughtheraintohercar.
WatchingHelenmadeVivthinkaboutherparents.Afterthedivorce,herfatherhadremarriedinlessthanayear.Hadhecheated?Hermotherhadneversaidanything.Thenagain,hermotherwassohumiliatedshewouldratherdiethantellthetruth.Theentiredivorcehadgonedowninstonysilence—herfatherwasthere,andthenhewasgone.Therewasnodiscussion,nothingbutherfather’sabsenceandhermother’spanicked
insistenceonperfectionfrombothofherdaughters,asifbeingperfectwouldmakealloftheproblemsgoaway.
Iftherehadbeencheating,neitherparentwouldevertellher.Eventhoughshewasanadultnow.Shewouldneverhavethetruth.
VivsliddowninthebackseatasMarnieaimedhercameraandclickeditoverandover.ShecapturedHelengettinginhercar,drivingaway.Thensheputthecameradown.“Damn,thatwomaniscold,”shecommented.
“Whohiredyou?”Vivasked,sittingupinherseatagain.“Hiswifeorherhusband?”
Marnieglancedather.“I’mnotsupposedtotell.ButI’vebeensittinginthiscarallnight,sotoobad.Alawyerhiredme.Herepresentsthehusband.
Themanthinkssomethingisgoingon.”
“Youshouldhaveplentyofevidencebynow.”
“Ido.ButIgivethelawyerarolloffilmandheasksmeforanotherone.
Hewantsitironclad,hesays.Soundstomelikethatbitchisgoingtogetputoutonherass.Andforwhat?AfewnightswithMr.Whiteinthere?
Don’tgetmewrong,themanisfarfromugly.Butagirlcanfindanot-uglymananydayoftheweek,andanunmarriedone,too.HemustbesomekindofSupermaninbed.”
VivlookedoutattherainandthoughtaboutHelen.“Idon’tthinkshe’slookingforromance.Idon’tknowwhatshe’slookingfor,butthat’snotit.”
“Idon’tgiveashitwhatshe’slookingfor,”Marniesaidpractically,puttinghercameragearbackinitsbag.“Personally,I’mlookingforacheck.AndIjustearnedone.NowIgettosleepbeforemynextgig.”
“Thisiswhatyoudoallthetime?Everyday?”Vivasked.“Itseemsdangerous.Imean,forawoman.Ithoughtyou’dbeaman.”
“Youdid?Well,we’realldisappointedsometimes.YouthoughtI’dbewhite,too,right?Youcansayit.”
Vivshrugged.Shehad.
“Idon’tdothisallthetime,”Marniesaid,indicatingtheparkinglot,themotel.“Idootherwork,too.ItakeglamourshotsandsometimesIworkschoolphotodays.Realestateagentsneedpicturesofthehousesthey’readvertising.OnslowdaysIcanpickupfiveorsixhousesatfourbucksashot.Itisn’tcreative,butit’swork.”
Vivhadneverheardofanyonedoinganyofthatforaliving.ItseemedhertimeattheSunDownMotelwasonelearningexperienceafteranother.
“Thepicturesyoutakeofthemotel.Doyoustillhavethem?”
“OnceIdevelopthem,Ikeepacopyofeveryone.EventheonesI’mnotsupposedto.Youneverknowwhat’sgoingtobeuseful.Whydoyouask?
Shit,herehecomes.Getdown.Idon’twanthimtoseeyou.”
VivlookedouttoseeMr.Whiteleavinghisroomandlockingthedoorbehindhim.Hewasslim,fit,andvigorous,andheplainlyworeaweddingbandonhislefthand.Hewasdressedinadarksuitandlightshirt,histieknotted,salt-and-pepperhaircombedbackfromhisforehead.HeopenedanumbrellaandinaflashofpanicVivrealizedhewouldhavetocheckout.
“There’snooneintheoffice,”shesaid.“I’moffshiftandJanicehasn’tcomeinyet.It’slocked.”
Marniewaspullinghercameraoutofherbagagain.“Didhepayupfront?”
“Yes.”
“Thendon’tworryaboutit.”Sheaimedthecamera,snappedafewshotsofMr.Whitewalkingtotheoffice.Heseemedlikeanyaveragemangoingtoworkonanaverageday,excepthewasleavingamotelatseveno’clockinthemorningafteranightwithawomanwhowasn’thiswife.
“Idon’treallyneedthepicturesofhim,”Marniesaidasthecameraclicked.“Justher.Buthereheis,soImayaswell.Toeachherown,youknow?Whitemenaren’tmything.”
Shetossedthewordsoffsoeasily,andVivfeltthepainofembarrassmentinherchest.Eventhoughhermothersawherasadelinquent,thefactwasthatshewastwentyyearsoldandavirgin.Shehadnoideawhatkindofmanwas“herthing.”Youhadtohavetriedafewmen,atleast,toknowthat.Shewonderedifshe’deverbeasworldlyasMarnie,orHelen,orevenAlmaTrent,whoseemedtoknoweverything.Still,shetrieditonbysaying,“Heisn’tmytype,either.”
MarnieclickedhercameraasMr.Whitetriedthelockedofficedoor,thengaveup.Shelaughedsoftly,notunkindly.“You’reasweetgirl,”shesaidasshefollowedthemanthroughherlens.Hewalkedbackdownthewalkway,tossedthekeybackintothemotelroom,closedthedoor,andjoggedtohiscar.“Tellmewhatyou’redoinginmycarintherain,”Marniesaid.
Stillsliddowninthebackseat,hercoatruckeduparoundherears,VivletthewordsThisisstupidtricklethroughhermind.
Butdeepinhergut,sheknewtheywerealie.TheburninginsideherchestthathadstartedwhenshefirstlearnedaboutCathy’sandVictoria’s
murders,ofBettyGraham’sbodybeingdumpedatthefutureSunDown,hadn’tsubsided.Infact,ithadgottenworse.Shewasn’tsleepingduringtheday,andinsteadshespenthertimeattheFellCentralLibrary,goingthroughmoreandmoreoldpapers,lookingforsomething,anythingatall.
Butshehadhitadeadend.TheappearanceofHelenandMr.Whitetonight,withthegreensedaninfaithfulattendance,hadbeenagodsendthatsentherspiritsup.Itwasthethingshe’dbeenwaitingfor.
Nexttimethisguycomesin,getmesomething.
Thiswasn’tstupid.Notatall.
“HaveyouheardofBettyGraham?”sheaskedMarnie.
Thewomaninthefrontseatwentstillforasecond.“WhatdoyouknowaboutBettyGraham?”sheasked,andhervoicehadanedgeofsuspicion.
“Andwhyareyouasking?”
“Herbodywasdumpedhere,”Vivsaid.“AttheSunDown,beforeitwasbuilt.Didyouknowthat?”
“Yeah,Iknewthat.”MarnieloweredhercameraasMr.Whitedroveaway.“Alotofpeopleknowthat.Itwasabigdealwhenithappened.Myquestionis,whydoyouknowthat?”
BecauseI’veseenher,Vivthought.She’dseenthewomanintheflowereddressagainthreenightsago.She’dheardthesoftclickofheelsoutsidetheofficedoor,andwhenshe’dgonetothedoorandopenedit,she’dsmelledafaintscentofperfume.Thewomanintheflowereddresswasstandingtwentyfeetaway,herbacktoViv,thehemofherdressripplinginthewind,herprettyhairliftedfromherneck.Shehadn’tturnedaround.
Vivhadgatheredhercourageandsaid,Betty?
Thewomanhadn’tanswered.Andthenshewasgone.
“I’minterested,”Vivsaid,totrytoplacatethesuspicioustoneinMarnie’svoice.“Iworkhere,andIheardaboutthisfamousmurderinFell.
WiththebodydumpedwhereIwork.SoI’minterested.”
“Uh-huh.”Marnie’stonesaidthatcynicismwasherusualdefault.“Andwhatdoesthishavetodowithme?”
“ThelastpersontoseeBettyGrahamalivesawherwithatravelingsalesman,”Vivsaid.“Heknockedonherdoorandshelethimin.Noonesaweitherofthemleave.Nooneknowsifhekilledherorevenwhohewas.”
MarnieturnedinherseatandlookedatViv.“Goon.”
“There’satravelingsalesmanwhocomestothemotel,”Vivsaid.Shepointedoutthewindow,totheSunDown,sheetedwithrain.“Hechecksinhere.Tothisplace.Overandover.Andheusesafakenameeverytime.”
Itwasn’tthesameaswithAlma.MarniestaredatVivlikeVivwasreadingapagefromabookshe’dneverthoughttohearaloud.“Youareshittingme,”shesaid,hervoicealmostawhisper.“Littlegirl,youareshittingme.”
“HewasherethelasttimeHelenwashere,”Vivsaid.“Thelasttimeyouwerehere.Takingpictures.SoIwanttoknowifhe’sinanyofyourpictures.Hisface,anything.AndIwanttoknowifhiscarisinyourpictures.BecauseifIcangetalicenseplate,Icanfindoutwhoheis.Whohereallyis.”
ThewordsMarniesaidwereteasing,buthervoicewasdeadserious.
“Thisiswhatyou’redoing,then?PlayingNancyDrewandsolvingthemurderinthemiddleofthenight?”
Vivheldtheotherwoman’seyesanddidn’tlookaway.Heranswerwassimple.“Someonehasto.”
Marnieseemedtothinkthingsover.“Okay,”shesaid,“Icantakealookatmyshots.They’realldeveloped.”
“CanIlookformyself?”
“Youhaveaspineonyou,youknowthat?ButIgetit.WhathappenedtoBettyGrahamshouldn’thappentoanyone,andwhoeverdiditisstillwalkingaround.Ifthere’sachancethisguyishim,thenIsupposeIcangothroughsomephotoswithyou.”
“Itisn’tjustBetty,”Vivsaid.“Thereareothers.”
Marnieshookherhead,herlipspressedtogether.Shesaid,“Youmeanthegirlleftundertheoverpass.Theonewiththebaby.”
TherewasafeelinginthebackofViv’snecklikeatapthathadbeenturnedtootight,thatwasfinallybeingtwistedloose.Ofsomethingfinallyflowingthathadbeentwistedofffortoolong,maybeforever.Marnieknew
LikeitwascommonknowledgeforeverywomaninFell.Likethewomenhereallspokethesamelanguage.“Her,andanotherone.Victoria.”
“Thejoggingtrailgirl.”MarnieeyedVivupanddownagain.“Areyouacop,orwhat?YousayyouworkattheSunDown,andyoureallydon’tlooklikeacop.”
“I’mnotacop.Ijustspentsometimeinthelibrary,lookingupdeadgirls.IthinktherearealotoftheminFell.”
“YouthinktherearealotoftheminFell.”Marnierepeatedthewordsback.“Youthink?I’velivedhereallmylife.EverywomanwasafraidwhenBettyGrahamdied.Everysingleone.Welockedourdoorsanddidn’tgooutatnight.Ourmotherscalledustentimesaday.Evenmymother,andBettywaswhite.BecausewewereallBetty.Forafewweeks,atleast.Youknow?”
Vivswallowedandnodded.“We’reallstillBetty,”shesaid.“AtleastIam.”
Marnieshookherheadagain.“You’reastrangegirl,butIlikeyou.Getinthefrontseat.”
Vivgotoutofthebackseatandgotinthefront,whichMarniehadclearedofphotographyequipment.“Arewegoingsomewhere?”
“I’llgetyouyourphotos,”Marniesaid,puttingthekeyintheignitionandstartingthecar.“Butifyou’resointerestedindeadgirls,let’stakealittletour.”Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
IttookthemfourdaystoevenrealizeVivwasmissing,”Isaid.“Fourdays.Canyoubelieveit?”
IwasintheAMENITIESroomwithNick.Itwastwoo’clockinthemorning.Thecandymachinewasn’tworking,soNickhadagreedtotakealookatit.He’dgoneintothemotel’smaintenanceroom—Ihadn’tevenknowntherewasone—andcomeoutwithatoolbox.NowIwassittingontheicemachinewhilehepokedatthecandymachineinthetiny,closet-sizedroom.We’dfoundanoldbrickandproppedthedooropenwithit,becausethedoorkepttryingtocloseonitsown.
“Whatdoyoumean?”Nicksaid.“Noonecalledthepolice?”
“No.Thepaperssaidshelikelywentmissingduringhershiftonthetwenty-ninthofNovember.Shetalkedtotheguywhowasontheshiftbeforeher,andthatwasthelastanyonesaw.Fourdayslater,whenthecopsstartedlookingforher,theyfoundherbelongingsintheSunDownoffice.”
Nickunscrewedsomethingandthefrontofthecandymachinepoppedopen.“I’dsaythestaffwasn’tveryobservant,butthenagainI’vebeenhereforweeks.There’sbarelyanystaffatall.”
“Iknow.Mostofthetimenoonerelievesmeatseveninthemorning.ItmakesmethinkthatifIdisappearedduringmyshift,noonewouldknow.”
“Iwouldknow,”Nicksaid.
Mycheekswenthot.Icouldn’tthinkofanythingtosay.
Hewaslookingatthecandymachineandhedidn’tnotice.“Ithoughtshehadaroommate,”hesaid.
“Theroommate’snamewasJennySummers.”WhenNickwasfocusedonthecandymachine,Icouldstareathisprofilewithouthimnoticing.Hisprofilewasprettymuchperfectwhenyoulookedatitclosely.Hisblueeyes
weresetunderamoreorlesssemipermanentscowl,especiallywhenhewasconcentrating.Hisnosewasjustright.Hehadn’tshavedinafewdays,andhehadadarkbrownshadowofbeardalonghisjawandunderhischeekbones.Whenheturnedthescrewdriver,mysteriousandamazingthingshappenedinthemusclesandtendonsofhisforearms,andhisbicepsflexedunderthesleeveofhisT-shirt.ItwastimetoadmitIhadacrushonthemysteriousoccupantofroom210.
Nickpaused,andIrealizedI’dstoppedtalkinginordertooglehim.IrecoveredandrememberedwhatIwassaying.“IlookedupJennySummerstoday,”Isaid.Nick’sfrowneasedadegreeandhewentbacktowork.“HernameisstillJennySummers—shehasn’tchangedit.Andgetthis—she’sintheFellphonebook.BecauseFellhasanactual,physicalphonebook.”
“Iknow,”Nicksaid,pickinguphisscrewdriveragainandflippingaswitchontheinsideofthecandymachine.Nothinghappened.“There’soneinthemoteloffice.”
“Thereis,”Isaid,pointingathimincongratulations,thoughhewasn’tlookingatme.“Ifounditinthedeskdrawer.There’salsoacopyatthelibrary.It’sliketheInternetneverhappenedinthisplace.”
“Youhavetogetusedtoit,”Nicksaid.
Hecroucheddowntopickadifferentscrewdriveroutofthetoolbox,andtheposemadehisshirtrideafewinchesuphislowerback.Istaredfixedlyatthatsliceofskinandsaid,“Anyway,JennySummersislistedinthere.Icalledherandleftheramessage,tellingherI’mViv’sniece.Ialsotriedtocontactthecopthatworkedonthecase.Iwanttoknowwhynooneknewshewasgoneforfourwholedays.”
“Shedidn’thavefriends,aboyfriend,”Nicksaid.“Whenyou’reallalone,itcanhappen.”
“That’stheotherthing,”Isaid.Beneathme,theicemachinemadearandomrumble,likeabelch,andtheinnerworkingsclicked.Itwasweird,thinkingaboutthismachinemakingiceyearafteryearwhennooneeverneededit.IwaitedpolitelyuntilitwasfinishedbeforeIcontinued.“ThenewsstoriesalldescribedVivasprettyandpopular.Andshereallywaspretty.Butnoonewhoispopulardisappearsforfourdayswithoutanyonenoticing.Imean,I’mnotevenpopular,butIatleasthadtotellmyroommateIwasleavingcollegeforawhile.ShewouldhavethoughtI’dbeentakenbytheSilenceoftheLambsguyifIdidn’tcomehome.”
“That’snow,”Nickpointedout.“We’retalkingabout1982.Itwasdifferentthen.”
“Maybe.Butwhydescribeagirlaspopularwhennooneevennoticesshe’sdisappeared?Thatdoesn’tsoundverypopulartome.”
Nickscrubbedahandthroughhishair.“Idon’tknow.Maybethereporterwhowrotethestoryjustassumedshewaspopular.”
“Becauseshewaspretty?Theyjustlookedataphotoofagood-lookinggirlanddecidedshemustbepopular?Likeawomanwho’sprettycan’thaveproblems.Shecan’thaveanydepth.Shecan’thaveanylifeexceptaperfectone.”
Nickglancedatme,amused.“Nicerant,butIdidn’twritethearticle.”
Iwastalkinghisearoff,Iknew,butIcouldn’tseemtohelpit.IshouldprobablyshutupaboutViv,butIwasobsessed,I’dalreadytoldHeatherallofthis,andthelongerItalkedtoNick,thelongerIcouldlookathim.“Doyoureallythinkyoucanfixthecandymachine?”Iasked.
“No,”Nicksaidhonestly,standingupagain.Thesliceofskindisappeared,butadifferentsliceappearedwhenheraisedhisarmandgrabbedthefirstscrewdriver,whichhe’dleftontopofthemachine.Washisstomachhonestlythatflat?“Ican’tevenfigureouthowitworksinthefirstplace.Ithastobeafewdecadesold.Haveyoueveractuallygottencandyoutofthisthing?”
“No.Icameinheretogetachocolatebar,becausethemachinesaysthey’retwentycents,whichisinsane.Iputtwodimesinanditjustatemymoneyandmadestrangenoises.SoIfigureditwasbroken.”
“Well,it’sbeenbrokenforawhile.There’sdustontheseM&M’s.ThisSnickersdoesn’tlooktoobad.”Hehelditouttome,soItookitandheturnedtothemachineagain,usingthescrewdrivertopryopenapanelontheside.“Iwonderifit’sjammed.”
“Jammedwithwhat?”
“Yourguessisasgoodasmine.Idon’tseeanythinginthere.Butthismachineisdefinitelynotdishingoutcandy.Breakinginisyouronlyoption.”
Isighed.“Allthiswork,andallIgotwasadustySnickersbar.”
“Don’tknockit,”Nicksaid.Heinspectedthepanelhe’djustopened.
“Yeah,thisisdefinitelybroken.I’msurprisedthethingispluggedin.”
IrippedopentheSnickersbar.Becausewhynot?Itwasn’tthatold—
like,notdecadesold.Ayearortwo,maybe.“Myguessisthatarepair
personcostsmoney.WedonotspendmoneyattheSunDown.Notonnewphones,notonelectronickeys—nothing.”
“Myroomislikeamuseum,”Nickagreed,puttingthepanelbackonthesideofthemachine.“Thelampshadesarethecolorofcigarettesandthebedspreadhasthosefabricknobsinit.Idon’tcare,becauseI’msleepingforthefirsttimesinceIwasateenager.Oh,shit—something’shappening.”
Thecandymachine,reassemblednow,madeawhirringnoise.Mytwodimesclinkedsomewheredeepinthemechanism.Therewasathump,andasecondSnickersbarappearedinthegapatthebottom.
Webothstaredforasecondinsurprise.
“Um,congratulations?”Isaid.“Lookslikeyoufixedit.”
NicklookedasshockedasIfelt.“LookslikeIdid.”HepickeduptheSnickersbar.“Whichcopdidyoucall?”
“What?”
“Yousaidyoucalledthecopthatworkedyouraunt’sdisappearance.
Whichone?”Heglancedatme.“Carly,IknoweverycopinFell.”
Right.Becausehisbrotherhadbeenmurdered,andhealmosthadbeen,too.“EdwardParey,”Isaid.“Hewaschiefofpolice.”
Nickshookhishead.“Hewon’thelpyou.Pareywaschiefwhenmybrotherdied,andhewasanassholethen.Idoubthe’simproved.”
Whenmybrotherdied.Hesaiditlikehisbrotherhadpassedawaynaturally.Hisexpressiongavenothingaway.
“Okay,then,”Isaid.“He’slikelyadeadend.I’llfindsomeoneelse.”
“Iknowafewnamesyoucancall.”Nickscratchedthebackofhisneck,thinking.“Don’tmentionmyname,though.Igotintoalotoftroubleasateenagerandnoneofthemarefansofmine.”
“Whatdidyoudo?”
“Stolestuff,gotinfights.Gotdrunkalot.Iwentofftherailsafterthemurder,becameabadkid.Youprobablyshouldn’tassociatewithme,really.”
“I’msorry,”Isaid,becauseIrealizedI’dneversaidthattohim.Itwasn’tadequate,butitwassomething.
Hegavemeacuriouslook,asifI’dsaidsomethingstrange.Thenhesaid,“DidyoucallAlmaTrent?”
Ishookmyhead.“Who’sAlmaTrent?”
“She’sthecopwhousedtoworkthenightshift.Sheworkeditforyears
—decades.Shehastoberetiredbynow.Shewasabeatcop,butshemight
havemetVivifsheworkednights.”
“DoesAlmaTrenthateyou?”Iaskedhim.
Thatmadehimsmilealittle.“Shemoppedmeoffthefloorofapartyortwo,butshewasokayaboutit.Igotafewlecturesaboutlettingmylifewasteaway.Almadidn’tputupwithanyshit.”Hissmilefaded.“Jesus,IjustrealizedI’vebeenbackinFellforamonthandI’vebarelyleftthismotel.Idon’tknowifanyofthesepeopleIknewarestillaround.”
IpokedatmySnickersbar,droppingmygaze.“Comewithme,”Isaid.
“WhenItalktosomeofthesepeople.”
Hewasquiet,andIlookeduptoseethathisblueeyeshadgonehard.
“Thatisn’tagoodidea,”hesaidslowly.
“Yousaidyoucamebacktofaceyourdemons,right?Togetoverthepast.Youcan’tdothatbystayingatthemotel.Maybegettingoutwillhelp.”
“Itisn’tthateasy,”Nicksaid.Heturnedbacktothemachineandclosedthefront,pickingupthescrewdriveragain.“Foryou,maybe,becauseyou’reastranger.Butnotforme.Iknowthesepeople.Alotofthemknewmyfather,knewEli.I’llfacethemwhenI’mready,butnotbefore.”
???
Mycellphonerangateleventhirtyinthemorning.Iwasdeepundermycoversinthedark,asleepanddreaming—somethingaboutaroadandalake,thestillnessofthewater.Ididn’twanttoswim.Irolledoutofmycoversatthesoundofthephone,asheenofcoolsweatonmyskin.
Ipickedupthephonefrommynightstand.“Hello?”
“IsthisCarlyKirk?”awomanasked.
Ifrowned,stillinafog.“Yes.”
“ThisisMarnieClarkreturningyourcall.”
MarnieClark,formerlyMarnieMahoney.ThephotographerwhowascreditedwiththephotoofVivI’dseeninthepaper.I’dtakenashotandGoogledher.She’dgottenmarriedin1983,butshewasstillinFell,justlikeJennySummers,Viv’soldroommate.Noone,itseemed,everleftFell.
Oriftheydid—likeNick—theyeventuallycameback.
“Hi,”IsaidtoMarnie,sittingupinbed.OutsidemyroomIcouldhearHeatherbangingaroundinthekitchen.“Thankyouforcallingme.”
“Don’tthankme,”thewomansaid.Hervoicewasn’tangry,butitwasfirm.“Idon’thaveanythingtotellyouaboutVivianDelaney.”
“Isawaphotointhepaper,”Isaid.“Yournamewasonit.”
“That’sjustaphoto,honey.Iwasafreelancephotographerinthosedays.
Itookalotofpictures.Thepapersboughtsomeofthem.Otherpeopleboughtotherones.ItwashowImadealiving.”
“Itlookedlikeacandidphoto,”Isaid.
“Yeah,itprobablywas.Unlessshesatforaportraitforme,itwouldhavebeenacandid.ButIdon’trememberit.AndIdon’trememberher.”
Irubbedahandthroughmyhair.“Maybeyoudon’tunderstand.Vivwasmyaunt.Shedisappearedin1982.Noonehaseverfoundherand—”
“Iknowwhathappened,”Marniesaid.“Iknowshedisappeared.Isawitinthepapers,andIhadaphotoofher,andIofferedittothemforsale.
Theyboughtit.Icashedthecheck.That’sallIhavetosay.”
“Ijustthought—”
“You’reonthewrongtrack,honey,”thewomansaid.“Whateveryouthinkisgoingtohappen,itisn’t.Youhavetoacceptthat.”
“What?”
“I’mjustgivingyousomeadvicehere.It’sbeenthirty-fiveyears.I’velivedinthistownallmylife.Goneisgone.Yougetme?It’shardtotake,butsometimesgoneisjustgone.That’sallIhavetosayaboutVivianDelaney,oranyone.”
“Listen,”Isaid.“Maybewecanmeetforcoffeeorsomething.Ijustwanttotalk.”
Buttherewasnooneontheotherendoftheline.MarnieClarkhadhungup.Fell,NewYork
October1982
VIV
ItseemedfittingthattherainwasstillcomingdownasMarniedrovethemthroughtown.ShewoundthroughthestreetsofdowntownFellandtotheotherside,wherethesmallsplit-levelhomestaperedoffintofarmlandandscrub,pockedbywarehousesandrun-downautobodyshopsthatneverseemedtobeopen.Shepulledupnexttoanoverpassandparkedonthegravel,thewindshieldfacingthedarktunnelintherain.
“ThisiswhereCathyCaldwellwasfound,”Marniesaid.
Vivpulledherhoodupoverherheadandgotoutofthecar,hersneakerssquelchingonthewetground.Carspassedonthehighwayoverhead,asmalltwo-lanethatfedontotheinterstatemilesaway.Otherthanthat,theworldwasquietexceptfortherushingoftherain.Therewasnoonearound,noothercarsonthisroad,nobuildingsinsight.
Vivlookedattheoverpass,theshadowedconcreteplacebeneathit.Itwasjustanoverpass,oneofthousands,anuglystretchofconcretespatteredbyafewlazysquigglesofspray-paintedgraffiti,asiftheteenagersofFellcouldn’tbebotheredtocomeouthereveryoften,nomatterhowboredtheywere.Beneaththegrayskythemouthoftheoverpasslookeddark,likeitwaswaitingtoswallowprey.Theroadbeyondwasslickwithwaterinthehazylight.
Vivpassedbeneaththelipoftheoverpassandtherainstoppedbeatingonherhood.Shepusheditbackandlookedaround.Therewasaconcreteshoulderoneithersideoftheroad,andthegroundatherfeetwaslitteredwithtrash,abrokenbeerbottle,andcigarettebutts.Therewasadeflatedpieceofrubberthatsherealizedwithshockmustbeacondom—ausedone.
Shelookedaway,blinkingandsmellingoldurine.
Cathy’skillerhaddumpedherbodyhere.Thisplace,ofallplaces.Thisplace.Vivpusheddownherdisgust,heroutrageatthethoughtofbeingleftheretolienakedanddead,andtriedtothink.Whythisplace?
Firstofall:Therewasnoonetosee.Thatmuchwasobvious.SinceMarniehadparkedthecar,noonehaddriventhroughhere.Theonlypotentialwitnesseswerethecarspassingoverhead,andthosedriverswouldhavetobeleaningouttheirwindowstosee.Howlongdidittaketodumpabody?Oneminute,two?Shehadalreadystoodherelongerthanthat.
Secondofall:Theoverpasswasfullofshadows.Abodymightbemistakenforasleepingdrunkoranaddict.Comparedtoaditchoranopenfield,therewasthechanceforalongertimebeforethebodywasdiscovered.Yetthebodywouldbediscovered—thatwasalsoclear.
Thirdofall:Thiswasaplaceforthepeoplewhoknewwhereitwas.Thedrunks,theteenagers,thecondomusers.Thiswasn’taplacethatsomeonewouldrandomlyfindonastroll.Hedumpedthebodyherebecausehe’ddriventhroughherebefore.Probablymanytimes.Inonedirectionortheother—thiswasaroadhe’dtaken.
Cathy,beingtakenasshegotintohercartogohomefromwork.Atatimewhenherhusbandwasaway.Herbodydumpedhere.
Vivwalkedbacktothecarandgotin.Marniewassittinginthedriver’sseat,andVivrealizedshe’dbeenwatchinghertheentiretime.
“Well?”theotherwomansaid.
Vivranahandthroughherhair,hercarefulcurlsthatwerewetnow,herprettymakeupthathadbeenrubbedofflongago.“Hepickedher,”shesaid.
“Hefollowedher.Heknewwheresheworked,knewthatherhusbandwasaway.Andafterhekilledherhepickedthisplace.Heplannedit—andhe’slocal.”
“Well,hell.Allthatfromfiveminutesstandingthere?”Marnieseemedtothinkthisover.“He’slocalbecauseheknowsthisplace,”shesaid,puttingthepiecestogether.“Astrangerwouldn’tknow.”
Vivpointedthroughtheoverpass.“What’sthatway?”
“Itgoesoutoftown,headingsouthtoNewYork.”
NewYork.Vivrememberedwantingtogothere,wantingtobeonthisveryroad.PlanningtopassthroughFellandtakethisveryroute.Shecouldstilldoit.Shecouldstillgo.
SomeonewhocameandwentfromFellwouldtakethisroad.Someonelike,say,atravelingsalesman.
SheturnedtoMarnie.“Let’sgotothenextplace.”
???
Marnietookhertoatree-linedstreetontheedgeofwhatpassedforFell’ssuburbs,aneighborhoodoftwenty-year-oldbungalows.Vivhadbeenborninahouselikethisbeforeherfathergotabetterjobandtheymovedintoabrand-newhouseinGrisham,surroundedbyfreshlyduglawnsandnewlyplantedtrees.Thisstreetwaswellkeptandunpretentious,andwasprobablyprettyonasummerday,thoughnowitwassoakedanddarkintheearly-morningrain.
Marniepulledthecaruptoacurbandturnedtheengineoff.
“What’sthisplace?”Vivaskedher.
“YouaskedaboutBettyGraham,”Marniesaid.“SheletatravelingsalesmanintoherhouseonaSaturdayafternoon.”Shepointed.“That’sBetty’shouse.”
Vivstaredthroughthewindshieldastherainpeltedthecar.Thehousewassmallandtidy,withaneatfrontwalkandwell-tendedshrubsinthegardenbeneaththewindows.Itwaspasteighto’clockinthemorningnow,andastheywatchedamancameoutthefrontdoor.Heworeaplaidovercoatandamatchingbrownhat,andhelookedtobeinhislatefifties.
Hecheckedhiswatch,thengotinhiscaranddroveaway.Somewherenearby,adogbarked.
“Theysoldtheplace,obviously,”Marniesaid.“You’dthinkthey’dhavetroublesellingit,buttheydidn’t.MaybebecauseBettywasn’tkilledinthehouse.”
“Shewasn’t?”
Marnieshookherhead.“Therewasabrokenlampinthelivingroom.
Thatwastheonlysignanythinghadhappenedthereatall.Noblood,nonothing.Hegotheroutoftheresomehow.”Shepointedtoahouseacrossthestreet.“That’stheneighborwhosawthesalesman.Shesawhimgointhehouse.Noonesawanyoneleave.”
“Howisthatpossible?”
Marnieshrugged,thoughthemotionwastight,hershoulderstense.
“You’dhavetoaskhimthat.AllanyoneknowsisthatBettydisappeared,andthenherbodyshowedupontheconstructionheapthatwastheSunDownMotel.”
Thewomanintheflowereddress.She’dlivedhere,butshedidn’thauntthisplace.Shehauntedthemotelinstead.
“Howdoyouknowsomuchaboutallofthis?”Vivaskedher.
“TheFellPDhiresmesometimestotakephotosofcrimescenes.
Usuallyburglaryscenes—smashedwindows,brokenlocks,ransackedrooms,footprintsinthegarden.ThePDissosmallthattheydon’thavesomeonefulltimetodopictures,andtheydon’thaveenoughequipmentfortwoscenesatatime.That’swhereIcomein.Freelance,ofcourse.”Shestartedthecaragain.“I’venevershotabody,butI’veworkedwithcops.Ilistentowhattheytalkabout,thethingstheysayamongthemselves.Copsgossipjustlikeeveryoneelse.Andiftheyaren’tpayingattentiontoyou,youcanlisten.”
“Theydon’tthinkthesamemandidthese,”Vivsaid.Itwasn’taquestion.
“Notevenclose.It’sasmallpolicedepartment.Itisn’tlikethemovies,withastaffofdetectivestolookatthisstuff.BettyandCathydidn’ttravelinthesamecirclesorknowanyofthesamemen.AndVictoria’sboyfriendwasconvictedofhermurder,sotheydon’tincludeheratall.”
Shepulledawayfromthecurbanddroveslowlyforward,herwipersgoingintherain.“Whatifthey’reright?”Vivaskedher.“Whatifthesegirlsallgotkilledbydifferentmenfordifferentreasons?”
“Thenwedon’thaveakillerinFell,”Marniesaid.“Wehavemorethanone.Whichonegivesyouthebestodds,honey?”
???
ThejoggingpathwhereVictoriaLeewasmurderedwasnearlydarkintherain,thelastdeadleavesdroopingwetlyfromthetrees,thegroundthickwithsoakedmulch.Theentrancewasoffasidestreet,blockedbyasmallguardrailthateveryoneobviouslysteppedover.Therewasnosign.
“Victoria’shouseisthatway,”Marniesaid,pointingtoarowofthebacksofhousesvisibleonarisebehindalineoffence.“Shewouldhavecomearoundtheendoftheroadandupthestreetheretowardthetrail.”
“Thisiswideopen,”Vivcommented,lookingaround.“Anyonecouldhavewalkedby.”
“Notthatday,”Marniesaid.“Itwasraining,justlikeitistoday.Athunderstorm,actually.Nooneusesthepathintherain.”
Vivswungherlegovertheguardrailandwalkedontothejoggingpath,herhoodup,therainsoakingthefabric.“Shewentrunningintherain.”
“Afteranargument.”MarniefollowedVivovertheguardrail.Shedidn’tbotherwiththefictionofahood;shejustgotwet,letthewaterrundownthejacketshewore.“Shedidn’tgetfar.Herbodywasfoundaboutthirtyfeetdownthepath.”
Thesoundoftherainwasquieterunderthetrees,hushedinthethickcarpetofbrushalongthepath.WaterdrippedandtrickledontoViv’sforehead,andhershoessquelchedinthemud.Shepushedherhoodbackandlookedaround.Itwaslikeacathedralinhere,darkandsilentandscary.
Youcouldn’tseetheplacewherethetreesclearedandtheyardsandhousesbeyond,eventhoughitwasn’tfaraway.Standingherefeltlikebeinginaforestthatwentformiles.“Wheredoesthepathlead?”sheaskedMarnie.
“Itrunsjustoveramile.It’soldcitylandthatwassupposedtobeusedforarailroadthatwasneverbuilt.Thatwasprobablyacenturyago.Thelandsatforalongtimewhilethecityarguedoverit,andintheendtheyjustleftit,becauseit’slongandnarrowandtheycan’tuseitformuchelse.Inthemeantimethepeoplewholivearoundheremadeapath.ItendsjustbehindtheBankandTrustbuildingonEasternRoad.”
Vivwalkedfartherdownthepath.“Thenewspapersdidn’tsaythatVictoriawasanathlete,”shesaid.They’donlysaidthatVictoriagotinalotoftroubleinschool,asifthatmightbeareasonherboyfriendhadgrabbedherandstrangledher.Asifsomehowshedeservedit.Theydidn’tsayitoutright,butVivcouldreaditbetweenthelines—anygirlcould.Ifyou’rebad,ifyou’reslutty,thiscouldhappentoyou.Eventhearticlesaboutsaintly,marriedCathyCaldwellspeculatedwhetherherkillercouldbeasecretboyfriend.Sneakaroundbehindyourhusband’sback,andthiscouldhappentoyou.VivwonderedwhatthenewspaperswouldsayifHelenthecheatingwifedied.
“Shewasn’tarunner,”Marniesaid.“Shewasjusttryingtokeepslim.
Youknow,forallthoseguysshesupposedlydated.”
Soagirlnoonehadreallylikedhadcomedownthispath,runningintherainbecauseshewasangryandneededtomove.Vivleftthepathandfoughtherwaythroughthebrush,whichwaswetanddarkenedthekneesofherjeans.Hershoeswerehopelesslywetnow,hersockssoakedthrough.
Hediditquick,shethought.Victoriawasrunning,angry.Shewasn’tsweetorpliant.He’dhavetophysicallyjumpher,grabher,stopher.Get
herontheground.Getherquiet.Hishandoverhermouth,onherthroat.
Maybehehadaknifeoragun.
WouldVictoriahavefought?Shecouldhaveatleasttriedtoscream—
therewerehousesnotfaraway,includingherown.Therewasagoodchancetherewerepeopleinhearingrange.Allitwouldhavetakenwasonescream.
Butifthemanwhograbbedherwasherboyfriend,someonefamiliar,wouldshehavescreamed?
Vivturnedinacircle,thethoughtsgoinginescapablythroughhermind:WhatwouldIhavedone?Becausethiscouldhavebeenher,stormingoutofthehouseateighteenafterafightwithhermother.Orleavingwork.Doingwhatwomendideveryday.
Itcouldstillbehernow.Itcouldbehertomorrow,orthenextday,orthenext.ItcouldbeMarnie,itcouldbeHelen.ItcouldbeViv’ssisterbackhomeinIllinois.Thiswasthereality:Itwasn’tjustthesegirls.Itcouldalways,alwaysbeherorsomeonesheknew.
Shelookedbackatthepath.WouldIscream?Shedidn’tthinkso.Shewouldhavebeensoterrified,sohorriblyafraid,thatshewouldhavedonewhateverthemansaid.Don’tspeak.Don’tmakeasound.Comeoverhere.
Liedown.Andwhenheheardsomeonecomingandputhishandsonherneck,itwouldallbeover.
“Youthinktheboyfrienddidn’tdoit?”Marniecalledtoherfromthepath.
“Idon’tknow,”Vivansweredhonestly.“It’slikeyousaid.Ifhedidit,thenthere’smorethanonekillerinFell.”
“You’reignoringthepossibilitythathedidBettyGrahamandCathyCaldwell.Maybeit’sVictoria’sboyfriendwhoistheserialkiller.”
Vivclosedhereyesaswaterdrippedthroughthetrees.Itwaspossible,shehadtoadmit.Thetimelineworked.“Sohestartedwithstrangewomen,thenkilledhisgirlfriend.”
“Andhehasn’tkilledanyonesince.Becausethecopscaughttherightman.”
TherainwascoldonViv’sskin,butshewelcomedit.Shefelthot,herbloodpumpinghard.“Victoriawaseighteenwhenshewaskilled.Washerboyfriendolder?”
“Hewastwenty.”
“Still,itputshiminhighschoolwhenBettywaskilled.Hewouldhavehadtopulloffposingasasalesman.”
“Ifthesalesmanactuallydidit.Whichnooneknows.”
Itwaspossible.Victoria’sboyfriendcouldhavespentyearsasamonsterinsecret,killingateacherandayoungmotherbeforehewastwenty.Vivkepthereyesclosed.“Youdon’tthinkthat’strue,”shesaidtoMarnie.“Ifyoudid,youwouldn’thavebroughtmetoalloftheseplaces.Youthinkthere’sakillerstillontheloose.”
Marniewasquietforaminute.“AllIknowisI’dliketoleavethisdamnjoggingpath.It’sgivingmethecreeps.”
Vivopenedhereyesagainandwalkedfartherintothebrush.Itwastrue
—thiswaslikelyafool’serrand.Victoria’skillerwasinprison.Therewasnomysteryhere.Excepttherewas.HowdidVictoria’sboyfriendknowwhereshewas?Shewasn’tanathleteorevenahabitualrunner.Whyhadhecomeheretothisplace?Ifhejumpedheratthebeginningofthepath,washewaitingforher?Ifso,howdidheknowwhereshewouldgo?
Shekeptwalkinguntilshehittheedgeofthetrees.Shelookedoutontoarain-soakedstretchofscrubwithfencesandhousesbeyondit.ThesewerethesamehousesthatMarniehadpointedoutasbeingVictoria’sstreet.
Shepeeredthroughtherain.Thestretchofbackyardfenceswasbrokeninonlyoneplace:anarrowlaneway,ashortcutfromthestreet,sothatpeopledidn’thavetowalkallthewaytotheendofthestreetandaroundiftheydidn’twantto.Vivpressedforward,leavingthetreesandheadingforthelaneway.
Sheheardfootstepsbehindher,Marnie’svoice.“Hey!Whereareyougoing?It’swetouthere.”
Thelanewaywasadirtpathleadingbetweentwoyards.Weedybutwellused.Ashortcutthelocalstookwhentheywantedtocometothejoggingpath.
Andfromit,whileshestoodoutofsight,shecouldseethestreet.Ashortsuburbanlane,maybefifteenhousespackedinarow.
VivwasstillstaringatthestreetwhenMarniecaughtuptoherandstoodathershoulder.“Whatthehell?”shesaid.
“Look,”Vivsaid.
Marniewasquiet.
“WhichhouseisVictoria’s?”Vivaskedher.
“Idon’tknow.”
“Ibetitwasoneofthese,”Vivsaid,pointingtotherowofhousesinview.“Ibetthat’showheknewwhensheleftthehouse,whereshewasgoing.Hestoodrightwherewearenow.Andifshewentaroundtheendofthestreetandback…”
“Thenhecouldtakethisshortcutandbeatherthere,”Marniesaid.
Maybe.Maybe.Somanymaybes.ButifVictoria’sboyfriendhadkilledher,thenhemusthavehadawaytoheadheroffatthejoggingpath.
Andifherboyfriendcouldhavestoodhereandwatchedthehouse,thensocouldastranger.
Vivpulledhernotebookfromherpocketandmadenotes,bowingoverthepagesotheletterswouldn’tgetwet.Shewroteaddresses,names.Shemadeamap.Shemadealistofwhatshehadtodonext,becausesheknew.
Marniewaited,nolongercomplainingabouttherain.
Whenshefinished,VivputthenotebookawayandturnedtoMarnieagain.“Okay,I’mfinished.Canwelookatyourpicturesnow?”Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
JennySummers,whohadbeenmyauntViv’sroommatein1982,workedatanold-agehomeindowntownFell.Itwasaflatsquarebuildingofburntredbrick,surroundedbylowevergreenshrubs,ametalsignembeddedinthefrontlawn:KEENANRETIREMENTRESIDENCE.
Jennyrefusedtotalkonthephone,butshe’daskedmetocometoherworksowecouldtalkonherbreak.IstayedawakewhenIwassupposedtobesleepingandsaidyes.
Heathercamewithme,herponchoandparkatradedforaquiltedcoatbecausethedaywasslightlywarmerthanusual.She’dpinnedherhairbackfromherforeheadinherusualstyleandworedove-graymittensthatcomplementedthecoat.Sheworeablackskirtthatfelltoheranklesandblackboots.
“AreweGoodCopandBadCop?”sheaskedaswegotoutofthecar.
“CanIbeBadCop?”
“Idon’tthinkanyonefallsforthatanymore,”Isaid,zippingupmycoatandleadingthewaytothefrontdoor.Therewashardlyanytrafficinthemiddleoftheday,andthebreezesmelledalmostgood,ifchilled.Blackbirdswheeledintheskyoverhead,callingtoeachother.
“You’reprobablyright,”Heatheradmitted.“Besides,itwouldworkbetterifyoubroughtoneofyourmenwithyouinsteadofme.”
Imadeafaceatherasweopenedthedoor.“Noboys.Callumisannoying,andNickdoesn’tknowI’malive.”
Shewaggledhereyebrowsatme,Heather’swayoftryingto“getmygoat,”assheputit.ShewasgoodatitwhenIwasinacertainmood.
“Callumlikesyou,”shesaid.“Hekeepscallingandtextingyou.TellNickaboutCallumandseeifhegetsjealous.”
“Howoldarewe?Andboysarenotyourbailiwick,remember?”
Shejustsmiled,andIturnedaway.I’dgivenCallummynumberafterI’dmethimatthelibrary—hesaidhewantedtosendmeanyotherarticleshecameacross—andhe’duseditfrequently.HetextedthingslikeIfoundthe1982Greyhoundbusschedule.WhatifViviantookthebusoutoftown?
orIfoundtheownershiprecordsforthemotelatthecourthouse.Hereyougo.Itwasalittleweird,frankly,thataguyasattractiveasCallumtooksuchaninterestinme.Thatwasn’taself-confidencething—itreallywasweird.Ipreferredtothinkofitaspurelyanintellectualinterest,onegeektoanother.
WeaskedatthefrontdeskforJennySummers,andafewminuteslaterawomancameouttogetus.Shewasinherlatefifties,whip-thin,withblondhairinastylishshortcut.Sheworeburgundyscrubs,Crocs,andverylittlemakeup.Shewasawomanwhohadobviouslyalwaysbeenpretty,andagehadservedonlytosharpenherfeaturesandgiveheraharder,I-don’t-give-a-crapexpression.“Comewithme,”shesaid.
SheledusdownahallwaytoaroomthatsaidPRIVATEBREAKROOMonthedoor.Insidewereasmallfridge,acoffeemaker,afewchairs,andtwosofas.Thesofashadblanketsfoldedonthem,pillowsontop.Itwasobviouslyusedasanaproomforsomeoftheshiftworkers.
Jennymotionedusbrisklytosit,thenwenttothecoffeemaker.“WhichoneofyouisCarly?”sheasked.
Iraisedmyhand.“Me.ThisismyfriendHeather.”
Jennynodded.“Icouldhaveguessedit.YoulookalittlelikeVivian.Soyou’reherniece,huh?”
Ifeltafizzleofexcitement,likeAlka-Seltzerinmyblood.Thiswoman,righthere,hadknownVivian.Talkedtoher.LivedintheapartmentHeatherandIsharedrightnow.Itwaslikeadoorbackto1982hadopenedacrack,lettingmepeekthrough.“MymotherwasVivian’ssister,”Isaid.
“Sister!”Jennyleanedahipagainstthecounterasshepouredhercoffee.
Sheshookherhead,staringdownathercup.“Shenevermentionedasister.
Thenagain,itwassolongago.”Sheturnedtous.“YouknowImightnotbeabletohelpyou,right?It’sbeenthirty-fiveyears.”
“Anythingyoucanremember,”Isaid.“Iwanttoknow.”
Jennytookhercoffeeandsatacrossfromme,crossingonescrub-cladlegovertheother.“Youweren’tevenbornwhenshedisappeared,right?Soyouneverknewher.Jesus,I’mold.”
“Whatwasshelike?”Iasked.
Shelookedthoughtful.“Vivwasmoody.Quiet.Lonely,Ithought.”
“Thepaperscalledhervivacious.”
Jennyshookherhead.“NottheVivIknew.MaybeshewasvivaciousbackhomeinIllinois—Iwouldn’tknow.ButhereinFell,shekepttoherself.Shetoldmeherparentsweredivorcedandshewantedtogetoutofhermother’shouse.SheonlytalkedtohermotheronceortwicethatIknewof,andshedidn’tseemhappyaboutit.Sheworkednightsatthemotel.Noboys,noparties.WeworkedthesameschedulebecauseIwasonnights,soIknewhersociallife.Shedidn’tgoondates.Thoughintheweeksattheendshewasgonealotduringtheday.Shesaidshehadahardtimesleepingsoshe’dgotothelibrary.”
IglancedatHeather.“Whatdidshewantatthelibrary?Wassheabigreader?”
“Well,shenevercheckedanythingout.Iremembertellingthecopsallofthisatthetimeandtheycouldn’tevenfindalibrarycard.Thoughafewofthelibrariansrememberedseeingher,soshewasn’tlying.Theysaidshelikedtoreadinthearchiveroom.”
SoI’dbeensittingexactlywhereVivhadbeen,maybe.Somehowthatdidn’tsurprisemeanymore.“Didshegoanywherebesidesthelibrary?”
“That,Idon’tknow.Imean,shewasgonequiteabitneartheendasfarasIremember.ThoughIcan’tbesure,becauseIsleptdays.IhadmyfirstnursinghomejobthenandIdidn’trotateoffnightsuntilthefollowingyear.”Shelookedaroundthebreakroom.“Ithoughtitwasatemporaryjobtomakealittlemoney.GoestoshowhowmuchIknew.I’mretiringnextyear.”
MaybeVivwouldberetiringsoon,ifshe’dlived.Itwassostrangetolosesomeone,tofeeltheirlifecutshort,evenifyoudidn’tknowthem.VivhadonlybeenasoldasIwasnow.“It’sstrange,though,isn’tit?ThatVivwasn’thomemuchinherlastfewweeks?Shecouldhavemetsomeone.”
“Isupposeshecouldhave.”Jennyshrugged.“That’swhatthecopsthoughtatthetime,buttheynevercouldfindanyoneVivknew.Theykeptaskingmeifshecouldhavemetsomeguy,likethatwouldsolvethewholething.Ikepttellingthemno,andtheyhatedit.Buttheydidn’tknowhowdeepinsideherownheadVivwas.Iknowwhatagirllookslikewhenshe’smetsomenewguy.I’vebeenthatgirl.Thatwasn’tViv.Shedidn’tlookhappythoselastfewweeks—shelookeddetermined,maybe.Grim.Itoldthecopsthat,buttheydidn’treallycare.Vivwastwentyandgood-looking.
TheyfiguredshemusthaverunoffwithMr.Right—orMr.Wrong.Caseclosed.”
Heatherpulledherchairupnexttomine.“Howdidtheylookforher?”
“AsfarasIknow,theyaskedaround,”Jennyreplied,sippinghercoffee.
“Theydidasearcharoundthemotel,butthatonlylastedafewhours.Theytalkedtoherparents.Theysearchedhercarandpulledourtelephonerecords.”
“Pulledtelephonerecords?”Iasked.
Jennylookedatme.“Youremindmeofmydaughter.Youkidsdon’tknowadamnthing.Weonlyhadalandlinebackthen,ofcourse.TherecordswerekeptbyMaBell,andthecopsgotabigprintout.Oldschool,asyouwouldputit.”
Iwonderedwherethatphonerecordwas,andifIcouldgetmyhandsonit.“Shedidn’tmentionanyoneelsetoyou?”Iaskedher.“Notnecessarilyaman,butanyone?Ahobby?Aninterest?Anythingatall?”
Jennyleanedforward,andIcouldseeinherexpressionthewearylookofawomanwhohadspentthirty-fiveyearscaringforpeople.“Honey,weweren’treallyfriends.Wewereroommates.Wedidn’tswapsecretsorgoondoubledates.Wejustchattedwhilewegotreadyforworkfromtimetotime,that’sall.”
Ilookedherintheeye.Shecouldtellherselfwhatevershewanted,butthetruthwasthetruth.“Vivwasgoneforfourdaysbeforesomeonecalledthepolice,”Isaid,myangerhummingbeneathmywords.“Fourdays.”
