Before I Wake (30 page)

Harley knew Arden was lying when she left the house. She wasn’t going to check on the propane tank, or get something from Eli’s car.

He was hurt. Terribly hurt.

She could be honest with him. Straightforward. She didn’t have to lie.

Feeling lonesome, he grabbed a light that looked like a lantern and began to search the house. He found Franny in the guest room curled in a ball, burrowed under a comforter, headphones on, staring at a flickering candle flame in a votive on the dresser.

He left her alone and went upstairs.

To Arden’s room.

There was a computer on her bed, an open briefcase beside it.

The FBI agent’s briefcase. His computer. What was she doing with Fury’s computer?

He sat down on the bed and opened the laptop.

It had been left in sleep mode. Now it came to life, everything already booted.

CDs and DVDs were scattered across the bed. He picked up a DVD, opened the plastic case, and slipped the disk into the drive.

It made a spinning, whirring sound. A minute later, he was watching something very familiar.

Franny came awake with a start.

The candle had gone out. The room was freezing.

“Franny!” a voice called from deep upstairs.

Harley?

Disoriented by sleep and the darkness, she lay there, her heart hammering.

“Franny!” he called again in a loud, urgent whisper.

For a moment, she’d forgotten everything. Forgotten that Noah was dead. Forgotten that Eli had been murdered. But now it all came rushing back.

She was alone in the dark, and Harley was calling her name.

Was someone else in the house?

Was Harley trying to warn her?

Her heart pounded louder, faster, until it thundered in her head.

She forced herself to move, to toss back the comforter and get to her feet. With her face turned toward the door, she reached blindly for the dresser, her fingers feeling across the cold wooden surface until she came in contact with the Zippo lighter she’d found in the kitchen.

She slowly and silently opened the metal lid. She rested her thumb against the wheel, flinching at the sound as it rotated. The flint sparked, igniting the wick.

Franny held the flame in front of her. The room was bitterly cold. She could see her breath coming in rapid, frightened puffs.

The bedroom door wasn’t latched. She pushed, and it swung open with a creak.

The living room was warm. Hot, almost.

She heard a sound—a low, steady roar. It took her a moment to realize it was coming from the wood-stove.

She stood there a moment, staring at the red glow behind the thick glass.

She wanted to go there. Stand it front of it. She wanted to think about how they’d played Monopoly just a few hours ago.

She’d had fun. But how could she have had fun when Noah was dead? What was wrong with her?

I’m damaged.

Eli hadn’t wanted to play. She’d known he was disgusted with the whole idea of a game built around consumerism, but she’d thought it was harmless. Nostalgic. He got too upset about things like that. The game had been something to do.

But his anger wasn’t just about the game. She knew that too.

He’d been jealous of Daniel.

She and Eli were friends. Good friends. But it could never have been more than that. She’d planned on telling him, but didn’t want to lose him completely. She’d loved Eli…

“
Franny
,” came Harley’s loud, harsh whisper. “
Hurry
.”

Everything was blurry, and she realized she was crying.

She didn’t have anyone. Noah had been her family. Eli had been her family. She was alone.

She turned and went up the stairs. The lighter in her hand was getting hot, the flame dancing crazily the faster she moved, the smell of burning lighter fluid going up her nose.

At the top of the stairs, she stopped and the flame settled down.

“Where are you?” she whispered.

The hairs on her arms floated as if exposed to static electricity. Her scalp tingled as if someone were dragging a finger up the nape of her neck.

“In here.”

His voice came from the big bedroom. The bedroom where Arden’s mother had died.

Franny didn’t want to go in there.

She slid her feet across the floor, stopping at the open doorway. “Harley?”

“Come on.” He sounded impatient. “Come in here.”

She lifted the lighter higher, but it wasn’t enough to penetrate the darkness. “What are you doing?”

“Hurry.”

“I don’t want to.”

He laughed. “Come on, sweetie pie. I’m tired of waiting.”

He sounded so normal. More normal than he had the whole time they’d been there. She took a few more steps across the threshold to stop just inside the room.

The hairs on her arms were still moving.

Run.

Turn around and run.

Trust your instincts
. That was what they taught in self-defense class.
Always trust your instincts
.

She pivoted in her stocking feet. The muscles in her legs tightened as she prepared for flight.

A burst of air hit her in the face, dousing the lighter flame as the bedroom door slammed shut.

Beyond the shuddering terror-roar in her head, she heard a click.

A muted light replaced the extinguished flame.

Now she could see him.

Now she could finally see him.

Harley. Standing in front of the door, a lantern in one hand, a knife in the other.

She did something that completely surprised her. She raised her hands like claws and charged him, screaming as she went.

But she was no match for Harley.

He was big. And strong. And crazy.

He dug his fingers into her hair and pushed her to her knees.

A lot of things went through her mind, one being that Arden had slept with this guy, this monster. Another, that Franny herself had offered to share her granola bars with him.

And then the knife glistened.

The blade came down.

He slit her throat as she clung to him with hands like claws, begging and pushing him away at the same time.

“Sweetie pie,” Harley crooned, cradling her.

Hot blood ran down her chest, soaking into her top.

Harley dragged her to the bed, turning her around so her head was toward the door and hanging over the side.

Of course, she thought. She must lie in the same position as Arden’s mother. How had that been? Kind of upside down?

Yes. Yes, that was it.

It suddenly seemed right. Comforting and right. It made her feel less alone.

They could see the house.

