A Dark Mind (22 page)

As she scrambled to her feet, he came at her again with incredible speed. She ducked. He missed, but then he slammed his knuckles across her jaw and she hit the ground hard.

He hovered over her.

Afraid she might lose consciousness, she tried to get a good look at his face, but it was no use. Between a hood and aviators, she couldn’t see a thing. He grabbed hold of her feet and began dragging her to the area in the middle of the park that was thick with trees and brush.

No fucking way was she going to let him drag her into the woods. She kicked and shouted. Every pebble and divot in the pathway cut into her backside. She lifted her neck to keep her head from hitting concrete. Over a decade of teaching self-defense and yet she felt helpless.
Fuck him
. She tried to wriggle free of his grasp. It was no use. She kept screaming. Her attacker was determined.

Twigs and pine needles bit into her skin as he dragged her along.

She grabbed hold of a good-sized branch on the ground and held it close to her side. When he finally stopped, he put a foot on top of her chest, pushing hard, crushing her ribs. “You should have learned by now to mind your own business.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m the darkness when you’re afraid. I’m the screams you hear in your sleep. I’m the creak in the other room when you’re all alone.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said through gritted teeth. “You’re the fucking pimple on prom night and the asshole every girl avoids at Uncle Bob’s Christmas—”

His foot crushed down on her chest, stopping her from finishing.

Every lesson she’d ever taught came roaring to life, exploding within her head like fireworks. Fight. Bite. Kick. She swung the branch, hard and fast, hitting the side of his face.

Caught off guard, he fell to the ground.

Crawling on all fours, Lizzy grabbed his leg and bit through fabric and into his flesh, drawing blood and making him squeal like the pig he was.

The fucker was not going to get away with this.

His kicking motions became frantic—like a kid trying to keep his head above water as she climbed on top of him, straddling him and then slamming her open palm into the bridge of his nose, hitting gold. Blood sprayed across his face.

She reached for his aviators, intent on seeing his face, but he bucked her off, jumped to his feet, and grabbed the branch she’d used on him. He raised the branch above his head, ready to strike.

“Hey you! Get away from her!”

Her attacker looked up, tossed the branch, and took off through the brush.

Lizzy pushed herself to her feet and headed back for the trail.

It was William, the same man Erica had waved to earlier. “I called 911,” he told her.

“Thanks.”

He reached out to help her. “Maybe you should sit down.”

Panicking, she pushed his hand away and then jogged toward the open path. She couldn’t breathe. She tasted blood. She needed air.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” William said as he followed her out of the brush and onto the pathway. “My name’s William.”

“I know.” She kept moving, walking faster, trusting no one. She staggered more than walked, but she couldn’t stop.

“You know my name?”

“Erica told me.”

“Ahh. She’s a nice gal.”

Lizzy wanted to ask William to please shut the fuck up for a minute so she could think. Instead, she pulled out her cell and was about to call Jared when she remembered that he was on a plane headed for Los Angeles. He hadn’t wanted to go and he was adamant about her skipping her morning run.
Shit.

She tucked her phone into her pocket and tried to ignore the guy as he rambled on about how lucky she was that he’d heard her screams, wondering what she would have done if he hadn’t come.

The pain was excruciating; her skull throbbed as if somebody were stomping on her face. She could hear sirens in the distance, but she had no intention of sticking around. Too bad her body and her mind were not on the same page. Her legs wobbled. Her knees quivered. She was going down, right into William’s arms.

Sacramento

Monday, May 28, 2012

Hayley walked with her arm extended and her thumb pointed at the sky. Ever since Tommy had replaced her ankle bracelet, she’d been free to roam, but a lot of good that had done her. Every time Jared left for work, Lizzy seemed to find a reason to stay at the
house. Then Lizzy would leave and Jessica would stop by to check up on her. Between the break-in, the weird car accident, and her mom’s visit, nothing had been going as planned. But today, Hayley didn’t care. She’d left a note on the bedroom door that said she was sleeping. If she was found out, so be it.