Jennyclosedhereyesbrieflyandhershoulderssagged.“Iknow.Iwenttoseemyparentsforafewdays.WhenIgotback,Ithoughtmaybeshe’dgonehomeforavisit.Ifiguredwherevershewaswasherbusiness.Iwaswrappedupinmyownbullshitanddrama,andIdidn’tthink.It’sbotheredmeforthreeandahalfdecades,butthat’swhatIdid.”Shesatbackinherchair.“Ithinktomyself,whatifIhadcalledthepolicethatfirstnightIgothome?Wouldshebealive?I’llneverknow.Butitwasmewhocalledthem,thoughIdidittoolate.SoonothernightsIlieawakethinking,whatifInevercalledthepoliceatall?HowlongwouldithavetakenforsomeonetonoticethatVivwasgone?”Sheranahandthroughhershorthair.“Aweek?
Twoweeks?Herstuffwasinthedeskdrawerinthemoteloffice,andnoonewhoworkedtheregaveashit.LiterallynoonecaredthatViv’spursewassittingthereandshewasnowheretobeseen.That’sworse,youknow?
That’sfuckingworse.PoorVivian.”
Ididn’twanttobehereanymore.Ididn’twanttobeinthisplace,inthisdepressingbreakroom,smellingthesedepressingsmells.HowJennyhaddonethisjobforthirty-fiveyears,Ihadnoidea.“Youthinksomethinghappenedtoher,”Isaid.“Youdon’tthinksheranaway.”
“Iknowsomethinghappenedtoher,”Jennysaid.“Thepolicecansaywhatevertheywanttomakethemselvesfeelbetter,butIknow.”ShepointedtoHeather.“IfHeatherdroppedofftheplanetforfourdays,whatwouldyouthink?Whatwouldyouknow?”
Iclampedmyteethtogetherasachillwentdownmyspine.Ididn’tanswer.
“Weweresinglegirlswhoworkedatnight,”Jennysaid.“Doyouthinkwedidn’tknowthedangers,evenbackthen?Christ,sometimesIthinkbacktothefactthatwehadaconversationaboutCathyCaldwell,ofallthings,afewweeksbeforeVivdied.CathyfuckingCaldwell.HowcouldIbesostupid?”
“WhoisCathyCaldwell?”Iasked.
BesidemeIfeltHeathersitupstraight,hernarrowbodytightasabowstring.“Shewasmurdered,”shesaid,answeringmyquestion.
“Dumpedunderanoverpassinthelateseventies.”ShelookedatJenny.
“Youknewher?”
“No,”Jennysaid.“Shelivedonmyparents’street,andafterImovedoutandstartedworkingnights,shewasmymother’sfavoritebogeyman.‘Becarefuloryou’llenduplikeCathyCaldwell!’‘Don’ttalktostrangemenonthebusoryou’llenduplikeCathyCaldwell!’Thatsortofthing.Cathyloomedlargeinmymother’smind—thoseweresimplertimes,youknow?
ShewasbigaboutVictoriaLee,too.”
“KilledbythejoggingtrailoffBurneseRoad,”Heathersaid.
“‘Don’ttakeupjogging,Jenny!You’llenduplikethatgirl!’”Jennyshookherhead.“Mypoormother.Shegrewupwhenthesekindsofthingsdidn’thappen,orsoshethought.Sheneverdidunderstandwhattheworldwascomingto.Butshewasn’twrong.Iwasalwayscareful,andsowasViv.
Wetalkedaboutitonenightnottoolongbeforeshedisappeared.Ithinkthat’spartofthereasonIassumedVivhadgonesomewheresensible.Vivknewthedangersofworkingatnight.Shewascareful.Andshedefinitelywasn’tstupid.”
Ithoughtofmybrother,Graham,tellingmestoriesaboutthemanwithahookforahandwhenwewerekids.Bogeymanstories.Jenny’sstorieswere
different,though.I’dbeendealingwithcreepssinceI’dopenedmyfirstforbiddenMySpaceaccountatten—strangers,peoplepretendingtobeotherpeople,peopletryingtogetyoutodothings,whetheritwastobuysomethingorsignapetitionorsendthemaphoto.Whenmymothercaughtme,shedidn’tknowwhattodoorhowtopunishme—orifsheevenshouldpunishme.Shehadbeenutterlylost.Viv,inherway,hadknownmoreaboutdangerthanhersisterhaddecadeslater.
IglancedatHeather.Shewasperkedup,herfacetightandserious.
Therearesomanyofthem,she’dsaidwhenIfirstmether,andwhenIaskedherwhatshemeant,shesaid,Deadgirls
“Isthereanythingelseyoucantellme?”IaskedJenny,becauseIsensedherbreakwasalmostoverandourtimewasalmostup.“Anythingatall?”
Jennylookedthoughtful,andforasecondIpicturedherthirty-fiveyearsago,wearinghigh-waistedjeansandapuffyblouse,herhairteasedout.
“Vivwasbeautiful,”shesaidatlast,surprisingme.“Iremembershesaidsomethingaboutacting.ShewasoriginallygoingtoNewYork,butshewasn’tseriousaboutit.Shejustwantedtogetaway.Shedidn’thavethecrazybeautythatmodelshave.Shewasoneofthosegirlswhowasbeautifulthemoreyoulookedather,ifthatmakessense.”
“Yes,”Isaid.
“Itwassomethingaboutherface,thestillnessofit,”Jennysaid.“Shewassad—atleasttheVivIknewwassad.Nowadaysshe’dprobablybeaperfectcandidatefortherapy,butwedidn’thavethatoptionthen.Andshewasalsoangry,especiallytowardtheend.Idothinkshewashidingsomething,thoughIsupposeI’llneverknowwhatitwasnow.Oh,andonemorething.”Shepushedawayhercoffeecupandlookedatme,hereyeshard.“Sincetheypulledourphonerecordsandall,Ialwayswonderedwhythepoliceneveraskedmeaboutthephonecalls.”Fell,NewYork
October1982
VIV
Jennyneverspentherdaysoffathome.ShetalkedalotaboutsittinginfrontoftheTVeatingcandyasherperfectdayoff,butwhenthedaycamesheneverdidit.Insteadshespentherdaysoffatthemall,spendinghersmallpaycheckonrecordsormakeupornewshoes—loafersorlow,pointyheelsinrainbowcolorslikebrightredorbrightyellow,shoesshecouldn’tweartoworkatthenursinghomebutwantedtohavefor
“goingtoaparty.”VivhadneverseenJennygotoaparty,butthenagainshehadn’tbeenlivingwithherallthatlong.
Todayshewasatthemallagain,probablytoseeamovieordrinkanOrangeJuliusordoanyofthethingsVivwouldhavedoneatthemallbackinIllinoissixmonthsago.Insteadofsleeping,Vivusedthetimehomealonetofindthetravelingsalesman.
Shepulledthephoneovertothekitchentable,usingitsextra-longcord,somethingJennyhadsoshecouldwanderandtalkatthesametime.NexttothephoneshethumpeddownFell’sphonebookandhernotebookwithapen.Then,stillinherterrybathrobe,Vivwentintothekitchen,tookoutaboxofRitzcrackersandajarofVelveetacheesewithaknife,andsatdowntowork.
SheflippedtothebackofhernotebookandtookoutthephotographsMarnieMahoneyhadgivenher.Therewereonlythreethathadwhatshewantedinthem,butthreewasplenty.TheyallshowedtheSunDownMotelatnight,thelightsonthecorridorscontrastingtothedark.OneshowedMr.
Whiteopeningthedoorofhisroomwithakey.ThesecondshowedHelenenteringthatsameroom.ThethirdshowedVivherself,leavingtheAMENITIESroomwithachocolatebarinherhand,walkingbacktotheoffice.
Vivlookedatherselfinthephoto,thegirlshecouldn’tquitebelievewasher.Shehadaniceprofile,clearpaleskin,herhairpushedbackfromherfaceandclippedintoabarrette.Anyonewouldthinkshewasaniceenoughgirl,aprettygirl,ifalittlesad.Vivthought,WhoamI?
Butthegirlwasn’twhatwasvaluableaboutthephoto.Allthreepictureshadcaughtacarintheparkinglot,thebackendofthecarcutoffbytheframe.Ifyouputthefirstandthirdphotostogetheryoucouldpiecetogetherthelicenseplatenumber.Thesecondphoto,framedjustright,caughttheentirething.
Thetravelingsalesman’scar.
Vivglancedatthetelephone.SheshouldcallAlmaTrent;shehadpromisedshewould.Almahadtoldhergetsomething,anything,andshe’dhelpidentifythemanwhocheckedintothemotel.ButAlmaalsohadn’tbelievedViv.She’dthoughttheentirethingcrazy.
VivspreadsomecheeseonacrackerandflippedthroughtheFellphonebook.Sheclosedhereyesandsummonedtheactingclassesshe’dtakenafterhighschool.She’dbeengoodatacting,goodatbeingsomeoneelse.Itwasoneofthefewthingsthatmadeherfeelbetter,beinganotherpersonforawhile.
Shegotintocharacter.ThenshecalledtheDMV.
“Hello,”shesaidwhenshegotsomeoneontheline.“I’vejustreceivedacallfrommyinsurancecompanythatthere’saproblemwithmyhusband’sregistration.Canyoupleasehelpme?”
“Ma’am,Idon’t—”
“He’sawayontheroad,”Vivsaid.“Myhusband.He’stravelingforwork,andifhecomeshomeandfindsourinsurancecanceled,he’llbesoangry.Soangry.”ShetriedchannelingHoneyfromWho’sAfraidofVirginiaWoolf?—helpless,sweet,alittlepathetic.“Idon’tknowwhattodo.Idon’tevenknowwhattheproblemis.Canyoupleasejustcheck?”
“Itisn’t—”
Vivinterruptedbyrecitingthelicenseplatenumberandthemakeandmodel,whichshegotfromthephoto.“That’stheone.We’vehaditforyears.Years.Idon’tknowhowtherecouldbeaproblemallofasudden.
Myhusbandsays—”
“Pleasehold,ma’am.”
Therewasaclick,andsilence.Vivheldthereceiver,herhandslickwithsweat
Therewasanotherclick.“Ma’am,Idon’tseeaproblemwiththisregistration.”
“Areyousure?”
“There’snothingwrongatall.It’sregisteredtoMr.Hesswithnochanges.”
Mr.Hess.Vivfeltlight-headed,butsheforcedherselftokeepcalm,stayincharacter.“Oh,thankGod,”shesaid.“Andyou’resuretheaddressisright?”
“You’restillonFairviewAvenue?”thewomansaid.
“Yes.Yes,weare.”
“Italllooksfinetome.”
Vivthankedthewomanandtoldhershe’dcalltheinsurancecompanybacktoworkitout.Thenshehungup.Shehadcoldsweatrunningdownbetweenhershoulders,beneathherbathrobe.Hermouthfeltdryandhot.
Sheateanothercrackeranddranksomemilk,thenflippedthroughthephonebookagain,breathingdeep.SheletHoneygoandlethermindtravel,thinkingupanewcharacter.
TherewereonlytwoHessesinthephonebook,andonlyonewaslistedonFairviewAvenue.Vivgotintocharacteragain—tougher,brassierthistime—andcalledthenumber.
Awoman’svoiceanswered.“Hello?”
“Mrs.Hess?”
“Yes.”
“Thisisyourhusband’sschedulingservice.”Vivtriedtosoundbrisk,professional,likeasecretaryinanoffice.“We’renotsureifwe’vemadeamistakeoverhere.DoyouknowifyourhusbandisonhiswaytoNewYorktoday?”
“NewYork?Idon’tthinkso.HetoldmehewasgoingtoBuffalotwodaysago.Butperhapshisplanschanged.”Thewomanlaughed.“Iguessyou’dknowthatbetterthanIwould,right?”
“LikeIsay,Mrs.Hess,wemayhavehadamix-up.We’rewaitingforMr.Hesstocheckin,butwethoughtwe’dcallandask.”
“That’sallright.Westlake’sschedulingserviceisn’tusuallythisconcerned.”
Westlake.Vivflippedmadlythroughthephonebook.“Wetrytokeepoursalesmenorganized.Sometimesthingsfallthroughthecracks.”
“Well,Ihaven’ttalkedtoSimontoday.IfhecallsI’llbesuretotellhimtocheckin.”
“Weappreciatethat,ma’am.Mr.Hessisalwayspunctualaboutcallingin.I’msurewe’llhearfromhimsoon.”
Vivsaidgood-byetothewomanandhungup.Sheateanothercracker.
Sheopenedhernotebookandpickedupherpen.Turningtoablankpage,shewrote:
Mr.SimonHess
373FairviewAvenue
SalesmanforWestlakeLockSystems
Sheaddedhishomephonenumber,Westlake’sphonenumber,andhislicenseplateandcar.
Andbeneaththat,shecouldn’thelpbutwrite:
Thatwaseasy.
Shestaredatthewordsforaminute.Shelookedbackatthephonebookandflippedbackthroughthepages,findingtheWsection.Shewasthinkingaboutherfather,aboutthedivorce.Abouttheangrymeetingswithlawyers,abouthermothercominghomeandthrowingthings,tellingVivshewasn’tgoodenough.
Youprobablyshouldn’tdothis,avoiceinherheadsaid.
Andthen,anothervoice:Ireallydon’tcare.
SheranherfingerdowntheWnamesuntilshefoundtheoneshewaslookingfor.White.TherewereadozenWhitesinFell,butonlyonewaslistedasR.White
Again,easy.
Shedialedthenumber.Shedidn’tbothergettingintocharacterthistime.
Again,awomananswered.“Hello?”
“Mrs.White?”
“Yes.”
“Yourhusbandischeatingonyou,”Vivsaid,andhungup.
???
Viv’sheadwasthrobbingbythetimeshegottoFairviewAvenue,drivingherCavalier.Shewassupposedtobeasleeprightnow;she’donlyhadabriefnapateighto’clockthismorning.Itwastwoo’clockintheafternoonnow,andshefeltlikeshe’dneversleepagain.
FairviewAvenuewaspretty,atleastforFell:bungalowswithlawns,treesthatwouldbeleafyinsummer.Vivdrovethestreetslowly,peeringatthehousenumbersinthegloomyOctoberafternoonlight.Number373hadacarinfrontofit—aVolvo,thewife’scar.
Itwasherethatshehadtoadmitshedidn’tknowwhatexactlytodonext.ThetravelingsalesmanwassupposedtobeinBuffalo;shedidn’thaveapictureofhimorknowanythingabouthimexceptwherehelived.ShehadnoanswerstowhyhecheckedintotheSunDownwithfalsenames,orwhathewasdoingtherewhenhealreadyhadahomeinFell.Shedidn’tknowwherehecamefromorwhohisfriendswere.Shedidn’tknowifhehadchildren.
Shedidn’tknowwhetherhehadanythingtodowithBettyorCathyorVictoria.Allshehadwasaman’snameandaddress.
Sheshouldprobablygiveup.Insteadsheparkedaroundthecorner,nexttoasmallpark.FromherwindowshecouldseethedrivewayoftheHesshouse.Sheturnedoffthecarandrubbedherface.Ishouldtakeoutmynotebook,shethought,andwritesomenotesaboutwhattodonext.
Sheleanedbackinthedriver’sseatandwasasleepbeforeshecouldfinishthethought.
???
Whenshewoke,itwasdark.Shehadabrief,disorientedflashinwhichshethoughtitwasthemiddleofthenightandshewassupposedtobeattheSunDown.Shelookedatherwatchandsawthatitwasonlysixo’clock,theearlydarkoftheendoftheyear.Shewasshivering,andacoldwindbuffetedthecar.
Shesatupandsmoothedherhair,andthenshewentstill.
TherewasasecondcarintheHessdriveway.Thetravelingsalesman’scar.
Withoutthinkingsheopenedthedriver’sdoorandgotout.Ifshehesitated,shewouldneverdoit.Go,justgo.ShewalkedaroundthecornertowardtheHesshouse,tryingnottoflinchasacardrovepastheronthequietstreet,somenicemancominghomefromwork.ShewaiteduntilthetaillightswereinthedistanceandthensheduckedaroundthesideoftheHesshouse,crouchingintheshadowsofthegarden.
Thisiscrazy.
Idon’tcare.
Itwasfreeing,thisnotcaring.Shewasunmooredfromeverything:family,friends,home,herreallife.EventimehadstoppedhavingmeaningsinceshestartedattheSunDown,thedaysandnightsjumbledintoalongstretchthatwasasunderstandableasancientSanskrit.Shelookedatpeopleanchoredbytime—getupinthemorning,gotosleepatnight,comehomefromworkatsixo’clock—aspeopleshepolitelysharedtheworldwithbutdidn’tunderstand.Whydidpeoplebother?Thenightsweresolongnow;itwasnightinthemorninganditwasnightnow.Itwasalldarknessbrokenbrieflybymuddledgraylight.Evennowitcouldbethreeo’clockinthemorningasshesatinthetravelingsalesman’sgarden.Whowastosayitwasn’t?
Alightcameoninawindowafewfeetaway.Vivsidledtowardit,listening.Shedidn’thearchildren’svoices.Somehowitwouldmakethingsworsetoknowthatchildrenlivedwiththetravelingsalesman,likeseeingatoddlerwalkontoanemptyroad.Move,move,run!Ifthesalesmanwaswhoshethoughthewas,heshouldlivealonewithhiswife—Vivpicturedapale,wiltedwoman,longgivenuponlife—andnooneelse.Itfit.
Vivsquat-walkedtowardthelitwindow,thencarefullyraisedherselftopeekintothecorner.Itwasthekitchen,andawomanwasstandingatthesink,herbacktoViv,thewaterrunningassherinseddishes.SheworepantsthatwereelasticatthewaistandaroomyT-shirt.Withthepracticedeyeofagirlintheater,Vivnotedthatthewoman’sclotheswerehandmadeonasewingmachine.
Amanwalkedintothekitchen.Hewasofaverageheight,averagebuild,trimandclean-shavenwithshorthairbrushedbackfromhisforehead.Heworedresspantsandadressshirtwithrolled-upsleevesandnotie.Hisfacewassquare,hiseyessmallandnondescript.Thelasttimeshe’dseenhim,he’dsmiledatherwithasmilethatdidn’tfithisfaceandmadeherqueasy.
IguessI’mjustthatmemorable,he’dsaid.Withoutawordheputaplateonthecounternexttothewomanandlefttheroomagain.
Hello,SimonHess,Vivthought.
Thewoman,sheknew,wouldtellherhusbandaboutthestrangephonecallshegottoday.TheschedulingservicethathadthoughthewasinNewYork.Andthetravelingsalesmanwouldlookpuzzledandsaytohiswife,OfcoursetheyknewwhereIwas.Whywouldtheycall?Perhapsthey’dalreadyhadthislittleexchange;asimplephonecalltohiscompanywould
tiphimoffthatsomeonehedidn’tknowhadcalledabouthim.Vivhadtomovefast.
Sheduckedfromthewindowagainandsquat-walkedtothebackyard,openingthelatchtothebackyardgateandpeeringin.Itwasasuburbanfencedbackyard,withapatioandalawninthedark.Stillnosignofchildren’stoys.Vivclosedthegateagainandbackedout.
Shehadnoideawhatshewaslookingfor—justsomething.Somethingthatwouldputherclosertohim,revealsomethingabouthim.Shewalkedlowagainstthehousetothefrontagainandsawthesalesman’scarinthedriveway.
Shecrouchedandmovedtoit.Peekedinthewindows.Thecarwasclean,asifhehadboughtityesterday.Noripsintheupholstery.Nowrappersorjunk.NothingthatsaidamanhadjusttraveledinthiscartoBuffaloandback,thatamantraveledinthiscarallthetime.
Shecircledthecar.Ifsomeonecamebyrightnow,shewouldbeinplainview.Theneighboracrossthestreetcouldlikelyseeherifhewaslookingouthiswindow.Thehouseacrossthestreetwasdarkwithnocarinthedriveway.Still,shehadtobefast.
Thepassengerseathadafewpiecesofpaperonit.Vivtriedthepassengerdoorandwhenitopened,unlocked,herbloodwenthotandpoundinginherveins.Shereachedinandpickedupthepapers.
Itwasaschedule,typedupandrunthroughadittomachine.Theinksmelledlikeschool,andforasecondVivwasdizzywithmemoriesofclass.
Thenshefocusedonwhatshewasreading.Itwasaschedule,thewordstypedneatly.
Monday:Mr.AlanLeckie,52FarnhamRd.,Poughkeepsie.
Wednesday:TerraSystems,BankStreet,Rochester.
Thursday:Monthlymeetingatheadoffice.
Vivalmostlaughed.Thiswasfromthesalesman’sactualschedulingdepartment,theoneshe’dpretendedtobeafewhoursago.Sheflippedbackandsawthescheduleforthepreviousweek,andtheweekbeforethat.
Howlongdidtheykeeprecords?Shewondered.
Theschedulepageshadletterhead,acontactname,aphonenumber.Vivslidthebottompagefromthepile—maybehewouldn’tnoticethebottompagegone?—andfoldeditintoherpocket.Shewasjustpushingthedoorshutwhenshelookedupandsawthefaceinthelivingroomwindow.
Itwasagirl,aboutten,withlong,straighthairtuckedbehindherears.
ShewaswatchingVivwithnoexpression.
Vivstarted.Therehadbeennosignofkidsanywhere.Sheshouldrun,butinsteadshefollowedanimpulseandmetthegirl’seyesthroughthewindow.Sheputafingertoherlips.Bequiet,okay?
Thegirlgavenoindicationofagreeingornot.Insteadsheliftedahandandpointedsilentlyinthedirectionofthefrontdoor.He’scoming.
AdrenalinespikedstraightthroughViv’sbody,upthebackofherneckanddownintohergut.Sheduckeddownthedrivewayandjoggedtohercar,tryingtolookcasualincaseanyonewaslooking—Ibelonghere!I’mjusttrottingdownthisstreet,noproblem!Shegottohercarandslidintothedriver’sseatasthefrontdoorofthesalesman’shouseopened.Sheflattenedherselfdownontheseat,tryingtomakethecarlookempty.
Afterafewsecondsshedaredapeekthroughthewindow.Thesalesman
—SimonHess—wasstandinginthedrivewaywhereshehadjustbeen,lookingbackandforthupthestreet.Hewasstillwearingthepantsandrolled-updressshirthe’dbeenwearinginthekitchen.Hisgazehithercarandpassedoverit,seeingitempty.Vivheldherbreath.
Heturnedbacktohisowncar,circledit.Helookedinthepassengerwindowandopenedthepassengerdoor.Hepickedupthestackofpapers.
DidIputthembackintherightplace?DidI?
Hestaredatthestackforalongtime.Toolong.Thinking,Vivknew.
Tryingtopindownwhatwasn’tquiteright.Tryingtothinkofwhohadbeeninhiscarinhisdriveway—thepassengerdoorhadthunkedshutwhensheclosedit,sheknewthat,andnowsheknewhe’dheardit.Hewastryingtoputthistogetherwiththestrangephonecall.Tryingtothinkofwhoitcouldbe.
Slowlyheputthepapersbackinthecarandclosedthedooragain.Heturnedandwalkedaroundthesideofthehouse,disappearing.
Vivstraightenedquickly,turnedonhercar,anddroveaway.Herhandswereslickandicyonthewheel.
Hermindraced.Thesalesmanwouldseeherfootprintsinthesoftdirtofthegardenatthesideofthehouse:slimtennis-shoeprints.Hewouldknowitwaseitheraboyoragirlwhohadbeensnoopingathishouse,notalargeman.He’dfigureateenager.Viv’sshoeswerewhiteunisextennisshoes,andtechnicallytheycouldbelongtoateenageboy.Thesalesmanwasmorelikelytobelieveaboyprowlerratherthanagirl.
Thatwouldworktoheradvantage—ifthedaughterdidn’tgiveheraway.
Shedidn’tthinkthedaughterwouldgiveheraway.
Still,thephonecallhadbeenfromawoman.Hewouldbesuspicious,onhisguard.Wonderingwhatsomeonewantedfromhim.Becauseheknew,now,thatsomeonewantedsomething
Iamhuntingthehunter,andhesuspectsit.
Thegameison.
Shewasafraid.Terrified,actually.Butshewasjuststarting.
Nowsheneededhernextmove.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
TheInternetwasagoldmineofinformationonCathyCaldwell.
WhereasI’dspentmonthssubsistingonthefewparagraphsIcouldfindaboutmyauntViv,CathyCaldwellwasawholedifferentballgame.CathyCaldwellwasfamous.
Shehadn’talwaysbeenfamous.Myfirstsearchforhernamebroughtupalistofarticlesfromthelastfewyears—true-crimeblogs,apodcast,andaRedditthreadwithdozensofposts.Googleshowedmeaphoto,a1970scolorsnapshotofaprettywomanwithsandybrownhairstandinginasunlitbackyardsomewhere,smilingwithasmallbabyonherhip.Shewaswearingshortshortsandaturquoisehaltertop,herfacealittleblurrythewayoldsnapshotsalwaysarefromthedaysoffilmcameraswithmanualfocus.Thepicturelookedlikethekindthatwasstuckinthoseoldphotoalbumswithplasticfilmthatyousmoothedovereachpage.
“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’ttellmeaboutCathyCaldwell,”IsaidtoHeatherasIsatgluedtomylaptopafterwegotbackfromtalkingtoJennySummers.
Iwashalfjoking,butHeatheransweredmeseriously.“ItoldyouwehavealotofdeadgirlsinFell.”
“Youweren’tkidding.Whatwastheothernameshesaid?Victoriasomething?”
“Lee.”Heatherwasstandinginthekitchen,likeshe’dgoneinthereforsomethingandthenforgotwhatitwas.Shezippedthecollarofherzip-uphoodieallthewayupherneck,asifshewascold.Shelookedblanklyatthecloseddoorofthefridge.“Thatonewassolved,andthenitwasn’t.”
Ifrownedather,thoughshewasn’tlookingatme.“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Herboyfriendwasconvicted,andthenitwasoverturnedafewyearslater.Hewasproveninnocent.”
“Truly?”Iopenedanewtabandstartedanewsearch.“That’sincredible.”
Heatherturnedandlookedatme,herfacestillsetinseriouslines.“Ican’ttalkaboutthisanymore.”
Itookmyhandsfrommylaptopkeys.“What?”
“Thedeadgirls.Ispenttoomuchtimereadingaboutthemafewyearsago.Itputmeinabadplace.I’mnotsupposedtoreadaboutthemanymore,youknow?”
“Depression?”Iaskedher.“Anxiety?”
“Amix.”Sheshrugged.“Theygotogether.Theybringtheinsomnia.
AndthebikeaccidentIhad—therewastraumafromthat.”Sheglanceddownatherzipped-uphoodie.“Ihaveotherissues,too,Ithinkyoumayhaveguessed.MytherapistsaysIhavetoworkthroughit,butIcan’tget…fixatedonnegativethings.”Sheglancedatme.“IguessI’mnotasmuchhelpasIthoughtIwas.Sorry.”
“No,I’msorry,”Isaid.“Ishowedupinyourlifeandbroughtmyproblems.It’smyfault.”
Sherolledhereyesandwavedherhand.“It’sfine.Justdothesearchesyourself.I’mgoingtogostudy.Maybehaveanap.”Shewalkedtowardherbedroom,stillhunchedintohersweatshirt.Itwassobig,andshewassosmall,thatshelookedlikeayounggirlinit.Shegottoherbedroomdoorway,thenputherhandontheframeandlookedbackatmeoverhershoulder.“LookupBettyGraham,”shesaid.“Andwhenyou’redone,helpyourselftomymeds.”Thenshewentintotheroomandclosedthedoorbehindher.
???
CathyCaldwell.Young,married,motherofababy,herhusbanddeployed.
Leftworkonedayandnevercamehome;herbodywasfoundunderanoverpass,deadofstabwoundstotheneck.
Ithappenedin1980.Therewasasensationinthelocalnewspapersforawhile,andthen,withthecaseice-cold,theattentiondroppedoff.WithinafewyearsCathywasforgotten—untilapopulartrue-crimepodcastrevivedthestoryin2016.Thentherewasarashofattentionagain,anew
generationofamateursleuthstryingtoputthepiecesofthepuzzletogether.
Cathy’sbabyson,nowgrown,didinterviews,suppliedphotos.Hetalkedabouttheuniquepainofgrowingupknowingamonsterhadmurderedyourmother,knowingthatwhoeverthatmonsterwas,hewasstillwalkingfree.
ButforalltheInternet’sattention,thecasewasstillunsolved.TherewasDNAbutnomatchinanysystem.Therewasnothingelsetogobackto,nootherleadsthatnewtechnologycouldmagicallyexploit.Memorieswererusty.Agrowingnumberofpeople,likeCathy’shusband,werenowdead.
Theonlypaper-thintheory,backedbyzeroproof,wasthatthehusbandhiredsomeonetodoitforthelifeinsurancemoney.Otherwise,nothing.
TherewaslessaboutVictoriaLee.She’dbeenstrangledanddumpedoffajoggingtrailin1981,andherboyfriendwasquicklyarrestedandconvictedofthecrime.Unlikethelengthyodestopretty,sweetCathy,therewasnoonetotalkabouthowwonderfulVictoriawas.Insteadtherewasacropped,blurryphotoofherface,obviouslychoppedfromagrouppicture,andthecaptionMurdervictimVictoriaLee.Cathywasawife,amother,belovedandkindandinnocent.Victoriawasjustamurdervictim.
In1988Victoria’sboyfriendgotanewlegalteamandwonasecondtrial,basedonatechnicalityinthefirsttrial.InthenewtrialitcameoutthatVictoriahadbeenwearingathingoldchainaroundherneckwhenshewasstrangled.Thechainhadbeenburiedinthefleshofherneck,andwhoeverstrangledherwouldhavehadmarksonhishands.Victoria’sboyfriendhadnomarksonhishands.Hisconvictionwasoverturnedandhewassetfree.
WhichmeantthatVictoria’smurder,initiallysolved,wasunsolvedagain.
Ididn’tknowwhyIwasreadingthis.Ididn’tknowwhatithadtodowithmyauntViv.ButIcouldn’tstop.
BettyGrahamwasnext.Shehadbeenmurderedin1978anddumpedonaconstructionsite.Bettywasaschoolteacherwithnohusbandandnokids,andshe’dkepttoherself.AneighborhadseenatravelingsalesmanknockonBetty’sdoorandgetletin.Noonesawheraliveagain.
BettyhadhadherownsmallInternetrevival,thoughnotasbigasCathy’s.Afewarmchairsleuthshadwrittenabouther,includingawell-researchedlong-formarticleonatrue-crimewebsite.Thedetailsofthemurderwerescarce,buttheymademegocold.
Bettyhadfought.
Itwasn’treleasedatthetime,butthearticle’sauthorhaddugitoutofthecoroner’sreportdecadeslater.Betty’sbodyhadbruisesonthearms,theback,theshoulders.Herfingernailsweretornandbloody.Herkneeswereswollenanddamaged.Therewerescrapesonherlegandherhip,asifshe’dbeendragged.Herknuckleswerebloody—herownblood—andfourofherfingerswerebroken.Shewasmissingtwoteeth.Thecoronerpositedthatshehadbeenputsomewhere,likelythetrunkofacar,andhadfoughtthewholewayin.Thenfoughttogetout.Thenfoughtsomemorebeforeherkillerrapedher,thenstabbedherfivetimesinthechestandfinallykilledher.
Thenhe’ddumpedthebodyonaheapataconstructionsite—thesiteofthefutureSunDownMotel.
Myheadwentlight.TheSunDown.Awoman’sbodyhadbeendumpedattheSunDown.
IscrolledthroughthearticleandfoundaphotoofBettyGraham.Shehadaconservativehaircutandworeahigh-neckedblouse,buttherewasnohidingthatshewasabeautifulwoman.Shewassittingforaformalportraitphoto,likelyfortheschoolwheresheworked,herheadtiltedatthatspecificangletheyalwaysusedinoldschoolphotos,herhandsfoldeddemurelyinfrontofher,apolitesmileonherface.Shewasbeautifulbutshewasclosedoff,hereyesanddemeanorsayingdon’tapproach.Shelookedlikethekindofwomanwhocouldbepoliteandpleasanttoyouforyears,anddecadeslateryourealizeyoudon’tknowasinglepersonalthingaboutherbecauseshe’snevertoldyou.
Ifyoulookedatherface,youwouldn’tseeawomanwhowouldfightandbleedtoherdyingbreath.Yousawawomanwhowouldleadaboringspinsterexistencetotheendofherdays,notsomeonewhoscratchedhernailsoffandcrawledonherkneesinaneffortnottodie.Youwouldn’tseesomeonewhowantedtolivesobadly,sodesperatelythatshewoulddoanything.
Thenagain,maybeyoumight.
Maybeyousawawomanwhohateddyingsomuchthatsherefusedtodoitalltheway.MaybeyousawthewomanintheflowereddressattheSunDownMotel.BecauseIhad.Itwasdefinitelyher.
AndifIhadseenBetty,thenitwaspossibleVivhadseenher,too.
FiveminuteslaterIwasinthebathroom,sweatingandgrippingthecounterwithicyhands,hopingIwouldn’tfaint.
WehadaconversationaboutCathyCaldwellafewweeksbeforeVivdied.
Thewomanintheflowereddress,lookingdownatmefromtheupstairslevel.
BettyGraham,fightinganddyingandgettingdumpedintheplacewhereInowworked.WhereVivhadworked.
Weweresinglegirlswhoworkedatnight.Doyouthinkwedidn’tknowthedangers,evenbackthen?
CathyfuckingCaldwell.HowcouldIbesostupid?
Ibentoverthesinkandturnedthecoldwateron.Iputmyhandunderit,meaningtosplashitonmyface,butIcouldn’tquitedoit.Ijuststoodthere,staringdownatthewatergoingdownthedrain.
Thiswastheconnection.Ithadtobe.VivhadknownaboutCathyCaldwellin1982—shehadhadaconversationaboutherwithherroommate.IfVivknewaboutCathy,itwasentirelypossiblesheknewaboutBettyGraham.EspeciallysinceBetty’sbodywasdumpedattheSunDownconstructionsite.Itwasoneofthosethingsyou’dhearaboutwhenyou’dworkedinaplaceforawhile.
IfthewomanintheflowereddresswasBetty—andshewas—thenVivhadseenher.Knownwhoshewas.Shecouldhavefigureditout,justlikeIdid.
Andithadsomethingtodowithherdisappearance.Ithadto.
Ispenttoomuchtimereadingaboutdeadgirlsafewyearsago.Itputmeinabadplace.
Vivwassad.Andshewasalsosortofangry,especiallytowardtheend.
Vivhadbeenoutalotattheend.Outpursuingsomethingthatwasn’taman.Somethingthatmadeherangry.
Thewaterstillrunning,Iraisedmygazetotheshelfnexttothemedicinecabinet.ItookinHeather’slineofmedications,arrangedjustso.
Betty,Cathy,Victoria.Theyweredarkthings,andfollowingthemledtoadarkplace.Icouldseeitsoeasily,howyoucouldwalkthroughthatdoorandnevercomeout.Howreadingaboutthedeadgirlswouldleadtothinkingaboutthemallthetime,toobsessingaboutthem.Becauseafterallthistime,afterdecadesandoverturnedconvictionsandreamsofInternetspeculation,nooneknewwhofreakingkilledthem.Nooneatall.
IfIwasgoingtosolvethis,Iwasgoingtohavetogothroughthedoor.
SoIwent.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
TwodayslaterIwasbackinthearchivesroomattheFelllibrary,goingthrougholdnewspapersagain.ThistimeIbypassedthemicroficheandwentstraighttothepaperarchives.
IreadeveryarticleaboutBettyGraham’sbodybeingfoundin1978.ThemurderhadbeenthetopstoryinFellthatyear,aterrifyingmysteryinatownthathadthoughtitselfinnocentuptothen.Therewereanxiousupdatesabouthowthepolicehadnothingnew,andtheLetterstotheEditorcolumnswerefilledwithletterslikeShouldwelockourdoorsatnight?andAreourstreetssafeanymore?“Idon’tevenwanttoletmydaughtergototherollerrink,”onewoman—Ipicturedherinasharppantsuitwithfeatheredhair,carefullyhanginghermacraméplantholder—complained.Amanwrote,“Iwillnotletmywifestayhomealone.”IpicturedhiswifepoppingValium,thinking,Pleaseleavemehomealone.Justfortenminutes.Anothermanwrote,ofcourse,thatitmusthavesomethingtodowithblackpeople,becausewhoelsecoulditbe?
TherewasnothinganywhereaboutBetty’sinjuries.Thepolicehadn’treleasedthatinformation.Wasittoographicforthepublicin1978?Ordidtheywithholditbecauseitwassomethingonlythekillerwouldknowabout?Probablyboth.
Iflippedforwardto1980.ThatwastheyearofCathyCaldwell,andforthefirsttimeIwonderedifthesamekillercouldhavedoneboth.Itdidn’tlooklikeitonthesurface:CathyandBettyhadbeentakendifferently,killeddifferently.Cathydidn’thaveinjurieslikeBettydid.Butbothwerepretty;bothhadbeenraped,stabbed,anddumped;anditwastoomuchofacoincidencethataplaceassmallasFellwouldhavetwoviciouskillers.I’dseenspeculationaboutthisfromthearmchairsleuthsonReddit,buttheFell
policehadnothingtosay.Besides,ifthesamemanhaddonebothmurders,he’deitherstoppedormovedawayafterCathy.Ordied.
Orhe’dstayed,andhe’dkilledVivin1982.
“Hey,”saidavoiceatmyshoulder.“It’syouagain.”
Ijumpedandlookedup.ItwasCallumMacRae,theguywhospentallofhistimeinthearchivesroom,digitizingeverything.“Hi,”Isaid.
“It’salmostsix,”hesaid,smilingatme.“Thelibrary’sabouttoclose.
They’lldoanannouncementinaminuteorso.”
“Oh,right.”Ilookedaround.“Ishouldprobablygo.”
“How’sitgoing?”heaskedasIstoodup.“Thesearchforyouraunt,Imean.”
Hewaswearingjeansandazip-uphoodietoday,bothofthemnew-lookingandnotcheap.Heknewhowtodress,evenifhissociallifeseemedtobelacking.“Ihaven’tfoundheryet,”Isaid.“Ihaven’tevengottenclose.”
“That’stoobad.AnythingIcandotohelp?”
Igesturedtothearchivesbehindme.“Youalreadyhelpedbyshowingmehowtogothroughtheoldpapersinsteadofrelyingonthemicrofiche.
Sothanksforthat.IfoundthingsIwouldn’thavefoundotherwise.”
“Really?”Hiseyebrowswentup.“Likewhat?”
Icouldn’tsaywhyIfeltuneasy,butIdid.Hewasaniceguyinniceclothestakinganinterestinmyproject,andyetIhadtheurgetosidleaway.
“Justthehistoryofthisplace,Iguess,”Isaid.“Thereseemtobealotofmurdershere.”
“Ah.”Callumsmiledagain.“Iwarnedyouaboutthat.SoIguessyouseewhatImean.”
“Yeah,Iguessso.Howisthedigitizinggoing?”
Callumspreadhishandsout,asiftoshowmetheywereempty.“I’mdonefortheday.Andtheplaceisabouttoclose.Whatareyoudoingrightnow?”
IgapedathimbecauseIwasadork.“What?Why?”
“Wecouldgogetdinner.”
“Ican’t.”Itwasalie,butIpulledmyphonefrommypocketandsawthatI’dhadaphonecallwhileIhaditonsilent.Irecognizedthenumber:AlmaTrent,theretiredcopthatNickHarknesshadsuggestedIcontact.I’dleftheramessageafewhoursago.“Ihaveanappointment,”IsaidtoCallum,hopingthatitwastrue.
“Oh,really?Where?”
Iblinkedathimbuthewaitedforananswer,asifunawarehewasontheedgeofrude.Alifetimeoftraining—benice!—roseupandIsaid,“Um,IthinkI’mgoingtotalktoAlmaTrent,whowasapoliceofficerbackwhenmyauntdisappeared.”
Thelibrarianmadetheannouncementaboutthelibraryclosing,andIstartedtowardthedoors.Callumfollowed.
“Thatsoundsinteresting,”hesaid,unbelievably.“CanIcome?”
“Itisn’tagoodidea,”Isaid,fumbling,asIpushedthroughthedoors.“IpromisedI’dgoalone.”
Hisvoicewentanotchdarker.“Thecopmadeyoupromisethat?”
Wewereoutsidethelibrarynow,andIcouldseemycarparkedinthepayspotatthecurb.“Yeah,”Isaid.“Thanksforoffering,though.Talktoyousoon,okay?”Igavehimafake-cheerywaveandgotintomycar.
BeforeIturnedthekeyIpulledoutmyphoneandlistenedtothemessageAlmahadleft.
Shetoldmeshewasretired—IknewthatfromGooglingher,likeIknewhernumberfromthegoodoldFellphonebook—butshewouldbehappytotalktome.Shehadapleasant,no-nonsensevoice,aplainwayofspeaking.
ShetoldmeIshouldjustletherknowwhenIcouldvisitandshe’dputsomecoffeeon.
IcalledherbackandtoldherIwascoming,andshegavemeheraddress.WhenIhungup,IgaveintoimpulseandtextedNickHarkness.
Youup?Iwrote,becauseIwasneversurewhenNickwassleeping.
Therewasnoanswer.Istaredatmyphoneforaminute,andthenIadded,I’mgoingtoseeAlmaTrent,thecopyoutoldmeabout
Ipausedjustincase.Stillnothing.
Ifeltlamenow,butIfinished:I’lltellyouaboutittonight.
Notthathecared,ofcourse.Whywouldhe?Ididn’tevenknowwhathedidwithhistimebesidessleep.TheonlyreasonIhadhisnumberwasthathe’dtoldmetotexthimwhenhispizzaarrivedlastnight.
Ididn’tknowwhyIwastextinghim,exceptthatIdidn’twanttoseeAlmaTrentalone.AndIdidn’twanttoaskHeatherbecauseshewasfragileaboutthewholethingrightnow.ThelastthingIneededwastoworrythatIwasdamagingHeather’smentalhealth.
Stillnoanswer.Isighedandputmyphonedown.I’dgoalone.
Ilookedoutthewindow.Callumwasstillstandinginfrontofthelibrary,hishandsinthepocketsofhishoodie.Watchingme.WhenIlookedathim,aslowsmiletouchedhismouth,andhegavemeawave.
Istartedthecaranddrove.
???
AlmalivedoutsideFell,ontheoppositesideoftownfromtheSunDown,onatwo-laneroadthatledtoawell-keptoldfarmhouse.ItwasfullydarknowbutIcouldseethatthehousewasofwhiteclapboard,theshutterspainteddarkgreen.Pots,nowfilledwithdeadplants,linedthefrontporch,andasIapproachedthedooradogstartedbarking.Iknockedatthescreendoor,sincethedoghadobviouslygivenmeaway.
“Holdon,”cameAlmaTrent’svoicefrominside.Then,inalowervoice:
“Stopit,youcrazything.HonesttoGod,you’reanidiot.”
Thedogkeptbarking,andaminutelaterthefrontdooropened.Almawasinherlatefifties,withgray-streakedbrownhairtiedbackinaponytailandnomakeuponherpleasantface.Sheworeoldjeansthatbaggedalittleandaplaidflannelshirtunderabrowncardigan.Shewasstillfitandlookedstrong,andshegavemeakindsmile.“Carly?”shesaid.
“Hi.”Iheldoutmyhand.“It’snicetomeetyou.Thanksfortakingthetime.”
Weshook,herhandgoingeasyonmine,thoughIcouldtellshecouldcrushmeifshewanted.“Comein,”shesaid.“Iputthecoffeeon,likeIsaid.Iknowit’slateforcoffee,butI’manightowl.Comesfromdoingallthoseyearsofnightshift.”
“Right,”Isaid,followingherdownthefrontcorridorandintoherkitchen,whichwasdatedbutcaredfor.Asmalldog,somekindofterrier,barkedhisauthorityatmeandthenjoyouslysmelledthecuffsofmyjeans,dancingaroundmyshoes.“I’dlovesomecoffee.I’manightpersonmyself.”
“Watchyourstep.Mydog’sanidiot.”Sheledmethroughthecozyhouseintothesmallkitchen,whereshegesturedformetotakeachair.Shepaused,lookingcloseratmeinthelight.“Youlookalotlikeher,”shesaid.
Ididn’thavetoaskwhoherwas.Ifeltazapofexcitementagain.IwasinthepresenceofsomeonewhohadseenViv,knownher.
Iopenedmymouthtoaskaquestion,butAlmastartedfirst.“Canyoutellmesomething?Whatisitthatbringsyouherelookingforanauntwhodiedbeforeyouwereborn?”
“Technicallyshemightnotbedead,”Isaid.
Alma’seyebrowsshotuppolitely.“Okay.”
“Imean,sheis,”Isaid.“Sheprobablyis.Buttheyneverfoundabody.
Thoughsheleftherwalletandhercarbehindandeverything.”Itrailedoff.
Isoundedlikeaditz.
IfAlmaagreed,shedidn’tsayit.Sheopenedacupboardandtookouttwomugs.“Itwasaterriblenight,”shesaid.“Irememberitwell.ThenightIfoundoutshewasmissing,ofcourse.She’dbeengoneforfourdaysbythen.”Shepausedbythecoffeepot,lostinthought.“Thatshouldn’thavehappened,thatlag.Butitdid.”
“How?”Iasked.Itwaslikeshewasreadingmymind.
“Noonewaspayingattention,that’show,”Almasaid.“Vivianwasquietandkepttoherself.Shedidn’tinviteattention.Herroommatewasaway,Iseemtoremember.Butshewasfarfromanyonewhocaredabouther.Theownersofthemoteldidn’tevennoticewhenshedidn’tshowuptowork.Ifyouwanttomeetpeoplewhomakeanartofnotbeingcurious,gototheSunDownMotel.”
Iwatchedherasshepouredcoffeeintotwomugs.Shehadacalmabouther,anunhurriedqualitythatwasn’ttentative.Ihadn’tknownwhattoexpect,butIcouldpicturethiswomanscrapingupadrunk,teenagedNickHarknessataparty.Givinghimalectureandsendinghimonhisway.Inherdecadesasacop,shemusthaveseenalotworse.“HowdidyouknowViv?”Iaskedher.
Shelookedatme,hereyebrowsupagain.“Howdoyoutakeyourcoffee?”WhenIaskedforcream,sheturnedbacktothecups.“IwasFell’snight-shiftdutyofficerforthirtyyears.IgotcalledouttotheSunDownfromtimetotime.Vivcalledmeonceortwice—truckersarguingintheparkinglot,Ithinkwasthefirstone.YougotpettydisturbanceslikethatattheSunDown.Itwasjustthatkindofplace.Stillis.”
“Iknow,”Isaidasshesetmymuginfrontofme.“Iworkthere.”
Forthefirsttime,Isurprisedher.Shepaused,herhandstillonmymugofcoffee.“Ibegyourpardon?”
“Iworkthefrontdesk,”Isaid.“Nights,justlikeVivdid.Iwentouttheretoaskafewquestions,andtherewasaHelpWantedad,andIjust…”I
watchedasshepulledachairbackandsatdown.“What?”
Almashookherhead.“TheSunDownisn’tasafeplacetowork,that’sall.Itneverhasbeen.IworriedaboutVivianworkingtherealoneatnight.
NowitlookslikeI’mgoingtoworryaboutyou.”
Sheknowsabouttheghosts,Ithought,butwhenIlookedatherface,Iwasn’tsure.Shewouldmakeagreatpokerplayer.AndIwasn’tgoingtobringupghostswithanyoneexceptNick,whohadseenwhatIhadseen.“IguesstheSunDownhasalwayshadbadluck,”Isaid.“Imean,BettyGraham’sbodywasfoundtherewhilethemotelwasbeingbuilt.Andtherewasaboywhodiedinthepool.”
Almasippedhercoffeeandlookedatmeasifshemightbereassessing.
Maybeshe’dexpectedanairheadedtwenty-year-oldduncewholikedtoTwitter.Whoknew?Mostpeopleexpectedthat.“Howdoyouknowaboutthat?”sheasked.
“TheFelllibraryarchives.”
Sheputhermugdown,herexpressioncalm.“Okay.Whatdoyouwanttoknowfromme?”
Ipulledmyownmugtowardme.Ididn’tsipityet,thoughI’dbarelyslepttodayandIneededthecaffeine.“CanyoutellmeanythingaboutViv’scasefile?Whatwasinit?”
“Iwasjustthenightshiftdutyofficer,notadetective.Ididn’tworkmissing-personcases.”
“Butyousawthefile,”Iinsisted.
Shesighedandloweredherhandbelowtheseatofherchairintheabsentwaythatdogownersdo.Herdogpushedhisnoseintoherpalm.“Ireadthefile,”sheadmitted.“IknewVivian.Itbotheredmethatshewouldgomissing.Shewasn’twild,andshewasn’tonanydrugs.Andshewasn’tstupid.”Shescratchedthedog’shead.“Itwaslikethenewspaperssaid,Iguess.Itseemsthatshewenttowork,becausehercarandpursewereatthemotelandshetalkedtothemanonshiftbeforeher.Butshevanishedsometimeduringhershift,leavingeverythingbehind.”
“HerroommatesaysthatVivwasoutalotduringthedayinherlastweeks.Thatsheseemeddownorangryaboutsomething.ShealsosaidthatwhenshegottheirphonebillafterVivdisappeared,therewerephonecallsonitthatshedidn’tmake.Shesaysshegavethephonebilltothecopsbutneverheardfromthemagain.Itwasliketheydidn’tevenfollowup.”
Almashookherhead.“Idon’trememberthat.”
“Jennysaysshedoesn’tthinktherewasaboyfriend,buttherewassomethinggoingon.”
“Jennydidn’tknowherverywell.”Alma’svoicewasslightlyclipped.
“Consideringshesatinanemptyapartmentfortwodaysanddidn’twonderwhereherroommatehadgone.Whethershewasevenallright.”
“Okay,”Isaid.“ThenewspapersalldescribedVivasprettyandoutgoing,butJennysaysshewasn’toutgoingatall.”
“Pretty,yes,”Almasaid.“Shetrulywas.ThatwasoneofthereasonsIworriedaboutherworkingaloneattheSunDowneverynight.Butno,shewasn’toutgoing.Shewasquiet,alittleintense.Shecouldlightupwhenshewastalkingaboutsomethingshewasinterestedin.ButIneverheardaboutherhavinganyfriends.”
“Whatwassheinterestedin?”
“Ibegyourpardon?”
“Yousaidshe’dlightupwhenshetalkedaboutsomethingshewasinterestedin.Ijustwonderedwhatthatwas.”
Almapaused,stillstrokingherdog.“Youknow,Idon’tremember.AmovieoraTVshow,maybe.Wepassedthetimechatting.LikeIsay,Iwasworriedabouther.”
“Nooneatthemotelknewher?”