The strong beam of Daniel’s flashlight glanced off the black pair of upstairs windows.

With shelter in sight, Arden pulled off her hat and unsnapped her coat, letting the heat from her sweat-soaked body escape. Wet hair clung to her neck and face.

They cut around to the kitchen door, so their entry wouldn’t chill the whole first floor. It was something they’d learned to do as kids.

At first they were too involved in stomping off snow to notice the silence. Arden became aware of it first. Maybe because she’d felt it before, in such a similar way.

Without saying anything, she put a hand to Daniel’s arm. He stopped unlacing his boot and looked up from his bent position. His hair was wet too, appearing almost black, stuck to his forehead in sharp clumps.

She stared at him, her brows drawn together.
Something is wrong
, she told him.
Something doesn’t feel right
.

He paused and listened.

Nothing to hear except the wall clocks. At least three of them ticked away, none in unison.

Daniel slowly and silently straightened. His gaze swept the shrouded kitchen, taking in the uneaten food. The pan on the stove. The remaining batter.

He looked back at her.

She could see the wheels turning. See his doubt. His suspicion.

Of
her
.

She didn’t blame him. She was suspicious of herself.

She’d abandoned the house. Run away in a panic. Daniel had come upon her breathless, gloveless, agitated.

While he continued to stare, she squeezed around him, grabbing the metal handle of the lantern light on her way past the table.

There was no way to move silently in the heavy winter boots. She finally gave up trying and let her footfalls sound heavily upon the wooden floor.

The dining room and living room were empty. Candles burned on the coffee table. The woodstove emitted a low roar that meant it was hot as hell and probably needed the flue opened.

“Franny!” Arden shouted.

No answer.

She continued her search.

The guest bedroom was empty, the comforter bunched, Noah’s MP3 player and headphones on the pillow as if Franny had just left.

Arden felt stuck in a loop, destined to replay the same scenario again and again.

Heart pounding, she turned to head for the stairs, her hand on the banister.

Daniel stood in the middle of the living room, arms at his sides.

Watching her, watching her, watching her.

“Get out of here,” she told him.

He continued to stare.

“Go! Get out of this house!”

He was her little brother. From years of habit, he obeyed. He shifted his weight and began moving toward the kitchen.

Arden walked up the stairs. She should run, but she couldn’t make herself. She didn’t want to see what was coming next.

Music should be playing. Maybe a track by Godspeed You Black Emperor!

The door to her room was ajar. Something glowed from inside. She approached, the sound of her boots like thunder on the floor. Without hesitating, she shoved open the door. It slammed against the wall. With the lantern held high, she did a quick assessment of the room.

Nobody there.

Fury’s computer was on her bed, where she’d left it. Except now it was running. She could hear the fan, and the occasional sound of a spinning disk. She moved close enough to look at the screen. It had defaulted to the saver mode—a succession of pleasant and soothing nature scenes.

A meadow. A waterfall. A woodland.

She ran a finger across the computer touchpad. A new image appeared.

The motion-sick bobbing of a handheld camera making its way through a house and up the stairs. A hand appeared from off-camera, pushing open a door.

Suddenly, there was Arden’s mother lying on her back on the bed, her throat cut.

Arden wanted to close her eyes, but couldn’t.

This was the image she’d forgotten, the image that had been erased.

Confusion came like a black cloud, and for a moment she thought this was what had been physically removed from her brain. The disk that was playing in the computer.

It wasn’t the kind of thing you wanted to take with you. It wasn’t the last memory you wanted to have of someone you loved.

The jagged cut looked like a giant smile. A pumpkin smile. Because the human brain is always looking for a face. Babies, even newborns, were always looking for a face. Humans saw faces in everything. In the pattern of bark on a tree. In the swirls on a door. In a cluster of leaves.

Faces. Always looking for faces.

The emotionless camera moved on. Back down the stairs.

She knew where it would go next. To the barn, where her father had been killed.

She heard a sound coming through the wall. Like something falling.

With the lantern in her hand, she ran from her room and down the short length of hall to the door of her parents’ room.

A body.

Sprawled across the bed.

Franny.

Arden lifted the lantern higher and approached.

Franny, her throat sliced.

No!

Franny, her dead eyes wide.

Staring at nothing.

Staring at Arden.

Those dead eyes.

A hiss came from Franny’s throat. From her giant smile.

Jesus.

She was still alive.

Arden spun around, running down the hall to the bathroom closet.

She pulled two blankets from a top shelf, tucking them under her arm. A handful of towels. An open box of sanitary napkins.

Back down the hall, her heart pounding, her breathing heavy.

In the bedroom, she put the lantern on the floor and dropped everything else on the foot of the bed.

How long had she been gone? One minute? Two?

Unfold a blanket. Spread it over Franny. Tuck it in. Follow with another
. She sat down on the bed, digging into the box of napkins.

Franny’s hand was on her throat, blood oozing between her fingers.

“You’re going to be okay,” Arden said. “We’re going to get a snowplow here. Then the police will come. An ambulance will get through.”

She didn’t want Franny to give up. She didn’t want her to know the hopelessness of the situation.

A sound of movement below her. Footfalls on the stairs.

Daniel was coming.

Franny’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.

“Don’t try to talk.”

Franny’s mouth kept moving.

What was she looking at?

Arden swung around in time to see Harley appear out of the shadows.

Something in his hand.

A large knife caught the lantern light and sent an orb bobbing around the room.

Franny’s eyes grew wide, and she let out a silent scream.