The first place on her list of places to go was My House, the shelter for battered women Lizzy had lined up for her mom. Hayley wanted to see how she was doing. She’d thought about stopping by her mom’s house first—to see if Brian was there—but after mulling over the idea, she’d decided she didn’t care if Brian lived the rest of his worthless life in that house. Not too many good memories had come from inside those walls.

Keeping her arm stretched outward, she breathed in a lungful of unsullied air after a night of rain. Up ahead, gravel spewed every which way as a faded red Volvo pulled to the side of the road.

As cars passed by in a blur, she noticed that the driver looked familiar.

Shit.

Here she’d been worried about a cop pulling over, but not once had she considered that Jessica might be the one to catch her out of the house. As cars sped by on the opposite side of where she stood, Hayley stooped over and looked into the open window on the passenger side of the vehicle.

“What are you doing?” Jessica asked.

“I’m hitching a ride.”

“I can see that. Are you crazy?”

Hayley straightened and was about to continue on, when Jessica said, “Would you please get into this car before a police officer pulls over to see what’s going on and realizes I’m aiding and abetting a fugitive?”

Hayley opened the door and climbed in. She couldn’t help but smile at the fugitive remark. Jessica was still staring at her. “Jesus,” Hayley said. “What now?”

“Could you buckle up? It’s a law, you know?”

She located the end of the seatbelt tucked between the door and the seat and snapped the belt in place. “Happy?”

While Jessica merged onto the highway, Hayley took a good look at the inside of Jessica’s car. There was wall-to-wall shag carpet and it smelled like moldy cheese. “Nice car,” she lied. “Where did you get it?”

“Craigslist.”

“What happened to the Mustang?”

“I returned it to the original owner.”

“Did he give you your money back?”

“Not yet, but he promised me he would before the end of the month.”

It was quiet for a moment before Jessica glanced toward Hayley’s feet. “Where’s your ankle bracelet?”

“It’s there,” Hayley said.

“It’s a fake, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“How could you risk so much after everything Jared and Lizzy did to get you out of that place?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“I don’t like being confined. If I could have found a way out of the detention center, I would have left that place, too.”

“And if you were caught, you would spend the rest of your life behind bars.”

Hayley shrugged.

“Don’t you have dreams and goals?”

Silence.

“I realize we’ve never seen eye to eye, but for some weird reason I sort of like you. There are a lot of people in this world who care about you.”

“So, you think I should let the past go and become a model citizen?”

“That would be great, but that’s not what I’m saying.”

Having no interest in what Jessica had to say, Hayley bit her tongue and tried her damnedest to tune her out.

“What I’m saying is that life is short.”

“Got it.”

“I’m not done.”

Hayley clenched her jaw.
Fuck.

“You are intelligent. Your mom must be an incredible human being to have managed to raise such a smart daughter—against all odds. Surrounded by druggies and rapists, the worst kind of scum, and yet she is still trying to overcome ridiculous obstacles in her life.”

Hayley had nothing to say to that, but she didn’t like the tightness she felt in her chest.

“Your mom,” Jessica continued, “after years of neglect and mistreatment, has not given up. She’s trying to make a better life for herself. She’s an inspiration, and maybe just for her, you should try to change things around, too.”

Hayley watched the scenery outside—gray and dreary.

“Are you running away? Is that what you’re doing?”

“Just getting some things done.”

“So, your plan is to run around for a few hours and then return before Lizzy gets home?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I was just at the house to pick up some files. I saw the note on your bedroom door and figured you were sleeping.”

Hayley wasn’t listening. She pulled out a piece of paper. “I’m going to My House, a shelter for battered women, located at Center Street in Sacramento. If you’re going to the office, you can drop me off at the exit.”

“This is crazy.”

“You’re repeating yourself.”

“No, I’m not. First, I said that
you
were crazy. Now I’m saying that
what you are doing
is crazy.”

“Thanks for the clarification.”