“Likewho?”Almasaid.“There’snoonearoundonthenightshift.IknewJamieBlaknikwasoneoftheregularsoutthere,andhe’ddefinitelymether,butthatwasallIcouldgetoutofhim.”
“JamieBlaknik?”Iasked.
“Hewasapotdealerinthosedays.Uppersanddowners,too,whenhecouldgethishandsonthem.Thatseemedlikeabigdealin1982,beforetheharderdrugsstartedcomingin.HedidsomeofhisbusinessoutoftheSunDown,whichmeanthewouldhaveatleasttalkedtoVivian.HewasatthemotelthenightVivdisappeared.”
“Hewas?”
“Yes.Iquestionedhimmyself.Hetoldmehewasonlyatthemotelforafewhours,doingbusiness,andthenheleft.Hehadmorethanonealibi,too.
Itseemshehadcustomersbetweenelevenandtwelve,andmorecustomersafterheleftandwenttoabar.IfhekilledViv,hewouldhavehadtodoitinaten-minutespanbetweenonecustomerandthenext.ThePDcouldneverpinitonhim.Hewouldn’tbreak.”
“Youquestionedhim,”Isaid.“Ithoughtyouweren’tadetective.”
Herexpressionturneddefensive.Shepulledherhandfromherdog’sheadandputitbackinherlap.“Iaskedaround.Thatisn’tthesamething.
Therewasn’talottodoonthenightshiftunlesssomeonewasdrunkanddisorderly.AndIknewadifferentsetofpeoplethanthedayshiftguys.Notthatanyofthemwantedtolistentomeanyway.”
“Becauseyouwerejustthedutyofficer.”
ShegavemeasmilethathadalayerofcomplexitybehinditIcouldn’tread.“BecauseIwastheFellPD’sonlyfemaleofficer,”shesaid.“YouthinkIdidthirtyyearsonnightsbychoice?Thatwastheonlyshifttheywouldgiveme.Itwaseithertakeitorquit.Andboy,weretheymadwhenIworkeditinsteadofquitting.”
“That’scrazy.Isn’titillegalorsomething?”
Shelaughed,areallaughthatcamefromherbelly.“You’reasmartgirl,butyou’resoyoung,”shesaid.“IstartedontheFellPDin1979.Iwasluckytobeabletogetacreditcardinthosedayswithoutahusband.Mycoworkerscalledme‘Dyke’insteadofmyname,righttomyface.IcouldhavedatedRobertRedfordandtheystillwouldhavecalledmethat.IfIgotmarriedandhadbabies,Iwasweak.IfIstayedsingle,Iwasadyke.IlearnedtoappreciatethenightshiftbecauseIdidn’thavetolistentopussy-eatingjokes.IfI’dcomplained,Iwouldhavebeenridiculedandprobablyfired.”Sheshrugged.“Thatwasthewayitwasinthosedays.Iwantedtobeacop,andIwantedtobeinFell.Thisismytown.SoItookthenightshiftandIdidthingsmywaywhennoonewaslooking.AndthatincludedaskingaroundafterVivdisappeared.”
Ileanedbackinmychair.“IfIevergetatimemachine,remindmenottogobacktotheseventies.”
“Itwasn’tsobad,”Almasaid.“WehadBurtReynoldsandnoInternetandnoAIDS.Wedidn’tknowhowmuchfunwewerehavinguntiltheeightiescameanditstartedtodryup.”Shesippedhercoffee.“JamiewasaroundViv’sageandnotbad-looking.HewouldhavenoticedagirlasprettyasVivian.ButIknewhimmostofhislife,andhewasn’ttheviolenttype.”
Ipulledoutapen.AnyonewhohadmetVivwasstillonmylist.“DoyouknowwhereIcanfindhim?”
“Dead,”shesaidbluntly.“Ranhiscarofftheroadandwrappeditaroundatree.Gosh,whenwasthat?Theearlynineties.”
“Okay.”Iclickedthepen.“Whoelsedidyoususpect?Whoelsedidyoutalkto?”
“Thereweren’talotofoptions.IdidtalktoJaniceMcNamara,whoownedtheplaceandhiredViv.”
IthoughtofthepictureI’dseeninthenewspaperin1979,ofthewomanwithherhusbandandsonstandinginfrontofthebrand-newSunDownMotel.“Iworkforherson,Chris,”Isaid.“Hesayshedoesn’tspendanytimeatthemotelifhecanhelpit.”
Almagavemealookthatwasalmostspeculative,andforasecondIwonderedifshewasgoingtobringupthetopicofghosts.“Janicewasthesame,”shesaid.“Therewasanaccidentatthemotelsoonafteritopened.”
“Theboyinthepool.”
“Right.Theboydiedinthepool,andHenry,themotelemployeewhocalledtheaccidentin,diedofaheartattackintheofficesixmonthslater.
JaniceandCarlneverreallywantedtobeinthemotelbusinessinthefirstplace—theythoughtitwouldbeeasymoneywiththeamusementparkthatwassupposedtocomehere,andthatthelandwouldappreciateinvalue.
Whentheparkfellthroughandthedeathshappened,theybothlosttheirsteam.Carlgotsickandcouldn’tworktheplace.Janiceworkedthefrontdesk,butshedidn’tcaremuch.Shesureashellwasn’ttherethenightVivdisappeared.Christookoverafterbothofthemdied,buthedoesn’twantit,either.”Sheshookherhead.“It’sjustaplacethat’sneverbeenwantedfromthefirst,youknow?RightfromthetimeBettyGraham’sbodywasfoundattheconstructionsite.Idon’tbelieveincurses,buttheSunDownisjustoneofthoseunlovedplaces.”
MystomachhadfallenandIfeltlight-headed.“Someone…someonediedintheoffice?”
“Yes.Oh,Jesus,I’msorry.”Almashookherhead.“Ispenttoomanyyearsasacop,andwetalkaboutthisstuff.Iforgotthatyouworkinthatoffice.Yes,Henrydiedofaheartattack.Hewasunderstressafterthatboydied.Iguessitcaughtupwithhim.”
Washeasmoker?Ithoughtwildly.BecauseIthinkhestillis.
“Itwasn’tabigloss,”AlmasaidwhenIdidn’tspeak.“Henry,thatis.Hewasabitofanasshole,honestly.WhenIcalledhisex-wifeafterhedied—
shewasstilllistedasnextofkin—shesaidhecouldrotinhellandhunguponme.We’dhadcomplaintsfromherovertheyearsabouthimthreateningher,butnothingevercameofit.Shealwaysdroppedthecharges.Henry
wasn’tmuchofacharmer.”Shepickeduphercupandsippedhercoffee.
“I’mtalkingyourearoff.You’reagoodlistener.”
“It’sfine,”Isaid.“Thankyou.”IlookeddownatthepaperIwassupposedtobetakingnoteson,whichonlyhadthenameJamieBlaknikonit.“WhoelsewasstayingattheSunDownthenightVivdisappeared?”
“JustBrendaBailey,”Almasaid.“Shewasanalcoholic.Herhusbandwouldgothroughaphaseoftryingtomakeherquit,soshe’dcheckintothemoteltodohersecretdrinking.Shewasinherroomthatnight,passedout.
Thedetectivesquestionedher,andthenIquestionedhermyselfofftherecord.Shedidn’tseeorhearathing.”Shenoddedtowardmypaper.“AndBrenda’sdead,too.Shepassedin’87.Jesus,itseemslikeIknowalotofdeadpeople,doesn’tit?IpromisetherearestillafewpeoplealiveinFell.”
IwrotedownBrendaBailey,becauseitseemedlikeIshould.“WhataboutthemanwhoworkedtheshiftbeforeViv’s?Hemightbethelastpersontoseeheralive.”
“Johnny?Sure,youcantalktohimifyouwant.He’sinhisseventiesnow.Livesinanoldfolks’homeinNewJersey,wherehisnieceputhimsohecanbeclose.HeneverhadanythingtosayaboutthatnightexceptthatVivshowedupandhewenthome.Hismotherconfirmedhewashomebyelevenfifteen.”
Thiswashopeless.Iwasgettingnowhere,soIchangedthesubject.“DidyouworktheCathyCaldwellcase?”
IlookedupandsawthatAlma’sfacelookedshocked,likesomeonehadgivenherbadnews.“ThereisnoconnectionbetweenVivian’sdisappearanceandtheCathyCaldwellcase.”Thewordscameoutofherautomatically,liketheSnickersbarsintheSunDown’ssemifunctionalcandymachine.
“Butwedon’tknowthat,”Isaid.“Theywerearoundthesametime.
Cathy’smurderisunsolved.SowasBettyGraham’s.AndtherewasVictoriaLee,whicheveryonethoughtwassolved,butitturnsoutitwasn’t.
Soallthreeareopencases.”
Alma’svoicewasfirm.“LikeIsay,there’snoconnection.”
“Isn’tittoomuchforcoincidence?”Iinsisted.“AllthesegirlsdeadrightbeforeViv?Andthenitstopped?”
AlmashookherheadasIspoke.“DamntheInternet,honestly.Carly,honey.Iknowit’stempting.Butwehaddetectivesworkingthosecases—
goodones.Theywantedtosolvethosemurders,andiftherewasany
connectionwithVivian’sdisappearance,theywouldhavejumpedonit.Buttheycouldn’tfindthatconnection.Withoutabody,there’snothingtogoon.”
Shesoundedsofirm,soconfident.Andshehadthatcop’svoice,theonethatsaidIknowwhatI’mdoing,sojustdoasIsay.Butstill.Allofthosewomen,murderedandunsolvedaroundthesametime.Whatweretheoddsthattheywerealldifferentkillers?AndthatVivhadcrossedpathswithyetanotherkiller?ThisplacewouldbeworsethanthetowninMurder,SheWrote.Didn’tthecopsseethat?Shouldn’ttheybethefirstonestoseeit?
ButfromAlma’sexpressionIknewIwastryingtodigonstonyground.
“Okay,”Isaid.“Itwasjustathought.”Iclosedmynotebook.“Thanksforyourtime.”
“I’msorry,”Almasaid.“It’sjustthatthosecasesareneartome.I’mnotadetective,butwewereallhandsondeckafterBettyandCathy.Peoplewerescared.Itwasadifficulttime.”Shepressedherlipstogether.“Wehadastrangerunofdeathsinthelateseventies,earlyeighties,I’llgiveyouthat.
Butitstopped,andFellwasquietforalongtime.Wedidn’thaveanymoreheadline-grabbingcasesuntiltheHarknessmurder.”
Nick.Hisfathershootinghisbrother,thencomingupthestairsasNickjumpedfromthewindow.
“I’lltellNickyousaidhello,”Isaid.
Alma’seyebrowswentup.“Nickisbackintown?”
Oh,shit.Wasthatsupposedtobeasecret?Don’tmentionmyname,Nickhadsaid.Iwassuchanidiot.“Iguessso,”Ihedged.“ImethimattheSunDown.”Iputmynotebookinmylap.
“NickHarknessisstayingattheSunDown?”
“Justforalittlewhile,Ithink.”Whyhadn’tIkeptmymouthshut?Nickwantedhisprivacy.Maybehedidn’twantitalloverFellthathewasback.
“He’stheonewhogavemeyournameandsuggestedItalktoyou.”
“Yeah,he’drememberme,”Almasaid.“Idumpedhiminthedrunktanktosleepitoffenoughtimes.”Shepushedherchairback.“Heisn’tapersonyouwanttogettoocloseto,Carly.Takeitfromme.”
“He’sgrownupnow,”Isaid,eventhoughIdidn’tknowNickallthatwell.“Hedoesn’tgetintroubleanymore.”
“Orsohesays.”Almalookedatmethoughtfully.“Youknow,wecouldneverproveanything,butIalwayswonderedifNickwasreallyupstairsinhisroomlikehesaidhewas.TellhimIsayhello.”Fell,NewYork
November1982
VIV
Withoutsleep,thenightswerelong.ItfeltlikeVivlivedinanendlessstretchofdarkness,punctuatedonlybyfleetingdaylightinwhichshedozed,hereyesrestlessbehindherclosedlids.
TonightshewasattheSunDown,sittingintheofficealone.Herlimbsachedandhereyeswerehalfclosed.She’dcomeintofindasinglewhiteenvelopeonthedeskmarkedPaycheck—Janice’sonlyinteractionwithheremployee.
WhatifIdidn’tshowupatall?Vivwonderedtoherself.Wouldanyonenotice?WouldJohnnytellanyone?HowmanynightscouldIsimplynotcometoworkbeforesomeonewonderedwhereIwas?
Itwasalonelythought,andforasecondshefeltsoftandbruisedbyit.
Sheshouldcallhermothersometime,maybe.Hersister.Trytalkingtoherroommate,Jenny,again,even.Howlonghaditbeensinceshetalkedtosomeone?Sherubbedhereyesandstretchedhercrampedlegsbeneaththedesk.
Therewasnooneatthemoteltonight.Literallynoone.Forthefirsttimesincestartingthisjob,Vivfeltsoemptyandsoachinglylonelyshefoundherselfneartears.ShewishedJamieBlaknikwouldshowupwithhistousledhairandhisstrangelykindsmile.Shewishedanyonewouldshowupatall.
Thephonerang,thenoiseloudinthesilence.Vivpickeditup.“SunDownMotel,canIhelpyou?”
“Viv,it’sMarnie.”
TearsstungthebacksofViv’seyesatthesoundofafamiliarvoice.Sheneededtogetagriponherself.“Marnie,”shemanaged.
“Yeah.Look,IwasoutonanotherjobandIdrovebyyoursuspect’shouse.Hiscarisinthedrivewayandthewindowsaredark.Lookslikehe’ssoundasleep.”
Vivsatupstraighter,thelonelinessdissipating.Marniedidthisforhersometimes—followedthetravelingsalesmanwhenVivcouldn’t.“Thanks.”
“IalsotalkedtoacopIknowontheFellPD.ItoldhimI’dmetagirlwhothoughtshemightbeBettyGraham’scousin.IaskedhimifthecopsthinkBettyandCathyCaldwellcouldhavebeenkilledbythesameman.”
“And?”Vivasked.
“Hedidn’tsaymuch,”Marniesaid.“Hewastight-lippedaboutit.Hesaidthey’dlookedatthatandhaven’tfoundanyevidence.Ihavetobehonest,Viv.ThemoreIgetintothis,themoreIthinkyourtheoryiswrong.
Thosewomendidn’tknoweachother,didn’ttravelinthesamecircles.
BettywasaspinsterteacherandCathywasamarriedmom.Mycontactwouldn’teventalktomeaboutVictoriaLee,becausehercaseisclosed.
AndCathy’sinjuriesweredifferentfromBetty’s.Verydifferent.”
“TellmewhatBetty’sinjurieswere,”Vivsaid.“Iknowyouknow.Thepaperswouldn’tsay.”
SheheardMarniesigh.“Thisisjustcoptalk.ButBettyhadalotofbruises.Likeshefoughthard.Andshewasraped.”
Violated,Vivthought.
“Cathywasraped,too,andVictoriawasn’t,”Marniesaid.“YouseewhatImean.It’stoorandom.Andthissalesman—I’veneverseenhimdoanythingexceptgotoworkandback.You’rebarkingupthewrongtree,honey.”
“Hemighthuntthemalldifferently,”Vivsaid.“It’showheworks.Helikesit.Butyou’reright,hefindsthemsomehow.Therehastobeaconnection.”
“Jesus,you’reobsessed,”Marniesaid.“Iworryaboutyou.Youspendtoomuchtimealoneatnight.Youneedaboyfriend,bad.”
Vivlaughed.“Doyouhaveone?”
“Always.Idon’tneedaman,butIlikeone.Theycomeinhandysometimes.Youshouldtryit.Leavebehindallthisdarkness-and-deathstuff.It’snogoodforyou.Nevermindthefactthatyoucouldgetyourselfkilled.”
“I’llbecareful,”Vivsaid.
“Youbetter,”Marniesaid.“Ifsomethinghappenstoyou,whoeverdoesitisgoingtohavetodealwithme.”
???
Thecigarettesmokewaspungenttonight.Aftershehungupthephone,Vivstoodwithherpalmpressedtotheofficedoor,hereyesclosedasshetookbreaths.Itwasdefinitelythesmokingman,themanwhohadwalkedbehindherthefirstnighttheghostscame,hisfootstepscrossingbehindherbackasifhewalkedpastanopendoor.Therewasanotherfootsteponthewalk,andwithaninhaleofbreathVivturnedthedoorknobandpushedopenthedoor.
Therewasnoonethere,justthefrigidcolddarkness,theairthatwasstartingtosmelllikesnow.Thewindhushedinthenakedtreesbeyondthemotel,andonafar-offstreetasirenwailed,thesoundcarryinghighandfaint.
Icoulddisappear.Icoulddie.Whowouldlookforme?
Victoria’sownparentshadn’tthoughttolookforherbecausetheyassumedshewasataparty.NooneknewBettywasmissinguntilshedidn’tcometowork.
Therehastobeaconnection.
Therewasadistinctcrunchofgravelintheparkinglot,andVivheardthesnickofadooropening.Thenanother,andanother.
Bettywasawake.
Vivhadcometothinkofitthatway.Bettyslept,andthemotelslept;butsometimesBettywasawake,whichmeantthemotelwasawake.Usuallysheawokewhenthetravelingsalesmancheckedin,buthewasn’theretonight.TonighttherewasnooneherebutViv.
NooneherebutBettyandme.
Vivsteppedoutontothewalkway,pasttheAMENITIESroom.Aheadofher,aroundthebendoftheL,thedoorswereopeningonebyone,startingattheendandworkingtowardher.Shecouldhearthemupstairsaswell:Snick.Snick.Snick.
“Betty?”Vivsaid.
Thesignflickeredbutstayedon,itsgarishneoncolorsstrangelycomfortinginthedarkness.
Shepulledhercollaruparoundherneck,letthewindliftherhair,andsteppedoffthewalkwayintotheparkinglot.Thegravelcrunchedbeneath
hersneakers.Icouldjustdisappear,shethought.Becomeoneoftheghostshere.Noonewouldeverknow.Maybesomefuturegirlwouldworkinthefrontoffice,andfirstshe’dsmellcigarettesmoke,andthenshe’dheartherumbleoftheicemachine,anditwouldstartalloveragain.Ayearfromnow?Five?Whatwouldthatgirllooklike?WhatwouldshethinkwhenshesawtheghostofVivherself,scuffinggravelthroughtheparkinglot?
SheturnedawayfromtheL,fromtheopeningdoors,andwalkedbacktotheoffice,thoughshedidn’tgoin.Thatdoorwasopen,too,thoughshecouldn’trememberifshe’dcloseditbehindherornot.Insideshewasalmostnotsurprisedtoseeamansittingatthedeskshe’djustleft.Hewasolder,skinny,andhewasslumpedoverthedesk,hisheadinhishands.
Vivstoodinthedoorway,herhandonthejambtokeepherselffromfalling.Itfeltlikeherbreathwasfrozeninherthroat.Theairwassuffusedwiththesmellofcigarettesmoke.
Asshewatched,themanraisedhisheadandlookedather.Hiseyeswereblackandblazing.
“Goddamnbitch,”hesaid.
Vivbackedawayandwalkedonshakinglegsaroundthecorner,towardtheemptypool.Itwasnearlypitch-darkbackhere,fartherawayfromthelightsoftheroadandthesign,andVivmadeouttheblackshapeofthefence,theinkypoolfilledwithleavesandgarbage.Hertennisshoesscrapedloudlyonthebrokenconcrete.Overheadtherewasasliverofmoonthatgavebarelyanylight.
Shemadeherselftakeabreathdeepintoherlungs,lettingthecoldstingherchest.Shetiltedherheadbackandlookedupatthesky.Theexhaustionhadleftherandsheonlyfeltthepumpingofherbloodinherveins,thehummingofherownskin.Sheclosedhereyes,thentiltedherheaddownandopenedthemagain.
Infrontofthefencewasaboy,sittingontheground,hiskneesup,hisbacktothefence.HisskinwaspaleandhewaswearingaT-shirtandshortsintheicycold.Hewastheboywhohadhithisheadanddied.He,too,raisedhisheadandlookedatViv,thoughhisexpressionwashelplessinsteadofangry.
“Idon’tfeelgood,”hesaid,hisvoicehigh-pitchedandinsubstantialinthechillednightair.
“Ican’thelp,”Vivtoldhim.“I’msorry.”
Buttheboystillwatchedher,unmoving,waiting,andVivtookastepback,unabletolookathimanymore.“I’msorry,”shesaidagain.
Hewasstillwatchingherwhensheturnedandwalkedbackpasttheoffice,carefulnottoturnherheadandlookatthemaninside.Sheroundedthecornerandsawthatthemoteldoorswereopen—everysingledooronbothlevels,ajarasifsomeonehadforgottentolatchthemclosed.Thelightsattheendoftherowblinkedout,andthenthenextlights,andthenthenext.
Onthesecondlevel,awomaninaflowereddressappearedinoneoftheroomdoorways,thenturnedawayagain.
“Betty,”Vivsaid,andthistimeitwasn’taquestion.
Behindher,themotelsignwentout.Nowtherewasonlydarkness,growingandgrowingaseachlightwentoutatthemotel.I’maloneinthedark,Vivthought.There’sonlymehere.Butthatwasn’tquitetrue.Andthistime,shewasn’tafraid.
Shewalkedtothestairsandclimbedthem,herhandnumbwithcoldontherailing.Hercheekswerelosingsensationandhernosewasstartingtorun.Butshekeptwalking.Shereachedthedoorwaywhereshe’dseenthewomanand,withonlythebriefestbreathofhesitation,shesteppedinside.
Itwasdarkinhere,withastuffysmell.Viv’stennisshoeswentsilentontheoldcarpet.Thewindskirledinthroughtheopendoor,butitwasnolongercold.Itwasairlessinhereinstead,unpleasantlywarmlikeachairthatsomeoneelsehasjustsaton,thesmellalittlesickening,likeastranger’sarmpit.Vivmadeoutabed,acheapnightstand,amirror.Andthewoman.
Itwasthewomanfromthatfirstnight,theonewho’dstoodinfrontofViv’scarasshecoweredinside.Run,she’dsaidthen,andVivhadsimplystaredinterror,unabletoprocessanyotheremotion.Nowthewomanstoodwithherbacktoher,wearingthatsamedress,andallVivcouldfeelwaspainandahorrible,horriblekindofpity.
Icouldn’tjustleaveher,shethought.
“Betty,”shesaid,thewordcomingoutaraspfromherdrythroat.
Slowly,thewomanturned.Viv’seyeshadadjustedtothedark—orperhapsitwasn’tasdarkasshe’dthought—becauseshecouldseethewomansoclearly,thelineofherneckandthewhiteofherskin.Thehairthatfelljustpasthershoulders,darkhoneybrownandcarefullybrushed,pinnedbackfromherface.Theway,Vivknewnow,thatBettyhadpinneditbackthatfinaldaybeforesheopenedthedoortothewrongman.
HerstomachdroppedbecauseinthestrangelightshecouldalsoseeBetty’sscratches.Thebruisesandscrapesonhercheekbones.Thedeepmarksonherneck.Thebloodsmearedoverherhands,overherfingersandpalms,thenailsruined.Betty’slipwassplitandherlefteyewasswollenmostlyclosed.Belowthehemofherdress,bloodranfromherkneesdownhershins.
HorrorcameoverViv,socompleteitwasawashofsensationcrawlingupherbackandburrowingintoherstomach,likecoldhandsonherneckandcottoninherthroat.ShestaredwithcoldtearsonherfaceasBettyspreadherhandsandlookeddownatthem.
Andthenshespoke,likethemanhadspoken,liketheboy.Hervoiceafar-offreedysoundinthewind.Comingfromsomewhereandnowhereatonce.
“Howdidthishappen?”shesaid.
Vivraisedahandtohercheek,smearedoneofhertearswithhericyfingers.“Betty,”shesaidinawhisper.
BettyliftedherfaceandlookedatViv,andherexpressionwasconfusionandburningrage.“Howdidthishappen?”shesaidagain.
“Idon’tknow,”Vivsaid,andshehadnoideaifBettycouldhearherornot,becauseshesimplystoodunmoving,herbloodyhandsheldout.“Whowashe?Tellme.”
Bettystaredwiththoseblazingeyes,andthroughherterrorVivhadtheurgetostepforward,getcloser.Herfeetwouldn’tmove.Aplumeofwhiteroseintheair,andVivrealizeditwasherbreathinthesuddenlyfreezingair.
Betty’smouthmoved.Hervoicewasfainter.“Howdidthishappen?”
“Tellme!”Vivshouted.“Icanfixit!Please!”
AhornhonkedfromtheparkinglotandVivjumped,ascreamcomingfromherthroat.Redandbluelightbrieflyflashedthroughthewindowandthehalf-opendoor,andtherewasablipofasiren.
Vivturnedherhead,distracted,andwhensheturnedbackBettywasgone.
Onshakylegs,shewalkedtothedoor.Intheparkinglotbelowherwasapolicecruiser,parkeddiagonallyinthemiddleoftheemptyspace.Nexttothedriver’sdoorstoodAlmaTrent,flashlightinherhand.
ShelookedupandsawViv.“Jesus,yougavemeaheartattack!”shesaid,hervoiceringingclearthroughthenightair.“Theofficedooriswide
openandthere’snooneinside.Icouldn’tfindyouanywhere.Ithoughtsomecreephadstuffedyouinhistrunkanddroveoff.”
Vivstood,staringdown.Coldsweattrickleddownherback,beneathhershirtandhersweatshirt.
“Aren’tyoucold?”Almaasked.“Whyarethelightsout?Ididn’thearanyonecallinapoweroutage.”SheflippedontheflashlightandraisedittoViv’sface.“Areyouokay?Whyareallthedoorsopen?”
Vivopenedhermouthtosaysomething—shehadnoideawhat—andwithanangrybuzztheneonsignsuddenlyflippedon,theyellowandblueglowinginthedarkness.Thenthelightsturnedon,startingattheendoftheLandmovingup.Onebyonethedoorsclickedclosed.
Ittookasilentstretchofminutes.Whenitfinished,VivstillstoodstaringdownatAlma,whohadloweredtheflashlight.Thetwowomenlockedgazesforalongminute.
“Vivian,”Almasaidatlast.“Comedownhereandwe’lltalk.”Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
IhadbeenonshiftattheSunDownforanhour.Itwasmidnight,andIwasreadingtheoldcopyofFirestarterI’dfoundintheoffice.DrewBarrymore’sbabyfacewasonthecover,herhairliftinginthedraftfromthewallofflamesbehindher.AndyandCharliehadjustbeencapturedbytheCIA,andthingswereabouttogetreallybad.ThentheofficedooropenedandNickwalkedin.
Hewaswearingjeansandablackzip-uphoodie.Hishairwasalittlemussedandhisbeardwasthicker.Helookedlikehejustwokeup.Hecarriedasix-packofbeer,whichheputonthedeskinfrontofme.
“Hey,”hesaid.
“What’sthis?”Iaskedfromoverthetopofmybook.
“Beer.”
“I’monlytwenty.”
Hiseyebrowswentup.“Areyouforreal?”
Iputmybookdown,findingaPost-itnotetouseasabookmark,becausefoldingthecornerofapage—eveninathirty-year-oldbook—issacrilege.“Okay,”Isaid.“I’mnotabigdrinker,though.Whatisthisfor,anyway?”
Nickwalkedtothecorneroftheroom,pushedsomeoldtouristbrochuresoffawoodenchair,andpulledituptothedesk.“BecauseIdidn’tansweryourtextsearlier.”Hesatdownandpulledacanfromthepack.
“Youweresleeping,”Isaid.
“No,Iwasbeinganasshole.”Hepoppedthebeeropenandhandedittome.Atthelookonmyfacehesaid,“It’swhatIdo.”
“Okay,”Isaidslowly,takingthebeerfromhim.
Hetookhisownbeerandslouchedbackinthewoodenchair,hisbigshouldersdwarfingtheback.“It’sahabit,”hesaid.“I’vebeenanassholeforalongtime.”
Isippedmybeerpolitelyandglancedatmybook,likeIwaslongingtogetbacktoit.
“I’mnotusedtopeoplebeingnicetome,”hesaid.
“Um.”
Hewaitedabeat.“SoI’msorry,”hesaid.“Iapologize.”
Iliftedmyglassesandscratchedthebridgeofmynose,thenloweredthemagain.“Okay,Iaccept.”
Heletabreathout,almostlikehewasrelieved.Whichcouldn’tberight,butagirlcandream.“SowhathappenedwithAlma?”hesaid.“Youwroteinyourtextthatyouwouldtellme.”
Isippedmybeeragain,atightknotformingatthebackofmyneck.Ihadsaidthat,butnowIdidn’twanttotellhimeverythingthathadhappenedwithAlma.BecauseI’dtoldherthatNickwashere,whichIwasnowsureIwasn’tsupposedto.Andshe’dtoldmethatNickmightnothavebeenupstairslikehesaidhewas.
Thiswasawkward.
SoIchangedthesubject.“Ifiguredsomethingout,”Itoldhiminstead.
“ThewomanwhohauntsthisplacewasnamedBettyGraham.”
Nickblinked.“Thewomanwhosatonmybed?”
“Yes,thatone.Shewasmurderedin1978andherbodywasdumpedhereatthemotel.Itwasaconstructionsiteatthetime.Shewasaschoolteacherwholivedalone.Theyneversolvedit.”
HerewaswhyIcouldn’tstaymadatNickHarkness:Heputallofthepiecestogetherrightaway.“Yourauntdisappearedonlyafewyearslater,fromthesameplace.Whataretheoddsitwastwodifferentguys?”
“Exactly.”Inearlyshouteditbutkeptmyvoicecalmatthelastsecond.
“Thereareothers,too.CathyCaldwell.”
Nickfrowned,thenclosedhiseyesbriefly,remembering.“Girlleftunderanoverpass?”
“Thatwastwoyearslater,Nick.RightinbetweenBettyandViv.Anditwasalsounsolved.”
“God,thistownsucks,”hesaid,runningahandthroughhishairandmakingitstickupmore,whichstilldidn’tlookstupidforsomereason.
“Believeme,ifsomescumbagdecideshewantstomurderpeople,theplacehe’sgoingtocometoisFell.”
“Itseemslikeaniceplacetokillsomeone,”Isaidpolitely.
“Therewerenoleads?Nothingatall?”
“Nothingthatmadeittothepapers.It’sfrustrating.IthoughtAlmaTrentmightbeabletogivemesomeinsight,butassoonasImentionedCathyandBettyshewentquietandclosedmedown.”Andthenshetoldmenottotalktoyou.Ibitmylip.
“What?”Nicksaid,watchingmyface.
Isippedmybeeragain.
“What?”herepeated.Thenhefrowned,figuringitout.“Shesaidsomethingaboutme,”hesaidslowly,asifhewerereadingthewordsinwritingacrossmyforehead.“Somethingbad.”
“Notreally.”
“Carly.”
“Iletitsliptoherthatyou’rehere,”Iconfessed.“Sheseemedsofriendly.I’msorry.”
Nickfrownedslowly,asifcomputingthis.“AlmaknowsI’mhere?AttheSunDown?”
“Sortof.Yes.”
“Shit,”hesaidsoftly.“I’mgoingtogetavisit.Probablysoon.”
“I’msorry.”
“It’sfine.”Heshookhishead.“Itwasn’tgoingtobeasecretforever.Imean,whatwasmyplan?StayattheSunDownuntilI’msixty?I’llgocrazybeforeChristmas.”
“She’snotafanofyours.Likeyousaid.”Iputmybeerdown.“Shesaysthere’satheorythatyouweren’tinyourroomwhenyourbrotherwaskilled.”
Nickwentvery,verystill.Helookedatmeforalongmoment,hisexpressiongoingasquietlyblankasablackboardbeingerased.
Ididn’twanttofeelnervous,butIdid.Thenervesmademythroatdryandmybacktight,madecoldsweatstartundermyT-shirt.“Nick,”Isaidfinally,unabletotakethesilence.
“Yeah,”hesaidasifhehadn’tpaused.“Thatwasatheory.Iremember.”
Iswallowed.“Ididn’tsayIbelievedit.”
“No,youdidn’t.”Heswiggedhisbeer,thenputthecandown.ForasecondIthoughthewasgoingtosayhewasleaving,thatitwasover.He
evenleanedforwardinhischair.Thenhesaid,“Who’sthekid?TheoneIseerunningaroundinshorts?”
Ittookasecondformetorealizehemeanttheghost.“Hehithisheadonthesideofthepoolanddied,”Isaid.“Theyearthemotelopened.”
Nicknodded,asifthismadesense.“Andtheskinnyoldguywiththecigarette?”
Istarted,shocked.“You’veseenhim?Thesmokingman?”
“Intheparkinglot.Hestandsthereandstaresupatmyroom,smoking.
Thenhe’sgone.”
“Hewastheonewhocalledtheambulanceforthekid.Hediedsixmonthslater.Inthisoffice.”NowIswiggedmyownbeer,remembering.
Nick’seyebrowswentup.“Well,that’sjustfuckinggreat,”hesaidsuccinctly.“Sowhatdowedonext?”
We?Wasthereawe?Ididn’tknowhewashelpingmewiththis.Ihadopenedmymouthtoanswer—Ihadnoideawhat—whentheofficedoorswungopenandHeatherwalkedin.
???
“Hi,”shesaid.AndthenshesawNickandsaid,“Oh.”
Shewaswearingskinnyjeans,Uggs,andherbigparka.Herhairwasinitsusualbobbypin,hercheeksredwithcold.HereyeswerebrightliketheywerethefirstdayImetherandshebroughtawashofthecoldnightairthroughthedoorwithher.Shecarriedaplainmanilafilefolderunderherarm,stuffedwithpapers.Shestoppedshortandlookedatus.
“Heather,”IsaidasNickturnedinhischairtolook.
“You’reNick,”Heathersaid,fixinghimwithhergaze.
“You’retheroommate,”Nicksaid.
Heathernodded.Hereyeswereslightlywide,theonlytellshegavethatsheknewwhohewas.OnlysomeonewhoknewherlikeIdidwouldseeit.
WithoutanotherwordtoNick,sheturnedtome.“Icouldn’tsleep,andyoudon’tgetanycellsignalhere.Ihaveabunchofstuffforyou.”
“Areyouokay?”Iaskedher.“Areyousureyoushouldbedoingthis?”
“I’mokaynow,Ipromise.”Sheputherfilefolderonthedeskinfrontofme,nexttothesix-pack.
“Wantabeer?”Nickaskedher.
Heathershookherheadandpointedafingertohertemple.“Messeswiththemeds,”shesaid,thenturnedbacktome.“I’vebeenontheInternetforhours.IwentintosomeofmyoldfilesandonthemessageboardsIknow.
CheckoutwhatIfound.”
Iopenedthefolder.Thepaperswereprintoutsfromwebsites:photos,articles,conversationthreadsonmessageboards.IsawBettyGraham’sformalportrait,herlovelyandreservedfacetiltedtothecamera.CathyCaldwellataChristmasparty.VictoriaLee’shighschoolseniorphoto.AndoneotherfaceIdidn’trecognize.“Whoisthis?”
“Thisisthebigfind,”Heathersaid.“ThisistheoneevenIdidn’tknowabout.”Shepulledoutthephoto.Thegirlwasobviouslyateenager,smilingwidelyforthecameraforherschoolphoto.Ifeltmyheartthudinmychestandmystomachsink.Ateenager.
“ThisisTracyWaters,”Heathersaid.“Shelivedtwocountiesover.ShedisappearedonNovember27,1982.Herbodywasfoundinaditchtwodayslater.”Shepushedthephototothemiddleofthedesk,sowecouldallseeit.IfelthorrorcreepingintotheedgesofmyvisionasIstared.
“November29,”Nicksaid.
“Exactly,”Heathersaid.“Tracy’sbodywasfoundthesamenightthatVivianDelaneydisappeared.”Fell,NewYork
November1982
VIV
Theproblemwiththetravelingsalesmanwasthathedidn’thavearoutine.Asidefromthesinglepageofscheduleshe’dseeninhiscar
—Mr.AlanLeckie,52FarnhamRd.,Poughkeepsie;meetingatheadoffice—shehadnoideawherehewasheadedorwhen.Hecertainlydidn’tleavehomeateightandgetbackatsixlikeeveryotherworkingman.Thatmadehimhardertofollow.
WhenVivawoke—whatevertimeofdaythatmightbe—shegotintothehabitofdressing,runningabrushthroughherhair,anddrivingtothesalesman’shouse.Firstshe’dcruisebyatregularspeedjusttoseeifhiscarwasinhisdriveway.Ifitwas,she’dparkaroundthecornernearthepark,sinkdowninherseat,andwaitforhimtoleave.Ifitwasn’t,she’ddriveontoWestlakeLockSystemsontheothersideoftowntoseeifhiscarwasinthelot.Ifitwasn’tthere,either,sheknewhewasontheroad.
Thosewerethethreethingshedid:wenthome,wenttoWestlake,andwentontheroad.Heneverhadadayoff,aSaturdaywherehediderrands.
Vivknewbecauseshe’dspentadayobservingMrs.SimonHess,whowasmucheasiertofollow.Mrs.Hesstooktheirdaughtertoschool,thendidallofthefamily’sshoppinganderrands,thenpickedtheirdaughterupagain.
Thatpartwassimple:Mr.Hessworkedandbroughthomethemoney,andMrs.Hessdideverythingelse.
Aftertwofruitlessdayswhenhewasn’tintown,shefinallygotabreak.
ShefoundhiscarintheparkinglotatWestlakeLockSystems,andasshesatlowinherseatatthebackofthelotshesawhimcomeoutofthebuilding.Hewaswearingasuit,anavyblueovercoat,andshoesthatwereshined.Hecarriedabriefcase.Hewastheperfectfigureofatravelingsalesman.
IguessI’mjustthatmemorable,he’dsaid,andthenhe’daskedhername.
Heactednormalanddidn’tchangehisroutine,butVivknewbetter.Shewastrackingahunter,apredator.Therewasnothoughtinhermindanymorethatshecouldbewrong,thatthismaybewasn’tthemanwhohadkilledBettyGrahamatleast,andprobablyothersafterward.TherewasnothoughtthatSimonHesswasjustablamelessmangoingabouthisworkday.Therewasnothoughtthatshemightbecrazy.
Hessstoppednexttohiscarandfishedinhispocketforhiscarkeys.Ashedidsoheturnedhisheadinaslow,methodicalarc,takingineverycorneroftheparkinglot.Hiseyesinthatmomentseemeddarkanddead,likeashark’s.Itwasthesamelookhe’ddoneafterhe’dalmostcaughtherinhisdriveway.Hewaslookingforsomething.Forher
Vivsanklowerinherseatandtiltedherheadtothesidesohecouldn’tseethetopofherheadoverthedashboard.Sheevenclosedhereyesandheldherbreath,asifthatwouldhelp.
Therewasalongpause,thirtyormaybeevensixtyseconds.Thensheheardtheclunkofacardoorclosingandtheturnofthemotor.ShepeekedoverthedashboardtowatchHessdrivesmoothlyoutofthelot.
Ihavetobecareful,shethought,soshecountedtosixty.Thenshestartedhercarandfollowedhim.
???
HeleftFellandtooktheinterstate,exitingafteranhourandcomingtoatowncalledPlainsview.Shefollowedhimdownasuburbanstreet,andwhenhepulledovershepassedhim,acceleratingaway.Shecircleduntilshefoundaspotonasidestreetandparked.Shepulledahatfromherpurse
—adarkblueknitcapthatshe’dfoundinJenny’scloset.Sheputiton,gotoutofthecar,putherpurseoverhershoulder,andwalked,likeanygirlwalkingdownasidewalk.
Shespottedhiscar,parkedinthesmalllotofastripmallthathadaportraitstudio,ahairsalon,andaclosed-updentist’soffice.Shezippedhercoatupagainstthewind,dugherhandsdeepintothepockets,andkeptwalking,hereyesaheadandasmallfrownonherfaceasifshewerethinkingaboutsomethingfaraway.
Shecouldn’tseehim;shedidn’tknowwherehe’dgone.Then,withajoltthatalmoststartledher,shesawhimonlytwentyfeetaway,ringingthedoorbellofthehouseshewaspassing.Thehedgehadhiddenhimfromview.Hisbackwastoher,andforasecondshecouldn’thelpbutstareathimasshewalked.Hisbodyturned,andsherealizedhecouldseeherreflectionintheglassofthestormdoor.Sheduckedherheadanddartedpastbeforehecouldturnandseeherinfull.
Itwasclose.Shequicklywalkedaroundacorner,thenanother.Therewasabusstopwithabenchandthreepeoplealreadywaiting.Vivtuggedthehatdownonherforehead,satonthebench,pulledhernotebookfromherpurse,openedittotheblankpagesinthemiddle,andstaredatitasifreading.Shekeptherfacerelaxedevenwhenshesawthetravelingsalesmancomearoundthecornerattheedgeofhereye.
Hepausedattheheadofthestreetandstoodthere,lookingatthebusstop.Lookingather.Hewantedtoknowwhyshehadstaredathiminshockasshe’dwalkedpasthim,wantedtoknowwhoshewas.Vivdidn’tlookupandshedidn’ttenseashewatchedher.Shekeptherfaceblanklyintentonhernotebookandherbreathingeven.Sheknewhewashesitating,notcertainhewantedtoapproachheratacrowdedbusstopinthemiddleoftheday.
Hewasstillundecidedwhenthebuspulledup.Herfacestillblankwithboredom,Vivclosedhernotebook,stoodinlinewiththeothers,andgoton.
Shepaidherquarterinfareandtookaseatasthebuspulledawayfromthecurb.Shedidn’triskalookathimthroughthewindow.
Sloppy.He’stoosmartforthat.Bemorecarefulnexttime.
Shewaitedtwostops—oneseemedrisky—andgotoff,circlingbackonfoottotheplacewhereshehadseenhim.Thistimeshedidn’twalkthestreetdirectlybutcircledbehindarowofhouses,whereshefoundawalkingpath.Shestoodattheedgeofthepath,tookouthernotebook—itwasusefulforallsortsofthings,itturnedout—andfishedapenciloutofherpurse.Shestoodandfacedthetrees,thepencilmovingoverherpage,soanyoneoutforawalkwouldseeaprettygirlsketchinganaturescene.
Butinthewedgeofspacebetweentwohouses,shecouldseehim.Hewasontheothersideofthestreet,standingonafrontporch,talkingtothewomanwhohadansweredthedoor.Theirconversationwasswiftanduneventful.ThewomanclosedthedoorandSimonHesspulledafoldedpieceofpaperfromhispocket.Hetookoutapencil—thefactthathewas
nowinVivian’sownposewasnotlostonher—andmadeanote,thenlookedatthepageintently.Heturnedthepagesidewaysandbackagain,andVivrealizedhewaslookingatamap.Hehadamapoftheneighborhoodandwasmakingsurehehiteveryhouse.
Shewatchedashemovedtoanotherdoor,andthenanother.Atravelingsalesmandoingwhathewashiredtodo,coveraneighborhoodknockingondoors.Aftereachdoorhetookouthismapandpencilandmadeanothermark.Vivedgedalongthewalkingpath,herownpaperandpencilinhand,keepinghiminview.Hewasn’tbeingcareful.Hewasn’tlookingaroundtoseeifhewasbeingwatched.He’dseenhergetonthebus,andsheknewshehadcaughtthehunterinarareslip-up.Hisguardwasdown.Hehadn’tmatchedthegirlwaitingforthebuswiththefootprintsinhisgardenweeksago.Shewaswatchinghimunseen.
I’veneverseenhimdoanythingexceptgotoworkandback.You’rebarkingupthewrongtree,honey.
Partofherknewthatanyonewouldthinkhercrazy.He’sjustasalesmangoingabouthisjob!Buthewasn’t.Sheknewthat.
Hisheadturned,andVivtookastepback,outofview.Amanwithadogonaleashwalkedby,andshetookherpenciltopaper,sketchingthetrees.Themangaveherasmileashepassed.“Niceday,”hesaid.
Vivsmiledback.“Yes,itis.”
Thatmadehimsmilemore—menloveditwhenagirlsmiledbackatthem,answeredthemasifwhateverthey’dsaidwasthemostwonderfulthing.Sheevensawhisstepslowasheconsideredstoppingandtalkingtoher.
Moveon,shethought.Moveon.
Thesalesmancouldbewalkingaway.Changingneighborhoods,maybe.
Orgettingbackinhiscar.
Theman’sfootpaused,andthenthedogpulledonhisleash,barkingatasquirrel.Themomentbroke.
“Goodluckwithyourdrawing,”themansaid,followingthedogandwalkingaway.
“Thankyou!”Vivsaidcheerfully,asifdelightedhewouldsayso.Whenhewasasafedistanceawayshemovedpositionagain,lookingforthesalesman.
Hehadmoveddownthesidewalkandwasstandingwithhismapandpencilagain.Buthewasn’tlookingatthemap.Hewasstandingverystill,
hischinraisedjustenoughtolookahead.Hisgazewasfixedonsomething,unmoving.
Vivchangedpositionagain,tryingtoseewhathewaslookingat.Itwasatypicalquietsuburbanstreet;acarpassedinonedirection,thenanotherintheotherdirection.Awomanstoodonadriveway,bundledintoawintercoat,helpinghertoddlerontoatricycle.Anelderlymanwithanewspaperunderhisarmcrossedattheendofthestreet.
Thetravelingsalesmanwasunmoving,andsomethingabouthisgazewashard,cold.Vivmovedagain,tryingtosee.
Agirlwasstandingonthecurbseveralhousesahead,wherethestreetcurved,holdingthehandlebarsofherbike.Shelookedaboutsixteen,tallandslim,wearingdarkjeansandawaist-lengthhoodedcoatzippedtight.
Herdarkblondhairwaspulledbackintoacarelessponytailandsheworechocolatebrownmittens.Shewasunawareofthemanlookingather.AsVivwatched,thegirlswungonelegovertheseatofthebikeandputherfootonthepedal.Sheadjustedherbalanceandpushedoffinagracefulmotion,puttingherotherfootonthepedalandpoweringup.Shebikedaway,herlegspumping,herbodypushedforward.Afterafewmoments,shewasgone.
SimonHesswatchedher,standingonthesidewalkwithhismapinhishand.Itflappedsoftlyinthecoldwind.Thehemofhislongwoolcoatflapped,too,thegustofNovemberwindrollingupthestreetandthesidewalks.
Atlast,asifinslowmotion,hefoldedthemapandputitinhispocket,alongwiththepencil.Heblinkedhiseyesasifwakingup.Thenheturnedandwalkedtowardhiscar.
He’shunting,Vivthought.
Sherantohercartofollowhim.
???
Anhourlater,shegaveupindespair.Shecouldn’tfindthesalesman’scarorthegirlonthebike.She’dtriedgoinginthedirectionshe’dseenthemgo,butnothing.She’dtriedthesidestreetstonoavail.She’dendedupindowntownPlainsview,amainstreetwithagrocerystore,adiner,ahardwarestore,andabroken-downarcade.SimonHessandhiscarwerenowheretobeseen,andsowasthegirl.
Hewouldn’tdosomethingtoday.Wouldhe?
Panicked,Vivcircledbacktothestreetwhereshe’dfirstseenthegirl,parkingwhereshe’dparkedbefore.Shegotoutandwalkedpastthehouseinfrontofwhichthegirlhadbeengettingonherbike.Didshelivehere?
Wasshevisitinghere?Orhadsheonlystoppedbrieflywhileridingherbikedownthestreet,onherwayfromsomewhereelse?
Vivwrotetheaddressinhernotebook,thenwalkedbacktohercarandwaited,watching.Itwasnownearlyfouro’clockintheafternoon;sheshouldbeexhausted.Butshewaswideawake,herbloodpoundingshrillyinherveins.
Thetravelingsalesmanwasfollowinghisnextvictim.Shewassureofit.
Thequestionwas,whatwasshegoingtodo?Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
ThehouseonGermanStreetwasatleastsixtyyearsold,apost–WorldWarIIbungalowwithwhitewoodsidingandaroofofdarkgreenshingles.ThiswasaresidentialstreetindowntownFell,afewblocksfromFellCollegeinonedirectionandthehugeDuaneReadeintheother.
Inthissmallknotofstreets,everythinghadbeentriedatonepointoranother:low-riserentalapartmentbuildings,cornerstores,laundromats,asmallmedicalbuildingadvertisingphysiotherapistsandmassage.Inbetweenthesewerethesmallhouseslikethisone,theremnantsoftheoriginalneighborhoodthathadbeenpickedapartoverthedecades.Thisonewaswellkept,withhostasplantedalongthefrontandintheshadebeneaththelargetrees,afallwreathofwovenbrancheshangingonthedoor.
Therewasacarinthedriveway.Thatwasagoodsign,becauseHeatherandIweredroppinginunexpectedly.
“You’reupforthis?”IaskedHeatherforthethirdtime.
Shegavemeathumbs-up,andwegotoutofthecar.
Wecouldhearthedoorbellchimethroughthedoor.Afteraminutethedooropenedandawomanappeared.Shewasblack,inherfifties,withgrayhaircroppedclosetoherhead.Sheworeablacksweater,blackleggings,andwhiteslippers.
Hereyesnarrowedatussuspiciously.“Helpyou?”
“Mrs.Clark?”Isaid.“I’mCarlyKirk.Wetalkedonthephone.”
“Thegirlaskingmeaboutthephotograph,”Marniesaid.“IalreadytoldyouIhavenothingtosay.”
“ThisismyfriendHeather,”Isaid.“Wejusthaveafewquestions.We’llbequick,Ipromise.”
Marnieleanedonthedoorframe,stillnotsteppingaside.“You’repersistent.”
“Vivianwasmyaunt,”Isaid.“Theyneverfoundherbody.”
Marnielookedaway.ThenshelookedfrommetoHeatherandbackagain.“Fine.Idon’tknowhowIcanhelp,butyougetafewminutes.Myhusbandishomeinhalfanhour.”
Sheledusintothefrontlivingroom,awell-lived-inspacewithasofa,aneasychair,andabigTV.AshelfofphotosshowedMarnie,herhusband,andtwokids,asonandadaughter,bothofthemgrown.HeatherandIsatonthesofaandMarnietooktheeasychair.Shedidn’tofferusadrink.
“Listen,”shesaid.“ItoldyouthatphotowasjustsomethingIgotpaidfor.Idon’tknowanythingaboutyourauntdisappearingallthoseyearsago.”
HeatherpulledaprintoutofthearticleaboutVivianfromherpocketandunfoldedit.TherewasMarnie’sphoto,Vivianwithherlovelyfaceandcurledhairdo,herheadturnedandherexpressionserious.“Doyouremembertakingthis?”Heatheraskedher.
Marnieglancedatitandshookherhead.“Iwasafreelancephotographerinthosedays.Ishotanythingthatwouldpay.Itookpicturesofhousesforrealestateagents.Ididportraits.Iworkedforthecopsafewtimes,takingshotsofburglaryscenes.”Sheputherhandsonthearmsoftheeasychair.
“WhenImetmyhusband,Itookajobwiththestudiothatworkedfortheschoolboard.Ididclassphotos.Itdidn’tpayawholelot,butthehourswereeasyandIhadmysonontheway.Icouldn’trunaroundtakingpicturesatallhoursanymore.”
“Yousaidonthephoneyou’velivedinFellallyourlife,”Isaid.
“That’sright.”
“DoyouknowtheSunDownMotel?”
Marnieshrugged.“Isuppose.”
“Here’sthething,”Heathersaid.“Itookthisphotoandenlargedit.Youseethisinthecornerhere.”ShepointedtothecornerofthephotoofVivian.“Whenthepictureisenlarged,that’sanumber—actually,it’stwonumbers,aoneandazero.Likethenumbersonthefrontofamotelroomdoor.”Shepulledoutherphone.“SoIwenttotheSunDownandlookedattheirroomnumbers.Theroomsonthebottomlevelallstartwithaone,andtheroomsontheupperlevelallstartwithatwo.Andthedoornumberslookexactlylikethenumbersinyourpicture.”
Marniehadgonestill,hergazeflat.“Whatexactlyareyousaying?”
“TheSunDownhasn’tchangeditsdoornumberssinceitopened,”Isaid.“Thispicture”—IpointedtothephotoofViv—“theoneyoutook,wastakenattheSunDownMotel.Doyourememberwhyyouweretakingpicturesthere?”
Marniebarelyglancedatthephoto.Sheshookherhead.“Whatdoyouthinkisgoingtocomefromthis?”sheasked,lookingfrommetoHeatherandback.“NancyDrewOneandNancyDrewTwo.Doyouthinkyou’regoingtocatchamurderer?Tacklehimdownandtiehishandswhiletheotheronecalls911?Doyouthinksomephotopulledoutofathirty-five-year-oldnewspaperisgoingtobethesmokinggun?Reallifedoesn’tworkthatway.I’veseenenoughofittoknow.Goneisgone,likeItoldyouonthephone.IlookatyoutwoandwonderifIwaseverasyoungasyouare.
Andyouknow,Idon’tthinkIeverwas.”
Herdarkbrowneyeslookedatmine,andIheldhergaze.Welockedthereforalongsecond.
“YoutookpicturesattheSunDownin1982,”Isaid.“Tellmewhy.”
Stillsheheldmygaze,andthenshesighed.Hershoulderssaggedalittle.“Itookasidejobforalawyer.Followinghisclient’swife.Ifollowedheraroundandtookpicturesforevidence.Shewascheatingonhim,justlikehethought,andshemettheothermanattheSunDown.SothepicturesItookwerenotexactlyforpublicuse.”Sheleanedbackinherchair.“Thatjobpaidmeahundredandseventy-fivedollars,andIpaidtheutilitybillforalmostayearwithit.Iwasonmyownbackthen,payingformyself.Ineededthemoney.”
Ifeltatickleofexcitementinthebackofmymind.“Whatwastheclient’sname?”Iasked.
“Bannister,butitwasthirty-fiveyearsago.Theymightbothbedeadbynow,forallIknow.”
“SoyouweretakingpicturesattheSunDownwhileVivianwasthere.
Didyouevertalktoher?”Iasked.
“Ihadnoreasontotalktoher,”wasthereply.“Iwasinmycarintheparkinglot.Iwasn’treallyadvertisingmyself.”
Whichwasn’tananswer.“Soyoudidn’tmeether?”
“DidIgoinandintroducemyselftothenightshiftclerkwhileIwasfollowingsomeone?No.”
“Youknewwhatshelookedlike,”Heatherchimedin.“Whenshedisappeared,youknewyouhadaphotoofherandyouofferedittothenewspapers.”
“Iknewwhatshelookedlikebecauseherpicturewasalreadyinthepapers,”Marniecorrectedher.“WhenIsawherface,shelookedfamiliar.
ThearticlessaidtheSunDown,soIcheckedmyphotosandIsawthesameface.”
“Wherearethosephotosnow?”Iaskedher.
Marnielookedatme.“YouthinkIkeptphotosfrom1982?”
Ilookedatmyroommate.“Heather,doyouthinkshekeptphotosfrom1982?”
“Let’ssee,”Heathersaid.“Adivorcecase,valuablepicturesthatcouldbeusedasblackmail.I’dkeepthem.”
“Me,too,especiallyiftherewasaknownmurdervictiminthem.Youmightbeabletosellthepicturesalloveragainifherbodyisfound.”
“Doublethemoney,”Heatheragreed.
“Youtwoareapieceofwork,”Marniesaid.“Ioughttosmackbothofyouupsidethehead.”Sheliftedherselfoutofthechairandlefttheroom.
Wewaited,quiet.Ididn’tlookatHeather.WhenIheardthesoundsofMarnierustlingthroughaclosetinthenextroom,Itriednottosmile.
Shecamebackoutwithastackofpicturesinherhand,boundtogetherbyarubberband.Shetossedthestackinmylap.“Knockyourselvesout,”
shesaid.“ThelasttimeIlookedatthosewas1982,andtheyweren’tveryinterestingthen.Idoubtthey’reanymoreinterestingnow.Ifyouthinkyouraunt’skillerisinthere,youcandotheworkyourself.”
Ipickedupthestack.Itlookedlikeahundredorsopictures.“Hasanyoneelseseenthese?”
“ThelawyerIworkedforbackthengotcopies.Ikeptmycopyjustincase,forinsurance.Ievenkeptthenegatives—youcanhavethose,too.”
Shedroppedanenvelopeontopofthephotos.“Likeyousaid.WhenIsoldthepictureofViviantothenewspapers,thecopsdidn’tevencallme.Theydidn’tcometomydooraskingforthatstack.Sono,nooneelsehasseenthem.”
Wethankedherandleft.WhenwegotintothecarandslammedthedoorsIsaidtoHeather,“Okay,howmanyliesdidshetell,doyouthink?”
“Threebigonesandabunchoflittleones,”shesaidwithoutapause.
Ithoughtitover.“Imissedafew.Tellmetheonesyouknow.”
Sheputupanindexfinger.“One,someoneelsehasdefinitelyseenthephotos.Theywerethelastknownphotosofamissingperson.Thecopsmusthaveatleastlookedatthem,thoughIdon’tknowwhyshe’dlie.”
Inodded.
“Two”—Heatherputupasecondfinger—“heroldclient,Bannister,isdefinitelynotdead.Shewastryingtodiscourageusfromfindinghim.”
“Icaughtthatone,”Isaid.
“Andthree…”Heatheropenedherfileofnewspaperclippings.“I’veseeneverymentionofVivian’sdisappearanceineverypaper.Thefirstmentionofitonthefirstdaywasaparagraphoftext.”ShepointedtoafewsentencesintheFellDaily.“ItjustsaysthatlocalgirlVivianDelaneyisthoughttobemissing,blahblah.Callthepoliceifyouknowanything.
There’snopicture.Butthenextday,Marnie’sphotorunsinthepaper.
WhichmeansMarniedidn’tmatchthenameandthephototothegirlfromtheSunDown.Whenshesoldherphototothepapers,sheknewVivian’snameandherface.”
“Soshedidn’tjustsitintheparkinglot,”Isaid.
“No.”Heathersnappedherfileshut.“SheknewVivian,andsheisn’tadmittingit.WhatIwanttoknowiswhy.”Fell,NewYork
November1982
VIV
Vivsatatherkitchentableagainwiththetelephoneandthephonebook.Nexttoher—besidetheboxofRitzcrackersandthejarofcheese—washernotebook.Itwasopentothepageswiththeinformationshe’dmappedoutlastnight.She’dsatintheofficeattheSunDownforherlong,darkshiftandmadealistofdates.
BettyGraham:November1978.
CathyCaldwell:December1980.
VictoriaLee:August1981.
Vivtappedtheendofherpencilagainstthetableandwentoverthelistagain.IfSimonHessdidallofthesemurders—andVivianwaspersonallysurehehad—thenthereweregaps.BetweenBettyandCathy.BetweenVictoriaandnow.Unlesstherewereotherdeadgirlsshedidn’tknowabout.
ShepulledoutthesheetofpaperfromSimonHess’sschedulingofficethatshe’dstolenfromhiscar.Shetookadeepbreath,gotintocharacter,anddialedthenumberatthetop.
“WestlakeScheduling,”awomananswered.
“Goodafternoon,”Vivsaid,loweringhervoicetotherighttoneandlettingthewordsroll.“I’mcallingfromtheFellPoliceDepartment.”
Thewomangaveadisbelievinglaugh.“You’rehavingmeon,right?
Therearen’tanywomenpolice.”
“Iassureyou,ma’am,thatthereare,”Vivsaid.“Atleast,there’sone,andthat’sme.MynameisOfficerAlmaTrent,andIreallyamapoliceofficer.”
Itwasthebestimpressionshe’deverdone.Shesoundedcompetentandolderthanheryears.Sheputhershouldersbackandherchinuptomakethesoundcomingfromherthroatdeeperandrounder.
“Oh,well,”thewomanontheotherendofthelinesaid,“Ihadnoidea.
I’veneverhadacallfromapoliceofficerbefore.”
“That’sokay,ma’am.Ihearitallthetime.I’mlookingintoasmallmatterhereatthestation,andIwonderifyoucouldhelpme.”
“Certainly,Officer.”
Shefeltalittlekickatthat.ItmustbefuntobeAlmasometimes.
“We’vehadafewbreak-insonPeacemakerAvenue,”Vivsaid,namingthestreetthatVictoriaLeehadlivedon.“Nothingtoobad,justpeoplebreakingwindowsandjimmyinglocks.Tryingtograbsomecash.Thethingisthatsomeofthesebreak-inshappenedduringtheday,andonepersonmentionedseeingoneofyoursalesmenonhisstreet.”
“Oh.”Thewomangaveanervous,defensivetitter.“Youdon’tthinkoneofourmenwoulddothat,doyou?Wehireprofessionals.”
“No,ma’am,Idonotthinkthat,”VivsaidwiththestraightseriousnessthatAlmawouldgivethewords.“ButIwouldliketoknow,ifoneofyourmenwasinthearea,ifthere’sanythingheremembersseeing.Strangersorsuspiciousfolkshangingaround,ifyouknowwhatImean.”
“Oh,sure,Igetit.”Vivheardtherustleofpapers.“DidyousayPeacemakerAvenue?Wekeeprecordsofwhichsalesmancoveredwhichterritory.It’simportanttokeepitstraightsotheyaren’toverlappingandthecommissionsarepaidright.”
“I’msureyoukeepgoodrecords,ma’am,andIappreciateanythingyoucantellme.”
Therewasmorerustlingofpapers,thesoundofpagesturninginaschedulingbook.“Hereitis.Yousaysomeonesawoneofoursalesmenthere?”
“Yes,ma’am.”
“Well,Idon’tknowwhattheyweretalkingabout.Wehaven’thadasalesmancoverPeacemakerAvenuesinceAugustoflastyear.”
Vivwassilent,herbloodsinginginherears,herheadlight.VictoriaLee,wholivedonPeacemakerAvenue,hadbeenkilledinAugustof’81.
ShehadjustconnectedthetravelingsalesmanwithVictoriaLee—whoseboyfriendwasinprisonforthemurder.
“Hello?”thewomanontheotherendsaid.“Areyoustillthere?”
Think,Viv.“Yes,sorry,”shesaid,channelingAlmaagain.“Canyouletmeknowwhichofyoursalesmenthatwas?I’dstillliketotalktohim.
Maybehe’sbeenbacktotheareaanditisn’tintheschedule.”
“That’strue,”thewomansaidtoViv’srelief.“Hemayhavemadeafollow-upcall.Thatwouldn’tbeinthebook.”Therewasapause.“Well,darn.Wedothescheduleinpencilbecausetherearesomanychanges,butsomeone’sgoneanderasedthenamerightoutofthebook.”
“Really?”Checkmate,SimonHess,shethought.“That’sstrange.”
“Itsureis.Maybetwoofourmenweregoingtotradeandthenewnamesdidn’tgetwrittenin.”
Vivthankedthewomanandhungup.SoSimonHesswascoveringhistracks.Butitwassomething.Shewasclosingin.ShewroteacheckmarknexttoVictoria’sname.
Sheflippedtoanotherphonenumbershe’dpulledfromthephonebook.
ItwastimetoputSimonHessandCathyCaldwelltogether.
“Hello?”anolderwoman’svoicesaidwhenVivhaddialedthenumber.
Shedidn’tuseAlma’svoicethistime.Instead,sheusedthevoiceshe’djustheardatWestlakeLockSystems.“Hello,isthisMrs.Caldwell?”
“No,I’mnotMrs.Caldwell.I’mhermother.Mrs.Caldwellisdead.”
Viv’sthroatclosed.Stupid,sostupid.She’dassumedthatCathy’smotherwouldalsobeMrs.Caldwell,thoughofcourseCaldwellwasCathy’smarriedname.“Ma’am,I’msosorry,”shemanaged.
Thewomansighedwearily.“Whatareyouselling?”
“I’mnot—”Shehadtogetagrip.“I’m,um,callingfromWestlakeLockSystems.Iwantedtoknowifyou’resatisfiedwiththelocksyouboughttwoyearsago.”
Itwasalongshot.ButallthewomanhadtosaywasIdon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingaboutandtheconversationwouldbeover.IwishIreallywereapoliceofficer,shethought.Itwouldbesomucheasiertogetpeopletoanswerquestions.
Butthewomanrepliedwith,“Isupposethey’refine.IrememberwhenAndrewandCathyboughtthem.Theydidn’twanttospendthemoney,butyoursalesmanconvincedthem.WithAndrewgonesomuch,theythoughtitwouldmakeCathysafer.Itdidn’twork.”
Viv’shandwasshakingassheputacheckmarknexttoCathy’sname.
“Ma’am,Ithink—”
“You’reoneofthoseghouls,aren’tyou?”thewomansaid.“Youaren’tfromthelockcompanyatall.Thenagain,IwonderhowyouknewaboutthelocksCathyputin.You’relikelynotgoingtotellme.Soletmetellyousomethinginstead.”
“Ma’am?”Vivsaid.
“Youthinkwehaven’thaddozensofphonecallsatthishouse?
Hundreds?ImovedinafterCathydiedbecausemygrandsonwasleftwithoutamother.Andrewisdeployedagainsoit’sjustmyboyandme.
AndI’mtheonewhoanswersthedamnphonecalls.They’vetaperedoffoverthepasttwoyears,butwestillgetthem.IcantellaghoulfromthefirstminuteIanswerthephone.”
Vivwassilent.
Thewomandidn’tneedananswer.“I’veheardeverything,”shecontinued.“Cathywasaslut,Cathywasasaint.CathywastargetedbyCommunistsorSatanists.Cathywaskilledbyablackman,aMexican.
Cathywashavingalesbianaffair.CathygotwhatshedeservedbecauseshehadleftthepathofGod.I’vetoldAndrewtounlistthenumber,buthewon’tdoit.Youghoulshavealltheanswers,exceptone:Youcan’ttellmewhothehellkilledmydaughter.”
Thewoman’svoicewasrawwithpainandanger.Itcamethroughthephonelinelikeamiasma.Vivstillcouldn’tspeak.
“It’snevergoingtohappen,”thewomansaid.“Findinghim.Arrestinghim.Lettingmewatchhimfry.IthoughtforalongtimethatIwouldgetthatchance.Butit’sbeentwoyears,andtheystilldon’tknowwhotookmygirl.Whostrippedher,putaknifeinher,anddumpedher.Asweetgirlwhowantedtoearnhernextpaycheckandraiseherbaby.Doyouknowwhokilledher?Canyouendthisforme?”
Thewordswererightthere.Sittinginherthroat.HisnameisSimonHess.Butsomethingstoppedher;maybeitwastheknowledgethatsayingitwouldn’tendthiswoman’spain.“I—”
“Ofcourseyoudon’tknow,”Cathy’smothersaid.Shesoundedangryandtired,sotired.“Noneofyoupeopleeverknow.”
“Hewon’tgetawayforever.”Viv’svoicewashoarsewithherownemotion—angerandadifferentkindofexhaustion.Shewastired,too,thoughshecouldn’timaginehowtiredCathy’smothermustbe.“Hecan’t.
He’llmakeamistake.He’llcomeintothelight.Therewillbejustice,Iswear.”
“No,”Cathy’smothersaid.“Therewon’t.I’mgoingtodienotknowingwhokilledmybaby.He’sgoingtowalkfree.”
Therewasaclickasshehungup.
Vivsatsilentforalongtimeaftersheputthephonedown.Shewipedthetearsfromhercheeks.Thenshegotuptogetdressed.
???
“Thankyouformeetingme,”MarniesaidtoVivthenextdayastheysatonabenchinaparkindowntownFell.“Duringtheday,noless.”
VivpickedattheFrenchfriesshe’dboughtfromafast-foodcounteronherwayhere.Vaguely,sherealizedthatshedidn’teatrealmealsanymore;shesnackedoncrackersandcoffeeduringthedayandatebolognasandwichesatnight.Shecouldn’trememberwhenshe’dlastslepteighthours.
“Youlookterrible,”Marniesaid,readinghermind.
Vivshrugged.“Ifeelfine.”Itwasthetruth.Shehadpushedpasttirednesssometimeagoandnowexistedonaplaneofexhaustionthatfloatedherthroughtheday.
Marniedidnotlookterrible.Shelookedgreat.Sheworekhakipantswithapleatedwaistandanavyblueblousebeneathherwoolpeacoat,andshehadamatchingnavyknitcaponherhead.Itwasfouro’clockintheafternoon,andafewofthepeoplepassingthroughtheparklookedtwiceattheblackwomanandthewhitewomansittingtogether.
“Okay,Icametotellyoutwothings,”Marniesaid,leaningbackonthebenchnexttoViv.“ThefirstisthatIhadsomedowntimetoday,soIfollowedyoursalesman.He’sinPlainsviewagain.”
Vivstraightened.Plainsview,whereshe’dseenhimwatchingthegirl.
“Rightnow?”
“Yes,rightnow.Ifollowedhimtotheexit,andthenIkeptgoing.
BecauseifIfollowhimtoocloseandtoooften,he’llseeme.WhichleadsmetotheotherthingIwanttosay.Iquit.”
“Whatdoyoumean,youquit?”
“Allofthis,”Marniesaid,wavingbetweenthetwoofthem.“Theintriguewehavegoingon.I’mquitting.I’mdone.I’mnotfollowingthismananymore.I’mnotevensurehe’samurderer.”
Vivblinkedather.“TherewasasalesmanfromWestlakeLockSystemsgoingdoor-to-dooronVictoriaLee’sstreetthemonthshewaskilled.AndCathyCaldwellandherhusbandboughtlocksfromaWestlakesalesmanbeforeshewaskilled,too.”
Marnie’slipsparted.Shelookedlikesomeonehadslappedher.“Oh,honey,”shesaidinaroughvoice,andVivthoughtshewasgoingtosayYou’recrazyorItdoesn’tproveanything,butinsteadshesaid,“Youneedtostopbeforeyougetyourselfkilled.”
“Hedoesn’tknowI’minvestigatinghim,”Vivsaid.
“Thehellhedoesn’t.Amandoescrimeslikethis,he’slookingoverhisshoulder.Coveringhistracks.Waitingforsomeonetocomeupbehindhim.”
VivthoughtofthenameerasedfromtheWestlakeschedulebookanddidn’treply
“You’regoingtogethurt,”Marniesaid.“Iknowyouthinkyouwon’t,butyouwill.Ifhecanhurtthosegirls,thenhecanhurtyou.Youneedtotalktothepoliceandtellthemwhatyou’vefound.”
Vivlickedherdry,chappedlipsandateacoldFrenchfry.
“Promiseme,”Marniesaid.“Youoweme,Vivian.Promisemeyou’lltalktothepolice.Thatyou’lltry.”
Vivforcedthewordsout.“Ipromise.”Shedidn’twantto,butshemeantit.ShepromisedittoMarnie,andshewoulddoit.“Pleasedon’tquit.”
Marnieshookherhead.“Sorry,butIam.Idon’twanttodothisanymore.It’stoodangerous.IhaveamanI’mseeing,andhesayshewantstomarryme.Icangetmarriedandstartafamilyinsteadofdoingthis.I’mdone.”
“Butyou’retheonewhoshowedmeeverything,”Vivsaid.“You’retheonewhotookthephotosandtookmetothemurdersites.”
“Iwastryingtohelpyou,becauseyouwereacluelessgirlworkinginthemiddleofthenight.Iwastryingtoshowyouthattherearepredatorsoutthere.Thatyouhavetobecareful.”Shegaveahumorlesslaugh.“Lookslikeitbackfiredonme.HowwasIsupposedtoknowyou’dstarthuntingthehunter?”
“Maybeyouweretryingtohelp,butyouknewallaboutthemurders.Itinterestedyou,too.”
“Maybe.Yes,okay.ButIwasn’tinterestedlikeyouarenow.”Marnieleanedforward,herelbowonherknee,andlookedVivintheeye.“I’mallaboutsurvival.That’showIwork.Knowingaboutthegirlsgettingkilledinthistownwasapartofthatsurvival.Followingakilleraroundisnot.”Shepressedherlipstogetherandsighed.“Ilikeyou.Ido.ButIhavemoretolosethanyoudo.I’mnotjeopardizingeverythingIhave,everythingI’ve
workedfor,mylife,forsomethingIcan’tprove,thatnoonewillbelieve.
I’mnotwillingtodothatandIneverwas.Doyouunderstandme?”
Vivdroppedhergazetoherfriesandnodded.
Therewasasecondofsilence.“You’regoingtoPlainsview,aren’tyou?”
Marniesaid.
Vivnodded,stillstaringatherfries.
“IknowIcan’tstopyou,andyouhavesomeseriousspine.Butbecareful,forGod’ssake.Atleastbereadytodefendyourself.Don’tbealonewithhim.Allright?”
“I’llbecareful.”
“Damnit,”Marniesaid.“IfIreadaboutyouinthepapers,I’mgoingtobesodamnmadatmyself.”
Butshestillrosefromthebench,pickedupherpurse,andwalkedaway.
???
ThetrailhadgonecoldinPlainsview.Vivcircledthestreets,lookingforHess’scar.Shestartedwiththeneighborhoodshe’dlastseenhimin,thenwidenedouttothenextneighborhoodandthenext.Plainsviewwasn’taverybigplace,andsoonshe’dcovereditprettythoroughly.
Sheendedupatthetown’sonlyhighschool,PlainsviewHigh.Itwasanewbuilding,andeventhoughitwasdinnertime,theparkinglotwasfullofcars,thelightsoninallthewindows.Vivsawahandmadesignthatsaid,CHOIRNIGHTTONIGHT!!
Sheparkedonthestreetandscannedthecarsinherview.Thegirlshe’dseenonherbicyclewashighschoolage,whichmeantshemightbehere,orherhuntermightcometothisplace.Afteraminuteshegotoutofthecarandlookedupanddownthestreet.Hewouldn’tparkinthelot,butnearby.
Thatwaswhatshewoulddo.
Sheshovedherhandsinthepocketsofhercoatandwalkedtowardtheschool.Nothingmoved;choirnightwasstillhappening.Butwhenshesteppedontheedgeoftheschool’sconcretetarmac,theschooldoorsopenedandparentsandstudentsbegantofileout.Theperformancewasfinished.
Therewasthesoundofamotor,andacarpulledawayintheedgeofViv’svision.Sheturnedandsquinted.ItwasthesamemakeandmodelasHess’scar,butatthisangleshecouldn’tseethedriver.Shetookastep
forwardasthecarreceded,tryingtoreadthelicenseplate,butshecouldonlycatchanineandasevenbeforethecardisappeared.
SimonHess’slicenseplatehadanineandaseven.
Shewalkedthroughthesmallcrowd.Shelookedlikesomeone’sbigsister,ormaybeevenasenior,sosheblendedin.Movingagainsttheflowofpeopleleaving,shewalkedthroughtheschool’sopendoors.Onafoldingtablewasthenight’sprogram,nowover.Shepickeditup.
Onthefrontwasalistofthesongsintonight’sperformance.OnthebackwasalistofthemembersofthePlainsviewHighSchoolChoir.Therewerefifteengirls.
Shefoldedthepageinherpocketandwanderedfartherdownthehall,passingteachersandparentschattinginknots.Theschoolwassmall,andthecrowdwasrapidlydispersing.Therewereotherfoldingtableshere,advertisingotherthings:thefootballteam,thesciencefair.OneofthetableshadahandmadesignthatsaidORDERYOUR1982–83YEARBOOKNOW!
Nexttoitwasacopyofthe1981–82yearbookondisplay.
Thisissoeasy,Vivthoughtasshepickeduptheyearbook,sliditinhercoat,andwalkedbackoutthedoorwiththerestofthecrowd.
???
DowntownPlainsviewwasclosing,butahardwarestorewasstillopen.
Vivwentin,thinkingofthatcardrivingawaytonight.ThinkingofMarnie’sadvice:Atleastbereadytodefendyourself.Andthatstupidnewsitemonsafetytipsforteens:Useabuddysystem.Nevergetintoastranger’svehicle.Considercarryingawhistleoraflashlight.
Vivwalkeduponeaisleofthesmallstore,thendowntheother.AwhistlewasnotmuchuseattheSunDown,wheretherewasnoonearoundformiles.Ifsheeverusedit,she’dbewhistlingintothewind.Asforaflashlight,shepicturedshiningoneintothetravelingsalesman’sface.Thatwouldn’tdomuch,either.
“Excuseme,miss?”
Vivturnedtoseeaboyofabouteighteenstandingattheendoftheaisle.
Hehadpimplesonhischeeksandaredapronon.Hegaveherasmilethatwasfriendlyandalittleembarrassed.“We’reclosingnow,”hesaid.
“Oh,”Vivsaid,lookingaround.“Iwasjust—”
“IstheresomethingIcanhelpyoufind?”
“Maybe.”Shesmiledbackathim.“IwasjustthinkingthatIshouldcarrysomethingtodefendmyself.BecauseIworknights.”
“Jeez,sure,”theguysaid.“Wedon’tcarryMace,though.You’dbesurprisedhowoftenwegetaskedforit.”
“Right.”Vivhadneveractuallythoughtabouthowtodefendherself.
Couldshepunchsomeone,kickthem?GrowingupinsuburbanGrisham,theideawasabsurd.Nowsheglancedatthedarkeningwindowsoutsideandwonderedexactlywhatshewoulddo.
Whatwouldyoudoifyoueversawrealtrouble?hermotherhadsaid.
“There’sabatonthingyoucancarry,”thehardwareguytoldher.“Itgivesagoodwhack,Ithink.Butit’sbigandheavyforcarryingaroundeveryday.”Heturnedthecornertothenextaisle,andVivfollowedhim.
“Personally,ifIwereagirlandIwantedtodefendmyself,I’dcarrythis.”
Hereachedontoashelfandputathickleatherholderintoherhand.
Vivpulledthehandle.Itwasaknife—nottheretractableswitchbladekind,butaregularknifewithawoodenhandleandawickedsilverblade.
Thebladeitselfwasaboutthreeincheslongandlookedlikeitcouldcutglass.
“Wow,”Vivsaid.
“Itoldyou,wegetaskedalot,”theguyreplied.“Thisisahuntingknife,butitworksforwhatyouwant.Smallenoughtofitinapurse.Sharpenoughthatyoumeanbusiness.”Shelookeduptoseethathewassmilingather.“Youcaneventakeitjogginginthepark.Somepervertcomesuptoflashyou—boom!Atleast,ifIwereagirl,that’swhatIwoulddo.”
Sheblinkedupathim,andshesmiledathim.Shewatchedhimblush.
“I’lltakeit,”shesaid.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Afewthinflakesofsnowswirledintheair,whiteagainstthedarkness.
Theyflittedinfrontoftheblueandyellowofthemotelsignlikefireflies,lookingalmostpretty.Thanksgivingwascoming,andI’dhadanemailfromGrahamafewhoursago,askingifIwantedtospendtheholidaywithhimandhisfiancéebackhome.
IpicturedanawkwarddinneratGrahamandHailey’sapartment,footballonTV.ItwasthesecondThanksgivingsinceMomdied,andmybrotherandIshouldprobablyspenditbondingandsupportingeachother.
Butwedidn’thaveparticularlywarmmemoriesoftheholiday—MomalwayscookedabigThanksgivingdinner,butsheworkedandsweatedoveritfordays,makingamealforthethreeofusthatdidn’tmattermuchinthebigschemeofthings.Bytheendofitshewasalwaystooexhaustedtobemuchfun,andifGrahamandIeitherofferedtohelpherortoldhertokeepitsimple,shegotdefensiveandangry.
She’devencookedThanksgivingdinnerforuswhenshewassick.Shewasstillonherfeetthen,tryingtoconvinceherselfthatshecoulddoeverythingsheusedtodo.She’dwavedusoff,goneshoppingforaloadofgrocerieswhenGrahamandIweren’tlooking.She’dfallenasleepwhiletheturkeywasintheoven.Justthinkingaboutitnowmademesad.Ihadnoideawhatoldideaburiedinmymother’spsychemadehercrazyatThanksgiving,andnowIwouldneverknow.
IlovedGraham.Hewasmybigbrother,myonlysibling,myprotectorandmytorturerforaslongasIcouldremember.Theonewhodidn’tletbulliesteasemeforbeingadorkybookworm,butwhoalsobelievedthatmakingmewatchhorrormoviesatageninewould“toughenmeup”andhadsnuckmemyfirstcopyofPetSematary.Butnowhewastwenty-three,
workinginanoffice,andpracticallymarried.WhileIstoodhereintheparkinglotoftheSunDownatthreeinthemorning,watchingthesnow,itfeltlikeGrahamwasonMars.
Iheldthephotoinmyhandoutatarm’slength,matchingtheimagetothemotel.ItwasoneofMarnieClark’sstackofphotos,takenfromtheparkinglotoftheSunDownin1982.ThisshotwastakenfromnearwhereIwasstanding,attheedgeoftheparkinglot,facingthemotel.ImovedthephotountilIhaditexactlymatched—therealmoteloutsidetheframe,the1982versioninside.Therewasalmostnodifferenceatall.
Inaweird,scaryway,thisplacewasalmostmagical,stuckintime.
Iloweredthephotoandpickedupthenextonefromthestack.Itwastakenfromthesameangle.Thereweretwocarsintheparkinglotinthepicture,parkedinfrontofrooms103and104.Theywereboxy,early-1980scars,uglyandoddlyretro-attractiveatthesametime.Awomanwasgettingoutofoneofthem.Shewasyounganddark-hairedandbeautiful,sexyandmaybealittlemean.Orshejusthadrestingbitchface,perhaps.ThiswasthewomanMarniehadbeenpaidtofollowandcatchcheating.Bannister,Marniehadsaidthenamewas.ThiswasMrs.Bannister,onherwaytoanassignationattheSunDown.
Iswitchedtothenextphoto.Myhandsweregettingcoldinmymittens,butIdidn’tcare.TherewasnochancethatIwouldbeneededinsidetheSunDownofficeanytimesoon,becausewehadnocustomers,andIlikedlookingatthephotosouthere,seeingwhereMarniehadbeenwhenshetookthem,therealspotwhereMrs.Bannisterhadparked.Itwaslikeadoorthroughtime.
Thenextphotoshowedthedoortoroom104openingandamanstandinginthegap.HewassmilingatMrs.Bannister.Hewasfortyish,withsalt-and-pepperhair.Notbad-looking,Ithought,butitwasamysterywhyawomansoyoungwouldcheatwithhimatadown-and-outmotel.Thenagain,Iwasthelastpersontounderstandanythingaboutsex.
IlookedmorecloselyatthephotoofMrs.Bannisterandherlover.
Marniehadbeenatthebackoftheparkinglot,andshe’dgottenalotofthemotelintotheframe.OntheupperedgeIcouldseethesecondlevelofthemotel,thebottomsofthelineofdoorsthroughtheslatsofthesecond-storyrailing.Therewasadarkshadowonthesecondfloor,asifmaybesomeonewasstandingthere.Butthenagain,itcouldbeanything.
Insidethemoteloffice,Iheardthedeskphonering.Ijoggedbacktowardthemotel,puttingthephotosinmycoatpocket.Theringingstoppedassomeonepickedupthephone,andthentheofficedooropened.Nicksteppedoutandmotionedtome.He’dbeenintheofficegoingthroughtherestofthestackofMarnie’sphotos.“It’sHeather,”hesaid.
“Thanks.”MyglassesfoggedasIwalkedbackinside,andwhenIpulledmyhatoffmyhairprobablylookedcomical.IcontinuedtomakeanexcellentimpressiononNickHarknessinmycampaignforseduction.
“Hey,”Isaid,pickingupthereceiverhe’dleftonthedesk.Itwassortofathrill,usinganold-styletelephone.Itfeltlikeitweighedfivepounds.
“Okay,”Heathersaidontheotherendoftheline.“I’vebeenresearchingtheBannistersforthelasthourandI’lltellyouwhatI’vefound:nothing.”
“Whatdoyoumean,nothing?”Ipawedatmyhairwithmyfreehand,tryingtopattheflyawaysbackdown.IheardNicksit,thoughIcouldn’tseehimthroughthefog.
“Imeannothing,”Heathersaid.“There’samentionofaStevenBannisterwinningahighschoolhighjumpcontestin1964,andthat’sit.Ihavenoideaifit’seventherightperson.Noothermentionsofeitherhusbandorwifeatall.Andthey’renotintheFellphonebook.”
Thefrustrationsoftrackingpeoplewhodidn’tlivetheirlivesonline.
“Okay.ItwasalongshotanywaythateitherofthemwouldhavemetViv.
WhataboutthemanMrs.Bannisterwascheatingwith?”
“Aha,”Heathersaid.“Nowyou’llseehowcleverIam.BecauseItrulyamfiendishlyclever.”
“Fiendishly?”Myglassescleared,andIglancedovertoseeNicksittinginoneoftheofficechairs,leaningitbackwithhisfeetpressedagainstthedesk.Hewaswearingjeansandhisblackzip-uphoodie,hishairpushedbackfromhisforeheadasifhe’dpusheditwithhisfingers.HehadMarnieClark’sphotonegativesinhishandandwaslookingatastripintheoverheadlight,squintingalittle,hisbodybalancedeasily.Eveninthatposehelookedawesome,scruffonhisjawandall.
“Yes,fiendishly,”HeathersaidasIwatchedNickputdownonestripandpickupanother.“ItalkedtoaguyonlinewhocandoDMVlookups.ThosephotosofMarnie’shavelicenseplatesinthem.Itcostmeseventybucks,butnowIknowwhoownedthecarsinthosepictures.”
“You’reright—thatisfiendish.”
“Iknow.Soheregoes:TheThunderbirdinthephotosbelongedtononeotherthanStevenBannister,highschoolhighjumpstar.HemovedtoFloridain1984anddroppedoffthemap.ThesecondcarbelongedtoaRobertWhite,whodiedin2002.Hewouldhavebeenforty-onein’82,sothatprobablymakeshimMrs.Bannister’slover.”
“Okay,”Isaid.Nickstartedtolowerhischair,soIstoppedstaringathimandmovedmygazetoaspotonthewall.
“There’sathirdcar,too.ThatonebelongedtoafellownamedSimonHess.Here’swhereitgetsinteresting.”
“Goon.”
Heatherpaused,purelybecauseshelovedtheanticipation.“TwothingsaboutSimonHess.First,heworkedasatravelingsalesman.”
Thatmadeabellringdeep,somewhereinmybrain.“WheredidIreadaboutatravelingsalesman?”
“WhenyoureadaboutBettyGraham,”Heathersaid.“Shewaslastseenlettingoneintoherhouse.”
Nowthebackofmyneckwentcold.“Oh,Jesus.”
“Itgetsbetter,”Heathersaid.“IlookedupoldSimonHesstoseeifhewasdeadyet.AndIfoundsomethinginteresting.Itseemsheleftonasalestripsometimeinlate1982andhenevercamehome.”
“What?Thatmakesnosense.Whatdoyoumeanhenevercamehome?”
Nickwassittingupandwatchingmenow,tryingtofollowtheconversation.Iwishedlikehellthisancientphonehadaspeakerphoneoption,butI’djusthavetotellhimeverythingafterIhungup.Howdidanyonebefore1999doanythingatall?
“Hejustleftandneverreturned,”Heathersaid.“Andgetthis.Hiswifedidn’tevencallthepolice.Sheeventuallydeclaredhimdeadfiveyearslater,whenshetriedtoclaimhislifeinsurancemoney.Shesaidshethoughthe’dabandonedherforanotherwoman,buteventuallyshefiguredhemighthavedied,soshewantedtoselltheirhouseandgetthemoney.”
“Couldshejustdothat?”
“Itseemslikeit.There’satimeperiodsomeonehastobemissingbeforetheycanbedeclareddead.InNewYorkit’sthreeyears.Icouldn’taccessthefile,buttheymusthaveinvestigateditanddecidedthatSimonHesswasdeadandMrs.Hessgothermoney.”
Irifledthroughthepileofphotoswithmyfreehand,pullingouttheonethathadHess’scarinit.“Sohiswifesaidhewentmissingsometimein
1982,butshedidn’tknowwhen?”
“ShelastsawhiminNovember.”
“ThesephotosarefromOctober.Sohewasstillaround.”Ibrushedmyfingeralongtheedgeofthephoto,thenpickedupthenextoneinthesequence,whichshowedmyauntVivwalkingalongthewalkwayfromtheAMENITIESroomtotheoffice.ItwastheshotMarniehadcroppedandsoldtothenewspapers,showingViv’sface.Hess’scarwasinthecorneroftheframe.
“Whataretheoddsthatwehavetwopeoplewhowentmissingaroundthesametimeinonephotograph?”Isaid.
“Idon’tthinkit’sacoincidence,”Heathersaid.“AndifSimonHesswasBetty’skiller,thenI’dsayitisn’tacoincidenceatall.”
“SohekilledVivandfledtown.”
Nickwaslistening,butheleanedhischairbackagain,balancedit,andpickedupanothernegative,lookingatitthroughthelight.Forthefirsttime,Iwonderedwhathewaslookingfor.
“Youhavetoadmit,it’saprettygreattheory,”Heathersaid.“ButSimonHessseemslikeadeadend.Noone’sseenhimsince1982andhe’slegallydead.”
“MaybeAlmaTrentcanhelp.”
“Sheisn’tacopanymore.Doyouthinkweshouldgotothecopswiththis?”
Iwasstartingtothinkso.Thiswaslookinglessandlesslikeanamateurattempttosatisfymycuriosityandmorelikesomethingthepolicecouldactuallyuse
IthoughtofBettyasI’dseenher,tormentedandterrifyingandsomehowstillbeautiful.HerbodydumpedhereattheSunDown.SimonHess’scarhere.SimonHessvanishing.Didheleavetownbeforehecouldbearrestedformurder?
Itcouldn’tbeacoincidencethatHesshadcometothemotelsometimeinOctober1982.Butwhatwashedoinghere?
IsmelledcigarettesmokeandglancedatNickagain.Hewasn’tsmoking,ofcourse.HewasstilllookingatMarnie’snegatives,butnowhewasfrowningatthem,pullingthestripinhishandclosertoseeitbetter.
“I’mgoingtocallAlmatomorrow,”Idecided.“I’lltellherwhatwehave.She’llknowwhattodo.”
Ihungupanddroppedintotheofficechair.“You’renotgoingtobelievethis,”IsaidtoNick.
Herightedhischairagainandraisedhiseyebrowsatme.“I’vebeenhereforweeks.I’llbelievealotofthings.Includingtheideathatthesmokingguyisaroundsomewhererightnow.”
Imethisgaze.Itwasstrange,sostrangetohavesomeoneshareyourcrazydelusion.Someonewhosawthesameghostsyoudid.
“Thisisevenweirderthanthat,”Isaid.
“Hitme.”
Itoldhimeverything.Nickdidwhathealwaysdid,nomatterhowcrazythestory:listenedwithoutjudging,laughing,orscoffing.Allhesaidattheendwas:“Interesting.”
“Interesting?That’sit?”
“Yes.IfhekilledBettyanddumpedherhere,thenhewasfamiliarwiththisplace.Maybe,onceitwasbuilt,hestayedhereonhissalestrips.
Maybehe’dseenVivandwaswatchingher.Planning.”Hetappedhisfingersonthearmofhischair,hisgazemovingpastmetolookatnothing.
“Theysaidmyfathersnappedthedayhekilledmybrother,thathewentcrazyallofasudden.Butitwasn’ttrue.Heplannedit.”
Iheldmybreathandwaited,listening.
“He’dhadthegunforoveraweek,”Nicksaid.“He’dneverownedagunbefore.Hewentthroughtheprocessofgettingitlegally.Hespentsometimefiguringoutwhathewasgoingtodoandputtingtheplanintomotion.
He’devencalledourhighschoolandsaidweweretakingafamilyvacation,sobothofhissonswouldbeoutofschoolforawhile.”Hisbluegazewasremote.“TheonlyreasonEliwashomeatallwasbecausehisbasketballpracticehadbeencanceled.HecalledDadatworkandaskedhimwherehekeptthestashofgasmoney,becauseheneededtoputgasinhiscar.SoDadknewwewerebothhome.HegaveEliananswer,thenleftworkandcamehometokillus.”
Ididn’tknowwhattosaytothat.“I’msorry,”Isaid.
“Hesaidatthetrialthatheheardvoicestellinghimtodoit.Butmyfatherwasalawyer.Hemayhavebeentryingforaninsanitydefense.Idon’tknowwhetherhewaslyingaboutthevoicesornot.Inanycase,thedefensedidn’twork.”Helookedatmecalmly,holdingmygaze.“IgotaskedalotifIwasreallyinthebedroomwhenithappened.Iwas.”
Idroppedmygazetothedeskinfrontofme.
“IspentalotoftimewonderingifIshouldhavestayed.IfIcouldhavegottenpastDadwithoutbeingkilled,gonedownstairsandhelpedEli.Buthediedsofast,andnoambulancecouldhavesavedhim.Ithink,deepdown,thatIknewthat.Dadhadbeenquietinthelastfewweeks,soquiet.
Hewasn’taviolentperson,butsomehow,whenIheardtheshotsandthescreaming,Iknew.IknewthatDadhadshotEli,andthatitwouldbeoverinminutesifIdidn’trun.Idon’tknowhowit’spossible,butIthinkIexpectedit.”
“Youhadagutfeeling,”Isaid.“Aninstinct.”
Nickpressedhisfingertipstohisforeheadandrubbedittiredly,hiseyesclosingforaminute.“Maybe.ButifIhadaninstinct,thenwhydidn’tIactonit?Whydidn’tIsaysomething?Dosomething?IknowIwasafourteen-year-oldkid,butthisisthekindofthingthatgoesthroughyourheadwhenyourdadtriedtokillyou.It’swhyIdon’tsleep.”
“Ibetyoucouldsleepintherightplace,”Isaid.“Notjustatthemotel.
Youcan’tspendtherestofyourlifehere.Ibetyoucouldsleepifyouwereinaplacethatmadeyouhappy.Whereyouknewyou’dwakeuptosomethinggood.”
Hegavemehalfasmile.“Youthinkthatplaceexists?”
“Sureitdoes.Therearegoodplaces,Nick.They’redifferentforeveryone.Ithinkyou’llfindyours.”
“You’rewaytoonicetome,”hesaid.
Ishrugged.“Ihaveulteriormotives.IhavetositatthisdeskallnightandIhavenoonetotalkto.”
“Maybe,butyourtheorydoesn’texplainthefactthatIcansleepinthisshittymoteloutofalltheplacesonEarth.Becausethisisdefinitelynotagoodplace.”
“No.TheSunDownisnotagoodplace.Butyoucansleepinitbecauseitsuitsyou—atleastrightnow.Iknowbecauseitsuitsme,too.”
Nickfrowned.“That’strulymessedup.”
IheldupthebookI’dbroughttoreadtonight—AnnRule’sclassicTheStrangerBesideMe.I’dreaditsomanytimesitwasfallingapart.“Haveyoumetme?”
Helaughed,whichgavemearushofpleasure.WhichItriedtoignore.
“Sowhatdowedonext?”hesaid.
Iputthebookdown.“WetalktoAlmatomorrowaboutwhetheranyofthisshouldbeturnedovertotheFellPD.Andwetrytofindouteverything
wecanaboutSimonHess.Hecouldbemyaunt’skiller.Andweknowhecrossedpathswithheratleastonce.”IslidthephotoacrossthedeskthatshowedVivatthemotelwithHess’scarinthecorneroftheframe.“Hedisappearedaroundthesametimeshedid.Ithinkifweknowwhy,wecansolvewhathappenedtoher.”
“Ihaveanotherquestiontoaddtothepile.”Nickputthestripsofnegativeshe’dbeenlookingatonthedesk.“Whydowehavemorenegativesthanwehaveprints?”
Isatupstraighter.“Wedo?”
“Yes.I’vebeenlookingatthenegatives,matchingthemup.Therearefourphotosinthenegativesthatwedon’thaveprintsof.”Hepointedtothem,thoughlyingonthedesktheyjustlookedlikesplotchesofnitrate.“Itlookslikesomekindofoutdoorshot—treesorsomething.Whatisit,andwherearethosephotos,andwhydidn’tMarnieClarkgivethemtoyou?”
Ilookedatthestripofnegativeandbitmylip.“IguessI’llgetoutthephonebook.Theremustbesomewhereintownthatdevelopsoldnegatives.
Afterall,thisisFell.”
“You’reright,thereis,”Nicksaid.“Youdon’tneedthephonebook.Iknowwhereitis.Andguesswhat?It’sopentwenty-fourhours.”Fell,NewYork
November1982
VIV
Maybethiswashowthepolicedidit.Vivhadnoidea—nomovieorTVshowshe’deverseenshowedherhowthepolicereallyworked.Itwasallcarchasesandshootoutswithabackgroundofsexymusic.WhereasVivhadachoirlist,ayearbook,andhertrustytelephone.
Shewentdownthelistofnamesofthegirlsinthechoir,lookingeachofthemupintheyearbook.Theseventhgirlwastheone:Thefaceintheyearbookwasthatofthegirlshe’dseenpedalingawayonherbicycle,thetravelingsalesmanwatchingher.Thegirl’snamewasTracyWaters,andshewasasenior.
Vivdidn’thaveaPlainsviewphonebook,soshecalleddirectoryassistanceandaskedforthenumberforPlainsviewHighSchool.Theoperatorgaveherthenumberforthemainoffice,andVivdialeditandlistenedtoitringassheflippedthepageintheyearbook,lookingforalikelyname.
Shegotasecretaryandaskedtopleasespeaktotheprincipal.“WhomayIsayiscalling?”thesecretaryasked.
Vivputherfingeronafaceintheyearbook—anunattractivegirlwithabadpermandglassesthatseemedtotakeupmostofherface.CAROL
PENTON,thenamesaid.“IamCarolPenton’smother,”Vivsaid,makinghervoicesoundolder,lower,slightlyaggrieved.“Ihaveaconcernaboutmydaughter’ssecurity.”
Tohersurprise,afterafewminutesofholdingshewasputthroughtoamanwhosoundedaboutsixty.“HowcanIhelpyou,Mrs.Penton?”
“IwasatChoirNightlastnight,”Vivsaid,“andIsawastrangemanthere.Hewaslookingatthegirls.”
“Excuseme?Lookingatthegirls?”
“Yes.Hewastherealone.”ShedescribedSimonHess.“Hewasjuststandingtherebyhimself—hedidn’thaveawifeorachildthatIsaw.Ithoughtitwasstrange.Andwhentheshowwasoverandeveryonewasleaving,Isawhimagaininthehallway.Juststandingbyhimself.Hewasstaring.Thelookinhiseyeswhenhelookedatthosegirls—Ididn’tlikeitonebit.Ifanymanlookedatmydaughterthatway,I’dcallthepolice.”
“Well.”Theprincipalsoundedflustered.“That’scertainlyaconcern,Mrs.Penton.Thoughperhapshewasanuncleoradistantrelativeofoneofthegirls.I’msurehemeantnoharm.”
Vivgroundherteethtogether.Howareyousure?How?“IthoughtCarolwasattendingaschoolthattookthestudents’safetyseriously.”
“Wedo,wedo.”Nowhewasplacating.“Letmelookintothematter.
Seeifanyoneknewwhothisfellowwas.”
“HewasstaringatTracyWaters,”Vivsaid.“Shewalkedpastandhecouldn’ttakehiseyesoffher.”Shesaiditsoconvincinglythatshecouldseetheimaginarysceneinherhead.“Tracywaswithherparents,andnoneofthemacknowledgedhim.Hecertainlywasn’tarelative.”
Theprincipalsighed.“Mrs.Penton,whatwouldyouhavemedo?”
“Payattention,”Vivsaid,temptedtoshout.“Lookoutforyourstudents,especiallythegirls.Tellyourstafftokeeptheireyesopen.TellthemtolookoutforTracyespecially.Shemightbeindanger.”
“Mrs.Penton,I’msureyou’reoverreacting.Wehaven’thadacomplaintfromTracy’sfamily.Hewaslikelyaninnocentfellowwhomeanswell.”
No.Heisahunter.Thereisahunterafteroneofyourstudents,youfool.
“IfanythinghappenstoTracy,it’syourfault.”Vivhungupthephone.
Shesatforaminute,fuming.Shewouldn’tbeoverreactingifshewereacop.Ifshewereaman.
Shewassolimited,sittingheretryingtowarnpeopleoverthephone.Noonewouldlisten.SheneededtowarnTracy,andshehadtodoitright.
Sheswitchedtactics,pulledoutherstationery,andpickedupapentowrite.
???
Atmidnightthatnight,shesatinachairintheFellpolicestation,tryingnottostare.She’dneverbeeninapolicestationbefore.Fromwhatshecould
see,itwasanopenspacewithafewscarreddesksandtelephones.TheywereallunoccupiedinthemiddleofthenightexceptforAlmaTrent’s.Atthefrontwasadeskfacingthedoor,wherepresumablyacopusuallysattodirectpeoplewhowalkedin.Therewasnoonethere,either.TheentirespacewasdimandemptyexceptforAlmaatherdesk,thecircleoflightfromherdesklamp,andVivherself.
AlmaturnedthepageinViv’snotebook,reading.Vivwantedtogetonthephoneandcallallofthesesleepingcops,getthemoutofbed.There’samannamedSimonHesswhoisgoingtokillagirlnamedTracyWaters.
Whyiseveryonesleeping?
Butshehadtowait.ShechewedherlipandtriednottojiggleherkneeinimpatienceasAlmareadhernotes.
“Okay,wait,”Almasaid,pointingtoapage.“What’sthisaboutCathyCaldwellanddoorlocks?”
“Cathyandherhusbandboughtdoorlocksbeforeshedied.Fromadoor-to-doorsalesman.”