Jessica gritted her teeth. “I’ll take you to the shelter and I’ll wait for you outside.”

“After the shelter, I’m going to Rancho Cordova.”

The sound that emerged from Jessica’s throat sounded a lot like a growl.

Hayley tried not to laugh.

“What’s going on in Rancho Cordova?”

“I’ve been doing some research on Adele Hampton, the girl who was given up for adoption eighteen years ago.”

“Did you find her?”

“Not yet. According to the receipts in the file, she visited quite a few shops, all within a few blocks of one another. I want to show her picture around and find out if anyone recognizes her.”

Hayley expected flack, was surprised when she got a regular question instead.

“Do you think she might still live in the area?”

“I do.”

“That wouldn’t make sense, would it?” Jessica asked. “I mean, why would the girl stay in that city unless she wanted to be found?”

“Maybe she never thought anybody would ever bother to look for her.”

For five blessed minutes, it was quiet, until Jessica thought of something else she wanted to chat about.

“I have another problem I was hoping you could help me with.”

Hayley looked at Jessica’s profile and waited.

“I’m supposed to meet Magnus, the guy I told you about, for coffee tomorrow. I have no idea if can trust him, but I need to at least try to find out what he’s up to.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“After I meet with him, I’d like to find out where he goes next, but I can’t follow him myself because he knows what car I drive and this car of mine is hard to miss.”

“I’ll talk to Tommy—see if he can follow him.”

“You would do that?”

“I just said I would, didn’t I?”

If I could dig up my mother’s grave, I’d take out her bones and kill her again.

—Joseph Fischer

Sacramento

Monday, May 28, 2012

Eli Simpson sat in his dad’s old Buick and stared at the house where he was sure his sister had died. His heart no longer raced out of control when he visited. He was empty. Well, not entirely empty. His insides felt bleak, maybe even ominous.

It was dark out tonight, but it didn’t matter because he’d been here often enough to know what the house looked like, even in the dark. The house was 1,400 square feet, give or take. It was old and neglected. The cracked path leading to the door, the dead lawn, and the oak with arthritic branches emphasized its decay.

He rolled his head from the right to the left, hoping to get the kinks out. He’d been sitting in the same position for over an hour. Although he had yet to see any movement inside the house, the kitchen light was on.

He couldn’t recall a time in the past five years when John Robinson might have had a visitor, which made sense since killers were not human beings. They were monsters.

Exhausted from a long day at work, he leaned his head on the headrest and shut his eyes. Visions of his sister popped into his mind—smiling, of course. Rochelle didn’t know how not to smile. He was her older brother, but only by ten months. He and Rochelle had always had a special connection, the same sort of connection people often talked about twins having.

Five years ago, when Rochelle first brought John Robinson home to his parents’ house for Sunday dinner, he’d known straight off that she was just being nice. Bringing the guy home was like bringing home a stray cat. Rochelle felt sorry for him. She probably thought she could feed him and give him some attention and he’d be a better person for it.

Compassionate—that was his sister in a nutshell, compassionate and caring. She was a true angel, one of those unique individuals who made a difference simply by existing. People wanted to be near her. Not only was she a great listener, she made everybody feel important.

The darkened street was suddenly lit up by twin headlights.

Sinking lower into the seat, he saw the garage next door to the house he was watching creak open, crying out in a slow eerie wail as if it were dying like the rest of the shit neighborhood. A woman with dirty-blonde, shoulder-length hair sat behind the wheel. The garage was tidy and neat. He couldn’t help but wonder if the woman had ever met the killer next door. He’d knocked on her door once or twice, hoping to ask a few questions, but she never answered.

The neighborhood was like a ghost town. Maybe most of Robinson’s neighbors were dead, stuffed in the attic or in an old freezer. As the garage door closed, he looked around again, his gaze stopping to focus on the house belonging to Claire Schultz, the only person who had ever allowed him inside their house. He had talked to her five years ago, in those dark months after Rochelle disappeared.