Almalookedup,herfacepale.“Youcanverifythis?”
“Idon’tknowtheexactdate,butCathy’smotherremembersit.ThelockswereboughtfromWestlakeLockSystems.”Shereachedoverthedeskandturnedthepage.“WestlakeLockSystemsalsohadasalesmanscheduledonPeacemakerAvenue,whichisVictoriaLee’sstreet.HewasscheduledtomakecallsthereinAugustoflastyear.”
“Thiscan’tbe,”Almasaid,almosttoherself.“Itisn’tpossible.”
“It’sverypossible,”Vivsaid,tryingnottosoundimpatient.“WhenIaskedtheWestlakeschedulingservicewhatthesalesman’snamewas,shesaidithadbeenerasedfromtheschedulingbook.He’scoveringhistracks.
Thatmeansheknowsthere’satleastapossibilitythatsomeoneisontohim.”
“Alineerasedfromaschedulingbookdoesn’tmeananything,”Almasaid,buttheno-nonsenseconfidencewasgonefromhervoice.Shewasalmostwhispering.“Itcouldbearandommistake.”
“Butmatchedwitheverythingelse,itisn’t,”Vivsaid.“I’veconnectedhimtoCathyandVictoriaforyou.WealreadyknowthatBettysawatravelingsalesmanbeforeshedied.Icanonlygetsomuchinformationbymyself,butIbetifyourequestedallofWestlake’srecords,youcouldfindsomethingIcouldn’t.TheconnectionbetweenBettyandSimonHess.”
Almawasstaringather.“You’vedonealotofworkonthis,”shesaid.
“Dozensofhours.”
Vivshrugged.“IthoughtaboutapplyingforajobinWestlake’sschedulingdepartmenttogetaccesstothebook,butitwouldtaketoolonganditwouldbetoorisky.Theymightputmeinanotherdepartment.PlusI’dactuallyhavetoworktherealldaywhenIhaveotherthingstodo.SoIcan’tgetfullaccesstothebooksonmyown,andthereareonlysomanytimesIcanphonethem,pretendingI’myou.”
“Youdidwhat?”
“Itisn’timportant.”
“It’simportant,”Almasaid.“Vivian,it’sillegaltoimpersonateapoliceofficer.”
Vivwantedtoscream.“SimonHesskilledVictoriaLee,andherboyfriendwasputawayforit.Andyou’regoingtoputmeinjail?”
Almaheldupahand.“Backuphere,”shesaid.Thefirmnesswasbackinhervoice,asifshewasgettingcontrolofthesituation.“ItookalookattheBettyGrahamfileafterthelasttimewetalked.Andoneofyourpremiseshereisactuallywrong.SinceBettywaslastseenlettingasalesmanintoherhouse,therewasathoroughinvestigationdoneintoeverycompanythatemploysdoor-to-doorsalesmen.Theycouldn’tfindanycompanythathadasalesmaninthearea.”
Vivfeltherpulsepound.Shewassofrustrated,soangry.Shedidn’tknowthat.Shedidn’tknowanything,becauseshedidn’thavetheaccesstowhatsheneededtoputallthepiecestogether.Shewasjustatwenty-year-oldmotelclerk.Ifonlyshecouldseeeverythingsheneeded.
Butshethoughtitoverandshookherhead.“Itdoesn’tmatter.”
“Vivian,please.I’mtryingtoworkwithyouhere.ButwithnosalesmaninBetty’sneighborhoodthatday,itmeansthatwhoeverkilledhercametoherdoorpretendingtobeasalesman.Whichputsyoubacktosquareone.”
“No,itdoesn’t.Didtheylookatthemonthbeforethemurder?Twomonthsbefore?Thewomanintheschedulingdepartmenttoldmethatsometimesthesalesmengobackforfollow-upvisitsontheirown,andthosevisitsaren’trecordedintheschedulebook.Hecouldhaveseenherearlierandgoneback.”
Almalookedshockedagain.“Theysaidthat?”
“Evenifhedidn’tsellherlocks,”Vivcontinued,“Bettywasateacher.
SimonHesshasadaughterwhoisaboutten.Maybehisdaughtergoesto
Betty’sschool—butIcan’taccesstheschoolrecords.Youcan.HelivestenminutesawayfromBetty’shouse.Hecouldhaveseenherinthemarket,thepark.Anywhere.”Shepointedtothebook.“Youhavehisname.Youcanfindtheconnection.Ican’t.”
Almafrowned.Shestillwasn’tsold;Vivcouldtell.Shehadnoideawhatelsetodo,whatelsetosay.
“Thisisallbasedontheideathatthisman,SimonHess,checksintothemotelwhereBetty’sbodywasdumped,”Almasaid.“Thatdoesn’tmakehimBetty’skiller,especiallyifheisn’tthesalesmanwhocametoherhouse.”Shegesturedtothenotebook,themotelphotosfromMarnie,otherpapersVivhadbrought.“You’vedoneamazingworkhere,Vivian.Youcouldbeaninvestigator.ButI’mjustthenightdutyofficer,andyou’rejustamotelclerk.IfIamgoingtothehigher-upswithakillerthisdangerous,likeFellhasneverseen,Ineedsomethingsoconcreteitcan’tbeargued.”
Vivswallowed.Shelookedatthedesk,atthepapersandphotosscatteredthere,hereyesburning.
“Thisiscompelling,”Almaadmittedinherkindervoice.“Butit’salsofullofholes.Bigones.AnycaseItakeuptheladderhastobeairtight.
Completelyairtight.I’malreadynooneonthisforce.Notasingleoneoftheseguyswilltakemeseriously.It’llbeanuphillbattlebeforeIevenopenmymouth,andifIfail,I’llprobablylosemyjob.They’rejustlookingforareason.”
Itwasarefusal.Akindone,butstillarefusal.Vivwouldweepifshecouldsummonanytears.Shewouldscreamifshecouldfindhervoice.
“You’resayingtheriskistoogreat,”shesaid.
“That’sexactlywhatI’msaying.You’reyoung,Viv,butIthinkyou’regettingtheidea.I’mthenightdutyofficerinasmalltown—andI’veworkedforyearsjusttogetthisfar.I’vefoughttoothandnail.I’vetakeninsultsandabuse,andI’lltakemore.I’lltakeitformywholecareer.IdoitbecausebeingacopiswhoIam,nomatterwhotriestotellmedifferently.
Butthis…”Shegesturedtothepapers.“Icouldloseeverythingwiththis
Atleast,thewayitisnow.Ineedmore.Ineedphysicalevidence.Ineedeyewitnesses,confessions.Nocopcouldtakeanyofthistocourt,whichmeansnocopisgoingtoriskhiscareeronit.Includingme.”
Vivwasnumb.ItwaslikeMarnie,tellinghertheriskwastoogreat.Iquit.She’dpromisedMarnieshe’dgotothepolice,gethelp,stopputtingherselfindanger.ButAlmawasn’tgoingtohelpher,either.Noonewas.
Shewasinthisalone.
“He’sgoingtokillher,”shesaid,hervoiceamurmur.
“Yousawamanlookingatagirl,that’sall,”Almasaid.“Itdoesn’tmeananything.Mendon’tgotojailforlookingatgirls.Andyouhavenothingelseyoucanprove.Yousawacaryouthoughtwashis,drivingawayfromthehighschool.Youdidn’tseewhowasinit—andevenifyouhad,youstillhavenothing.”
“Okay.”Vivleanedforwardandgathereduphernotebookandpapers,hermapsandphotos.“Iappreciateyoutakingthetime.Ihavetogotoworknow.”
“I’veupsetyou,”Almasaid.
Shecouldn’ttakethat.Shecouldn’ttakeAlma’skindness,herpitythatwasbig-sisterly,almostmotherly.Itmeantnothingifthetravelingsalesmanstillwalkedfree,ifTracydied.“Hecomestothemotelandhechecksinunderafakename,”Vivsaid.“Hehasnoreasontodothatbecausehelivesintown,buthedoes.Andeverytimehedoesit,BettyGrahamwakesupandgoescrazy.”
Almawassilent.
“That’showIknow,”Vivsaid,standingup.“I’veworkedthereeverynightformonths,andthat’showIknowhekilledBetty.Becauseshetellsmeeverytimehe’sthere.HerbodygotdumpedattheSunDown,andsheneverleft.Youknowthat’strueasmuchasIdo,exceptyoudon’twanttoadmitit.”
“Honey,”Almasaid,“Ithinkit’stimeyouconsideredseeingadoctor.”
Vivkickedherchairbackandwalkedtothedoor.“That’salieandyouknowit,”shesaid,meetingAlma’seyes.“You’veseenher.SohaveI.ThedifferenceisthatIlistenwhenshetellsmewhatshehastosay.”
Sheleftandclosedthedoorbehindher.Heronlyhopewasthelettershe’dsent.ItwastheonlywayTracyWaterswasgoingtostayalive.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
TracyWaterswasmurderedonNovember27,1982,”Heathersaid.
“Shewaslastseenleavingafriend’shouseinPlainsview,headinghome.Shewasridingabicycle.Shewaseighteen,andeventhoughshehadherdriver’slicense,herparentsonlyrarelylenthertheircarandshedidn’thaveherown.”
IsippedmyDietCoke.“Iknowthatfeeling,”Isaid.“Ididn’thaveacaruntilIwaseighteen,whenmymothersoldmeheroldone.Shechargedmefivehundreddollarsforit,too.”
“I’materribledriver,”Heathersaid.“Icouldprobablygetacar,butit’sbestforeveryoneifIdon’t.”
Weweresittinginatwenty-four-hourdinerontheNorthEdgeRoad.ItwascalledWatson’s,butthesignoutsidelookednewwhilethebuildingwasold,whichmeantithadprobablybeencalledsomethingelseafewmonthsago.Itwasfiveo’clockinthemorning,andWatson’swastheonlyplacewecouldfindthatwasopen.Wewerebothstarving.
“So,”Heathersaid,takingabiteofherBLT.Shewaswearingathicksweaterofdarkgreenthatshewasswimmingin.Shehadpulledthetoplayerofherhairbackintoasmallponytailatthebackofherhead.Sheflippedthroughsomeofthearticlesshe’dprintedout.“Tracywasaseniorinhighschool,agoodstudent.Shedidn’thaveaboyfriend.Sheonlyhadafewgirlsshecalledfriends,andtheysaidthatTracywasshyandintroverted.ShehadasummerjobattheicecreamparlorinPlainsviewandshewasintheschoolchoir.”
IlookedatthephotoHeatherhadprintedout.ItwasaschoolportraitofTracy,herhaircarefullyblow-driedandsprayed.Shehadputonblushand
eyeshadow,anditlookedweirdlyoutofplaceonheryoungface.“Shesoundsawesome,”Isaidsadly.
“Ithinkso,too,”Heathersaid.“Shewenttoafriend’shouseonNovember27,andtheywatchedTVandplayedUnountileighto’clock.
Oh,myGod,theeighties.Anyway,Tracyleftandgotonherbike.Herfriendwatchedherpedalaway.Shenevergothome,andatelevenherparentscalledthepolice.ThecopssaidtheyhadtowaituntilmorningincaseTracywasjustoutpartyingorsomething.”
Istirredmychickensoup,mystomachturning.
“Thecopscameandinterviewedtheparentsthenextmorning,andtheystartedasearch.OnNovember29,Tracy’sbodywasfoundinaditchoffMelbornRoad,whichisbetweenPlainsviewandFell.Atthetime,MelbornRoadwasatwo-lanestretchthatnooneeverdrove.Nowit’spavedoverandbusy.There’saSuper8andamovietheater.Itlooksnothinglikeitdidin1982.”Sheturnedthepagetoshowaprintoutofanoldnewspaperarticle.LOCALGIRLFOUNDDEADwastheheadline,andbeneathitwasthesubheadPolicearresthomelessman.
“Ahomelessguy?”Iasked.
“Hehadherbackpack.Heseemstohavebeenadrifter,passingthroughfromoneplacetoanother.Hehadarecordofrobberiesandassaults.Thethingis,heactuallywenttothepolicetoturninthebackpackwhenheheardthenews.Theykepthimonsuspicion,andwhenhecouldn’tprovideanalibiforthemurder,theychargedhim.”
“That’sit?Theydidn’tlookatanyoneelse?”
“Itdoesn’tseemlikeit.Hesaidhefoundherbackpackbythesideoftheroad,butwhowasgoingtobelievehim?Hisfingerprintswerealloverit,andtherewasasmearofTracy’sbloodononeofthestraps.Therewerenoothersuspects.Herparentswerebesidethemselves.Theysaidthey’dhadawarningthatsomeonehadbeenfollowingTracy.Thewholestoryfit.”Sheheldupafinger,relishingthestoryinherHeatherway.“But.But.”
“Youlikethistoomuch,”Isaid,smilingather.
“Whatever,Dr.Carly.You’renotlistening.Thenextpartgetsinteresting.”
“Likeitwasn’tinterestingbefore.Goahead.”
“Thehomelessguywasneverconvicted.Heneverevenwenttotrial.Itseemsthateventhoughhewashomeless,hehadsomekindofaccesstoagoodlawyer.Everythingwashungupforoverayear,andthenthecharges
weredroppedandhewassetfree.Thecasewasopenedagain,andit’sstillopen.Tracy’sparentseventuallygotdivorced,buthermotherhasnevergivenuponsolvingthecase.ShestartedawebsitefortipsonTracy’smurderin1999.Shestillhasit,thoughfromwhatIcantellit’smostlyrunbyTracy’syoungerbrothernow.There’saFacebookpageandeverything.
AndrememberhowIsaidthatsomeonehadbeenfollowingTracy?Theyknewbecausetheygotananonymousletterinthemailtheweekbeforeshewaskilled.AndnowthatletterispostedontheFacebookpageandthewebsite.”Shetookasheetofpaperoutofherstackandhandedittome.
Itwasascanofahandwrittenletter.Ireaditover.
ThisletteristowarnyouthatI’veseenamanfollowingTracyWaters.HewasstaringatherwhileshegotonherbikeandrodeawayonWestmountAvenueonNovember19at2:20intheafternoon.Aftersherodeawayhegotinhiscarandfollowedher.
Iknowwhoheis.Ibelieveheisdangerous.Heisabout35
andsixfeettall.Heworksasatravelingsalesman.IbelievehewantstokillTracy.Pleasekeephersafe.Thepolicedon’tbelieveme.
Keephersafe.
Ipushedmysoupaway.“ThisisthesaddestletterI’veeverreadinmylife,”Isaid.
“Themotherwasworriedwhentheygotit.Thefatherthoughtitwasaprank.Themotherdecidedthatthefathermustberight.Afewdayslater,Tracywasdead.Hencetheeventualdivorce,Ithink.”
“Atravelingsalesman,”Isaid,pointingtothewords.“LikeSimonHess.”
“WhodisappearedrightafterTracywasmurdered.Butifyoucanbelieveit,itgetsevenbetter.”
Isatbackinmyseat.“Myheadisalreadyspinning.”
“Tracy’smomalwaysfeltthattheletterwasreal,”Heathersaid.“ShethoughtitwastrulysentbysomeonewhosawamanfollowingTracy.Anditwasn’tahomelessdrifter,either.”Shetappedthedescriptionofthesalesman.“Thisletterispartofwhythecaseagainstthehomelessguywaseventuallydropped.Butgetthis:In1993,overtenyearsafterthemurder,Mrs.WatersgotaphonecallfromTracy’sformerhighschoolprincipal.He
toldherthathehadaphonecallafewdaysbeforeTracy’smurderfromsomeoneclaimingtobeanotherstudent’smother.Thewomansaidthatshe’dseenamanfollowingTracy,andthatshethoughttheschoolshouldlookoutforher.”
“Andhedidn’ttellthepolice?”Isaid.“Hedidn’ttellanyonefortenyears?Whynot?”
“Whoknows?Hewasprobablyashamedthathedidn’tdoanythingaboutitatthetime.Buthewasretiredandsick,andhefelttheneedtogetitoffhischest.Sothiswasapreventablemurder.SomeonewarnedbothTracy’sparentsandherprincipalaboutit.AndifeitherofthemhadlistenedandkeptTracyhome,shewouldn’thavedied.”
Iblinkedather.“Awoman,”Isaid.“Thepersonwhocalledtheprincipalwasawoman.”Ipickedupthescanoftheletterandlookedatitagain.“Thiscouldbeawoman’shandwriting,butit’shardtotell.”
“It’sawoman’s,”Heathersaid.“Tracy’smotherhadahandwritingexpertanalyzeit.”
Thereweretoomanypieces.Theywerefallingtogethertoofast.Andthepicturetheymadedidn’tmakeanysense.WhoknewthatTracywasgoingtobekilled?How?Itcouldn’tpossiblybeVivian,couldit?
AndifVivianknewthatTracywasgoingtobemurdered,whycouldn’tshesaveherself?
“DidyoucallAlma?”Heatherasked.
“Isentheratext,”Isaid.“Shesaidshewasanightowl,butit’sstillsortofweirdtocallsomeoneyoubarelyknowinthemiddleofthenightwhenitisn’tanemergency.I’mnotevensureshetexts,tobehonest.IfIdon’thearfromherthismorning,I’llcallher.”Ilookedatthetimeonmyphone.“IshouldprobablygetbacktotheSunDown.NotthatanyonewouldknowI’vebeengone.”
“Where’sNick?”
“Offsomewheregettingthosenegativesdeveloped.Hesaidthere’sanall-nightplaceinFell.”
“ThatwouldbetheByWay,”Heathersaid,gatheringherpapers.“Ithinktheystillrentvideos,too.”
“FellisofficiallythestrangestplaceonEarth.”IlookedatHeatherasshepickeduphercoat.“WhatwouldyousayifItoldyoutheSunDownwashaunted?”
Shepausedandhereyescametomine,hereyebrowsgoingup.“Forreal?”
“Forreal.”
Shewatchedmeclosely,bitingherlip.Whateverexpressionwasonmyfacemusthaveconvincedher,becauseshesaid,“Iwanttoheareverything.”
“I’lltellyou.”
“AndIwanttoseeit.”
Irubbedthesideofmynose.“Ican’tguaranteethat.Shedoesn’tcomeoutoncommand.”
“She?”
“BettyGraham.”
Heather’seyeswentaswideassaucers.“You’resayingthatBettyGraham’sghostisattheSunDown.”
“Yeah,Iam.Nickhasseenher,too.”
“Isshe…Doesshesayanything?”
“Notspecifically,butIthinkshe’stryingto.”IthoughtofthedesperatelookonBetty’sface.“Thereareothers.There’sakidwhohithisheadinthepoolanddied.Andamanwhodiedinthefrontoffice.”
“What?”
“Keepyourvoicedown.”Iwavedmyhandstoshushher.“Iknow,it’sweird,butIswearIreallysawit.Nickismywitness.Ididn’tsayanythingbeforebecauseitsoundedsocrazy.”
“Um,hello,”Heathersaid.Shehadloweredhervoice,andsheleanedacrossthetabletowardme.“Thisisbig,Carly.Iwanttostaketheplaceout.
Iwanttogetphotos.Video.”
Ilookedattheexcitedsplotchesonhercheeks.“Areyousurethatwouldbegoodforyou?”
“I’vereadandseeneveryversionofTheAmityvilleHorrorthereis.Ofcourseit’sgoodforme.I’mbetterwithghoststhanIamwithreallife.”
“Thisisreallife,”Isaid.“Bettyisreal.She’sdead,butshefeelsasrealasyouandme.AndthefirstnightIsawher,therewasamancheckedintothemotel,excepthewasn’t.Hisroomwasemptyandtherewasnocar.Iknow—maybeheleft.ButIkeepthinkingbacktoit,andI’mstartingtowonderifhedidn’tleaveatall.”
“Ifhedidn’tleave,thenwheredidhego?”
Welookedateachotheruncertainly,neitherofusabletoanswer.ThedoortothedineropenedandNickwalkedin.Hebrushedpastthedead-eyedtruckersandexhausted-lookingshiftworkerswithoutasidewaysglance.Hehadanenvelopeinhishand.
“Photos,”hesaid.
HesatonmysideoftheboothasIscootedover,asifhewasalreadylearningtostayoutofHeather’sno-touchbubble.Hebroughtthesmellofthecrisp,coldmorningwithhim,nolongerfallbutheadingforwinter.Heopenedtheenvelopeanddumpedthephotographsontothetable.
Weallleanedin.Therewerefourphotos,eachofthesamesubjectfromadifferentangle:abarn.Itwasold,halftherooffallenin.Thephotosweretakenfromtheoutside,firstinfront,thenfromfartherback,thenfrompartwaydownadirttrack.
“WhywouldMarnietakethese?”Heatherasked.
“Whydidn’tshehaveprints?”Nickadded.“Eithershenevermadeany,orshemadethemandgavethemtosomeone.”
“It’samarker,”Isaid,lookingatthephotosonebyone.“Thisbarnisimportantsomehow.Shewantedavisualrecordincasesheeverneededtofinditagain.”
Westaredatthemforaminute.Thebarnlookedalittlesinister,itsdecrepitframelikeamouthmissingteeth.Thesaggingroofwassad,andthefrontfa?ade,withitsfirmlyshutdoors,wasblank.Itlookedlikeaplacewheresomethingbadhadhappened.
“Wheredoyouthinkitis?”Heatherasked.
“Impossibletotell,”Isaid.“Therearen’tanysigns.Itcouldbeanywhere.”Ipeeredcloser.“Whatdoyouthinkthisis?”
Inthefarthestangle,somethingwasvisiblejuttingoverthetopsofthetrees.
“That’stheoldTVtower,”Nicksaid.“It’sgonenow.Theytookitdownabouttenyearsago,Ithink.”
Ilookedathim.“Butyouknowwhereitwas?”
“SureIdo.”Hewasleanedoverthetable,hisbluegazefixedonthepicture.“It’shardtotellwhatdirectionthisistakenfrom,butitcan’tbemorethanahalfmile.Thesefarthershotsaretakenfromadriveway.Adrivewayhastoleadtoaroad.”
Igrabbedmycoat.“Wecangonow.Thesun’sstartingtocomeup.Wehavejustenoughlight.”
“Don’tyouhavetobeatwork?”Heatherasked.
“Theycanfireme.IcametoFellforthis,remember?ThisisallIwant.”
“Butwedon’tknowwhatthisis,”shesaid,pointingtothepictures.
Ilookedatthepicturesagain.“It’sthekey.”Ipointedtothebarn.“IfMarniewantedtobeabletofindthatbarnagain,it’sbecausethere’ssomethinginsideit.Somethingshemightwanttoaccessagain.”
“Orsomethingshemightwanttodirectsomeoneelseto,”Nickadded.
Ilookedatbothofthem,thensaidthewordswewereallthinking.
“Whatifit’sabody?Whatifit’sVivian’sbody?Whatifthat’swhat’sinthebarn?”
WewerequietforasecondandthenNickpickedthephotosupagain.
“We’llfindit,”hesaid.“Withthese,it’llbeeasy.”
???
Ittookusuntilseven.Bythenthesunwasslowlyemergingoverthehorizon,hiddenbyabankofgrayclouds.AllthreeofuswereinNick’struck.We’dcircledtheareawheretheTVtowerusedtobe,drivingdownthebackroads.Wewereonatwo-laneroadtothenorthoftheoldtowersite,lookingforanylikelydirtdriveways.
“There,”Isaid.
Achain-linkfencehadbeenputupsincethephotosweretaken,thoughitwasbentandbowedinplaces,rustingandunkempt.AfadedsignsaidNO
TRESPASSERS.Behindthefence,adirtdrivewaystretchedaway.IdugoutoneofMarnie’spicturesandhelditup.
Thetreeswerebiggernow,butotherwiseitlookedliketheplace.
Nickturnedtheengineoffandgotoutofthetruck.HeatherandIgotoutandwatchedhimpaceupthefenceoneway,thentheother.Thenhegrippedthefenceandclimbedit,launchinghimselfoverthetop.Hisfeethitthegroundontheothersideandhedisappearedintothetrees.
Hereappearedtenminuteslater.“Thebarnisthere,”hesaid.“Thisistheplace.There’snoonearoundthatIcansee—therehasn’tbeenanyonehereinyears.Comeover.”
Heatherclimbedthefencefirst.IboostedheroverandNickhelpedherdown.ThenIclimbed,waitingeverysecondforashout,thebarkofadog,thescreamofanalarm.Therewasonlysilence.IswungmylegoverandNicktookmywaistinhishardgrip,loweringmedown.
“Thisway,”hesaid.
Thefoliagehadgrowninovertheyears,andwefoughtourwaythroughthenakedbranchesofbushesuntilwefoundthepathofthedriveway.Itwasovergrown,too,washedoverwithyearsofsnowandrain.Therewerenotiretracks.Icouldseenoevidenceofhumanhabitationatall.Thewindblewharshandcold,makingsoundsinthebarebranchesofthetrees.
“Whatisthisplace?”Iasked.
“Ihavenoidea,”Heathersaid.Shewaswalkingasclosetomeasshecould,hercheeksdeepredwithcold.“Itlookslikesomeone’sabandonedproperty.”
HowoldwereMarnie’sphotos,Iwondered?IftheyhadbeentakenatthesametimeastheSunDownpictures,theywerethirty-fiveyearsold.
Hadnoonereallybeenhereforthirty-fiveyears?Whynot?
Wepickedourwayovertheunevendrive,andthebarnappearedthroughthetrees.Itwasn’tevenabarnanymore;itwasawreckofbrokenboards,cavedinandrotted.Thereweredarkgapsbigenoughtoletafull-grownmanthroughthem.Thefrontdoorslookedtobelatchedclosed,butwiththestateoftherestofthewalls,itwasn’tmuchsecurity
“Waithere,”Nicksaid.Hecircledthebarn,disappearingaroundthecorner.Weheardthegroanofrottenwoodsnapping.“Ifoundawayin,”hecalled.
Onthesideofthebarn,wefoundhe’dsnappedsomerottenboardsandopenedtheholewiderforus.Helookedoutatus.“It’sdarkinhere,butIcanseesomething.”
IlookedatHeather.Shehadgonepale,herexpressionflat.GonewasthegirlwhohadwantedtospendthenightattheSunDown,takingpicturesandvideosofghosts.Ididn’thavetotouchhertoknowthatherskinwouldbeice-cold.“Youdon’thavetocomein,”Isaid.
Shelookedatme,hergazeskittishasifshe’dalmostforgottenIwasthere.“Ishouldgoin.”
Isteppedclosertoher.“Thisisn’tacontest.Youdon’twinaprizeforgoinginthere.She’smyaunt,notyours.Thisismything.JustwaitandI’lltellyouifit’ssafe.”
Ithoughtshe’darguewithme,butinsteadshehesitated,thengaveabriefnod.Iwantedtotouchthearmofhercoat,butIdidn’t.InsteadIturnedbacktothebarn.
Theholegapedatme,deepblack.Icouldseenothinginside,notNick,notevenashadow.Adusty,dry,moldysmellcamefromthehole,anddustmotesfromthedisturbanceswirledintheair.
“Carly?”Nickcalledfromthedark.
Downtherabbithole,Ithought,andsteppedthrough.
Thelightinsidecamethroughthegapsinthewalls,softslicesofilluminationfromthegrayskyoverhead.Icouldseethefourwalls,junktossedagainstthem,darkshapesinthecorners.Anoldbicycle,tools,scatteredgarbage.AsmyeyesadjustedtothedarkIcaughtsightofNick,whohadwalkedtotheotherendofthebarn.Hewasstandingrightbehindthecloseddoors.Heturnedandlookedatme.“Hey.”
Icameclosertohim.Behindhimwasanoldgreentarpthrownoverwhatwasobviouslyacarunderneath.IpausedatNick’sshoulder,lookingatit.
Mymindspun.ThenewspaperreportshadsaidthatViv’scarwasleftintheSunDownparkinglotthenightshedisappeared.Wherevershe’dgone,shehadn’ttakenit.
Butwhathadhappenedtohercaraftertheinvestigation?Wherehaditgone?Wheredidamissingperson’scargo,longaftertheywentmissing?
“Uncoverit,”IwhisperedtoNick.
Hedidn’thesitate.Hegrabbedoneendofthetarpandtuggedit,steppingbackandlettingitfalltothedirtyfloor.Underneathitwasacar,boxyanddecadesold.Thecolorwasindistinguishableinthedimlight.Thetireswereflat.Thewindowswereopaquewithdust.
Nicksteppedoverthetarpandbrushedthesideofhishandalongthepassengerwindow,smearingthedust.“Noone’sbeennearthisthinginages,maybeyears,”hesaid.Heleanedforwardandpeeredthroughtheclearholehe’dmade.
Don’t,Iwantedtoshout.Don’t.Ijumpedatthesoundofflappinginoneofthebarn’suppercorners,coldsweatrisingbetweenmyshoulderbladesasIrealizeditwasabirdsomewhereupthereintheshadows.Imademyfeetmove,mademyselfcirclethecartothedriver’ssideandwipemyownspot,peerthroughit.
Thedriver’sseatwasempty,tidy.Istraightenedandtriedthedoorhandle.Itopened,theclickloudinthesilence.Inhalingabreath,Ipulledthedooropen.
Arushofstaleaircameoutatme,lacedwithsomethingsour.Dustmotesswirledintheair.Onthepassengerside,Nickopenedthedoorandleanedin.Webothcranedournecks,peeringaroundtheemptycar.
Nothing.Nodeadbody.NosignofViv—noclothing,nonothing.Therewasnoindicationthatanyonehadeverusedthiscaratall.Nickopenedtheglovebox,revealingthatitwascompletelyempty.
“Cleanedout,”hesaid.
“Maybeit’snothing,”Isaid.“Maybeit’sjustacoincidence.It’ssomeoldcarthatsomeonedidn’twanttouseanymore,andtheyparkedithereandleftit.Ithappensallthetime,right?”
“WhydidMarniehavephotosofthisbarn,then?”
Itdidn’tfeelright.Mystomachwasturning,myheadpounding.“MaybeVivstolethecar,”Isaid.“Maybeshestoleitandstashedit.”
“Maybewhoeverkilledherstashedit,”hecountered.
“Wedon’tknowthat.Wedon’tknowanything.”Isighed.“Thisisacrazydeadend.We’vedoneallthiswork,andwearen’tanyfurtheralongthanwewere.It’saredherring,Nick.”
“What’sthatsmell?”heasked.
Therewasdefinitelyasmell.Sourandrotten,butold.“Garbage?”
“Worsethangarbage.”Hestraightenedandsteppedback,leavingthefrontpassengerdooropen.Heopenedthebackpassengerdoorandpeeredin.“Nothingbackhere.Butthesmellisworse.”Hestraightenedagain,leavingthatdooropen,too.
Wewalkedtothebackofthecar.Thetrunkhadakeyholeinit,thewayalloldcarsdid.We’dseennosignofakey.
“Howdowegetthatopen?”IaskedasNickbenthisknees,loweringhimselftoacrouch.
“Wedon’topenit,”heansweredme.“Wecallthecops.”Hepointedtothefloorbeneaththetrunk.“Eitherthat’soilorit’sveryoldblood.”
Icrouchedandfollowedwherehewaspointing.Therewasalargepoolofsomethingblackbeneaththetrunk.Itwasdryandvery,veryold.
Thebloodrushedfrommyhead,andforasecondIthoughtIwouldfaint.Thepoolwasdefinitelytoobigtobeoil.Igrippedmykneesandtearscametomyeyes,tooswiftandhardformetostopthem.“Viv,”Isaid.Istartedshaking.Myauntwasinthetrunk,herbodyafootfromme,behindmetalandcloth.Shewasdeadinthiscar.Shehadbeenhereforthirty-fiveyears,herbloodpooling,thendryinganddarkeningonthefloor.Solonely
andsilent.Iinhaledabreathandasobcameout.“Hekilledher,”Isaid,myvoicechoked.“Hedidit.Hekilledthoseothers.HekilledViv.”
Ifeltahandonthebackofmyneck—large,warm,andstrong.“You’vegotthis,Carly,”hesaidgently.“You’vegotit.”
Iinhaledagain,becauseIcouldn’tbreathe.Anothersobescapedmythroat.Mycheeksweresoakedwithtearsnow,mylasheswet,gettingwateronmyglasses.“I’msorry,”ImanagedasIcried.“Ididn’t—Ididn’texpect
—”
“Iknow,”hesaid.
I’dbeensoincontrol.I’dbeenabletohandleeverything—ghosts,mysteries,thisstrangeandcrazyplace.Itwasn’tagame,exactly,butitwasaproject.Aquestforjustice.AthingIhadtodoinordertogetonwithmylife.AndifIdidit,Iwouldbefineagain.Iwouldknow.
Ihadn’texpectedthatbeingatVivian’sgravewouldbreakmyheart.Ihadn’texpectedthegrief.ItwasforViv,anditwasformymother,whohadlivedthelastthirty-fiveyearsofherlifenotknowingthiscarwashere,thathersister’sbodywasaloneandsilentinthetrunk.Mymotherhadlivedthreeandahalfdecadeswithgriefsodeepandsopainfulshehadneverspokenaboutit.She’ddiedwiththatgrief,andnowshewouldneverfeelanybetter.
Isobbedintomydirtyhands,crouchedonthefloorofthebarn.IcriedforViv,whohadbeensobeautifulandalive.Icriedfortheothers—Betty,Cathy,Victoria.Itwasoverforthem,too.Icriedformymotherandforme.
Nickmovedcloser,puthisarmaroundmyshoulders.HeknewexactlyhowIfelt—ofcoursehedid.Heknewhowthiskindofthingripsyouinpiecesfromtheinsideout,changesthemakeupofwhoyouare.Hewastheonlypersonwhocouldbehereandactuallyunderstand.Heheldhisarmaroundmyshouldersandletmeweep.Hedidn’tspeak.
AfteraminuteIheardHeather’svoicefromtheotherendofthebarn.
“What’sgoingon?”
“There’sacar,”Nickcalledtoher,hisvoicecalm.“There’soldbloodpooledunderit.Wethinkthere’sabodyinthetrunk.Canyoucallthecops?”
Heatherdidn’tsayanything,andIassumedshe’dsteppedbackouttopullherphoneoutofherpocket.Iwipedmyeyesandmoppedthesnotonmyface,attemptingtogetagrip.
“I’mokay,”Isaid.
“Weshouldgo,”Nicksaidquietly.“Thisisacrimescene.”
Hewasright.Thirty-fiveyearsoldornot,thiswasthesiteofmyaunt’sdumpedbody.Weneededtogetourfootprintsandourfingersandourhairfibersoutofhere.Eventherankestamateurknewthat,letaloneatrue-crimehobbyistlikeme.
Istraightened,Nickkeepinghishandonmyelbowtohelpmekeepbalance.He’dknowallaboutcrimescenes,sincehischildhoodhousehadbeenone.Nickhadreal-lifeexperienceofcrimeinsteadofjustinbooksandontheInternet.Well,nowIhadexperience,too.
Vivianwasdead.ButSimonHesshadbeenattheSunDown.He’dseenViv.Andhe’ddisappearedatthesametime.IknewnowwhathadhappenedtoVivian,andIknewwhohaddoneit.MynextjobwastotrackdownSimonHess,whereverhewas,andmakehimpay.
???
ItwaspastnoonwhenacopcameoutofthebarnanddownthedrivetowhereIwasstanding.Thegatestotherustyfencewerethrownopennowandthedeadfoliagehadbeencrushedwithtiretracks.Asingleuniformedofficerhadbeensentoutfirst,andthenashortstreamofvansandunmarkedcarshadarrived.Wehadbeenshooedoffthepropertyfromthefirst,andwehadn’tbeenabletoseeanythingthatwasgoingon.We’dbeenquestioned,togetherandseparately,overandover.Itwasfreezinganddamp.Whenthecopsfinishedwithus,NickhaddrivenHeatherhomebecauseshewasnearlyshakingwithcoldandshock.Ihadn’tbeenabletoleave.Notuntilsomeonetoldmesomething—anything.
Inmypocketwasaphoto.OneofthepicturesfromMarnie’sstack,showingSimonHess’scarparkedattheSunDown.Itwasexactlythesamemakeandmodelasthecarwe’dseeninthebarn.Thesizeandshapewereburnedintomymind,andIknew,inmyheart,thatwe’dfoundSimonHess’scar.
Nickcamebackinhistruck,bringingmehotcoffeeandsomethingtoeat.I’dsippedthecoffeeandforgottenthefood.Myphonewaslongdead.Istoodonthedirtroad,asclosetothegatesasthecopswouldallow,simplywaiting.Iwasgoingtowaitforaslongasittook.
Thepoliceknewmysituation,thatIwaslookingformyauntwhohadvanishedin1982.Afterawhilesomeoneinsidethebarnmusthavetaken
pityonme,becauseamancamedownthedirtdrivetothegate.Hewasaboutfifty,ablackmanwithclose-croppedgrayinghair.Hewaswearingjeansandathickblackbomberjacket,whichmeanthewasn’tauniformedofficer.Ihadnoideawhohewas.Hisfacewasstern,butwhenhelookedatmeIknewhehadseenpeoplelikemebefore,desperatefamilymemberswaitingforanywordatall.
“AreyouMissKirk?”heaskedme.
“Yes.”
Heintroducedhimself—garbledanameandatitlethatIdidn’thearorretain.Thebloodwasrushingtooloudlyinmyears.
“Iunderstandyou’relookingforyouraunt,VivianDelaney,”themansaid.
Inodded.
Helookedatmeclosely.“Listentome,okay?Iunderstandyou’reinaweirdplace.ButlistentowhatI’msaying.”
Hedidknow.Heunderstoodwhatitfeltlike.Ifeltmyshouldersrelax,justalittle.
“Twothings,”themansaid.“Thereisabodyinthatcar.It’sbeentherealongtime.”
Myfingernailsdugintomypalms.Ibarelyfeltit.
“Thesecondthing,”themansaid,“isthatitisn’tyouraunt.”
Mylipswerenumb,barelyworking.“Howdo—howdoyouknow?”
“Becauseit’saman,”hesaid.HeshookhisheadasIopenedmymouthagain.“No.I’vegotnothingelsetosay.We’reconductinganinvestigation,andIhavenoinformationyet.ButIcantellyoudefinitivelythatwedonothaveVivianDelaneyinthere.I’msorryforthelossofyouraunt.Butwehaveyourcontactinformationifweneedyou,andyouneedtogohome.”
Hewaited,hiseyesonmine,untilI’dnoddedabriefassentbeforeheturnedhisgazetoNick.“Makesureshegetshome,”hesaid,underscoringthemessage.Thenheturnedandwalkedaway.
Myheadwasspinning,mybrainfeverish.Nicktookmyelbowagainandledmebacktohistruck.Hehelpedmein,thencircledtothedriver’sside,gettinginandslammingthedoor.
Heturnedthekeyandthetruck’sheatercameon,ablastofwarmaironmyface.Mycheeksandlipstingledasthecoldleftthem.Iflexedmyfrozenfingers.
Nickdidn’tputthetruckingear.Hejustsatthere,hisdarkeyesonme,hisexpressionunreadable.Hewaswearingacoat,butonceagainhedidn’tseemcold.Ithoughthemustbelikeahumanfurnace,nottobecoldafterallthesehours.Iwonderedwhatthatwaslike.
“Carly,”hesaid.
“It’sSimonHess,”Isaid.
Hiseyesnarrowedandhedidn’tspeak.
“Ithoughthewasamonster,”Isaid,moreeasilynowthatmyfacewasthawing.Mybrainthawing,too.Everythingwasthawing.“Ithoughthekilledherandgotawaywithit.Buthedidn’t,didhe?”
“No,”hesaid.“Hedidn’tgetawaywithit.Atleast,notintheend.”
Iscrubbedahandovermycheek,beneaththerimofmyglasses.Mycheekwasstartingtofeelwarmnow.Iwaslight-headedfromtheshockandthecryingandthecoffeeandthelackoffood.ButatthesametimeIwasthinkingmoreclearlythanmaybeIeverhad.
“Itdoesn’tanswerthequestionofVivian,”Nicksaid.“Whereisshe?”
AndIknew.Isimplyknew.Ididn’tknoweverythingthathadhappened,andIdidn’tknowallofthedetails,butIknew.Becauseafterallthistime,livingthislifehereinFell,Iwasher.
IlookedatNick,rightintohisblueeyes,andsaid,“IthinkmyauntVivdidavery,verybadthing.”Fell,NewYork
November1982
VIV
Thenightitallended,Vivianwasalone.
Shewokefromarestlessdozefullyclothedonherbed.Ittookherasecondtoorientherself;shewasinherapartmentonGrevilleStreet.Herwindowwasasquareofdarkness;thesunmusthaveset.
Sheswungherlegsoffthebed.Whenhadshecomehomeandlaindown?Shecouldn’trememberanymore.She’dleftAlma’sofficeandeverythingelsewasafogofexhaustion.Wasthatyesterday?Thedaybefore?
ShewaswearingjeansandawhiteT-shirt,nowslightlywrinkled.Hersneakerswerestillonherfeet,navyblueandwhite.Theslenderwatchonherwristsaidthatitwastentwentyatnight.Sheglancedinthemirroroverherdresserandsawthatherfacewaspale,herhairmussed.Hermouthwasparched,asifshe’dbeensleepingfordays.Sheopenedherbedroomdoorandwalkedoutintotheapartment.
Therewasnoonehere.Jennyhadgoneawaysomewhere—tovisitherparents,maybe.Therehadbeennooneintheapartmentfordays,noteventhesmallsignsoflifewithanotherhuman:emptyglassesonthecounter,apursetossedonthesofa,theTVlefton.TherewasonlydarknessuntilVivflippedthelightswitch,blinking.Shewalkedtothekitchensinkandpouredherselfaglassofwater.Shedownedit,andthen,unabletobearthesilence,sheturnedontheTV.
“…nowtoldusthatthebodyfoundonMelbornRoadispositivelyidentifiedasthatofTracyWaters,ahighschoolseniorwhoseparentsreportedhermissingtwodaysago.Therearenootherdetailsatthistime,butwewillupdateyouateleven—”
Viv’skneesgaveout.Shesanktothefloor.“Tracy,”shesaid.
Herletter.Herphonecalls.Allfornothing.
He’dtakenher.He’dkilledher.He’ddumpedher.Andshe’dslepttheentiretime.
Viv’sstomachturned,andforaminuteshethoughtshe’dthrowup.
Spotsdancedbehindhereyes.Shekneltonthefloorwithherhandsonherstomachandthebloodrushinginherears,hereyesclosed.TheTVhadgonebacktoitsregularprogramming,butitwasjustnoise.Ifailed.Ifailed.
Whathadshedonewrong?Werethephonecallsnotgoodenough?Wasittheletter?ShouldshehaveincludedSimonHess’sname?She’dalmostdoneit,andatthelastminuteshe’dheardAlmasaying,Ineedmore.Ineedphysicalevidence.Ithastobeairtight.Aftereverything,afteralltheseweeks,she’dhadonewaveringsecondofdoubt,soshe’dsettledfordescribinghiminstead.HaditcostTracyherlife?
Thiswasallherfault.Allofit.
Shestayedonherkneesforastretchofminutes,thengottoherfeet.SheturnedtheTVoff.Shewalkedtothebathroomandwashedherface.Thenshebrushedherhairandsprayedit.Shechangedherclothes,putonmakeup,eyeshadowinpurpleandblue.Shemadeherselflooknice.
Sheputonanavybluesweaterandhernylonjacket.Shepickedupherpurseandhercarkeys.Sheknewwhattheeleveno’clocknewswouldsay:Therewasakillerontheloose.Peopleshouldlocktheirdoors.Womenshouldlookovertheirshoulders,trynottobealoneatnight.Parentsshouldlookoutfortheirdaughtersandalwaysknowwheretheyare.Womenshouldcarryawhistleoraflashlight.Becauseifyouwereawoman,theworldwasadangerousplace.
Vivunzippedherpurseandpushedasidethecontents.Shepickedoutthehuntingknifeshe’dboughtatthehardwarestoreinPlainsview,pullingitoutofitsthickleathersheath.Shelookedattheblade,silverandsharpinthelight,thensliditbackintoitsplace.Sheputtheknifebackintoherpurse.
She’dbeencarryingitfordaysnow.SheonlywishedshehadgivenittoTracyWatersinstead.
Shewasaloneinthedark,justlikeshealwayswas.Butnowitwastimetogotowork.
???
“IwroteanotetoJaniceaboutthedoortonumberone-oh-three.There’ssomethingwrongwithit.Itkeepsblowingopeninthewind,evenwhenIlockit,”Johnnysaid.
Viv’smindwasstillreelingoverTracy’smurder.ShewatchedJohnnyleave,thensatatthedeskandpulledouthernotebook.
Nov.29
Doortonumber103hasbeguntoopenagain.Prankcalls.Noonehere.
TracyWatersisdead.
Theghostsareawaketonight.They’rerestless.Ithinkthiswillbeoversoon.I’msosorry,Tracy.I’vefailed.
Therewasthesoundofamotorintheparkinglot.Itcutout,adoorslammed,andJamieBlaknikwalkedthroughthedoortotheoffice.HewaswearinghisusualjeansandfadedT-shirtunderasweatshirtandajeanjacket,hishairmussed.
“Hey,GoodGirl,”hesaid.“Ineedaroom.”
Vivblinkedathim.Hewassoreal,snappingheroutofherfogofadream.Hesmelledlikecoldfallairandcigarettesmoke.Alockofhairfelloverhisforehead.Hedugintohisbackpocket,peeledafewbillsoutofafolded-upwad,anddroppedthemonthedesk.Thenhepulledtheguestbooktowardhim,pickedupthepen,andwrotehisname.
“Quietnight,huh?”hesaidashewrote.
“Iguessso,”Vivsaid.
Hefinishedwriting,putdownthepen,andsmiledather.Shefeltherselfgowarmfromtheshouldersdown,allthroughherchestandherstomach.
Shecouldn’trememberthelasttimeshefeltwarm.MaybeitwasthelasttimeJamiehadsmiledather.Shereallylikedhissmile.Maybesomegirlswouldn’tlooktwiceatJamie,buthissmilewasreally,reallynice.
“You’restaringatme,”hesaid,breakingthesilence.“NotthatImind.”
Sheblinked,thenleanedbackinherchair.Shepulledopenthedeskdrawerwiththeroomkeysinit.“Sorry,”shemumbled,embarrassed.
“It’snice,”hesaid,takingthekeyfromher.“Comeknockonmydoorifyouneedme,GoodGirl.Theinvitation’sopenasalways.”Heturnedandwalkedout.Hereyesfollowedhimoftheirownaccord,theeasywayhemoved,thewayhelookedinhiswornjeans.I’mgoingtodieavirgin,shethought.
Butthatwasaweirdthought,becauseshewasonlytwenty,andshewasn’tgoingtodie.
Thetimewaselevenforty-five.
???
Attwelvefifteen,thesilencewasbrokenagain.Itwasn’tthedoorto103
banginginthewindthistime;itwasactualbanging,someonepoundingafistononeofthedoors.“Helen!”camearaggedmalevoice.“Helen!”
Vivgrabbedherpurse,putherhandonthehuntingknife.Sheedgedtotheofficedoor,lookingoutthewindow.Shecouldonlyseewet,hardraincomingdown,spatteringtheconcrete.Theangledidn’tletherseethemanwhowaspoundingthedoor.
Sheputthepursestrapoverhershoulderandedgedthedooropen,lookingout.Therewasamanstandingonthewalkway,banginghisfistsagainstthedoorto112.“Helen!”heshouted.“Ifyou’reinthere,youbitch,openthefuckingdoor!”
Vivputdownthepursewiththeknifeinit,becausesherecognizedhim.
ItwasRobertWhite,themanwhowascheatingwithHelen.Excepthedidn’tlooklikehisusualselfrightnow.Insteadofacrisp,handsomelyagingbusinessman,hewasbedragglednow,hissalt-and-pepperhairmussedanddampinthecoldrain.Heworekhakiswithspatteredcuffsandazip-upnylonjacket.Hebangedonthedooragain,shoutingandswearing,butwhenVivsteppedoutontothewalkway,hepausedandlookedather,hiseyeslightingupwithrecognition.
“Whereisshe?”hesaidinavoicethatwasraggedwithshouting.“Issheinthere?Tellmethetruth.”
Vivshookherhead.“Sheisn’there.”
“Bullshit,”Robertsaid.Helookedaround.“Hercarisn’there,butI’mnotfooled.Shegotdroppedoffbyherhusband,didn’tshe?Thatgod-awfulbitch.”
Vivrubbedhersweatingpalmsonherjeans.ShewishedthatJamiehadn’tgonetohisroom,orthathewouldhearandopenhisdoor.“Mr.
White,Idon’t—”
“Soyouremembermyname.”RobertturnedandtookasteptowardViv.
“Iguessyouremembereveryonewhocomeshere,don’tyou?Youknowalloftheirsecrets.Includingmine.”
“Thatisn’ttrue,”Vivsaid.
“Sureitis.”Hetookanothersteptowardher.“Didyouknowaboutitfromthebeginning?DidHelentellyou?Ordidyoujustguess?”HelookedatViv’sexpressionandshookhishead.“No,shewouldn’ttellyou.She’stoosmart,toocriminal.Whywouldshetellthelittlemouseworkingatthemotelaboutherblackmailscheme?”
Blackmail?VivpicturedHelen,hereasyconfidenceandhershort,stylishhair.Marniesaying,Damn,thatwomaniscold.And,Soundstomelikethatbitchisgoingtogetputoutonherass.Andforwhat?AfewnightswithMr.Whiteinthere?
“Idon’tknowanythingaboutblackmail,”Vivsaid.IfHelenwassettingupRoberttoblackmailhim,whywasherhusbandhavingMarniefollowher?
“‘Idon’tknowanythingaboutblackmail,’”Robertsaidsnidely,mockingher.“That’salikelystory.You’resoinnocent,right?Youjustsitbehindyourdeskandwatchamanlikemegetfucked—andIdon’tjustmeaninbed.YouwatchHelenandherhusbandpullanumberonmelikeit’saTV
show.‘Here’sthescenewhereshelureshimtothemotel.Andhere’sthescenewheresomeonetakespicturesofthem.’”Hisexpressionchangedasanideaoccurredtohim.“Whotookthephotos?ThosefuckingphotosofmeandHelenthatweresenttomygoddamnoffice?Itwassomeoneatthismotel,wasn’tit?”Hetookanothersteptowardher.“Maybeitwasevenyou.”
Vivshookherhead.She’dhaditwrong.She’dthoughtthatHelenwastheonebeinginvestigated,thatshewouldlosehermarriageandhereasylife.ButHelenandherhusbandmusthavearrangedit.Theymusthavearrangedthephotosforblackmail.Iftheywererunningsomekindofcon,thatwaswhythey’dusedanintermediarytohireMarnie—tokeepMarnieinthedark.
Vivwasn’tabouttogiveMarnieaway.Nottoanyone,andcertainlynottothisenragedman.“Ididn’ttakethepictures,”shesaid,hervoicecomingoutsurprisinglycalm.
Hewasstillcomingclosertoher.Shecouldonlybackupsomuchbeforeshewasintheoffice,andshewasn’tsureshewantedhimintheofficewithher.“Thosephotosgotsenttomyoffice,”Robertsaid.“Myassistanthandedmetheenvelope.ForGod’ssake,she’sworkedformeforadecade.Ifshe’dseenwhatwasinside,mycareerwouldbefinished—
whichiswhatHelenwanted,isn’tit?Formyassistanttoseethephotosandtheblackmailletter.”
Vivputherhandontheframeoftheofficedoor.Shemightbeabletoduckbackinsideandclosethedooronhim.
“Butthatwasn’tgoodenough,wasit?”Robertcontinued.“NotforgreedyHelen.No,shehadtocallmywifeandtellherI’mcheatingonher.
Mygoddamnedwife.Icamehometofindherintears,andwhenItoldheritwasn’ttrue,shedidn’tbelieveme.She’smovedintohersister’shouseandtakenourkidswithher.Allbecauseofafuckingphonecall.”
Hewaslivid.Vivfeltthechilloffeargodownherspine.Imadethatphonecall,shethought.Itwasme.Shehopedherthoughtsdidn’tshowonherface.Shefeltliketheywerefloatingintheair,thewordseasytoread.
Shepressedherlipstogethersoshewouldn’tspeak.
“I’vegothergoddamnedmoney,”Robertsaid.“Shetoldmetomeetherhereinroomone-twelve.Butyousaysheisn’there.Whywouldn’tshebeheretocollectherpaycheck?That’swhatthiswholethingwasabout,right?
Helenhastobehere.Unlessyou’relying,youlittlebitch.”
Hewasfast.Shethoughtshehadtimetoduck,butshedidn’t.Robertgrabbedherwristinahardgripandyankedherforward,pullingheroff-balance.Hepushedherintothevinylsidingofthemotel,shovingherwristintothemiddleofherchestandjerkingherlikeadoll.ThebackofViv’sheadknockedagainstthewall.Sheopenedhermouth,butRobertalreadyhadonehandoverherthroat,hisgripstrongandmale,willingtodoanything.
“Don’tscream,”hesaid.
Vivgaspedashisgriptightenedjustalittle.
Robert’seyeslookedintohers.Theywerehardwithfury.Hedidn’tlooklikeanormal,rationalman.Helookedcrazy.
“TellmethetruthorI’llkillyou,”hesaid.
Vivfeltherbreathsawinherthroat.“Idon’tknowanything.”
Hesqueezedalittle,hisfingertipsdiggingintoherflesh.“YouthinkIwon’tkillyou?YouthinkIcan’t?There’snoonehere,bitch.Icanchokethelifeoutofyouandleaveyouintheparkinglot.”
Shehadleftherknifeinherpurseintheoffice.Sixfeetaway,butitmightaswellbeonplanetMars.Shewasnevermakingthatmistakeagain.
“Pleasedon’t,”shesaid.
“‘Pleasedon’t,’”hesaidinthatmockingvoiceofhis.“You’repathetic.
ThemoreIlookatyou,themoreIknowthatyou’recoveringforher.Shewastooafraidtomeetmeinperson,wasn’tshe?SheknewhowangryI’dbe.SheknewI’dhurther.Soshesentyouinstead.Whatdidshepromiseyou?Acutofthemoney?She’salyingbitch.Shedoesn’tintendtogiveyouapenny.You’reasstupidasIwas.Itwouldprobablybeamercytostrangleyourightnow.”
“You’rewrong,”Vivmanaged.Shehadtoconvincehim.Shehadtogetoutofhisgrip,gettoherknife.Ifshecouldgettoherknife,thiswouldneverhappenagain.“Youhaveitallwrong.Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
Therewasthehumofacarmotor,andheadlightsappearedonNumberSixRoad.Theapproachingcarslowed,andVivrealizedthateventhroughtherain,sheandRobertwereclearlyvisibleunderoneofthemotellights,Robertwithonehandonherwristandtheotheronherthroat,pinningheragainstthemotelsiding.Whoeverwasinthecarcouldseethem.
Sheopenedhermouthtoshoutforhelp,thenrealizedthatthepersoninthecarwasHelen.
Forasecond,theireyesmet.RobertsqueezedViv’sthroat,andshegaspedforbreath.Hisbackwastotheroad,Helenbehindhim.VivstaredatHelen,silentlybeggingher.
Helen’sfaceheldnoexpression.Shehitthegasandthecarspedaway,offdownNumberSixRoadagain.
“No!”Vivrasped,strugglingtogetfree.
“Shutup,”Robertsaid.Hetookhishandfromherwrist,keepingtheotheronherthroat.HereachedintothebreastpocketofhisWindbreakerandpulledoutanenvelope.“Takeit,”hesnarled.“Takeherfuckingmoney.
She’syourproblemnow,herandherhusband.TellherifIeverseeherbitchfaceagain,I’llkillherwithmybarehands.YouknowIcan.”
HeyankedattheneckofViv’ssweater,pullingitroughlydown.Heshovedtheenvelopedownhershirt,thepapercoolagainstherbareskin,theedgesandcornersscrapingher.Theonlysoundwastheirheavybreathingandthecrinkleoftheenvelopeashepusheditonher.
ThenheusedhisgriponhernecktopullVivforward.Sheoverbalanced,andheusedthemomentumtoshovehertotheground.Shelandedhardonherback,herwristandthebackofherheadhittingthepavement.ThisiswhatitwaslikeforVictoriaLee,shethoughtashervisionflashedwhite.
Fallingonthegroundofthejoggingpathintherain.ShethoughtofBettyGraham.Bettyhadalotofbruises.Likeshefoughthard.Shewonderedifcopswouldseethebruisesonherbodysomeday.
Upstairs,oneofthemoteldoorsflewopenwithabang.Thenanother.
RobertWhitebentdown,hishandsout,andgrabbedthefrontofherjacket.Vivtriedtofighthimoff,buthewasstrong.Sheopenedhermouthtoscream.
“Excuseme.”
Whiteflinchedinsurpriseatthevoice.Itwasmale,calm,comingfromafewfeetaway.WhenWhiteturnedhishead,Vivpushedherheelsintothepavementandscrambledaway,scrapingherbackandherelbows.Sheturnedtoseethepersonwhohadinterruptedthemandwentverystill.
SimonHess,thetravelingsalesman,wasstandingattheedgeoftheparkinglot.Hiscarwasparkedafewfeetbehindhim,closetothedrippingtrees.Heworeadarkgrayovercoatandcarriedasmallsuitcaseinonehand.Hisexpressionwasutterlycalm,onlyasmalllineofconsternationbetweenhiseyebrowsgivinganythingaway.
“Areyouassaultingthatyounglady?”heaskedWhite,asifhewerecommentingontheweather.
Whitestraightenedup.Hisfacewassplotchedred,hishairmessed.Still,hemanagedtolooktheothermanintheeyeandsay,“It’saprivatematter.”
HesslookedatVivontheground,thenbackatWhite.Hisexpressionwasblank.“Ithinksheworkshere,”hesaidtoHessasifVivweren’tthere.
“Ineedaroom.”
“Thisisnoneofyourbusiness,”Whitesaid.
“Obviouslynot.Itdoesn’tchangethefactthatIneedaroom.I’dappreciategettingoneandgettingoutofthisrain.It’sbeenalongday,andI’mreallyquitetired.”
Vivcouldn’ttakehereyesoffhim.Hissmoothlycombedhair,hislargeandcapablehandholdingthehandleofhissuitcase.TracyWaterswasdeadinanice-coldditch,herfamilyinruins.It’sbeenalongday,andI’mreallyquitetired.
Whitesmoothedthefrontofhisjacket,andVivfeltaboltofpanic.
Don’tleavemeherealonewithhim,shesilentlybeggedthemanwhohadjustassaultedher.Pleasedon’tgo.
“I’mleaving,”Whitesaid.HelookedatViv,wetandcoldontheground.
“IfIwereyou,Iwouldn’tsayafuckingword.”Hesteppedoverherlikeshe
wasgarbageandwalkedacrosstheparkinglottohiscar.Vivheardamotorstart,sawthestripesofheadlightsagainstthemotelwall.
Ahandcameintoherlineofvision.SimonHesswasofferingtohelpherup.
Byinstinctshescrambledawayfromhimagain,gettingherfeetunderher.Shewasscrapedandbruised,gettingwetinthespittingrain.Theenvelopewasstillinsidehershirt,againstherskin.Shebrushedherhandstogether,wipingthedirtandgraveloffherpalms.Hesswaited.
“Myroom?”hesaidafteraminute.
Shecouldscream.ShecouldruntoJamie’sdoorandpoundonit.
“Doyourememberme?”Hessasked.Hegaveherasmile.“I’matravelingsalesman.Theonewho’ssomemorable.”
Don’tshowfear.Don’tleton.
“I,um.”Hervoicewasarasp.ShewasalmostgladWhitehadattackedher,becauseshehadareasontolookterrified,whichshewassureshedid.
“Iremember,”shemanaged.
“That’sgood.Ineedtostaytonight,possiblytomorrownightaswell.
I’mwaitingforaphonecall.”Hesmiledagain.“It’smyusualroutine.”
“Okay.”Shethoughtoftheknifeinheroffice.Ifshescreamed,hecouldattackherouthereinthedark.Shemadeherfeetmovetowardtheoffice,givingHessawideberth.Hercalfstungandherankleachedwhensheputweightonit,soshelimpedalittle.
Hessfollowedher.“Areyouallright?”
“Yes,”shesaid.
“IsupposeIdidn’tneedtointervene,”Hesssaid.“Iknowyoukeepthekeysinthedrawer.Butthatdidn’tseemright.Ishouldcheckinproperly.”
Hepaused.“Youseemtohavemadehimveryangry.”
“Yes.Idid.”Vivsteppedintotheofficeandgrabbedherpurse.Sheclutchedittoherchestasifitwerethemostpreciousthingintheworld.
Thegesturemadetheenvelopecrinkleunderhershirt.Oneofhershoelaceswaswetanduntiedandmadeaslappingsoundonthecheapcarpet.
Sheroundedthedeskandsatinthechair.Hessputhissuitcasedown.
Shepulledopenthedrawerwithanumbhandandpickedoutakey.
Number212,upstairs.Shekeptherotherhandonherpurse,whichsheheldinherlap.Readytopulltheknifeoutifsheneededit.
Sheslidthekeyoverthedesk.Hesslookedatherscrapedhandashepickeditup.“Perhapsyoucouldusesomeantiseptic,”hecommented.“The
skinisbroken.”
“Yes,”shesaid.Hereyesweretrainedonthedesk,butshemadeherselfraisethemtohisface.Shelookedhimintheeye.
Hesswaslookingathercloselyintheunflatteringlightoftheoffice.“Iknowyoufromsomewhere,”hesaid.
Coldpanictriedtocrawlupherspine.“Youknowmefromhere,”shesaid.“Likeyousaid,you’vebeenherebefore.”
“Yes,yes.”Henodded.“Ihave.That’snotit,though.Iknowyoufromsomewhereelse.”Hegaveherhissmileagain,whichmadeherskincrawl.
“WhenIthinkofit,I’llletyouknow.Ineverforgetaface.Especiallyaprettyfemaleone.”
Vivwantedtoscream,butsheknewwhatwasexpectedofher.Shetriedtogivehimasmile,whichwasprobablyghastly.Hedidn’tseemtonotice.
“Thankyou.It’sprobablyfromhere,though.I’veneverseenyouanywhereelsebefore.”
Hesspaused,asifhedidn’tbelieveherandwasn’tsurewhattosay.Theliehungintheairbetweenthem.Buyit,Vivthought.Atleastfornow.
Finallyhelookeddownathiskey,readingthenumber.“Two-twelve,”hesaid.“Homesweethome.Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,”shemanagedtosayashewalkedawayandclosedthedoorbehindhim.
Whenhewasgone,shesatforalongmomentinthesilence,tryingnottopanic.Adoorslammedupstairs,thenanother.
“Betty,”Vivsaidoutloud.“He’shere.”
Silence.
SheglancedattheguestbookandrealizedSimonHesshadn’tsignedit.
Vivreachedintohershirtandpulledouttheenvelopethere.Sheprieditopen.Itwasstuffedwithbills,athickstackofthem.Hundredsofdollars.
Maybethousands.
Itdidn’tseemreal.Itseemedlikefakemoney,Monopolymoney.Noonehadmoneylikethis.Itwasbewildering;Helenhadgonetogreatlengthstogetthis,yetshe’ddrivenoffwithoutit.Wasshecomingbackforit?She’dseenVivwithRobert,andshe’dseenViv’sface;shemustknowVivknewabouttheblackmailscheme,atleast,ifshedidn’thavethemoney.
Vivputtheenvelopeinthekeydrawer.MaybeHelenwouldshowup,lookingforit.Ormaybeherhusband,whoeverhewas,wouldcome.Shedidn’twantthemoney,andherhandswereshakingfromtheattack.She
couldn’tthinkaboutitrightnow.Sheclosedthedrawerandpushedthemoneyoutofsight.
Cigarettesmokewaftedtohernose,pungentandthick.Thelightsflickeredout,thenwentbackonagain.
Vivgotupfromherchairandlookedouttheofficedoor.InthedarkaboveNumberSixRoad,theSunDownsignwentdarkwithazappingnoise,thenbuzzedonagain,shoutingitsendlessmessage:VACANCY.CABLE
TV!
TracyWaterswasdead.Herkillerwashere.AndBettyGrahamwasvery,veryunhappy.
Vivianclosedthedoorbehindherandhurriedforthestairs.
???
ShestartedatMrs.Bailey’sroomonthesecondfloor.Itwasdark,withnosignoflife.Vivhadtoglanceattheparkinglottoseethatthewoman’scarwasinfacttherebeforesheknockedonthedoor.
“Mrs.Bailey?”
Noanswer.Howmanytimes,now,hadsheseenMrs.BaileycometotheSunDowntodrinkherselfintooblivion?Fourtimes?Five?Theroutinewasalwaysthesame:Shearrivedsober,thenmadearuntotheliquorstore.
Nextcamethecallstothefrontdeskwithdrunkenrequests—ataxi,someice,aphonebook.Sometimesthecallswereabusive;othertimesMrs.
Baileywaslaughingtoherself,theTVoninthebackground.Eventuallycamethesilenceasshedrankherselfoutofconsciousness.
Vivpeeredthroughthewindow.Shecouldn’tseeanysignoftheTV
flickeringpastthesheerdrapes.Sheknockedonthedoor,again,andthenafinaltime,bangingonitloudly.Therewasstillnoanswer.
Attheendoftherow,thedoorto201clickedanddriftedopen,showingasliveroftheemptydarknessinside.Thenthedoorofroom202.
Vivrandownthecorridorandbangedonthedoorofroom210.JamieBlaknik’sroom.Afteraminute,heopenedit.Hehadtakenhisjeanjacketoffbutwasstillwearinghissweatshirt.
Helookedatherfaceandsaid,“Youokay,GoodGirl?”
“Isthereanyoneintherewithyou?”sheaskedhim.
“No.”
Vivglanceddownthecorridor.Thedoortoroom203clickedopen.Thelightsflickeredagain.
“What’sgoingon?”Jamieasked.
Theairwasheavywithelectricity,likethemomentsbeforealightningstorm.Andsuddenly,Vivknewit:Thiswouldendtonight.Here,now.Aftermonthsofwaitingandwondering,itwouldallbeover.Onewayoranother.
Nowornever,shethought.
SheturnedbacktoJamie.Sheputahandonthebackofhisneck,rosetohertoes,andkissedhimonthemouth.Hislipswerewarmandassoftasshe’dthoughttheywouldbe.HetastedlikeDoublemint.
Shelethimgoandpulledback.Hiseyebrowswentupandasmilecrookedthecornerofhismouth.“Well?”heaskedher.
“Willyoudosomethingforme?”
“Afterthat?Fuckyes.”
“Youneedtoleave,”shesaid.“Goanddon’tcomebacktonight.”
“ShouldIaskwhy?”
“No.”
Thesmilelefthislips.“Something’swrong,isn’tit?”
Vivbitherlip.Shecouldstilltastehim.Asscaredasshewas,thepleasureofitwouldkeephergoingforawhile.“Somethingbadisgoingtohappen,butIcanhandleit.It’sbestifyou’renothere.”
Jamieseemedtothinkitover.Hewalkedbackintotheroomandpickeduphisjeanjacket.Thelightsflickeredoutagain.
Whentheycamebackon,thedoortoroom205wasopenandJamiewasbackinhisdoorway,shruggingonhisjacket.“YouknowI’dhelpyouifyouwantedmeto,right?Ihavesomeexperiencekickingass.”
Vivsteppedbackashecameoutoftheroom.Helockedthedooranddroppedthekeyintoherhand.Helookeddownthecorridorattheopendoors.“Damn,”hesaid.“I’mnotleavingyouinthis.”
“Youhavetogo.Butyoucandoonefavorforme.”
Heturnedbacktoher.“Anything.Tellmewhatitis.”
Soshetoldhim.
Itwasoneo’clocka.m.Fell,NewYork
November1982
VIV
Jamie’scarwasgone,andthemotelhadgoneominouslyquiet.Thewindkickedupoutside,howlingovertheparkinglotandshushingtheemptytrees.Intheoffice,Vivsatbehindthedeskasthelightsflickeredyetagain.
Shewaswaiting.IfJamiedidwhathehadpromised,itwouldhappenanyminute.
Thephonerang.Vivstartedinherchairandstaredatit,sweatpricklingherneck.Thiswastheplan,butstillshefeltthejoltofterror.Shewasjumpy.
“Hello?”Itwasn’tthegreetingshe’dbeentrainedtogive.
Itwasn’twhosheexpected.Therewassilenceontheotherendoftheline.Softbreathing.Someonelisteningandwaiting.
ThesecallswereroutineattheSunDown.Kids,theotherclerksgrumbled.Teenagers.Don’ttheyhaveanythingbettertodo?
Butnow,listeningtothebreathinginthewaitingsilence,Vivwonderedhowtheycouldallhavebeensostupid,herselfincluded.Thesoundontheotherendofthelinewasn’tthecomicalkindofheavybreathingparticulartoprankingteenageboys.Itwassimplybreath,thesoundofanotherpersonliving,existing.
Someonewhowantedtotalk.Whomaybecouldn’t.
“Betty?”Vivsaid.
Still,thebreath.Nopause,nohitch.
“He’shere,”Vivsaid,lettinghervoicefillthesilence.“Iknowitupsetsyou.Iknowitmakesyouangryandsad.ButI’mgoingtotakecareofittonight.Ipromise.”
Stillnothing.Justbreath.
“I’vebeenlivingwiththisforsolong,”Vivsaid.“Idon’tthinkIhavealifeanymore.Idon’tknowthatIwantone.Idon’treallyseethepointanymore.Doyou?”
Didthebreathingchangeitsrhythm?Evenforasecond?Shecouldn’tbesure.Shedidn’tknowifwhatshewassayingcouldevenbeheardbywhateverwasontheline.Butshesaiditanyway.
“I’msorry.I’msosorry.Idon’tthinkanyonehasbeenassorryforyouasIam.Ilookedatyourpicture,andyoucouldbeme.Youcouldbeanyofus.Youdidn’tdeserveit—noneofusdo.It’swrong.Idon’tknowwhatelsetodoexcepttrytomakeitright.Ithinkitmightcostmeeverything,andIdon’tcare.Idon’tmatter,really.”
Stillquiet.Whydidshefeelliketheotherpersonwaslistening?Therewasnoindication.Still,thefeelingwasthere.
“That’sthebestwaytofixthis,”Vivsaid.“Theonlyway.I’lltakesomeonewhodoesn’tmatterandtradeherfortherestofyou.I’lltrademyselffortherestofyou.Tostophim.Ithinkit’stheonlythingstrongenoughtoendthis.Iknowwhoheisnow.Hewon’tbestoppedbyanythinghalfway.”
Thenextbreathontheotherendofthelinewasasigh,andthenasingleword,spokenonthebreath:“Run.”Thenthelinewentdeadwithaclick.
Vivputthephonedown.Whileherhandwasstillonthereceiver,thephonerang.Shepickeditupagain.“Hello?”
“Roomtwo-twelve,”afamiliarvoicesaid.
Vivpressedthebuttonandputhimthrough.Shewatchedasthebuttononthephonelitupwithitssoftclick.Thenshelistenedwiththereceiver.
“Hello?”cameSimonHess’svoice.
“Iknowyou,”theothervoicesaid.“Iknowwhatyou’vedone.”
Therewasapause.ThenHessagain.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
“Yes,youdo.”Vivclosedhereyes.Hewasdoingsuchagoodjob.ItwasJamieBlakniksayingthelinesshe’dgivenhim.“MeetmeatthecornerofDerryRoadandSmithStreet.I’mcallingfromthepayphonethere.IsawyouwithTracy.Ifyouaren’tthereintwentyminutes,I’lltelleveryonewhatIsaw,whatIknow.NotjustaboutTracy.Abouttheothers,too.”
Silenceontheline.Vivheldherbreath.Thiswasthemomentoftruth.
ThenSimonHessspoke.“You’retheonewho’sbeenfollowingme,aren’tyou?”
“IsawyouinPlainsview,watchingher,”Jamiesaid,followingthelinesVivhadwrittenforhim.“Isawyouatthehighschoolchoirnight.Iknoweverything.AndI’mgoingtotell.”
“Isthisblackmail?”Hesssaid.“Doyouthinkyou’llgetmoneyoutofme?”
Vivbitherliphard,tryingnottosob.Iwasright,shethought.IthoughtIwascrazy,butIwasright.Iwasright.
“Youwon’tknowwhatIwantuntilyoumeetme,”Jamiesaid.“TwentyminutesorIgotothepolice.”Hehungup.
Hessbreathedintothephoneforasecond,thenhungupaswell.Vivputthereceiverdown.Herthroatwastight,hereyesburning.
Aminutelater,acarmotorstartedintheparkinglot.ShewalkedtothedoorandwatchedHessdriveaway.Now,exceptforthepassed-outMrs.
Bailey,VivwasaloneattheSunDown.
ShewaitedfifteensecondsincaseHesschangedhismind.Thensheopenedthebottomdeskdrawerandrifledthroughituntilshefoundwhatshewaslookingfor:akeylabeledMASTER.Janicehadshownherthekeybrieflyonherfirstnight.Ifsomeone’spassedoutordeadinoneoftherooms,youmightneedthis.
Vivtookthekeyandstood,hesitating.Thensheduginherpurseandputherknifeinitsleatherholsterunderhersweatshirt.Shehadlefttheofficeunarmedonce,andithadnearlycosther.Shewasn’tdoingitagain.
Shelefttheoffice,walkingquicklytothestairs.ShehadneededJamietomakethatphonecall;Hesswouldneverhavebelievedawoman.He’dexpecthisblackmailer,themastermindwhohadputallthepiecestogether,tobeaman.Hewouldhavehunguponawoman—andthenhewouldhaverememberedViv,thathe’dseenhersomewhere.
Soshe’denlistedJamie,andhehaddonehispart.Itwasn’tbadforthepriceofakiss.
Vivclimbedthestairsandwalkedtothedoorofroom212.Putthekeyinthelock.Thedoorsupherewereclosedagain,asifBettyhadtidiedupafterherself.ButasVivopenedthedoorto212,thelightsflickered.
TheroomwaslikealltheroomsattheSunDown:bed,nightstand,smalldresser.ATVsatdarkinthecorner,thefamouslyadvertisedcableTVonthesign.OnthebedwasthesmallsuitcaseSimonHesshadbeencarrying.
Itwasclosed.Nothingintheroomwastouched.ItseemedasifHesshadcheckedinandsimplysat,doingnothinguntilhegotJamie’sphonecall.
Whatgoesoninhismind?Vivwondered.Everything?Nothing?HesshadkilledTracyWaterseitherthismorningorlastnight.Herdeathwouldbefreshtohim.Washerelivingitinhismind,thememoriesvivid?Orhadheforgottenaboutitalready?
Shewalkedtothesuitcaseandflippedthelatches,openingit.Sheturnedonthebedsidelamp.Insidethecasewereneatlyfoldedclothes:shirts,ties.
Atoothbrush,ashavingkit.Everythingwastidyandclean.IfVivhadhopedforbloodyclothesandamurderweapon,shewasoutofluck.Theproblemwas,shedidn’tknowwhatshewaslookingfor.
Atthebottomofthecasewasafolder,neatlytiedshut,fullofpapers.
Shepulleditoutanduntiedit,leafingthroughthepages.TheseweretheneatlydittoedlistsofHess’sschedule,hismaps,hissalesreceipts.
TherewasthemapoftheneighborhoodinPlainsviewwhereVivhadseenhim.Itdiagrammedthestreetandeachhousewithitsnumber.InthesquareofeachhouseHesshadhandwrittenasymbol,thelanguagenothardtofigureout.AnXmeanthehadbeenturneddownatthathouse.AnO
meantnoonewashome.AndaYmeanthehadmadeasale.
Tracy’shousewasblank.Whatdidthatmean?Vivflippedthroughthepages,hopingforsomethingelse.Somethingconcrete.PicturesofTracy,maybe,ornotestoher.ShewantedtocallAlmaTrentandgethertoarrestSimonHessrightnow,tonight.ButAlmawouldhavetocallinothercopstodothat,andshewouldn’tdoitwithoutareason.Getmesomething,anything,Alma’svoicesaidinViv’shead.Getmesomething,Viv.
“Iknow,”VivmutteredtoAlmainthedarksilence.“Iknowyouwouldhelpifyoucould.Youjustdon’tunderstand.AndnowTracyisdead.”
Atthebottomofthefilewasasecondmap.Thisonewashand-drawninpencilonapieceoflinedpaper.Vivhelditunderthelampandsawarowofhouses,alanewaybetweentwoofthem,asquareattheendofthelanelabeledPark.Infrontofthehouses,ontheothersideofthepark,wasastreetthatcurvedinaCshape.Vivturnedthepageonewayandthenanother,tryingtoseeifthemapwasfamiliar.HerbrainpagedthroughitsmentalimagesofCathy’sstreet,Tracy’s,Victoria’s.Themapdidn’tmatchanyofthem.
Whatwasitamapof?AvictimVivdidn’tknowabout?WasthisamapofsomethinginFell,orinanothertown?Therewerenostreetnameswrittenanywhere.Sheflippedthepageoverandstudiedtheback,buttherewasnothingthere,either
Thismeantsomething,shewassureofit.Shejusthadnoideawhat.
“Close,”shesaidtoherself,toAlma,toBetty.“I’msodamnedclose.”
Shewentthroughthepapersagain.Thenthesuitcase,theclothes.Shecircledtheroom,lookedinthetrashcan,thedresserdrawer,thenightstanddrawer.Allwereempty.Shewalkedintothebathroom.Itwasdarkandsilent,untouched.Shelookedattheshowercurtain,thesinglethintowelhangingonarail.
Thelightsflickeredagain,afewquickblinksthistime,onandoff,likesomeoneflippingaswitch.Excepttherewasnoswitchthatwouldturntheentiremotelonandoffinaninstant.
Betty.
Awarning.
Vivturnedfromthebathroomandsteppedoutintothemainroomagain.
Shepattedherpocketsforherkey.Thesuitcasewassittingopenonthebed,thecontentsobviouslyrifledthrough.Vivstraightenedtheclothesquicklyandflippedthelidofthecaseclosed.Shewasfasteningthelatcheswhenavoiceinthedoorwaysaid,“Whatareyoudoing?”
???
SimonHesswasdampnow,theshouldersofhisovercoatwetwithrain.
Waterhadsplashedthehemsofhistrousers.Thebedsidelamplithisfeatures,hisevenandregularface.Hehadbrowneyes,Vivrealizedforthefirsttime.Helookedverycalm.
Still,hergutturnedandherbloodpumped,everynerveendingscreamingdanger.“I—I’msorry,”shestammered.
Thewordshungthere,inadequate.Hesslookedatthesuitcaseshewasclosing,thenbackuptoherface.Heblinked.“You,”hesaid,hisvoicesoftwithsurprise.“Itwasyou.”
Vivtookherhandsoffthesuitcaseandturnedtofacehim.Heblockedthedoorwayandtherewasnowheretorun.“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”
“Yes,youdo.”Hetookastepintotheroomandclosedthemoteldoorbehindhim.Ashedid,Vivcouldheartheclickandbangofoneofthedoorsslammingopen.ThentherewasnosoundasSimonHessclosedthedoor,trappingtheminhisroom.
“Idon’t,”Vivinsisted.Coldsweatwasbeadingunderherclothes.
“Thenwhyareyouhere?”Thequestionwasaskedcalmly,asifhewereadoctororateacher,butVivcouldseethesplotchesofredonhischeeksthatmeantanger.“Inmyroom,goingthroughmythings?Youwereatthatbusstop.Yourfootprintswereinmygarden.”
Vivcouldn’tlookawayfromhim.Thisclose,shecouldseethebeginningsofstubbleonhisjawandhisneck.Fiveo’clockshadow,hismotherhadalwayscalleditwhenherfatherhadn’tshaved.Herparentswereveryfarawaynow.
Shewasafraid,andyetshewasn’t.She’dbeenfollowinghimforweeksnow.Partofherwasready.
“I’mgoingtocallthepolice,”Vivsaid.“YoukilledTracy.”
Hedidn’tflinch.“Whodidyoutell?”
Sheshookherhead.“Noone.”
“Youtoldsomeone,”SimonHesssaid.“Theboywhocalledmeonthephonejustnow,forexample.Youtoldhim,didyounot,whenyouaskedhimtolietogetmeoutofmyroom?”
Heputemphasisonthewordlie,asifthatmattered.Asifhewereoffendedbydishonestyafterwhathe’ddone.Helookedatherwithatingeofdisgust,andVivfelttheangerflushhotinherowncheeks.
“You’rejustangrybecauseyougotcaught,”shesaid.“Youthoughtnoonewouldeverdoit,butIdid.”
“Wrong,”Hessspitback.“Youhaven’tcaughtmeyet.I’mstillstandinghere.Callthepoliceifyouwant.Whatcanyouprove?”
“Isawyouwithher.”Shewasangry,soangry.“IsawyouwithTracy.
Watchingher.Followingher.Whydidyoudoit?”Thewordswerewild,unwise,buttheycameoutofheranyway.Theyhadbeendammedupfortoolong.“Sheneverdidanythingtoyou.Noneofthemdid.Whydidyouhavetokillher?Andwhydoyoukeepcomingbackhere?”
Outsideinthecorridor,adoorblewopenwithaloudbang.Itwasthedoortothenextroom.Thensomethingsofthittheircloseddoor,onethudandthenanother.Apalm.
“Helpme,”cameawoman’svoicefromoutside,raspyandhoarse.
“Helpme!”
Viv’shandswentcold.Thevoicewasthemostterrifyingandthesaddestthingshe’deverheard.Itwasthevoiceofsomeonewhoknewshewasdying,thatafteralongfightitwasgoingtobeover.Thatshewouldneverwin.
“Helpme!”thevoicescreamedhoarsely,thepalmhittingthedooragain,weakerthistime.
VivlookedatSimonHessandsawthathehadadreamysmileonhisface.“Betty,”hesaid.“That’swhyIcomehere.Becauseshe’shere.Ican’t…IgoaslongasIcanwithoutseeingher,butIalwayshavetocomeback.”
Outside,thevoicesobbed.“Helpme.Please.Please.”
Shesoundedlikethat,Vivthought,whenhedidwhateverhedidtoher.
Whatdoesviolatedmean?
“Shewasinmytrunk,”Hesssaid,hisvoiceacalmcounterpointtoBetty’sscreaming.“Ithoughtshe’dbequiet,butthatwasamistake.Shewasn’tquietatall.”Heshookhishead.“Inevermadethatmistakeagain.Ilearnedmylesson.Theyaren’tquietwhenyouwantthemtobe.”
VivthoughtoftheBettyshe’dseeninthephoto,calmandconfident.AteacherSpinsterwasthewordthepapershadused,eventhoughshewasonlytwenty-fourwhenshedied.“WhyBetty?”sheaskedHess.
“Ilovedher,”Hessreplied.“I’veneverlovedanythinginmylife,butIlovedBetty.Ijusthadtomakehersee.”
Bettyscreamedagain,herpalmspoundingonthedoor,andHesssmiled.
Bettyhadsoundedlikethatinhistrunk.She’dscreamedlikethat,poundedonthetrunklidlikethat.ToHess,itwasalullaby.Herstomachtwistedandshethoughtshewasgoingtobesick.
Shewalkedtowardthedoor.Shehadtobrushpasthimtodoit,buthedidn’tmove.Shetriednottorecoilasshegotnearhim.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Hessasked.
“Lettingherin,”Vivsaid.Sheputherhandonthedoorknob—itwasice-cold,socolditalmostburnedherfingers—andwrenchedit.Thedooropenedandthecold,wetwindblewin.Therewasnooneinthecorridor.
Shelookedattheoutsideofthedoor.Therewerebloodypalmprintsonthecrackingpaint.Vivopenedherhandandplacedherpalmoveroneoftheprints,feelingthecoldbloodagainstherskin.It’salmostlikeit’sreal,shethoughtcrazily.Herpalmfitperfectlyovertheprintonthedoor.
Run,Bettyhadtoldher,standinginfrontofherwindshieldwhileVivcrouchedinthecar.Run.
Shecouldrunnow.Shehadthedooropen.ShehadnodoubtHesswouldchaseher;hemightevenwin.Hewasolderthanher,lessagile,buthewasahunterwhohadchaseddownhispreymanytimes.Maybeshe’d
neverknowhowmanytimes.He’dchaseherdown,andthenshe’dbethenextoneonhislist.
Hehadthesamethought.“Doyouthinkyou’regoingsomewhere?”heaskedcalmly,eventhoughshestoodinanopendoorway,readytorun.
Shecoulddoit.Getdownthestairs,getinhercar.Driveawayfromthisplace,fromthiskiller.Telltheauthorities.
Whatgoodwoulditdo?
Nothingwouldhappen.Noonewouldbelieveher.SimonHesswouldseemlikeareasonable,law-abidingpersonwhowasfalselyaccusedbyacrazygirl.Anditwouldstartalloveragain.
Orhewouldkillher,andhe’dgetawaywithit.Again.
Shesteppedbackfromthedoorwayandturnedaroundtofacehim.
“No,”shesaid.“I’mnotgoinganywhere.”
Threethingshappened.
Allofthelights,includingthesign,wentoutandeverythingwentdark.
Bettyscreamed.
AndVivpulledtheknifefromhersweatshirt,sliditfromitsholster,andsankitintoSimonHess’schest.Fell,NewYork
November1982
VIV
Itwassurprisinglyhard.Puttingaknifeinaman’schestwaslikepushingitthroughthickcardboard,thebladepunchingthroughclothandmuscle.
Butthehuntingknifewassharp,andVivwasfullofadrenaline.Shefeltnumbandstrongandoutsideofherownbody.Shefeltterrifiedandpure.
Thewindhowledthroughtheopendoor,andfootstepsranpastinthedark,headingforthestairs.“Yougothim!”thelittleboy’svoicecriedout.
“Yougothim!”
Shecouldseenothinginthedarkness.Sheheardadeep,gaspingbreathfromSimonHess,thesoundofhisfootstepashebackedaway.Sheletgooftheknifehandleandleftitstuckinhischestashemoved.Thisisn’thappening,shethoughtwildly.Itisn’treal.
Allofthedoorsinthecorridorwereopennow,andshecouldhearthembanging.Sheblinkedinthedarkness,unsurewhethersheshouldstepforwardorretreat.Therewasathumpintheemptyairoftheroom,thenanother,harderone.SimonHesshittingthefloor.
Hewasstillbreathing.Shecouldhearit.Heavy,shaking,slowbreaths.
Hemightstop,Vivthought.Hemightdie.Here,now.Shedidn’twantthatyet.Shesteppedforwardintotheblackness,followingthesoundofhisbreathing.Shekneltonthefloorandcrawledtowardit,hereyesadjustingsoshecouldbarelyseetheshapesofherhands.
Shereachedoutandtouchedsomethingcoveredinfabric.Somethinghard,theboneofakneeperhaps.Ahandshotoutandgrabbedherwrist,jerkingheroffbalance.Thehandwasbigandsoftandcold,soslickwithchilledsweatshealmostslidoutofitsgrasp.ButHesswasstillstrong,andheshovedhersoshelandedononeside,herhiphittingthefloorandherheadbangingagainstsomethinghard—theedgeofthebed,ormaybethe
nightstand.ThisisthesecondtimeI’vebeenattackedtonight,shethought.
I’mgoingtohavebruises.
Theywrestledingrimsilenceforaminute,Hesstryingtograspherwithhisslickhands,thestrengthinhisarmsfaltering,Vivthrashingbackandkickinghim.Hessgaveadarkgruntandgrabbedatheragain,hisneat,trimfingernailstryingtodigintoherflesh.Outside,therewastheslowclickofhighheelsinthecorridorandastrange,rottensmell.
ShekickedHessawayagainandthenhishandsweregone.Therewasawheezeasheseemedtofallbacktothefloor,weak.Sheflippedherbodyandputherhandsonhimagain,feelingnumblyalonghistorso.Herfingershitwarmblood.
“Tellme,”shesaidurgently.“WhyBetty?Why?”
Hereachedupandgrabbedherhair,twistedit,buthisstrengthwasfailing.“Bettywasmine,”hesaid,hisvoiceaharshwhisperasifheweretellingherasecret.“Ilovedher.Ijustwantedhertosee.”
Shehadsomuchsheneededtoknow.Therewasnotime.Shewentstillashishandtwistedharderinherhair.“AndCathy?”
“Mydaughterwenttothedentist’sofficewheresheworked.”Hewheezed,andsherecognizedthesoundasasicksortoflaugh.“Shemeantnothingtome.Shewassoobviouslyalone.Soeasy.IwantedtoknowifIcoulddoitagain.ItturnedoutIcould.”
Shewassoobviouslyalone.Thatwaswhattheyhadincommon.Nothaircolororageorbuild.Betty,livingherspinsterlife.Cathywithherhusbanddeployed.Victoriawithherfightsandheranger.Tracywithherparentswhodidn’tkeepherhome.
VivthoughtofCathy’sbaby,ofhergrievinghusband,ofhermotheronthephone.Asweetgirlwhowantedtoearnhernextpaycheckandraiseherbaby.Doyouknowwhokilledher?Canyouendthisforme?HerfingersgrippedHess’sshirt,soakedinblood.Shewishedshecouldseehisface—
andyetshedidn’twanttoseeitatall.“Victoria?”sheasked,hervoicecracking.
“Amistake,”Hessreplied.Heclearedhisthroat.Hishandwasstillwoundinherhair,hisgripsurprisinglyhard,andVivstayedbracedincaseheattackedheragain.Theywereinastrangeembrace,hereinthedark,fightingandtellingeachothersecrets.“ShewastherewhenIsoldhermotheralocksystem.Ithoughtshewouldn’tbeachallenge.Butshefought
me.Shebitme,thatlittlebitch.Andthelocationwasn’tright.Itwashastyandtooexposed.Ihadtocutmylosses.”
Cutmylosses,toSimonHess,meantstranglingateenagedgirlandthrowingherinthebushesintherain.ThetipsofViv’sfingerstouchedthehandleofherknife,stillstickingoutofhischest.Shegrittedherteethasbileroseinherthroat.Orperhapsitwastears.Shemadeherselfsaythefinalname,grinditoutofherfuriousthroat.“TracyWaters.”
Hesscoughed,thesoundwet.“Whatdoyouthink?”
“Shewasgoodandsweet,”Vivsaid.“Innocent.Shehadafamilywholovedher.Sheneverdidyouanyharm.”
Hesslaughed.“Youhaven’tcaughton.Noneofthemdidmeanyharm.”
“Shewasn’tbeautiful,”Vivsaid.“Shewasn’tsexyorcruel.She’dneverevenmetyou.Shewasagirl.Whydidyoudoit?”
Hishandtwistedinherhair,andhisgripwasstrongbutshecouldfeelhimtrembling.“Becausenooneeverstoppedme,”hesaid.“BecauseIcould.”
“Howmanyothersarethere?”
Hewasquiet.Shecouldhearhisbreathing.Sheknewthiswasagame—
hehadsomethingshewanted,knewsomethingshewantedtoknow.Andshedesperatelywantedtoknow.DidImisssomeone?Whatgirldidn’tIsee?
“Themapinyoursuitcase,”shesaid,moreurgentlynow.“Whatisthat?”
Hedidn’tanswer,torturingher.
Shestruggledinhisgrip,changedherangle,andgrabbedthehandleoftheknife.Shegaveitashove,triedtotwistit.Itwasstucksolid,asifinthickglue.SimonHessgavealowgroanofpain.
“Tellme,”shesaid.
Behindhercametheclickofheelsfromthecorridor,turningtosoftfootstepsonthecheapmotelcarpet.Ice-coldairtouchedViv’sback.
“Betty,”Hesssaid,hisvoicehighwithfear.
Alowmoancamebehindher,thesoundunearthly.VivwonderedifBettywaswearingherpurpledress,ifherhandswerebloody.Howdidthishappen?
“Shedoesn’tloveyou,”VivsaidtoHess,pushingontheknife.“Sheneverdid.Shehatesyou.Shehauntsthisplacebecauseshehatesyouso
much.YoucomehereandshegetssofuriousIcanfeelit,tasteit.Shemakesmefurious,too.Doyouunderstandme?Bettyhatesyou.”
Thatlowmoanbehindheragain,andshefelttheriseandfallofHess’schest.Slowerandslowerbytheminute.“Icanseeher,”hesaidsoftly.“Iwatchedherforsomanyweeks.Imemorizedherface.She’smine.She’sstillmine.”
“Sheisn’tyours,”Vivwhisperedback.“It’stheotherwayaround.
You’rehers,oryou’regoingtobe.”
Hisvoicewastremblingnow.HeletgoofherhairandtracedhishandoverViv’sface,hisfingertipscoldandclammy.“Iknowyoufromsomewhere,”hesaid.“Where?”
Vivwentstill,feelinghistouchonherskin.Hewastouchingher.
Touchingher.Shetightenedhergripontheknifehandle.
Hess’sfingersbrushedoverhermouth,tracedherlipsinthedark.“Idon’tremember,”hesaid,hisvoicefaintandvaguenow.“Therearesomany.Iknowalloftheirfaces.ButIcan’tseeyou.Whichoneareyou?”
“I’mtheoneyoudidn’tkill,”Vivsaid.Shepulledtheknifeoutofhischest.Andashetookinabreathofpain,sheplungedtheknifebackdown.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
WasIawakeorasleep?Ididn’tknow.Iwassomewheredark,andmyphonewasringing.
Iopenedmyeyes.Iwasonthesofainmyapartment,whereIhadsatdownalongtimeago—forjustaminute,I’dthought.NowIwasslumpedagainstthearmofthesofa,fullydressed.Mycheekachedandmythroatwasdry.ItwasdarkoutsidethewindowsandtherewasnosignofHeather.
Ipickedupmyphonefromthecoffeetableandansweredit,pickingupmyglasseswithmyotherhandandputtingthemon.“Hello?”
“Carly,it’sme.CallumMacRae.”
Iclearedmythroat.“Um.”
“I’msorry.Wereyouasleep?It’sonlysixthirty.”
Iglancedatthedarkwindows.Nightcameearlythistimeofyear.“I’mfine,”Isaid.“Iworknights.What’sup?”
“Igotsomenews,”hesaid.Hislow,pleasantvoicewasexcited.“Theyfoundabodyinanoldbarnjustoutsideoftown.Itwasjustthismorning.
AndIknowyou’relookingforyouraunt,soIcheckeditoutforyou.”
Iscrubbedahandundermyglasses,rubbingmyeye.“Itisn’ther,”Isaid.“Ialreadyasked.It’saman.”
Therewasabeatofsilence.“Oh,okay.”Helaughed.“You’regood.Icalledsomeofmycontacts,andthewordfromtheFellPDisthattheyhaveanidentityandacauseofdeath.”
“Already?”We’dfoundthebodyjustthismorning.
“Well,itisn’tonehundredpercentyet.Theywon’tannounceituntiltheyknowforsure.Butyes,theyhavepreliminaryfindingsalready.Whydon’tyoucomemeetme?”
“Meetyouwhere?”
“There’sacoffeeshopjustdownthestreetfromthecentrallibrary.It’scalledFinelli’s.Itshouldbeopenforanotherhourortwo.ComedownandI’lltellyouwhatIknow.”
Ilookedaroundthedarkenedapartment.WherewasHeather?She’dgonetobedwhenwegothome;Iwonderedifshewasstillasleep.NickhadsaidhewasgoingbacktotheSunDowntotrytosleep,too.
“Carly?”Callumsaid.
“Yes,”Isaid,gettingmythoughtsontrack.“Um,sure.Yes,I’llmeetyou.”
“Great.Twentyminutes.I’llseeyouthen.”
Ihungupandstood,stretchingmyachingneck.“Heather?”
Therewasnoanswer.Iturnedonalampandsawanoteonthekitchentable.
Gonetoseetherents.Ineedtoretreatforawhile.Don’tworry,Itookmymeds.Idon’treallyknowwhenI’llbeback.ButIleftyouthispresent,whichIgotfromthedepthsoftheInternet.Don’taskquestions.Hereyougo.
Inmyhalf-asleepstate,ittookmeaminutetotranslatethatHeatherhadgonetoherparents’.Ipickedupthesheetofpapershe’dleftwiththenote.
Itwasaprintoutofanoldscan.Alistofnumbers.
Ipulledoutakitchenchairandturnedonthelight,studyingthepage.Iwaslookingataphonerecord,Irealized.JustlikeViv’sroommateJennyhadsaid.Thecopswouldgetabigoldprintout.
Heatherhadcircledthenameatthetopofthereport:SunDownMotel.
Andthedate:November1toNovember30,1982.
Iscannedthenumbers.Thereweren’tmany;theSunDowndidn’tmakeorreceivealotofphonecallsin1982,asituationthathadn’tchangedinthirty-fiveyears.Someofthecallsweremarkedasincoming,othersasoutgoing.NearthebottomofthelistwerethecallsmadeonNovember29
andtheearlyhoursofNovember30.
Justafteronea.m.onNovember30wasanincomingcall.Therecorddidn’tshowwhichroomitwasroutedto,ifany.Heatherhadcircledthenumberthecallcamefromandwrittenaquestionmarknexttoit.Thatmeantshehadn’tbeenabletoidentifythenumber.
At1:54a.m.wasanoutgoingcall.Again,therewasnorecordofwhetheritcamefromthemotelofficeoroneoftherooms.Heatherhad
circledthisnumber,too,butnexttoitshewroteFellPoliceDepartment
Therewerenoothercallsthatnight.
Istaredatthenumbersforaminute.Someonehadcalledintothemoteljustafterone.Maybethatwasacoincidence,afluke,orawrongnumber.
Maybenot.
Butjustbeforetwo,someoneattheSunDownhadcalledthepolice.
WasitVivian?SimonHess?Someoneelse?
Iputthenotedown.
MyauntViviankilledSimonHess.
Shemusthave.Therewasnootherexplanation.Orwasthere?Ididn’treallyknowwhathadhappenedthatnightin1982.Butsomeone—awoman
—hadwarnedTracyWaters’sparentsaboutHess.AndTracyhadbeenkilled,herbodyfoundthesamedayVivdisappeared.
HadHesskilledViv,thenbeenkilledbysomeoneelse?
Callum’sinformationwouldanswersomeofmyquestions.AnIDonthebodyinthetrunkinthebarnandacauseofdeath,evenapreliminaryone,wouldputsomeofthepiecestogether.Iwentintothebathroomandcleanedup,thenchangedintocleanclothes.Ihadatextonmyphonefrommybrother,Graham,butIignoredit.Myoldlifeseemedsofaraway.
ItextedHeatherquicklysoshewouldn’tworry.Callumhasinfofromthepolice.Goingtomeethim.AsIhitSend,thephoneranginmyhand.Ididn’trecognizethenumber.
Ibitmylipforasecond,undecided.ThenIanswered.“Hello?”
“Youfoundhim.”Thevoiceontheotherendwasfemale,olderthanme,andfamiliar.
“Marnie?”Isaid.
Marniesighed.“You’reasmartgirl.Wehidhimgood,andhestayedgoneforalongtime.Butitlookslikeyoudughimupafteralltheseyears.”
Ishookmyhead.“Youliedtous.Butyoutookaphotoofthebarnwhereyoulefthim.”
Apause.“Yes,IsupposeIdid.”
“Whydidyoutakethepicture?”
“Iwantedtobeabletofindtheplaceagain.Idon’tthinkIeverbelievedhe’dstayburiedforever.Wethoughtmaybewe’dhavetogobackandmovehim,butweluckedout.Forawhile,anyway.Nowisasgoodatimeasanyforallofittocomeout.ItwasgoingtohappenwhetherIwantedittoornot.”
“Whokilledhim?”Iasked.“Wasityou?WasitViv?”
“It’sacomplicatedstory.”
“Notreally.SomeoneputSimonHessinatrunkandlefthiminabarn.
Wasityou?Orher?”
“Youdidn’tfindthenotebook,didyou?”
Istoodstraighter,myskintingling.“Notebook?”
“Itwasleftforyou,”Marniesaid.“You’remissingsomuchofthestory.
It’swhyyou’reconfused.Readthenotebookandyou’llunderstand.”
Mymindraced.Itwasleftforyou.Whatdidthatmean?“Whereisthenotebook?”IaskedMarnie.
“Tellme,”Marniesaid.“Didyouevertrytogetcandyoutofthecandymachine?”
Ifroze,rememberingthebrokencandymachine.Nicksaying,Ican’tbelievethisevenworks.
“Readthenotebook,”Marniesaidagain,“thenmeetmeatWatson’sDiner.”
“When?”
“Tonight,”Marniesaid.“Whenyou’rethere,I’llbethere.Don’tworry.”
Shehungup.
???
Finelli’swasabeaconofyellowlightonthedarkdowntownstreet,wherealotofbusinesseswerealreadyclosingforthenight.Fellwasn’talate-nighttown.Atleast,nothere.AttheSunDown,itwasanall-nighttown.
Callumwassittingatoneofthesmalltables,acoffeeinfrontofhim.Hewaswearingabutton-downshirt,azip-upsweater,andafalljacket.Theguyknewhowtolayer.Hishairwasneatlycombedandhesmiledwhenhesawme.
HehelduphismugwhenIsatdown.“Decaf,”hesaid.“Wantone?”
Iblinkedathiscup,stillgroggy.“Iwantthemostcaffeinethisplacecansupply.”
Callumsmiledagainandsignaledforthewaitress.“Right,youworknights.Iguessthisismorningforyou.”
“Tobehonest,Idon’tknowwhattimeofdayitis.Ihaven’tinawhile.”
“Interesting,”Callumsaid.“Andkindoffreeing,Iguess.”Heputhiscupdown.“Therestofusarestuckintime.Youknow—youdoonething
inthemorning,thisotherthingintheafternoon,gotosleepatnight.Thesamethingeveryday.Butthatisn’treal,isit?It’sjustsomethingweconstructforourselves.Ifwewantedto,wecouldletitgo.”
Isippedthecoffeethewaitresshadbroughtandtriedtofollowwhathewastalkingabout.“Alotofpeopleworknights.”
“Suretheydo.”Callumsmiledagain.“Thanksformeetingme.”
NowIwasperkingup.Itookanotherswallowofcoffee.“Yousaidyouhaveinformation.”
Callum’sgazedroppedtohiscoffeecup,thenwanderedaroundtheroom.“Doyouwanttoknowsomethingstrange?”
Thatwaswhenitclicked.Somethingwasoff.I’dbeentoodistracted,tootiredandoverwhelmed,tonoticeitbefore.“Callum,”Isaid.“Youtoldmeyouhadinformationfromthepolice.”
“Doyouwanttoknowsomethingstrange?”Callumsaidagain.“Imean,reallystrange.Likethecrazieststrangethingyou’veeverheard.”
Iwentstill.Iwassuddenlyawareofthecoffeeshoparoundme,hownearlyemptyitwas.Howdarkitwasoutside.HowIwasaloneherewithhim.
“Youhavethisbigmysteryinyourfamily,”Callumsaid.IfhewasawareIwasuncomfortable,hedidn’tshowit.“Youcameallthewayheretosolveit,andyoumetmeinthelibrary.ButIhaveafamilymysteryofmyown.Isn’tthatcrazy?”
“Sure,”Isaidslowly,puttingmycupdown.
“Ihaveafamilydisappearance,too,”Callumsaid.“Mygrandfather.Hewenttoworkonedayandnevercamehome.Nooneeversawhimagain.”
Mymouthwentdry.Itcouldn’tbe.
“Mygrandmotherneverevencalledthepolice,”Callumwenton.
“Crazy,right?Momsaysthatmygrandmotheralwaysassumedthatmygrandfatherleftherforanotherwoman.Shefounditsohumiliatingthatsheneverconsideredfilingamissing-personreport.Sheneverwantedtotalkaboutit,allthewaytothedayshediedfiveyearsago.Thoseweredifferenttimes.”
Ilickedmylipsandswallowed.
Callumturnedhisgazebacktomyface.Itwashardandunreadable.
“Imaginethat.Justimagineit.Yourhusbandoffifteenyearsgoestoworkonemorningandnevercomeshome,andyoujustlivewithit.Youpretendeverythingisfineandhedidn’tjustvanish.Youpretendeverything’sfine
fortherestofyourlife.Nowondermymotherissoscrewedup.”Hesmiled,butnowIcouldseeitwasforced.“Everyonehasascrewed-upfamily,butIthinkyoursandminewinsomekindofaward,don’tthey?”
Hestaredatme,expectingananswer,soIsaid,“Idon’tknow.”
“I’veaskedmymotheraboutit,ofcourse,”Callumsaid.“Imean,Igrewupwithalong-gonegrandfather.SoIwascurious.Mymotherwasn’tasclosemouthedasmygrandmotherwas.Shewasakidwhenheleft,soshewasn’tsubjecttothesameshame.Shetoldmethatthetopicofherfatherwascompletelytabooinherhousegrowingup.Onceheleft,shewasn’tsupposedtotalkabouthim,eventoadmithehadeverexisted.Mygrandmotherwastooproud.”Heshookhishead.“SoIhavethisfamilymystery,andsodoyou.Andbothofthosemysterieshappenedaroundthesametime.ThefirstthingIthoughtwhenIsawthearticleaboutyourauntwas,MaybesheranoffwithGranddad.Shewasalotyoungerthanhim,butitisn’timpossible.Mygrandfatherwasatravelingsalesman—hemetallkindsofpeople.Hemetpeopleallday,everyday.Maybehemetyouraunt,andinafitofpassiontheydroveawaytogethertostartanewlife.”
Thecoffeeshopseemedtooempty,tooquiet.Oneofthefewcustomershadleft,andtheyoungmanworkingbehindthecounterwasstartingtocleanuptoprepareforclosing,oneeyeonus,hopingwewouldleave.
Maybeinafitofpassiontheydroveawaytogethertostartanewlife.
Ithoughtofthecarintheoldbarn,thedriedbloodonthegroundbeneathit.
Ipushedbackmychair.“Ineedtogo.”
“Youjustgothere,”Callumsaid.
“Yousaidyouhadinformationfromthepolice.”Ipickedupmypurse.ItsuddenlyseemedurgentthatIgetoutofhere,getawayfromhim.“Youliedtogetmehere.I’mgoing.”
Callumwatchedme,andhishandsomefacewasunreadable.“Idon’tneedinformationfromthepolice,”hesaid.“Ialreadyknowwhothebodyisinthattrunk.Doyou?”
Ididn’tanswer.Iturnedandleft.
“CallAlmaTrent,”Callumcalledafterme.“Sheknowswhoitis,too.
Maybeshe’lltellyou.”
Outside,Igotinmycar,startedit,andhitDialonmyphone.Nick’sphonewenttovoicemail.
“Nick,”Isaidafterthebeep,“IgotacallfromMarnie.Shesaysthere’sanotebookhiddeninthecandymachineweneedtosee.I’mcomingtothemoteltofindit.”
Throughthewindshield,IwatchedCallumcomeoutofthecoffeeshop.
Hegavemealittlewave,asifnothingwerewrong.Hegotinhisowncar.
Ihungupandtossedmyphoneonthepassengerseat.Ipulledoutoftheparkinglotandheadedthroughtown.
Iwasn’tsurprisedwhenIlookedintherearviewmirrorandsawCallumrightbehindme.Fell,NewYork
November1982
VIV
Therewasamoment,afewminutesafterithappened,whenVivthoughtofthelittlegirlshe’dseenthroughSimonHess’sfrontwindow.WhenshethoughtofSimonHess’swife,inherhomemadeclothesfromaButterickpattern,washinghisdishesandkeepinghishouse.
Whatwouldthosetwodonow?
Butshehadtoconfess:Thethoughtdidn’tlastverylong.Maybehewouldhavekilledthem.Maybenot.Andrightnowtherewastoomuchtodo.
Thelightswerebackon.Bettywasgone.AndVivwasleftwithadeadbodyonthemotelroomfloor.
Shepickeduptheroomphone,realizingwhensheheardthedialtonethatshe’dhalfexpectedthephonetobedead.Bettywasunpredictable,especiallywhenshewasangry.
Butthephoneworked,soshedialedthenumbershehadlearnedbyheartbecauseshe’dstaredatitsooftenonlongnightshifts,onapieceofpapertackedtothewall.
“FellPD,”cameaboredvoiceontheotherendoftheline.
Vivmadehervoicethedrawlofagirlwhowasbothboredandstupid.
“Almathere?”
“Maybe.Youhaveaproblem,dear?”
“Icanmakeoneup.”Vivgaveanemptygiggle.“I’mworkingtheSunDowntonight.Honestly?Ijustwanttoknowifshe’sfreetocomevisitme.
I’mbored.”Sheglanceddownatthefloor,whereSimonHesslaystill,herknifestillinthesideofhisneck.He’ddiedquicklyinthedark,agaspandathrashandafewtwitches.Thenitwasover.Hiseyeswerehalfclosed,asifheweredrowsy.
Assoonasitwasover,Bettywasgone—asifthatwaswhatshewantedallalong.Butitwasn’tthatsimple.Bettyhadn’tleftthemotel;Vivcouldfeelherwatching.ShewasnolongersureBettycouldleavethemotel.
“Yougirls,”thecopsaid,disgusted.“Thisisajob,notagossipsession.
Holdon.”
Afewsecondslater,therewasaclickandAlma’svoicecameontheline.“Viv?”
Vivwasspeechlessforasecond.Shehadneverinherlifebeensooverwhelmedwithreliefatthesoundofanotherperson’svoice.“Alma,”
shesaid,hervoicecrackingandtheboredfa?adebreakingdown.“Slownight.”
“Isit?”Almasaid,becauseVivwasphoningher,andAlmawasn’tstupid.
“Sure,”Vivsaid.Sheglancedatthebodyagain.HerfirstthoughtwhenshepickedupthephonehadbeenAlmawillunderstand.Becauseshewould,right?SheknewwhatVivhadbeeninvestigating.Sheknewtheevidence.SheknewwhatSimonHesswas.ShewouldknowthatifSimonHesswasdead,itwasbecauseVivhadnochoice.
Nowshewasn’tsosure.Almamightcomeouthereandarresther.Infact,shemostlikelywould.
Ishouldbearrested.Ishouldgotojail.
Logically,sheknewthat.Butdeepinherheart,shewasn’tgoingtoletithappen.
“Viv?”Almasaid.
“It’snothing,”Vivsaid.“Ijustgotsickofhavingnoonetotalkto.Ican’teventellyouhowboredIam.IfinishedmynovelandIdon’thaveanotherone.Ididn’tevenlikeitverymuch.”
Therewassilenceontheotherendoftheline.
“You’reworking,”Vivsaid.“Iforgot.It’sfine.I’lltalktoyoulater.”Shehungup.
Shit.
She’djustcalledthepoliceonherowncrime,becauseshethoughtAlmawouldunderstand.Shewasn’tthinkinglikeacriminal.Becauseshewasn’tacriminal—shewasashelteredgirlfromsuburbanIllinois.
Notanymore.Nowyou’reamurderer.Startthinkinglikeone.
Whatwouldyoudoifyoueversawrealtrouble?Viv’smotherhadsaid.
Youthinkyou’resodamnedsmart.
SheturnedandlookedatSimonHess,lyingonthefloor.“You’retheexpert,”shesaid.“What’sthebestwaytohideabody?”
Hewassilent.
Shethoughtthatwaskindofwitty.Therewassomethingterriblywrongwithher.
Shesteppedforwardandtookacloserlook.He’dbledintotherugbeneathhim,butitwasasmallbedsiderugplacedoverthecarpet.Ifshecouldgetridofhimandtherugboth,theremightbeminimalcleanupintheroom.Buthowwouldshelifthim?Andwherewouldsheputhim?Panicfluttereddeepinherbellyasshestartedtotrulyrealizewhatshe’ddone.
Almawouldcomeandfindthismess.Vivwouldgotoprison.Herparents,hersisterwouldbemortified.She’dgetoldinprison.Shemightevendiethere.
Itdidn’tmatterthatSimonHesswasakiller—she’dstillgotojail.
She’dtoldBettyonthephonethatshewaswillingtosacrificeherself.
Thatshedidn’tmatter.Butnow,facedwithlifeinprison,shewasstartingtothinkdifferently.
Shestaredathisstillface,athishandscurledlifelessontherug.Handsthathadkilledsomanyandwouldneverkillagain.
Itwasworthit,shethought.Itwouldbeworthitevenifshewenttoprison.
Butshewasn’tinprisonyet.
Shegrippedtheedgeoftherugandpulledatit.Squattedonherhamstringsandputherweightintoit.Therugwiththebodyonitslidoneinch,thenanother.Shestoodandrealizedthelampwason,shiningabeaconouttheroom’swindow,soshewalkedtoitandturneditoff.Sheopenedtheroomdoorinthedarkandlookedout.Therewasstillnooneintheparkinglot,nooneformiles.Thecorridorlightswerebackon,theroomdoorsallinnocentlyclosed,theroadsignlitupasusual.Bettywasquiet,butBettywaswatching.
“Ididit,”Vivsaidoutloud.“Areyouhappy?”
Therewasnoanswer.
“Ofcourseyou’renothappy,”Vivsaid.“You’restilldead.You’llalwaysbedead.Butnowsoishe.”
Sheturnedawayfromtheopendoorwayandstartedpullingtherugagain.TherewasnothingforitbuttogetSimonHessoutofhere.
Hewasimpossibletomove.Helayasadeadweight,hisbloodsoakingtherug.Theknifewasstillinhisneck,andwhenVivlookedatitherstomachturned.Shedidn’tquitehavethenervetopullitout.
Timewasrunningout;someonewouldcomesoonerorlater.EitheracustomerorAlmaTrent,droppingbytofindoutwhyVivhadsoundedsostrangeonthephone.Vivpulledharder,gottherugslidhalfwayacrossthefloortothedoorway.Shewassofocusedonhertaskthatshedidn’thearthecarpullupintheparkinglot.
Butsheheardthefootstepsastheycameupthestairs.Shefrozewithherhandsgrippingtheedgeoftherug.Theroomwasdark,butthedoorwasopen.Itwastheonlyopendoorintheentiremotel.
Thefootstepsgotcloser,andVivsilentlyletgooftherug,inchingback,awayfromviewofthedoorway.Therewasnowaytoclosethedoornow.
Theinstincttogetoutofsightwasoverpowering.
Shewastryingtosilentlycrawlbackinacrab-walkwhenavoicecalled,
“Vivian?Isthatyouinthere?”
Marnie.
Vivopenedhermouthtoshoutsomething—shehadnoideawhat—buttherewasnotime.ThefootstepscametotheopendoorwayandMarnieappeared.Shewentverystill,andVivknewthatshecouldseeenoughfromthelightinthecorridor:thebody,theknife,theblood,therug,andVivherself,crouchedonthefloor,mostlikelylookingwildandinsane.
“Vivian,”Marniesaid.“Whatthehellhaveyoudone?”
???
“Whatamess,”MarniesaidoverandoveragainastheyfoldeduptheedgesoftherugaroundSimonHess’sbody.“Whatadamnmess.Youcouldn’tdoitinawaywithlessblood?Hithimovertheheadorsomething?”
Vivshookherheadnumbly,asifthisquestionrequiredananswer.ShewasstillinshockoverhowquicklyMarniehadadaptedtothesituation—
andhowincontrolsheseemedtobe.Theentirenightwasseemingmoreandmorelikeacrazydream.
“Holdon,Viv,”Marniesaiddarkly,asifreadingViv’smind.“Nospacingout.Whatdidhesaytoyou?”
Vivfelttearsstinghereyes,butshebreatheddeepandblinkedthemback.Heremotionswererunningwild,tryingtogetoutofcontrol.Panic,
anger,hopelessness.“Everything,”shesaidtoMarnie.“Hetoldmeeverything.”Sheblinkedharder,thebodygoingblurryinhervision.“HethoughthewasinlovewithBetty.Hekeptsayingshewashis.”
Marniewasquietforasecond.“SomehowIdoubtBettyagreed,”shesaid,hervoiceeven.“Whybothertellingagirlyouloveherwhenyoucanstuffherinyourtrunkinstead?Andtheothers?”
Vivshookherhead.Shecouldn’trepeatthehorriblethingsSimonHesshadsaid,notrightnow.Amistake.IwantedtoknowifIcoulddoitagain.
Shewassoobviouslyalone.
“Damn,”Marniesaid,againasifVivhadspoken.
“Whyareyouheresolate?”Vivasked.“Ithoughtyouweredone.Whydidyoucometothemotel?”
“IheardaboutTracyWaters.Ihadtheradioon,andtheysaidtheyfoundherbody,andIthought…”Marnielookeddown.“Iknewitwashim.Wecouldhavestoppedit.Icouldhavestoppedit.”
“Itried,”Vivsaid.“Icalledtheschool.Iwroteherparents.Itwasn’tgoodenough.Ifailed.”
“Atleastyoudidsomething,”Marniesaid.“NowIgettodosomething.
DidyoueverseePsycho?”
Vivfelthereyesgowide.“AreyousayingI’mNormanBates?”
Marniesaid,“Gogettheshowercurtainfromthebathroom.”
Vivdid.Theywrappedtheruginit,withHessinsidetherug.TheywereabouttodragtheentirepackagethroughthedoorwaywhenMarniepausedagain.
“Theknifeisstillinhimwithyourfingerprintsonit,”shesaid.
Vivswallowed.“ShouldItakeitout?”
“Takeitoutandgetridofit.”
Vivputdownherendoftheshowercurtain.Hesswascurledinonhimself,twistedtooneside,hisbodyundignified.Shehadtomovehimtogetattheknife.Itslidouteasily,thoughthesounditmadewouldhauntherfortherestofherlife.Hess’sbloodwascoldnow,andnoneofitspilledwhenshepulledouttheblade.
“Wrapitinatowel,”Marniesaid.“We’lldealwithitlater.”
Vivcarriedtheknifetothebathroomandwrappeditinoneofthethin,roughhandtowels.Shewouldhavetofigureoutwherethesparetowelswerekept,andwhethertherewerespareshowercurtains.Shewasthinking
likeamurderernow.SheputtheknifeinitstowelontheshowercurtainnexttoHess.
“Weneedhiskeys,”Marniesaid.Shewasgoodatthis.“They’reprobablyinhispocket.AndI’mnotdoingit.”
Vivgrittedherteethandbenttothebodyagain.Shehadtotouchit—
touchhim.Evenafterhewasdead,touchingSimonHessmadeherrecoil,asifshecouldsmellallthedeadgirlsonhim,asifhe’dreachupandputahandonherthathadbeatenBettyGraham,thathadpushedCathyCaldwellintohercar,thathadstrangledVictoriaLeeandthrownherinthebushes.AhandthathadstrippedTracyWatersandleftherinaditchafterviolatingher.
Still,shepattedhistrousers,hisskinice-coldthroughthefabric,feelinghispockets.Hiskeyswereintheinsidepocketofhisjacket,andwhenshefeltthemshehadtopullthelapelawayfromhisshirtandputherfingersinthepocket.Shecouldfeelthesoft,deadfleshofhischest,thepuckerofanipple.Shegrabbedthekeysandyankedherhandback.
Theycheckedthroughtheopendoor.Therewasstillnooneintheparkinglot.
ItwashardworkgettingHessdownthecorridorandthestairs,butVivwasreadynow.Sheheldupherhalfofthewrapped-upshowercurtainassheandMarniemaneuveredit.Gruntingandpanting,theyworkedwiththespeedofthepanicked.Theycarriedhimtothecar,andVivusedHess’skeytoopenthetrunk.Theydroppedoneendoftheshowercurtainandrolledhimin,insidetherug.Theknifetumbledout,hittingthebottomofthetrunk.
“Putitinthebackseat,”Marniesaid.“We’lldumpit.”
Hessdidn’tquitefit,andVivhadtopushhisfeetin,tuckthemundertheedgeofthetrunkwhileMarniefoldeduptheshowercurtain.Vivwasreachinguptothetrunklidtocloseitwhenheadlightssweptacrosstheparkinglot.
Marniesworeanddroppedtheshowercurtain.Vivslammedthetrunk.
Thecarstoppedandtheheadlightswentout.Adoorslammed.
“Alma,”Vivsaid.
“Oh,Jesus,”Marniewhispered.“Acop.”
Almaapproachedthem.Shewasalone,inuniform,onehandonherhip.
ShelookedbackandforthfromVivtoMarnie.
“Iknowyou,”shesaidtoMarnie.“You’reoneofthephotographerswesometimesuse.”
Marniesaidnothing.
AlmalookedatVivagain.ShetookinViv’sdisheveledappearance,herflushedfacelinedwithcoldsweat.“Vivian,”shesaid.Hervoicewasstrangelyflat,emptyofitsusualAlmaconfidence.“TracyWatersisdead.
Wefoundherbodyearlythismorning.”
“Iknow,”Vivsaid.
“Ithink…”Almalookedaway,closedhereyesforasecond.SheopenedthemandturnedbacktoVivandMarnie.“IthinkIwaswrong.Ithinkyoumighthavebeenrightwhenyoucametome,butIdidn’tlisten.
SoIdidsomethingthatIdon’tnormallydo.WhenIheardthey’dbroughtTracy’sbodyin,IlookedupSimonHess’sphonenumberandcalledtoseeifhe’dcometothestationforaninterview.”
Bothwomenweresilent.Theonlysoundwasthewindhowlingthroughthetrees.
“Hewasn’thome,”Almasaid.“Hiswifesaidhe’dgoneoutveryearlythismorning,beforesix,andshehadn’tseenhimsince.Shedoesn’tknowhisschedule.Shethinkshemightbehometomorrow.”
Shelookedattheclosedtrunk.Vivfeltherhandsclench,feltcoldsweatonherbackandinherarmpits.
“IwouldhavecalledSimonHess’sschedulingservice,buttheywereclosedfortheday,”Almasaid,stilllookingatthetrunk.“Iwasgoingtocallfirstthinginthemorningtoaskiftheyknowwhereheis.”
Then,finally,hergazewanderedtotheshowercurtain,crumpledinViv’shands.Therewerethicksmearsofbloodonit.
Alma’sfacewentverystill.SheraisedhereyestoViv’s.“Vivian,”shesaid,echoingMarnie.“Whatdidyoudo?”
“Hetoldmeeverything,”Vivsaid,asifthatexplained.
Almawasquietforalongminute.“Hecheckedinhere?”sheaskedfinally.
“Yes.”
“Andhedidallofthem?Hetoldyouthat?”
“Yes.Betty,Cathy,Victoria.Tracy.Maybemore.Icouldn’tgetitoutofhim.Hewaslaughingatme,becausetohimitwasagame.”
Almaflinchedalittle.“Didhesaywhy?”
“Becausehelikedit,”Vivsaid.“Becauseitwasfun.Achallenge.
Becauseallofthemwerelonely.Becausenoonestoppedhim.Becausehecould.”
“Goddamnit,”Almasworesoftly.Shesoundednothinglikesheusuallydid;shesoundedsadandalmostbroken.SheliftedhergazetoVivagain,herface.“Didhehurtyou?”
“No.”
“You’renotgoinghome.”
Vivblinked.“What?”
“You’renotgoinghome,”Almasaidagain.“Nottonight,andnotforalongtime.Ifwegetridofthis”—shemotionedtothetrunk—“andwewill,thenitcan’tbetracedbacktoyou.Wecan’ttakethatchance.”
“He’samurderer,”Vivsaid.“Akiller.”
“It’sthatsimple,isit?Thatcut-and-dried?”Alma’svoicewasregainingitsusualtone.“Youhaveproof?Irrefutableevidence?”
“Hetoldmehewas.”
“Andyouthinkthat’sgoodenough?That’swhyyou’reinthisparkinglot,doingyourbesttogetridofthebody.”Almashookherhead.“I’lltellyouwhat’sgoingtohappen.SimonHessisn’tgoingtocomehome.Hiswifeisgoingtoreporthimmissing.Thepolicearegoingtoinvestigate.
Andatsomepointtheirinvestigationisgoingtoleadhere.Totonight.Toyou.Tellme,didanyoneelseseeSimonHessheretonight?”
VivrememberedRobertWhite,hishandsonherthroat.Thewayhe’dthrownhertotheground.Andthen—SimonHess,standingthere.Areyouassaultingthatyounglady?
WhitewouldrememberSimonHess.Thequestionwas,wouldhesayanything?
Helen,drivingup,slowinghercar.HadHessbeentherethen?HadHelenseenhim?
AndthentherewasJamieBlaknik.Hetechnicallyhadn’tseenHess,buthe’dmadethatphonecall.Vivhadtrustedhim.ButcouldhebetrustedwhenhelearnedthatHesswasdead?
“Twopeoplesawhim,”Vivsaid,becauseshewasn’tsureaboutHelen.
Shefeltcompelledtoadd,“Itisn’tlikelythateitheronewillsayanything.
Andhedidn’tsignin.Hisnameisn’tanywhere.Itisn’tlikelythatanyonewillknowhewashere.”
“Anythingislikely,”wasAlma’sreply.“Anythingatall.They’llcomebacktoyou,Vivian.Anditwillbeover.”
“Whataboutme?”Marniesaid.
“Youwereneverhere.”Almawasincontrolnow,theshockwearingoff.
“NoonecanputyouattheSunDowntonightexceptus,andhell,wemightbelying.Youshouldgohomenowandgetoutofthis.”
MarnielookedfromVivtoAlma.“Idon’tthinkIcandothat.There’stoomuchtodo,andithastobefast.AndIhaveanideaofwherewecouldputhim.”
Weretheyreallytalkingaboutdoingthis?Wasthisreallyhappening?
WeretheygoingtoputSimonHesssomewhereandhopenoonefoundhim?Andwhatwasgoingtohappentoher?
WasAlma,acop,reallygoingtogoalongwithit?ShelookedatAlma’sfaceandsawdetermination.Anger.Andtherehadbeenthatmomentofshockthathadalmostundoneher.ThiswasaffectingAlma;ithaddealthersomekindofblow.Forwhateverreason,Almawasin.
Almaglancedoutattheparkinglot,whichwasstillempty.Butforhowlong?“Wheredoyouthinkweshouldputhim?”sheaskedMarnie.
“MartinGreeronWestonRoadisinhiseighties.Hiskidsareputtinghiminahome.Theydon’twanttheproperty,andhedoesn’tmaintainit.It’shugeandit’sempty.”
Almathoughtitoverandnodded.“Iknowtheplace.It’llworkforafewweeks,atleast.Ifwecomeupwithsomethingbetter,we’llmovehim.”
“You’llmovehim,”Marniecorrectedher.“I’mseeingthisthrough,butI’mdoneaftertonight.”
AlmalookedatViv,assessingher.“You’restillgoodforthis?Ifnot,speakup.”
“I’mgood,”Vivsaid,thoughherfacefeltnumb.
“We’llneedaplanforyou.Itneedstolooklikeyouleftsuddenly,andmaybenotwillingly.Itcan’tlooklikeyoudecidedtoskiptown.”
“WhatifIjuststayedandpretendednothinghappened?”Vivsaid.
“You,beingquestionedbypolice?”Marniebrokein,shakingherhead.
“Youwouldn’tlastaminute.Thewholethingunravelsifthathappens,andyouputallofusindanger.No,Ilikeheridea.”ShemotionedtoAlma.
“You’regone,butyoudidn’tskiptown.You’rejustgone.”
You’rejustgone.Whataboutherparents?Hersister?“Won’tthecopslookforme?”
“Surewewill,”Almasaid.“We’lllookinthewrongplaces.Andnotrightaway.”Sheturnedtothecarandpulledthekeysfromwheretheywerehanginginthelockofthetrunk.“Leaveyourpurse.Leaveeverything.
Whereisthatfileandnotebookyoushowedme?”
“Intheoffice.”
“Gogetit.Don’tbringyourwalletoranythingelse.Leaveyourcar,everythinginyourapartment.”WhenVivhesitated,shesaid,“Youdidthis.
Youkilledhim.Theconsequencesfollowfromthat.Doyouunderstand?
There’sbeforetonight,andafter.That’swhatyourlifeisfromnowon.”
Vivnodded.There’sbeforetonight,andafter.She’dmadeadecisioninthatmotelroom.Nowshewaslivingtheaftermath.
WhiletheothersputtheshowercurtaininthetrunkandclosedandlockedHess’sroom,Vivjoggedbacktotheoffice.Thelightswereon,thedoorunlocked.Herjackethungfromthehook.Herpursesatnexttothedesk.
Shewentintoitandgotouthernotes,quickly,tryingnottotouchanythinginherpurse.Ifshetouchedherthings,she’dpauseandrethink.
Shecouldn’tstandtoseeorfeelherwallet,herID,herkeys.Themakeupshekeptinherpurse.Thosebelongtoadeadgirl.Iamstartingeverythingover.
Shewalkedtothedeskandopenedthekeydrawer.TheenvelopeofRobertWhite’smoneywasstillthere,stackedwithbills.Shetookitandstuffeditinthebackpocketofherjeans.Shewasstartingeverythingover,butshehadalittlemoneytodoit.Whitewouldneverknowwherehismoneywent.Thethoughtmadeherfeelalittlebetter.
Shetookalastglanceattheguestbook.Jamie’snamewasinthere,andMrs.Bailey’s.Bothofthemwouldbequestioned.ButMrs.Baileywaspassedout,andshedidn’tthinkJamiewouldtalk.
Actually,shewassurehewouldn’t.Becauseshe’daskhimnotto.
Turningherbackonheroldlife,shelefttheoffice.AlmawasbehindthewheelofSimonHess’scar;shewaswearingsomekindofplasticdoctor’sgloves,herhandsonthewheel.MarniegotinherowncarandmotionedtoViv.
“Comewithme,”shesaid.“Let’stakearide.”
VivwalkedtoMarnie’scarandgotin.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Callum’scarfollowedinmyrearviewmirrorasIdroveoutofdowntownFell,ontothebackroads.IgrippedthewheelandmymindspunasIwonderedwhatIshoulddo.Pullover?Trytolosehim?Callsomeone?Who?
WhatdidCallumwant?
Hecan’tpossiblywanttohurtme.Thatwasthefirstthingthatcametomind.Didamanjustfollowawomanaroundinordertohurther?
Yes,youidiot.Hecould.
Hehadinvitedmeoutbylyingtome.Hehadtoldmeacrazystoryabouthisgrandfather—who,ifCallumwastellingthetruth,wasserialkillerSimonHess,formerlyofFellandnowlongdeadinatrunk.AndthenCallumhadfollowedme.Hewasn’tfriendlyornice.Whateverhewanted,Ididn’twanttoknow.
AndsuddenlyIknewwhattodo.IleftFellandtookthebackroadstothewest,awayfromtheSunDown.Theskywasdarkand,exceptfortheoddcar,theroadswerequiet.TherewasjustmeandCallum.Hewasn’teventryingtohidethathewasfollowingme.
Iturnedontoanotherfamiliarroad,andthenanother.IsentupasilentprayerthatthepersonIwasgoingtowashome.AndthenIpulledintoAlmaTrent’sdriveway.
Iturnedofftheignition.Adogbarkedwildlyinthehouse,andthefrontporchlightswitchedon.Isaggedinrelief.
AlmaTrentopenedherfrontscreendoorandwalkedoutontoherporch.
Shewaswearingjeansandanavybluesweatshirt,herhairtiedbackinaponytail.Shelookedatme,stillsittinginmycar,andthenherhardgaze
movedtothecarstillontheroadatthefootofthedriveway,idling.Shewatcheditforalongminute,andthenCallum’scarpulledaway.
Iopenedmydriver’sdoorwithashakyhandandgotout.
“Evening,Carly,”Almasaid,hervoiceitsusualunhurriedspeed.“Wereyouhavingalittletrouble?”
Hertonesaidthattroubledidn’tscareher.Thatshe’dspentdecadeswalkingtowarditinsteadofwalkingaway.
“Maybealittle,”Isaid.“Aguywasbotheringme.”
“Well,that’sgoddamnedrude,”Almasaid.“Icantalktohimifyoulike.
Someguysdon’tgetthemessageuntiltheygetatalking-tofromme.”
“HisnameisCallumMacRae,”Isaid.
Almawentverystill.Forthefirsttime,Isawacrackinhercop’sfa?ade.
“Isee,”shesaid.“Ididn’trealizeyouknewCallum.”
“It’sstrange,”Isaid.“IfirstmethimattheFellCentralLibrary.Iwasdoingresearchthere,andheintroducedhimself.I’mwonderingnowifmaybehefoundme.”
“Callumcanseemniceenough,butsometimeshe’salittleunstable,”
Almasaid.“Doyouwanttocomeinforacupoftea?”
Itookastepforward,butIdidn’tanswerherquestion.“YouwereonshiftthenightthatmyauntVivdisappeared,right?”
Almahesitatedforthebriefestsecond.Thenshenodded.“Iwas.”
“Butyoudidn’tknowshewasmissinguntilitwasreportedfourdayslater.”
“HowwouldIknowshewasmissing?”
Itwasahunch.Onlythat.ButeveryinstinctinmybodyandmybraintoldmeIwasright.“I’mwonderingnowifmaybemyauntdidn’tdiethatnight,”Isaid.“I’mwonderingifmaybeshelivedandsomeoneelsedied.”
“Carly,”Almasaid,“youshouldreallycomeinforacupoftea.”
“Idon’tthinkso.Idon’tthinkI’mgoinganywherewithyou.OrMarnieClark.I’msureyouheardaboutthebodyIfoundinatrunkthismorning?”
Alma’seyeswerefixedonme,butIcouldn’treadthem.Pity?Kindness?
Fear?Irealizednowthattosurvivedecadesastheonlyfemalecoponamalepoliceforce,Almahadbecomevery,verygoodathidingwhatshewasthinking.“Iheardaboutit,yes,”shesaid.
“Ithoughtitwasmyaunt,butthepolicetoldmeitwasaman,”Isaid.
“AndthenCallumcalledmeandtoldmethiscrazystoryabouthowhisgrandfatherdisappearedaroundthesametimemyauntdid.AndIknow
he’stellingthetruth,becauseamannamedSimonHessdisappearedsometimearoundNovember1982.Hiswifewastooembarrassedtoreportitbecauseshethoughthe’dlefther.SimonHessworkedasatravelingsalesman.JustlikethelastmanseenwithBettyGraham.”
“Callumgetsfixatedonthings,”Almasaid.“Hisgrandfather’sdisappearanceisoneofthem.He’sneverbeenquiteright.Wethinkhehasborderlinepersonalitydisorder.”
“Who’swe?”Iasked.
“He’shadmorethanonerun-inwithpolice,”Almasaid,ignoringmyquestion.“Usuallyforbotheringgirls.Hestopswhenhegetsatalking-to.
He’llstopbotheringyouifItalktohim.”
“Notifhethinksmyauntmurderedhisgrandfatherandstuffedhiminatrunk,”Isaid.
Almawasquiet.
“Didshe?”Iaskedher.
“YouknowIcan’tanswerthat,”shesaid.
“ThenI’llansweritmyself.Marniesaysthere’sanotebookattheSunDownthatIneedtoread.IthinkI’llgoreadit.”
“YoutalkedtoMarnie?”Almasaid,hervoiceshocked.“Youhavethenotebook?”
“I’mgoingtogetitnow.AndthenI’mgoingtomeether.”
Almahesitated,thennodded.“She’sright,”shesaid.“It’stime.”
Nowisasgoodatimeasanyforallofittocomeout,Marniehadsaidtomeonthephone.ItwasgoingtohappenwhetherIwantedittoornot.
Whynow?Whyme?
“WhatamIgoingtofindinthenotebook?”Iaskedher.
“You’llsee,”Almasaid.Sheturnedtowardherdoor,thenbacktome.
“Gomeether,”shesaid.“Dowhateversheasks.Maybeyoudon’twantmyadvice,butthat’sit.”Thensheturned,wentintothehouse,andclosedthedoorbehindher.
???
NoonefollowedmeonthedarkroadsasIdroveacrosstownfromAlma’stothemotel.WasIsupposedtobeworkingtonight?Ididn’tevenrememberanymore.MaybeIwasquitting.MaybeIwasfired.Itdidn’tmatter.
Theroadsignwaslitup,thefamiliarwordsblinkingatme:VACANCY.
CABLETV!Nick’struckwasintheparkinglot,andtheofficewasclosedanddark.Iparkedandgotoutofmycar,lettingthecoldwindstingmyface.
Therewasnosoundbutthefar-offrumbleofatruckfartherdownNumberSixRoad.Icouldsmelldeadleavesanddampandthefainttangofgasoline.
Inacrazyway,IbelongedheremorethanI’dbelongedanywhereinmylife.TheSunDownwastheplaceIwassupposedtobe.
AndyetIhadthefeelingthatIwashereattheendoftheSunDown’slife.Thatitwouldn’tbeheremuchlonger.
Iwalkedtothestairsandclimbedthem,thefeelingofbeingwatchedcrawlingupthebackofmyneck.Betty,maybe.Maybeoneoftheothers.Inolongerreallyknew.
IreachedNick’sdoorandbangedonit.Itopenedimmediatelyandhewasthere,bigandtousled,inadarkgrayT-shirtandjeans,aworriedlookonhisface.“ThankfuckingGod,”hesaid.Hetookmywristandgentlypulledmeintotheroom,closingthedoorbehindhim.
Ipaused,lookingaround.I’dneverbeeninsideNick’sroombefore.
Therewasasuitcasewithclothesstrewnoverit,awalletandaphoneonthenightstand.Thegunwasnowheretobeseen.Thebedwasrumpledandsleptin,afactthatwouldhaveembarrassedmeexceptforthefactthatitwasalsostrewnwithpapers,aspiralnotebooklyingopeninthemiddleofit.
“Thenotebook,”Isaid.
“Igotyourmessage,”Nicksaid.“Itwasinthecandymachine,justlikeyousaid.BehindthepanelIwasworkingon,jammedintothemachine’sworks.Shemusthaveputitthererecently.Therewasnowayitwasinthereforthirty-fiveyears.”
Ilookeddownatthepapersstrewnoverthebed.Theywereallinkedwiththesamehand:pagesofwriting,lists,maps,diagrams.“MarniemusthaveputitthereafterIstartedworkinghere.Iwonderhowmuchsheknows.”
“Everything,”Nicksaid.“Carly,I’vebeenreadingthroughthis.I’vebarelystarted.Butit’sincredible.”Hepickedupapieceofpaper.“ThisisamapofVictoriaLee’sstreet.Herhouse,thejoggingtrail,theplacewhereherbodywasfound.SeethisX?She’sputanotesayingthatfromthisspot
youcanseeVictoria’shouseandyoucanaccessthejoggingtrailatthesametime.Thiswasmostlikelywherethekillerwasstanding.”
Heputthatdownandflippedapageinthenotebook.“ThesearehernotesaboutSimonHess’ssalesscheduleatWestlakeLockSystems.ItsayshewasinVictoria’sneighborhoodthemonthshewaskilled.HesoldlockstoCathyCaldwell.Andthishere”—hepickedupanothersheet—“thesearehernotesaboutthedayshefollowedHesstoTracyWaters’sstreetandwatchedhimfollowher.”
“What?Shesawhimstalkher?”Ilookedatthenotes.“ShemustbetheonewhowrotethelettertoTracy’sparents.Shemustalsobetheonewhophonedtheschoolprincipal.There’snootherway.”
“This,here,”Nicksaid,turningtoyetanotherpage,“isherdiaryofSimonHess’smovements.Hisaddress,hisphonenumber,themakeandmodelofhiscar,hislicenseplate.Whenheleftthehouseeverydayandwhathedid.Wherehewent.Vivianwasfollowinghim.Forweeks,itlookslike.”
Hewasright.IscannedthenotesandsawdayafterdaylistingthetimesSimonHesslefthishouseandwherehewent.Thereweregapsinthetimeline,withnotes:Notsure—missedhim.Fellasleep.LosthimsomewherepastBedfordRd.ButtherewasnomistakingthatVivianhadbeenfollowingSimonHess.Stalkinghim.
OnthebottomofanotelistingHess’sname,address,phonenumber,andplaceofworkwasanote:Thatwaseasy.
WhateverhadhappenedtoSimonHess,ithadn’tbeenanaccident.Hehadbeentargetedforalongtime.
MaybemyauntVivwascrazy.
Ipulleduptheroom’sonlychairandsatdown.Iputmyheadinmyhands.
“Marniehadallofthis,allthistime,”Nicksaid.
“Shemusthave,”Isaid.“ButwhereisViv?”
Hisvoicewasgentle.“Dead,maybe.It’sbeenthirty-fiveyears.”
“Sheleftthatnight,”Isaid,stillstaringdownbetweenmykneesasIcradledmyhead.“Sheran.Shewasn’tabducted.ShekilledHessandtookoffwithouthercarorherwallet.Withoutmoney.How?”
IheardNickmovetothebedandmovethepapers.“Shehadhelp.”
“WhichmeansMarnie,andmaybeAlma,havebeenhidingheralltheseyears.Maybesupportingher.Why?Whynotturnherin?”Ishookmyhead.
“Hesswasaserialkiller.ThepatternisrightthereinViv’snotes.Hewasdangerous.Whynotcallthepoliceandclaimself-defense?”
“Becauseshe’dstillgotojail,”Nicksaid.“Nomatterwhoshekilled,she’sstillakiller.Thecircumstancescouldbemitigatedalittle,butthat’sthebest-casescenario.Theworstcaseisthatthere’snoevidenceatallthatHesskilledanyone—atleastnothingthatcanbeprovedincourt.SoVivgoesdownasacrazygirlwhodecidedtocommitmurderonenightandchoseaninnocentmanasavictim.Eitherway,shegoesdown.”
Maybesheshouldhave,Ithought.I’dseenthecarparkedintheoldbarn,thedriedbloodonthegroundbeneathit.Maybethepersonwhodidthatshouldgototrial.Toprison.Ifshedidn’t,whatwastopreventherfromdoingsomethinglikethatagain?
“Doyousmellsmoke?”Nickasked.
IliftedmyheadandrealizedIdid.Cigarettesmoke,freshandpungent.
Thesmokingman,thoughI’dneverfelthimuphereonthesecondfloorbefore.
“Henry,”Isaid.
“What?”Nickasked.
Istoodup.“Henry.That’sthesmokingman’sname.”Iwalkedtothedoorandopenedit,lookingoverthedarkparkinglot.Waitingforthelightstogoout.
Thelightsstayedon.Nick’struckandmycarweretheonlycarsinthelot.Butstandinginthemiddleofthelotwasthefigureofaman.Hewasthin,cloakedinshadows.Iwatchedhimraiseacigarette,watchedthesmokeplumearoundhim.Hewasfacingmyway,andIwassurehewaswatchingme.
ThenheliftedahandandpointeddownNumberSixRoad.Ifrozestill.
Therewasafigureonthesideoftheroad—aman,walkingquicklyalongtheshoulder,hishandsinhispockets,hisheaddown,hisshouldershunched.Ipeeredintothedarkness,tryingtodecideifIrecognizedhim,tryingtoseeifhewasalivingfigureoradeadone.Ididn’tknowthedifferenceanymore.
ButbeforeIcoulddecideeitherquestion,themanapproachedthemotelandduckedaroundthecornertowardtheoffice,outofsight.
Ilookedbackattheparkinglot,lookingforHenry.Buttheparkinglotwasempty.Hewasgone.
???
Theofficewasdark,butsomeonehadkickedthedoor.NickandIhadheardthethumpsaswelefthisroom.NoweveninthereflectedlightfromtheroadsignIcouldseethemarksofashoewhereithadhitthewood.
“Whatthehellwashethinking?”Nicksaid,hisvoicelow.“Didhethinkhecouldgetin?”
Istaredattheshoemarks,unsettled.“CallumMacRaefollowedmefromtown,”Isaid.“IhadtodrivetoAlma’splacebeforeheleftmealone.”
“MacRae,”Nicksaid.“DoIknowhim?Hismotherisaprofessoratthecollege,right?Whatdoeshewantwithyou?”
“I’mnotreallysure.”Callum’sinterestinmehadsometimesseemedpersonal,sometimesnot.“Buttonighthewantedtotellmethathe’sSimonHess’sgrandson.”
Nickpaused,thenshookhishead.“Fuckit,I’vebeengonetoolong.Idon’tknowallthetowngossipanymore.IfIeverdid.”Hesteppedbackandlookedaround.“Ifhefollowedyou,thenhewasdriving.”
“Yes.”Thoughthatdidn’texplainwhyhewaswalkingalongthesideofNumberSixRoadnow.Orkickingtheofficedoor.IfitwasevenCallumatall.
“Hedidn’tgobacktotheparkinglot.Hemusthavegonethisway.”
Nickwalkedaroundthecornertowardtheemptypool.
Ifollowedhim,shovingmyhandsinthepocketsofmycoat.Itwasdarkerbackhere,ontheothersideofthebuildingfromthecorridorlights.
Thedarkmadeitseemcolder.IkeptclosetoNickashewalkedtowardthebroken-downchain-linkfencearoundthepool,hisbootsscuffinginthelayersofdeadleaves.
“MacRae!”heshouted.
Therewasnoanswer.
“Let’sjustgoback,”Isaid.
Nickheldupahand.“Ihearhim.”Hetookastepandpaused.
“MacRae!”
Ilookedaround,tryingtoseeinthedarkness.Theemptypoolwiththefencearoundit.Thebrokenconcretewalkwaythathadoncebeenthepaththatguestswouldtaketothepool.Thebackdoorsthatledtotheutilitiesroomandthestorageroom.FromtheothersideofthebuildingatruckwentbyonNumberSix,makingaloud,throatybarrelingsound.Therewasthe
faintclickIrecognizedascomingfromtheicemachineintheAMENITIES
room,forevermakingicethatnoguesteverused.
“There’sabreakinthefence,”Isaid.Ipickedmywaytowardit,tryingnottotriponthebrokenconcrete.Itwasonthefarsideofthepool.
“Wait,”Nicksaid.“Becareful.Letmecheckit.”
“Ican’ttellifit’srecentornot,”Isaid,touchingtheedgeofthebreakwithoutgoingthroughittowardthepool.“Thisfenceissoolditmight—”
Ashadowcameoutofthedarkness.Bighandsgrabbedmeandshovedmethroughthebreak.Istumbledbacktowardthepool,lettingoutascream.
“Carly!”Nickshouted.
Thehandsshovedmefarther.MyanklebentandItriedtokeepmybalanceonthebrokenconcrete.WhoeveritwaswasinshadowandIcouldn’tseehisface.Butwhenthevoicespoke,Irecognizedit.
“Fuckyou,bitch,”CallumMacRaesaid,andpushedmebackwardintotheemptypool.Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Ilandedhardontheconcrete,andeverythinghappenedatonce.Painlancedupmybackandmyshoulder,reverberatedthroughmychest.Myheadhitthegroundandmyglassescameoff.ThebreathleftmeinawhooshandforasecondIwascurledupandgasping,tryingtobreathe.
“Carly!”cameNick’spanickedvoice.“Carly!”
Iopenedmymouth.I’mokay.Idon’tthinkanything’sbroken.Thewordswerejustathought,awhisperofbreath.Icouldn’tmakeanythingcomeoutofmylungsandintomythroat.
“Carly!”
“Nick,”Imanaged.Iwaslyinginapoolofgarbageandleaves,oldbeercansandfast-foodwrappers.Icouldn’tseemuchinthedarkwithoutmyglasses.Painwasthrobbingthroughmybody,fromthebackofmyheadanddowntomytailbone.Imanagedadeepbreathandtriedagain.“Nick.
I’mokay.”
Iheardhimattheedgeofthepoolaboveme,therustleofhisfootsteps.
“Areyouhurt?Doyouneedhelp?”
TheonlythingIcouldthinkofwasCallumMacRaerunningoffintothetrees,gettingfartherwitheverysecond.Thethoughtputmeintoadark,blackrage,andforasecondIwasmorefuriousthanIhadeverbeeninmylife.MorefuriousthanIhadeverimaginedbeing.
“Gogethim,”IshoutedatNick.“Don’tlethimgo.”
HemusthaveheardsomethinginmyvoicethatsaidIwasn’thelpless,becausehesworeandthenextthingIheardwerehisbootstakingoffovertheconcrete,swiftandhard.
IwonderedifNickwouldcatchhim.IwonderedifCallumwasarmed.IwonderedifNickhadhisgun.
Fuckyou,bitch,Callumsaidinmyhead.
“Fuckyou,bitch,”Isaidbacktohim,myvoicethroatyasIstillgaspedforbreath.Irolledontomybackandtookstock.
Ihadabumponthebackofmyhead.Myshoulderwasscreamingwithpain,andwhenIrotatedit,itmadeasickeningclicksoundthatsaidithadbeendislocated.Iscreamedthroughmygrittedteeth,thentookmorebreathsasthepaineasedalittle.
Ihadtakenmostoftheimpactonmyback,anditthrobbedfromtoptobottom.Imovedgingerly,pattingtheleavesandgarbagearoundme,lookingformyglasses.
Feetshuffledinthedeadleavesnexttothepool,afewfeetbehindme.
Iwentstill.AtfirstIcouldn’tseeanythingintheout-of-focusworldaroundme;thenIsawasmudgemovefromthecornerofmyeye,likesomeoneshiftingposition.
“Nick?”Isaid.
Therewasnoanswer.Iwascold,socold.Tryingtokeepaneyeontheblur,Ifeltformyglassesagain.
Avoicecame,highandsad,almostfaint.“Idon’tfeelgood.”
Mymouthwentdrywithfear.Itsoundedlikeachild—aboy.TheboyIhadseen.Theboywhohadhithisheadinthispoolanddied.
Ifeltformyglassesagain.Theyhadn’tfallenfar.Iranmyfingersoverthem.Theywerewobbly,buttheyweren’tbroken.Ipickedthemupandlistenedtothemclickasmyhandshook.
“Idon’tfeelgood,”theboysaidagain.
Slowly,Iputmyglasseson.Imademyselfturnaroundandlook.Hewasstandingatthefarendofthepool,wearingshortsandaT-shirt.Hisarmsandlegswerethinandwhiteinthedarkness.Hewaslookingatme.
“I—”Imademyselfspeak.“Ihavetogo.”
Hestartedtowalktowardme,theleavesrustlingathisfeet.
Isatupfast.Iwasbruisedandfilthy.WhenImovedafootIheardaclinkandknewtherewasbrokenglassinheresomewhere.ItestedwithmypalmsbeforeIputthemdownandpushedmyselfup,gettingintoastandingpositionasfastasIcouldasthepainmovedthroughme.
Theonlywayoutofherewastoclimbtherustedoldladderthathungfromtheedgeontheotherendofthepool.Istartedtowarditasthefootstepscamebehindme.
“Whydon’tIfeelgood?”theboyasked,makingmejump.ButImovedonefootaftertheother,shufflingandlimping,tryingtogainspeed,dirtandleavesonmyclothesandinmyhair.Ilikelylookedlikeanextrainazombiemovie,butIkeptmoving.Slowly,tooslowly,Iclimbedtheinclinefromthedeependtowardtheshallowendandtheladder
“I’msorry,”IsaidasIwalked.“Ihavetogo.Maybeyou’llfeelbettersoon.”
“Helpme,please,”hesaid,stillbehindme,hisfootstepsstillmovingintheleaves.
“Ican’t,”Isaid,myvoicenearlyawhisperoffear.“Ireallycan’t.”
“Helpme,please!”
Theboltsontheladderhadnearlyrustedtodustinthedecadessincethepoolhadlastbeenused,andtheladderwobbleddangerouslywhenIgrabbedit.Iswungmyweightontoitandclimbedout.Grittingmyteethinpain,ImovedasfastasIcouldtowardthebreakinthefence,butIcouldn’tresistlookingbackovermyshoulder.
Theboywasstandingatthebottomoftheladder,stillwatchingme.Iturnedbackandhalfrantowardthemotel.
IcouldhearnothingfromthedirectionCallumandNickhadrun.Noshouts,nogunshots.Ifeltinmypocketformycellphone,thenrememberedI’dleftitinmycarbecausetherewasnoservicehere.Ineededtocallthepolice.
Mykeyswereinmycoatpocket,andIfumbledtheminthedarkuntilIopenedtheofficedoor.Iflippedontheoverheadlightandwalkedaroundthedesk.Ipickedupthedeskphone.
Nowisthemomentwhenyourealizesomeonehascutthephoneline…
someonewhohasn’tleftthemotel.
“Shutup,”Icroakedaloudtomyoveractivebrain.“Thisisn’tahorrormovie.”Anditwasn’t.Thedialtonecameloudandhealthyfromtheclunkyoldhandset.
Idialed911andlookeddownatmyselfinthefluorescentlight.Iwasstreakedwithdirtandoldleaves,andtherewasabloodyscrapeonmyleftwristthatIhadn’tevenfeltyet.Mybodybeggedmetositintheofficechair,asuncomfortableasitwas,butIwasafraidifIsatdownI’dnevermanagetostandupagain.
Itoldthe911dispatcherwhathadhappened:thatI’dbeenfollowed,thatI’dbeenassaultedandpushedintoanemptypoolbyamannamedCallum
MacRae,thatmyfriendNickhadtakenoffaftermyassailant.ThedispatcheraskedifIwasinjured,andIsaid,“Probably,”aspainranupanddownmyspine.HeaskedifIcouldstayonthelineashesentpoliceandanambulance,andashespokethewordsIheardfootstepswalkingupthecorridortowardtheoffice.
TheairwenticycoldandIsmelledpungentcigarettesmoke.
“MissKirk?”thedispatchersaid.“Areyoustillthere?”
Thefootstepscamecloser.Paced,measured.Notasofttennisshoeorawoman’shighheel.Aman.
Icouldseeaplumeofmyownbreathintheair.
“MissKirk?”thedispatchersaidagain.
“Ican’tstayontheline,”Isaid,feelingbadaboutit.Hewasbeingsonicetome.“Ireallyhavetogo.”
Ihadn’tclosedtheofficedoorbehindme,andasIhungupthephoneamanwalkedin.
Hewaswearingdresspantsandalong,darkwoolcoat.Hisshoeswereshined.Hewasawhitemanofaboutthirty-five,withdarkhairneatlycombedandacleanshave.Anaveragefacewithevenfeatures.Icouldseetheknotofhistiewhereitdisappearedintohisbuttoned-upcoat.Hewascarryingasmall,old-fashionedsuitcase.
AndsomethingabouthimscaredmesomuchIalmostscreamed.
Helookedatmeforamoment.Icouldn’tseethecolorofhiseyes—
gray,perhaps,orbrown.Allofthedetailsofhim—thecompositionofhisface,theexactcolorofhisclothes—seemedtorolloff,tonotquitetake,likewaterthathasbeendroppedontoapoolofoil.Iblinkedandmyeyeswatered.Mystomachclenchedinterror.Myfingerswerenumbwithcold.
Thesmellofsmokewasheavyandsharp.
“Ineedaroom,please,”themansaid.
Hisvoicewaslikewateronoil,too—whatexactlydiditsoundlike?Icouldn’tsay.Icouldn’tevensayifIhadreallyhearditorifitwasonlyinmyhead.
Andsomehow,Iknewit:IwaslookingatSimonHess.
ShouldIrun?Washeafigmentofmyimagination?Ihadtogetpasthimtogetoutthedoor.IfIcameclosetohim,wouldhevanishintonothingness,or—worse—wouldIfeelsomething,asifhehadsomekindofcorporealbody?Icouldn’tgetnearhim.SoIstoodtherefrozenashelookedatme.Andhesawme—Iwassureofit.
“MayIhavearoom?”heaskedmeagain.Heheldoutahand,palmup.
Akey.Hewasaskingforakey.Ididn’teventhinkasIreacheddownandopenedthekeydrawer.Ipickedakeywithoutlooking,theleathericyinmycoldhand.Iwastooafraidtocirclethedeskandhandittohim,soIputthekeyonthedesk,pushingitallthewaytotheedgefarthestfromme.
SimonHessstoodthereforanothermoment,hishandheldout.Thenhedroppedittohissideagain.“Roomtwo-oh-nine,”hesaidinthatvoicethatwasrealandyetnotreal.“Homesweethome.”
Iglanceddownandsawthenumber209ontheleathertabofthekeyonthedesk.
“Thankyou,”Hesssaid.Heturnedandlefttheroom.
Iheardhisfootstepswalkawaydownthecorridortowardthestairs.
Theofficedoorblewshutwithaloudslam,makingmejump.Aterrifiedwhimperleftmythroat.Andthelightswentout.
Somewhereinthedark,intheoffice,amancoughed.
Outsidetheofficedoor,Isawthesigngoout.
Betty,Ithought.
Shewashere.Andsowasherkiller.I’djustgivenhimaroom.
Icircledthedesk,makingmylegsworkasfastastheycould.SomethingbrushedmeasIranforthedoor,thefeelingfaintandcobweblike.Iwastoobusyescapingtoscream.
Thedoorknobwouldn’tturnundermyhand.“No,”Imoaned,jerkingitandshovingatit,tryingtoforcethedooropen.“No,Betty,no,no,no…”
Behindme,inthedarkoffice,thedeskphonerang,thesoundshrillandscreaming.Ijerkedthedoorknobagainandthistimeitturned.Iburstoutontothewalkway,mybreathsawinginmylungs.Iranformycar.
Upstairs,themoteldoorsbangedopenonebyone.Thelightswentout.
Thephoneshrilledbehindme.AndwhenIgottomycar,IrealizedIdidn’thavemykeys.Theywerebackintheoffice.
“No,”Isaidagain.Icouldn’tstopsayingit;itwastheonlywordthatwouldleavemythroat.“No,no.”Iwrenchedatthecardoorhandleandthedooropened.I’dleftthecarunlocked,butIhadnowaytostartitandgetoutofhere.
Iduckedintothecaranyway.Itfeltsaferthanstandingoutintheopen,waitingforwhateverBettyGrahamhadplanned.OrwhateverSimonHesshadplanned.Orbothofthem.
Idroppedintothedriver’sseat,butwhenItriedtopullthedoorclosed,somethingresisted.Iusedbothhands,cryingoutasthemotionwrenchedmyachingback,butIcouldn’tpullthedoorclosed.
Inthepassengerseat,mycellphonerang.Ijumped,mysweatyhandsslippingfromthedoorhandle.Itwasn’tpossible;therewasnoreceptionhere.Yetthephonelayfaceuponthepassengerseat,buzzingandringing.
ThecalldisplaysaidNICK
Iletgoofthedoorandgrabbedthephone,swipingatit.“Nick?”Icalled.“Nick?”
Therewasnoanswer.Justasecondofsilence,andaclick.
“Nick!”Ishouted.Itriedredialinghisnumber,butnothinghappened.
Nosignal.
Thewindgustedintothecarthroughtheopendoor.Ihadtearsonmyface,runningdownmycheeks,coldandwet.EvenfromhereIcouldhearthephoneringinginthemoteloffice,overandover,onandon.Itriedtoredialmyphone.
Thentherewasthehumofacarmotor,thecrackleoftiresongravel.Iloweredthephoneandwatchedasacarpulledupnexttomine.
Thewomaninside—Irecognizedher.Eventhirty-fiveyearslater,herhairgrownlongdownherback,aknitcaponherhead.Iknewthatface.I’dlookedatitsomanytimes,I’dknowitanywhere.
MyauntVivleanedoverandopenedthepassengerdoor.“Getin,Carly,”
shesaid.“It’stimetogetthehelloutofhere.”Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
Thenightroadsflewbyoutthewindow.Mybodythrobbedwithpain,andmyphonewashotandsilentinmyhand.VivianDelaneysatnexttome,drivinginsilence.
Shelookedolder,ofcourse.Hercheekboneshadthinnedandherfacewasharder,tougher.Herhairwasgrownlong,the1980spermlonggone.
Sheworejeans,boots,andapracticalzip-upjacket,aknitcaponherhead.
Sheworebarelyanymakeup.Shesmelledfaintlyfruity,likecherrybodywash.
“I’mnottakingyoufar,”shesaidatlast.“Butit’sbesttogetoutoftheSunDown,atleastforalittlewhile.”
“Theambulanceiscoming,”Isaid,myvoiceraspy.“Thecops.
Nick…”
“Whathappened,exactly?”
Imademyselflookather.Reallylook.“You’realive,”Isaid.
Vivsaidnothing.
“You’vebeenaliveforthirty-fiveyears.”
Shepulledintoaparkinglot.IrecognizedthesignforWatson’sDiner.“Icouldn’tgohome,”shesaid.“Ihadtorun.”
Iwatchedassheparkedthecar,turnedofftheignition.Myemotionswerelikeblinkinglightsbehindmyeyes.Shock.FearforNick.Excitement.
Andanger.Somuchanger,quickandhot.“Mymotherdiedgrievingforyou,”Isaid.
Vivfroze,herjawworking,andIrealizedshehadn’tknownhersisterwasdead
ThattoldmeeverythingIneededtoknow.Iopenedthedoorandgotout.
???
“Okay,listen,”shesaid,followingmeintothediner.“Ideservedthat.Youcanbemadatme.IhadtomoveonandcuttiescompletelyorI’dlosemynerve.Butwehavetotalkaboutwhathappenedtonight.What’sstillhappening.”
Ikeptmyphonetightinmyhand.WhenIwalkedintothedinerIsawthatIhadbarsofservice,soIcalledNick.Itrang,butnooneanswered.
Ihungupbeforethevoicemailkickedinandsatinabooth,mylegsandbackgroaningincomplaint.Vivsatacrossfrommeasifshe’dbeeninvited,eventhoughshehadn’t.Partofmewantedtokickherout.Butanotherpartknewshewasright:Wehadalottodiscuss.IhadbeeninFellforweeksnow,livingheroldlife.TheleastIneededtodowasgetanswers.
Isetmyphonedownonthetableinfrontofme,faceup,ineasyreach.IheardVivordertwobowlsofsoupfromthewaitress,butIbarelypaidattention.Nick,whereareyou?
ButViv’snextwordsjoltedmeoutofmystupor.“We’llstartwithBetty.
Whatsetherofftonight?”
“You’veseenBetty,”Isaid.
“Isawherin1982,yes.Sawher,heardher.”Shepickedupthecupofcoffeethewaitresshadputinfrontofher.“Inthosedays,shewentcrazyeverytimeSimonHesscheckedintothemotel.ButIhaven’tworkedthenightshiftinalongtime,soIdon’tknowwhatdidittonight.”
“Hecheckedin,”Isaid.Iwastalkingaboutthislikeitwasreal.Becauseitwasreal.“Hecameintotheofficeandaskedforaroom.Isawhim.Hisvoicewasinmyhead.Iputakeyonthedeskandhethankedmeandleftagain.”
Viv’sknuckleswerewhiteonhermug,andshedownedhalfthecoffeeinoneswig.“Youcheckedhimin?”
Ishrugged.“Isupposeso.”
“Well,Bettyisgoingtobefurious.Doesthemotelhaveanyotherguests?”
Ishookmyhead,thinkingbacktotheguestbookwhenIwasintheoffice.Itwasblank.“Unlesstheydidn’tsignthebook.Ihaven’texactlybeenthereverymuchtonight.”
“Thennooneelsewillgethurt,maybe,”Vivsaid.“Whateverhappensthere,it’sgoingtobebad.”
“TherewillbecopsandEMTsthere,iftherearen’talready,”Isaid.
“Andmyfriendistheresomewhere.”
ThewaitressputourbowlsofsoupinfrontofusasIcalledNickagain.
Noanswer.“Eat,”VivsaidwhenIputthephonedownagain.“Youneedsustenance,trustme.”
Iputmyspooninmysoup—chickennoodle,Irealized.“IjustsawSimonHess,”Isaid.“Excepthe’sdead.”
Vivtookaswallowofherownsoup.“Areyouwaitingformetosayit?
Okay,Iwill.SimonHessisvery,verydead.IkilledhiminNovember1982.
Iputaknifeinhischest,andthenIpulleditoutandputitinhisneck.ThenIwrappedhiminarug,puthiminthetrunkofhisowncar,andleftitinanabandonedbarn.”Sheputherspooninhersoupagain.“IdiditbecausehewasaserialkillerwhokilledfourwomenthatIknewof.IdiditbecauseheadmittedeverythingtomethatnightbeforeIputtheknifeinthesecondtime.IdiditbecauseifIhadn’t,hewouldhavegonefreeandkilledagain.
Mostlikelystartingwithme.”
Iwatchedasshetookanotherswallowofsoup.“You’resocasualaboutit.”
“BecauseI’vehadthirty-fiveyearstocometotermswithit.You’rejustfiguringitoutforthefirsttime.”Vivpressedhernapkintoherlips.“Ifyouwanttocallthecopsonme,Iwon’tstopyou.I’vehadthirty-fiveyearsoffreedomthatIhaven’treallyenjoyedandthatalotofpeoplewillsayIdon’tdeserve.I’mnodangertoyou,Carly.”
ThiswasthestrangestconversationI’deverhad.Ididn’tknowwhattodo,soIatesomesoup.“Youdidn’tdoitalone,”Isaid.“YouhadMarnieandAlma.”
“Ididitalone,”Vivsaid.
Ishookmyhead.“Marniecalledme.Shetoldmeaboutthenotebookinthecandymachine.Itwasrightwhereshesaiditwas.”
“AreyousurethatwasMarnie?”
Istaredather.WhenIthoughtback,Marniehadn’tactuallyidentifiedherself.Thecallwasfromanunknownnumber.Ihadrecognizedhervoiceandassumed.AndthenAlma:Gomeether.It’stime.
Damnit.“Thatwasyou?Why?”
“Ihaven’tbeenanactressinalongtime,butIcanstilldovoices,”Vivsaid.“You’vemetMarnie.Shepretendssheisn’taforceofnature,butsheis.Beingherwastheeasiestwaytogetyoutodosomething.Easierthan
doingitasme.TherewouldbetoomuchtoexplainifI’dtoldyouwhoIreallywas.WhatIwantedwasforyoutofindthenotebook.”
“Why?”
“BecauseitexplainswhyIdidwhatIdid.It’sallinthere.EverythingIfoundaboutSimonHessandthosemurders.”
“Thatstilldoesn’tmeanMarniewasn’tinvolvedthatnight,”Isaid.
“Shewasn’t.Therewasjustme.Onlyme.”
“Marnietookaphotoofthedumpsite.Ifounditinhernegatives.”
“Maybesomeoneusedhercamera.”
Igrippedmyspooninfrustration.“Thephonerecords.Theyshowthatsomeone—you—madeacalltotheFellPDthatnight.ItwouldhavegonethroughtoAlma,thenightdutyofficer.Butthoserecordsweresomehowneverinvestigated.”
“Idon’tknowanythingaboutthepoliceinvestigation,”Vivsaidcalmly,finishingherbowl.“Ididn’tcallthepolicethatnight.MaybeMrs.Baileydid.Shewaspassedoutinherroom,orsoIthought.Maybeshewokeupandheardsomething,butnothingcameofit.Almadidn’tcometothemotelthatnight,andneitherdidanyothercop.Atleast,notbeforeIleft.”
“Youweremissingforfourdaysbeforeitwasreported.”Thepieceswerecomingtogetherinmymind,allofthemmovingintoplace.“Yourroommatereporteditaftershecamehomefromaweekendaway.ButMarnieandAlmabothknewyouweregone.”
“NooneknewIwasgone.IkilledSimonHess,Idumpedhim,andIran.”
“Alone?”
“Alone.”
No.NowaywouldViv,whowasahundredandtenpoundssoakingwet,havebeenabletodoeverythingalone—liftthebodyofafull-grownmanintoatrunk,cleanupafterward,comeupwiththeplan.ThenshehadtostartanewlifewithnoIDandnomoney.“Whoareyounow?”Iaskedher.
“ChristineFawcett,”Vivsaid.“Ihaveadriver’slicenseandabirthcertificate.Ivoteineveryelection.IpickedChristineatrandom,butthenStephenKingwrotethatbook,soIfigureditwasfate.AndFawcettisforFarrahFawcett,whowasmyidolasateenager.”
Itstruckmeagainhowcasualshewas.Butasshe’dsaid,she’dhadthirty-fiveyearstogetaccustomedtobeingChristine.Ihadn’t.
“Youdidn’tdoitalone,”Iinsisted.ItbotheredmethatIhadcomesofar,wassittingacrossthetablefromthetruth,andIstillwasn’tgettingit.“Youneedresourcesandmoneytostartover.TogetfakeID.Togetabirthcertificate.Youweren’tacareercriminal.”
“No,butJamieBlaknikwas.”
Iknewthename.AlmahadsaidhewasattheSunDownthenightofthemurder.“Hewasapotdealer.”
“Apotdealerwhoknewalotoftherightkindofpeople,andknewhowtokeephismouthshut.”Vivsatbackinthebooth,hereyessad.“Hediedalongtimeago,sonothingyoudocanhurthim.”
“Youcaredabouthim,”Isaid,seeingitinherface.
Vivglancedaway,thennodded.“Iaskedalotofhim,butheneverfailedme.Thecopsquestionedhimasasuspectinmymurder,buttheycouldn’tgetanywherewithhim.Hekeptmysecretwhenhecouldhavesavedhimselfbyturningmein.Tothedayhedied,IknewIcouldneverrepayhim.He’llalwaysbeimportanttome.”Thecornerofhermouthquirkedintheghostofasmile.“Besides,agirlhastolosehervirginitysomewhere,right?”
Igapedather.“Areweactuallytalkingaboutthisrightnow?”
Vivlaughedsoftly,amused.Itmadeherevenmorebeautifulthanshewasbefore.“Itmaybeadifferenttime,butyouremindmesomuchofmeatthatage.Smart,resourceful,andvery,verysquare.”
“Iamnotsquare.”Thewordsleaptoutinmydefense.“Waitaminute,nooneevensayssquareanymore.Andwearenottalkingaboutthis.”
“Igotmarriedonce.”Vivsippedhercoffee.“AfterJamie.Itlastedelevenmonths,andthenheleftme.Hesaidhecouldneverreallyknowme,thatIkepttoomuchtomyself.You’realwayssofarintoyourownhead,wherenooneelsecango.That’swhathesaid,andhewasn’twrong.Ilikedhim—lovedhim—butIcan’tletanyonein.Mylifedoesn’tworkthatway.
It’sthesacrificeImade.”Shelookedatmespeculatively.“Youcanchoosedifferently,though.Mysister’sgirl.IthinkIcantakesomecomfortinthat.
Howdidshedie?”
“Cancer,”Isaid,mybodyachingalloveragain.
“Itrunsinthefamily,then.Getyourselfscreened,sweetheart.”
“Iknow.Mygrandmother—yourmother—diedofcancer,too.”Iputmyhandspalm-downonthedinertable.“Look,I’mgladwe’rehavingthislittlefamilyheart-to-heart,butIhavebigproblemstodealwith.Thereare
ghostsrunningaroundtheSunDownrightnow.Myfriendisouttheresomewhereandnotansweringhisphone.AndIgotpushedintotheemptypoolbySimonHess’sgrandson.”
Vivputdownhermug.Forthefirsttime,shelookedshocked.“Youhadarun-inwithCallumMacRae?”
“HowdoyouknowwhoCallumMacRaeisifyouworkedaloneandyouhaven’tbeentoFellforthirty-fiveyears?”
“IsaidIranthatnight,”Vivsaid.“IsaidI’vebeenChristineforthirty-fiveyears.IneversaidIdidn’tcomebacktoFell.”
“Waitaminute.I’vebeenlookingforyouallthistime,andyoulivehere?”
“HowdoyouthinkIknewyouworkedatthemotel?”Vivbitherlip.“Icouldn’tstayaway.Ileftforafewyears,andthenIcameback.Ilovethisplace.WhatcanIsay?Fellishome.”Sheshrugged.“I’mevenintheold-fashionedphonebook.Andno,noonehaseverrecognizedme.Mydisappearancedidn’tgetmuchcoverage.Iliveinadifferentpartoftownnow,andIworkfromhomeasatutor.IbarelyspoketoanyonewhenIworkedthenightshift,andnoonerememberedmeafterafewyears.Ievenpassedmyoldroommate,Jenny,onthestreetonedayandshedidn’tlooktwiceatme.It’samazinghowquicklypeopleforget.”
Iopenedmymouth—tosaywhat,Inolongerknew—butmyphonerang.Itlitupandbuzzedonthetable,theringtonehighandsharp.
Nick.
Igrabbedthephoneandansweredit.“Nick?”
“Carly,”hesaid.“Icamebackandyouweregone.Wherethefuckareyou?Wheredidyougo?”
“I’mnotfar,”Isaid.“I’mokay.What’sgoingon?Areyouallright?”
“I’mfine.I’matthemotel.”Voicessoundedinthebackground,andNickrepliedsomethingIcouldn’thear.Thenhecamebackontheline.“It’salittlecrazyhereatthemoment.”
Iwasnearlywoozywithreliefatthesoundofhisvoice,asdeepandconfidentasever.“Arethepolicethere?Theambulance?IsCallumthere?”
“They’rehere,”hesaid.“ButCallumisdead,Ithink.Andthemotel…
Ican’tevendescribeit.Ithinkyouneedtogetbackhererightnow.”Fell,NewYork
November2017
CARLY
ItwaschaosattheSunDown.
Therewerepolicecarsandanambulance.Theredandbluelightsflashed,bouncingoffthefrontofthebuilding,thecorridors,thestairs,mixingwiththeyellowandblueoftheroadsign—whichwaslitupagain.
Vivpulledintotheedgeoftheparkinglot,inaspotthatdidn’tblocktheofficialvehicles.WhenIgotoutofthecar,shefollowedme.
Therewasyellowpolicetapepulledacrossthesecond-floorcorridor,andseveralpolicewerethere.Morepolicewereonthegroundleveloutsidetheoffice,surroundingNick,whowasstandingwithhisarmscrossed.
WhenItriedtoapproach,apolicemanstoppedme.“I’mthenightclerk,”
Isaid.“I’msupposedtobehere.”
“Youworkhere?”heasked.
“Yes.”Igavehimmyname.“I’mtheonewhocalled911.”
HeglancedpastmyshoulderatViv.“Whoisthis?”
“Myaunt.”ThewordscameoutbeforeIcouldeventhinkthem.“HernameisChristineFawcett.ShepickedmeupafterCallumMacRaeattackedme,andthenshetookmeforabowlofsoup.”
Thecopwasreluctant,butheallowedusthroughandbroughtmetoanothercop,abig,sixtyishmanwhoseemedtobeincharge.
AsIansweredhisquestions,IkeptglancingatNick.Hewasflankedbyapolicemanofhisown,whowasaskingquestionsandtakingdowntheanswers.
“IhadnoideatheFellPDevenhadthismanycops,”Vivsaidsoftlytome.
Nickraisedhisgazeandlookedbackatme.Helookedunhurt,andhisexpressionwasintentandunreadable.ThenhisgazemovedtoViv,andI
knewherecognizedher.Helookedalmostangry.IwishedtoGodIcouldgethimaloneandexplain.
“Where’sCallum?”Iaskedthecop.
Hemotionedtowardtheambulance,whichwasstartingupandpullingoutoftheparkinglot.“Fromwhatwecanpiecetogether,afterhepushedyouintothepool,Mr.MacRaetookoffintothewoodswithyourfriendNickinpursuit.NickclaimshelostCallumsomewhereinthechase.Afterawhilehegaveupandcamebacktothemotel.HefoundCallumonthesecond-floorcorridor,unconscious.Hewastryingtowakehimwhenwepulledup.”Heraisedhiseyebrowsatme.“That’swhathesays,atleast.Doyouhaveanythingtoaddtothatstatement?”
“Itoldyouwhathappened,”Isaid.“Callumattackedme.Icalled911.Iwasafraidhe’dcomeback.Myauntcameandpickedmeup.Shetookmeaway,andthenwecamebackhere.”
Thecop’sgazeflickedtoViv,thenbacktome.Heobviouslydidn’trecognizeher.“Doyouneedmedicalassistance?”heaskedme.
“No,IneedtotalktoNick.”
“Thatisn’tpossiblerightnow.Thefactis,wefoundhimbentoverCallumMacRae’sbody.Untilweknowexactlywhathasbeengoingon,wearegoingtotakehimforquestioning.”
“Hedidn’tdoanything!”Iheardmyvoicerising,cracking.“Heonlychasedafterthemanwhoassaultedme!That’sall!”
Fromwherehestood,Nickshookhisheadatme,silent.
“We’regoingtohaveaparamediclookatyou,”thecopsaid,softernow.
“Youhadabadfallandyouneedtobecheckedout.We’regoingtogooveryourstatementagain.Miss…”HelookedatViv.
“Fawcett,”Vivsaid.“ChristineFawcett.”
“MissFawcett,I’dappreciateitifyou’dwaitoverthereuntilwe’refinishedwithyourniece.”
“Ofcourse,Officer.”Shereachedoutandsqueezedmyhand.Herswaswarm;minewasicycold.“I’mnotgoingfar,sweetie.I’lltalktoyousoon.”
???
TheytookNickaway.Itwasn’tanarrest;therewerenohandcuffs,noreadingofrightslikeonTV.Theytookhimforquestioningandhewentquietly,hiseyesdowncast.HewasNickHarkness,thesonofoneofFell’s
mostnotoriousmurderers,theboywhomayormaynothavebeeninhisbedroom.Hewasfoundcrouchingoveramanwhowasn’tbreathing.HewasasuspectwhetherIlikeditornot.
Iansweredquestionsasaparamediccheckedmybloodpressure,checkedthebumponmyhead,shonealightinmypupils,hadmefollowherfingerasshewaggeditintheair,hadmewalkinastraightline.Shedidn’tthinkanyofmyribswerebroken.ShegavemesomeMotrinforthepain.
Itseemedtotakeforever.Yes,IworkedattheSunDown.Ihadforafewweeksnow.No,IdidnotknowCallumMacRaeverywell;Ihadonlymethimafewtimes.Yes,NickHarknesswasaguestatthemotel,eventhoughhisnamewasn’tintheguestbook.Hehadadealworkedoutwiththeowner.
“Whataboutthedamage?”thecopsaid,flippingthepageinhisnotebook.“Yousayyou’veworkedhereawhile.Didyounoticeit?”
“Whatdamage?”Iasked.
“Theflooding,theleaks,thecracksinthewalls.”Helookedcuriouslyatme.“Yousayyou’veneverseenit?”
Iglancedpasthimtothemotel.ForthefirsttimeInoticedthattherewaswaterdrippingoffthesecond-floorcorridor,asiftheupstairslevelhadflooded.WhatIhadtakenforshadowsonthewallsinthedarkness—theymightbemold.Blackmold.Theofficedoorwasopen,andtherewaswaterinfrontofit,too.Itiltedmyheadbackandsawthatswathsofshinglesweregonefromtheroof,thewoodbeneathdarkwithrot.
“Idon’t…”Iwasnearlyspeechless.TherewasnosignofSimonHessorBettyGraham,theboyinthepoolorHenry,thesmokingman.Wasthefeelingofbeingwatchedgone,orwasitjustmyimagination?“Itwasn’tlikethiswhenIleft,”Isaid.
“That’swhatyourfriendNicksaid.”ThecopkeptsayingyourfriendNick,asifthatwereanaccusationinitself.“Funnythathe’sbeenstayingheresolongandhasn’tnoticedthattheceilingissowaterdamagedit’sabouttocavein.”
“What?”Isaid.
“Thefloodingisbad,andold.Thecarpetsinmostoftheroomslookwrecked.Samewiththecarpetintheoffice,eventhoughwehaven’thadheavyraininalongtime.Therearecracksinsomeoftheload-bearingwalls.There’smoldallovertheceilingsontheupperfloor.Lookslikethere
wasaleakintheAMENITIESroom,too,sotheentireceilingisalmostblack.”
Helookedupfromhisnotebookandatthemotel,asiflookingforanswerslikeIwas.“It’sstrange,butIguessyouhaven’tbeenintheroomsverymuch.Neitherhasanyoneelse.Noonereallycomesouthere,dothey?”Heshrugged.“Wecan’tsayhowithappened,onlythatit’sthere.”
Betty,Ithought,whatdidyoudo?
Butshedidn’thavetotellme.Ihadcheckedherkillerintothemotel,afterall.Bettyisgoingtobefurious.ThiswasBetty’sversionoftrashingtheplace.
AsforSimonHess…Ihadnoideawhatshehaddonetohim.
“CanIgetmythings?”Iaskedthecopastheparamedicfinishedup.
“They’reintheoffice.”
Henodded.“We’llhavesomeonegetthemforyou.ThenI’llhavesomeonetakeyouhome.”
“I’lltakeher.”Vivappearedatmyside,puttingherhandonmyshoulder.“Youcan’tdrive,honey,”shesaidtome,asifshe’dbeenmyauntallmylife.“I’llgetyouhome.”
WhenIhadmykeysandmybagbackfrommycar,Vivledmeaway.
“Viv,”Isaid,“Iappreciatethis,butIdon’t—”
“OfcourseI’mnottakingyouhome,”shesaid.“We’regoingtothepolicestationtogetNickoutofthere.Thisisn’toveryet.”
???
“Callumhadnovisibleinjuries,”Vivsaidaswedroveintotown.“They’redoingafullexam,ofcourse,butitdoesn’tappearthathewasattacked.
They’llhavetodoanautopsytobesure.”
“Sohe’sdead,”Isaidnumbly.
“Asofafewminutesagointheambulance,yes,”Vivsaid.“Theofficialcauseofdeathwilllikelybesomethingnatural,likeheartfailureoranembolism.”
“Andtheunofficialcauseofdeath?”
“BettyGraham.”Sheglancedatme.“Hewasherkiller’sgrandson.Heshouldneverhavegoneintothatmotel.Godknowswhyhedidit.Nowwe’llneverknow.”
Ilookedoutthewindow,wonderingwhatCallumhadseeninhislastminutes,whathadluredhimuptothemotel’ssecondfloor.His
grandfather?Betty?Somethingelse?Despiteeverything,Ifeltbadforhim.
Itdidn’tseemlikehe’dhadaveryhappylife.“Howdoyouknowhedied?”
IaskedViv.“Youcan’ttellmeyouweren’ttalkingtoAlmaTrentonthephone.”
Vivsmiled,asifshewerealittleamused.“Carly,I’vebeenavaultforthirty-fiveyears.YouneedtostopaskingquestionsIwon’tanswer.”
ButIhadnointentionofstopping.“Howdidyouknowthatyourmotherdiedofcancer?”Iaskedher.
“What?”
“Youdidn’tknowthatmymotherhaddied,butyouknewyourmotherhad.WhenItoldyouthatMomdiedofcancer,yousaid…”Itrailedoffasithitme.“Youdidn’tsaytheydied.Yousaidcancerrunsinthefamily.”
“Itdoes.”
Ifeltmystomachlurch.Thiswastoomuch,allinonenight.“Youhavecancer.”Myvoicewasflat.
“Ididhaveit,”Vivsaid.“Ibeatit.”
“Andnow?”
“Getyourselfscreened,sweetheart,”shesaidaswepulledintothepolicestationparkinglot.“We’rehere.”
???
Theymadeuswaitfortwohours.Wesatonhardchairsinthepolicestation,watchingpeoplecomeandgo.EveryonceinawhileI’dgobackuptothedutyofficer’sdeskandaskaboutNickHarkness.He’dtellmethathe’dletmeknowassoonastherewasanynews,andthenI’dsitdownagain.
Vivgotuptwiceandmadeaphonecall,walkingafewfeetawayforprivacy.Thesecondphonecallwasadisagreement—Icouldtellfromherhunchedposture,thewayshespokeintentlyintothephone,thelow,whisperedsoundofhervoice.Iknow.Iknow.I’msorry.ThoseweretheonlywordsIcouldpickoutwithmylimitedlip-readingskills.
“Whowereyoutalkingto?”Iaskedwhenshesatdownagain,thoughIknewitwasuseless.
ForthefirsttimesinceI’dmether,througheverythingthathadhappenedtonight,Vivlookedvisiblyupset.“Noone.”
“Right,”Isaid.Iwasupsetmyself—tired,worried,inpain.“Noone.”
Forasecondshelookedlikeshe’darguewithmeorsaysomethinghard.
Thenshesatbackinheruncomfortableplasticchairandtookmyhandinhers.Shehelditthere,herfingersstrongandcoolovermine.Ididn’tmovemyhandaway.
“Doyouthinkheneedsalawyer?”Ifinallyasked,miserable.
“No,”Vivsaid.“Hewon’tneedalawyer.Therewasn’tacrimecommitted,unlesstheywanttotrypinningastoppedheartandabunchofmotelmoldonhim.They’requestioninghimextralongbecauseofwhoheis.”
BecausehewasNickHarkness,whosefathercommittedoneofFell’smostfamousmurders,andwhohadmadealotofmistakesafterward.WhohadbeeninandoutoftroubleuntilhefinallyleftFell.Wecouldneverproveanything,butIalwayswonderedifNickwasreallyupstairsinhisroomlikehesaidhewas.
Ididn’tknowwhyIfeltIhadtosayit,butIdid.“Nickwasinhisbedroomthatday.”
“Yes,Iknow,”Vivsaid.
“Almadoesn’tthinkso.”
“Didshetellyouthat?”Vivlookedatme,stillholdingmyhand.“Almalikestorattlepeopleifshecan.It’sacopreflex.Youshouldtakeitasacompliment.Itmeansyoushookherup.”
ItwasthefirsttimeVivhadadmittedsheevenknewAlma,butIcouldn’tbringmyselftofeelanything.“He’snotacriminal.”
“No,”Vivsaid.“Iam.”
Ilookedintohereyes.Shereallydidhavebeautifuleyes,myauntViv.
Theylookedlikemymother’s.
“They’veidentifiedSimonHess,”shesaid.“Dentalrecords,thoughitisn’tofficialyet.They’regoingtoprocessthecartoptobottomforevidence.”
Shesqueezedmyhand,thenletmegoandstoodup.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iasked.
Shedidn’tanswer,butturnedaway.Thedoorbehindthedeskopened,andNickcameout.Hisblueeyeslitbrieflywithsurprisewhenhesawme,andthenhecamemyway.
“Hithere,”Vivsaidtothenightshiftdeskclerk.“Ineedtotalktoadetective.”
Nickcametowardme.Tearsstungmyeyes.
“No,”Isaidsoftly,butIdidn’tstopher.
“Whatisitregarding?”thedeskclerkasked.
Nickputhishandonmyshoulder.
“Thebodytheyfoundinthetrunkofacarthismorning,”Vivsaid.“Iputitthere.MynameisVivianDelaney,andIdisappearedthirty-fiveyearsago.I’dliketomakeaconfession.”
Itwassurprisinglycalm,surprisinglycivilized.Thedeskclerkmadeaphonecall.Thenhestoodupandsaid,“Comewithme.”
Viviandidn’tlookbackasshefollowedhimintothepolicestation.Thedoorclickedclosedbehindher.Fell,NewYork
February2018
ThreeMonthsLater
CARLY
Itgotcoldthatwinter.ThesnowstartedearlyinDecemberanddidn’tletup.Thewindswereicy,theroadshard.IbarelymadeithometoIllinoisforChristmas.
Istayedwithmybrother,Graham,andhisfiancéeforthreedays.ThenIgotbackinmycaranddrovebacktoFell.
GrahamandHaileydidn’tunderstandit.WhyIwantedtobeinFell,ofallplaces.WhyIdidn’twanttoleave.WhyFell,theplacewhereouraunthadcommittedmurderandpretendedtovanish,washome.Butitwas.
IstayedwithHeatherforanothermonth,andthenImovedintoViv’sapartmentontheothersideoftown.MostpeoplewouldthinkitstrangethatIwouldtakeovermyaunt’splaceaftershewasindictedformurder—
specifically,voluntarymanslaughter—butHeatherdidn’t.“Whynot?”shesaidwhenIsuggestedit.“Itfitsinwiththerestofthisweirdstory.”
SoImovedin.Iquitcollege—anotherpissed-offlecturefromGraham—
andresearchedwhatIreallywantedtodo.Forthefirstmonthsofwinter,Ilivedaquietlife.Ireadbooks.Iwalked.IhungoutwithHeather.AndIspentdozensofhours,days,intheFellCentralLibrary,readingandresearching.Thinking.
Callum’sautopsyshowedthathehaddiedofabrainaneurysmthatnightattheSunDown.Aquickandpainlessdeath,apparently.Iwasgladhehadn’tsuffered.Therewasafuneral,butitwassmallandprivate.Iwasn’tinvited,andIdidn’tattend.
ThebodyofCallum’sgrandfather,SimonHess,wasofficiallyidentifiedbypoliceinearlyDecember.Thecauseofdeathwastwostabwounds,one
tothechestandonetotheneck.Theneckwound,saidthecoroner,hadlikelybeentheonetokillHess,thoughifleftuntendedthechestwoundwouldhavedoneitintime.Themurderweaponwasnotfoundonthebody,thoughitwasdeterminedtobeahuntingknife,verysharp,thebladefourtosixinchesinlength.
VivianDelaney’sdefenseclaimedshehadkilledHessinself-defensewhenHessadmittedtoherthathewasaserialkiller.ItmadestateandnationalheadlineswhenHess’sDNAwasmatchedtotheDNAfoundonBettyGraham,CathyCaldwell,andTracyWaters.TherewasnoDNAfoundonVictoriaLee,sinceshewaskilledinhasteandnotraped.
Betty’s,Cathy’s,andTracy’sfamiliesfoundclosure.Victoria’sdidnot.
Ididn’tgobacktoworkattheSunDownafterthatnight,andneitherdidanyoneelse.Thebuildingwasdamagedfromtherooftothefoundation.
Chris,theowner,triedtokeepitopen,buttherewerenocustomersandacountyhealthinspectorinformedhimthathehadtocloseitdown.Themoldandthedampwereahealthhazard,theplasterceilingsandwallswerestartingtocrumbletoinhalabledust,andtheheatdidn’tworkinthecold.
Thewaterpipesfrozeandtheelectricitywentout,thesigngoingdarkforgood
SoChrisdidwhatanysensibleman,saddledwithanunwantedandunviablebusiness,woulddo:Hegotaninsurancepayout,putthelandupforsalefornexttonothing,andhadthebuildingcondemned.
InlateDecember,justafterChristmas,aquickchain-linkfencewentuparoundtheSunDown,lacedwithsignsthatsaidPRIVATEPROPERTY.Themotelsigncamedownandwascartedawayinaspecializedtruck.AndinFebruary,whentheskywasmuddygrayandthegroundwaschurnedwithdirtysnowandslush,thebulldozersandothervehiclesmovedin.
Iwatchedit.IparkedmycaronthesideofNumberSixRoadandwalkedtothechain-linkfence,myglovedhandsinmypocketsandahatpulledovermyears,thewindfreezingmynoseandmycheeks,chappingmylips.Itwasn’tdramaticorevenveryinteresting;therewasnooneelsetheretowatchasthemachinesrumbledaroundthedemolitionsite,pullingdownwallsanddrillingintotheconcreteoftheparkinglot.Therewasnoswellingmusic,nochoirorcurtaintofall.Justthestreaked,darkeningskyandthesnowstartingtofallasthecrewworkeddayinanddayout.
BettyGrahamwasn’tthere.NeitherwasSimonHess,orthelittleboy,orHenrythesmokingman.Theywerealldeadandgone.
MyphoneranginmypocketasIstoodbythefence,andIpulleditoutandyankedoffmymittentoanswerit.“Hello?”
“Victoria’scaseisbeingreinvestigated,”saidthevoiceontheotherend.
“They’vepulledalltheevidenceandaregoingoveritagain.Includingreexaminingherclothesfortracesofthekiller’sDNA.”
Iturnedandstartedwalkingbacktomycar.“Don’ttellmehowyouknowthat,”IsaidtoAlmaTrent.
“Don’tworry,Iwon’t,”Almasaid.“Imanagedtomakeafewfriendsontheforceoverthecourseofthirtyyears,despitemypersonality.That’sallI’llsay.”
“Iftheycanpullschedulingrecords,itwillhelp.Viv’snotebooksaysthatHesswasscheduledonVictoria’sstreetthemonthshedied.”
“Iknow.I’vereadthenotebook.”
“Notrecently,”Isaid.Thenotebookwasminenow;I’dkeptit.BynowI’dreaditahundredtimes.“HaveyoucalledMarnieandtoldher?”
“Ihavenoideawhoyou’retalkingabout.”
“Ofcourseyoudid,”Isaidasifshehadn’tanswered.“Youcalledherfirst,beforeme.”
“Thenamesoundsfamiliar,butIcan’tsayIplaceit.You’rethinkingofsomeoneelse.”
“TellherIsaidhello.”
“IwouldifIknewwhoyoumean.”
Isighed.“Youknow,oneofthesedaysyou’regoingtohavetotrustme.”
“ThisisastrustingasIget,”Almasaid.“I’mjustaretiredcopwhotakesaninterestintheVivianDelaneycase.Callitahobby,ormaybenostalgiafortheearlyeighties.Whereareyou?Icanhearwind.”
“OnNumberSixRoad,watchingtheSunDowngetbulldozedintooblivion.”
“Isthatso,”Almasaidinherno-nonsensetone.“Doyoufeelgoodaboutthatorbad?”
“Neither,”Ireplied.“Both.CanIaskyousomething?”
“Youcanalwaysask,Carly.”Whichmeantthatshewouldn’talwaysanswer.
“Victoria’sboyfriendwasoriginallyconvictedofhermurder.Buthiscasewasreopenedandoverturned.Ilookeditup,anditturnsoutthatitallstartedwhentheboyfriendgotanewlawyerin1987.Doyouknow
anythingaboutthat?Imean,somethingmusthavechanged.Theremusthavebeensomekindoftipthatencouragedhimtoseekanewtrial.”
“Idon’tknowanylawyers,”Almasaid.
Right.Ofcourse.Exceptsheknewforcertainthatthewrongmanhadbeenconvicted,andthattherightmanwasdeadinthetrunkofacar.
“Here’stheotherinterestingthing,”Isaid.“RightafterTracy’smurder,ahomelessmanwasarrestedbecausehetriedtoturninherbackpack.
Everyoneassumedhemustbeherkiller.Butthecasewasthrownoutbecauseitwascircumstantial.Andthereasonhewentfreewasbecausehehadagoodlawyer.”
“Isthatso?”
“Yes.That’skindofstrange,isn’tit?Ahomelessdrifterwhohasareallygoodlawyer?Itsoundslikesomethingsomeonewouldhelpoutwithiftheyknewforsurethatthemanwasinnocent.”
“Iwouldn’tknow.LikeIsay,lawyersaren’tmything.”
Isighed.IlikedAlma,butitwasimpossibletobefriendswithher.
Heatherwasmoremystyle.“ItookpicturesoftheSunDownbeingdemolishedonmyphone.IthinkVivwouldliketoseethemthenexttimeIvisither.”
“Ihearthey’regivinghermedicaltreatmentinprisonwhilesheawaitstrial,”Almasaid.
Myheartsqueezed.Despiteeverything,Vivwasmyaunt.“They’regivingherchemo,buttheydon’tknowifitwillwork.”
Vivhadcanceragain.Shewasgoingtoeitherdieofitorspendtherestofherlifeinprison.Maybeboth.
Maybeneither.
Eitherway,therewasnothingmoreIcoulddo.
DidIfeelgoodaboutthat,orbad?Itdependedontheday,onmymood,onwhetherIfeltangeratwhatVivhadputmymotherthroughortheacheofmissingfamilyoradmirationatsomeofthethingsshe’ddone.ThereweretimesIfeltallthreeatonce.Thiswasgoingtotaketime—timethatViv,maybe,didn’thave.
“Shebeatitonce,”Almasaid.“Shecanbeatitagain.Shecanbeatanything.”
“Jeez,”Isaid.“Italmostsoundslikeyouknowher.”
“Idon’t,ofcourse,butshesoundslikeaninterestinglady.TellherI’dliketomeethersomeday.”
Irolledmyeyes.“Whatever.”
“It’scoldoutonNumberSixRoad.Doyouwanttocomebyforacoffee?Idon’tcarewhattimeitis.I’manightowl.”
“Me,too,”Isaid,“butI’mnotcomingtoday.Ihaveplans.”
“Isthatso,”Almasaidagain.“It’sabouttime.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Itmeanshavefun,”shesaid,andhungup.
???
Nickwaswearingjeansandablacksweater.Hehadshavedandhesmelledsoapy.Hehadlongagomovedintoanapartmentinathird-floorwalkup,asmallplacethatwassparseandmasculineandsomehowhomey.Hehadstartedapartnershipwithanoldhighschoolfriendinarenovationcompany,andherantworenovationcrewsintown.Maybesomeofthebusinesscamebecausehewasnotorious,butnotallofitdid.WhenNickputhismindtosomething,hecoulddoanythinghewanted.
“Iwanttostudycriminology,”Isaidtohimasweatealate-nightdinnerataThaiplacedowntown.“Icanstartinthespring,getcreditsoverthesummerbeforeIenrollforthefall.”
Heloweredhischopsticks.Therestaurantlightingwasdim,makinghisdarkhairandhisshadowedcheekbonesalmoststupidlygorgeous.Icouldn’tdecideifIlikedhimbetterwithhisinsomniastubbleorwithout.
“Areyousureaboutthat?”heaskedme.
“Yes.”Ipokedatmypadthainoodles.“IthinkI’dbegoodatit.Doyou?”
Helookedatmeforalongmoment.“Ithinkyou’dbebrilliantatit,”hesaid,hisvoicedeadserious.“Ithinktheworldofcriminologyisn’treadyforyou.Notevenalittle.”
IfeltmycheeksheatasIdroppedmygazetomyplate.“Youjustearnedyourselfanotherdate,mister.”
“Ihavetoearnthem?Thisislikeourtenth.”
“No,it’sourninth.ThetimeweranintoeachotherbymistakeatCVS
doesn’tcount.”
“I’mcountingit.”
“Iwasinsweats,”Iprotested.“Ihadacold.Notadate.”
“Isentyouhome,andthenIboughtallofthecoldmedsyouneededandbroughtthemtoyou.Alongwithfoodandtea,”hecountered.“Itwasadate.”
Imostdefinitelystillhadacrushontheformeroccupantofroom210oftheSunDownMotel.
“Well,tonightisgoingtobebetter,”Itoldhim.
Itwas.Wefinishedourdinner,thenwenttotherevuecinemaforamidnightshowingofCarrie.Therewereexactlyfourteenpeoplethere.Iheldhishandthroughthewholething.Whenitwasoverandwewentoutside,itwassnowing.Webarelynoticedonthedrivebacktohisapartment.Weweretoopreoccupied.
LikemyauntVivsaid,agirlhastolosehervirginitysomewhere,right?
Hourslater,whenIlaywarminbedwithNick’sarmoverme,Iturnedtowardthewindowinthedarkness.IwatchedthesnowfallforalongtimebeforeIfinallyfellasleep.Acknowledgments
Thankstomyeditor,DaniellePerez,forhersagehelpwiththisbook,andthankstotherestoftheteamatBerkleyfortheirhardworkandmyamazingcover.Thankstomyagent,PamHopkins,foreverythingshedoes.
ThankstoMollyandStephanie,whoreadadraftofthisbookandtoldmeitwasn’tterrible.Thanksasalwaystomyhusband,Adam,whounderstandsmyneedforwritingtimeandmakessureIhaveit.Thankyoutothebooksellersandlibrarianswhoworksotirelesslytogetthewordoutaboutmybooks.Andthankyou,readers,theoneswhokeeppickingupmybooksandtalkingaboutthem.Withoutyou,noneofthishappens.Thankyousomuchforreadingmystories.TheSunDownMotel
SIMONEST.JAMES
ReadersGuide
QuestionsforDiscussion
1.Whydoyouthinktheauthorchosetotellthisstoryacrosstwotimeperiodsandtwopointsofview?Doyouthinkitwaseffective?Whyorwhynot?
2.Discusshoweachofthevictimsweredescribedinthemedia.Doyouthinkthewaythemediacharacterizedthesewomenplayedaroleintheoverallinvestigation—andthefailurebythepolicetocatchthekiller?
Howdoestheircharacterizationcomparetohowvictimsaredescribedbythemediatoday?
3.Fromthebeginning,Vivisdeterminedtouncoverwhothefemaleghostisandwhyshe’shauntingthemotel.Whydoyouthinkthiswassoimportanttoher?Whydoyouthinkshedidn’tjustfleeFell,NewYork,andthemotel?
4.Viv,Carly,andHeatherallhaveasomewhatmorbidcuriositysurroundingboththeFell,NewYork,murdersandtruecrimeingeneral,whichreflectsthefactthatyoungwomentendtobethebiggestconsumersoftruecrimecontent.Whydoyouthinkthisis?
5.Discusstheghoststhathauntthemotel,especiallyBetty.Whatdoyouthinkeachofthemrepresented,ifanything?
6.Therearemultipleinstanceswherethewomenofthisnoveldiscusswhatwomenshouldbedoingtoprotectthemselves,althoughasVivnotes:“Itwasalwaysgirlswhoendedupstrippedanddeadlikeroadkill….Itdidn’tmatterhowafraidorcarefulyouwere—itcouldalwaysbeyou.”Whatdoyouthinktheauthorissayingaboutthe
experienceofbeingawoman?DoyouthinkthenovelmighthavebeendifferenceifVivandCarlyweremen?Ifso,how?
7.Howaretheconceptsoffemalerageandempowermentexploredinthisnovel,ifatall?
8.ConsiderAlmaandMarnie,andtherelationshipstheyformedwithVivandwitheachother.WhydoyouthinktheyallowedthemselvestobecomeinvolvedwithViv’sinvestigation?
9.MultiplecharactersthroughoutthisnovelendupreturningtothesmalltownofFell,NewYork,orchoosetoremaintheredespitemanyreasons
—andopportunities—toleave.Whydoyouthinktheyaredrawntothetown?
10.Buildingoffthepreviousquestion,whydoyouthinktheauthorchosearemotetown—andanevenmoreremoteroadsidemotel—forthesettingofthisnovel?Howdoyouthinkthestorywouldhavechangedwithadifferentsetting?
11.Discussthewaythekillerwasfinallystopped.Doyouthinkthoseinvolveddidtherightthing?Doyouthink,especiallywithconsiderationofthetimeperiod,thattheycouldhavedoneanythingdifferently?AbouttheAuthor
SimoneSt.JamesistheUSATodaybestsellingandaward-winningauthorofTheBrokenGirls,LostAmongtheLiving,andTheHauntingofMaddyClare.Shewroteherfirstghoststory,aboutahauntedlibrary,whenshewasinhighschool,andspenttwentyyearsbehindthescenesinthetelevisionbusinessbeforeleavingtowritefull-time.
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DocumentOutline
AlsobySimoneSt.James
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Viv
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Carly
Carly
Carly
Carly
Acknowledgments
ReadersGuide
AbouttheAuthor
TableofContents
AlsobySimoneSt.James
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Viv
Viv
Viv
Carly
Viv
Carly
Carly
Carly
Carly
Carly
Acknowledgments
ReadersGuide
AbouttheAuthor