Captured Again (25 page)

Gabby had told her many times the woods surrounding her house were kept busy at night; she’d seen deer, raccoons, and even possums sometimes show themselves as they crossed her front yard to get the other side of the woods. The house sat on the front acre of their five-acre tract. Behind it was four acres of nothing but woodlands.

The moon was shining bright and she was surrounded by a harmony of night noises: crickets, tree frogs, and other unrecognizable sounds. She only knew they came from the woods and only at night. She heard the hoot of an owl.

She loved her little apartment, but one day she wanted to have a place out in the country like this, a big slice of land left mostly full of woods, except for the small yard around the house. She’d open her windows every night and let the night sounds sing her to sleep.

Emma stilled herself, waiting to hear the owl again. That was just so cool. She wanted to hear it one more time before she left. She called out to the owl, “Who! Who!”

A loud voice answered, “Me.”

Emma grabbed a rope with one hand and jumped off the swing, turning in the air before she landed on the ground, facing the voice with her feet spread apart and the wooden swing seat still in her hand. She swung it back to land directly in front of her and grabbed it loosely with both hands.

“Who the hell are you?” she spat. The light from the front window shone on him. He was a good-looking guy, clean khaki pants, nice shirt, stylish haircut... Looked like a young, clean-cut office guy to her. But she didn’t appreciate anyone sneaking up on her like that.
He’s only a few feet away from the steps to the house, dammit. He must have freakin’ tiptoed over here,
she thought. Her heart rate spiked.

“The question is who are
you
?” he asked in a tight, strained voice. “You look just like Gabby but smaller,” he said as his eyes took in all of her. “You must be her twin. You could be identical if you were taller,
but
you’re not.” He smiled at Emma, a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He waited for an answer, but Emma refused to give him one. She was waiting him out, trying to get a feel for who he was and what he wanted.

“Aww, you must’ve been the runt,” he teased. His eyes were cold.

She shuddered. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She fought the urge to let go of the swing and reach back there to stop the uncomfortable tickle crawling down her skin. She rolled her shoulders instead, trying to stay loose.

“What’s wrong? You don’t want to talk to me?” he asked in a creepy singsong voice, taking one step forward.

Emma took a step backward, glancing up at the house first, measuring the distance between her and the front door and him and the front door.
He’d win easily. Should I answer him? Ask him if he’s a new friend of Jake’s? Maybe I just keep quiet and he’ll go away. I’ve never seen him before... This dude is putting off an epic bad vibe. Shit!

“I came to see Gabby. I thought you were her at first, from far off. But the tattoo... It’s wrong. My uncle said it was on her right shoulder. Your dragonfly’s in the middle of your back.”

He ran his hands over his face. Emma took the chance to look at the front door and window again, then back at him.

Now he was frowning. He squished his eyebrows together and rubbed his finger between them on his forehead, seemingly confused.

“Actually, this seems fairer anyway. I lost someone
I
loved,” he said, apparently to himself, as he had stopped looking at Emma and seemed to be studying the ground. He took two more steps toward Emma and she was ready for him. She gripped the wooden seat and with both hands and with all her strength, she reared back and flung it.

Bullseye!
He fell to the ground, holding his injured head, and Emma could see blood seeping through his fingers. She jumped back to avoid the swing’s wild arc back to her and to put more distance between herself and the man on the ground.

The swing was twisting and swinging crazily on its rope.

When he looked back up at Emma, his eyes were open wide—wild—and he shook his head from side to side as if he were fighting off a daze. His face was full of rage. Emma had hoped it would knock him out long enough to give her time to get in the house and lock the door, but she had overestimated the damage she could do. She’d never have time to make it in now.

“You godforsaken
whore!
You’ll pay for that,” he hissed, seething with fury, struggling to get back up to his feet. He was at least a little off balance. Maybe that would give her a head start.

Emma glanced up to the house—she saw movement in the window—and then turned and ran straight for the woods bordering the side of Gabby’s yard, looking over her shoulder to be sure he saw exactly where she went in. “Bring it, asshole!” she yelled as she took her first leap into the brush.

G
abby startled awake with a gasp, propping herself up on her elbows, pulling the sheet and blanket with her, trying to focus her eyes in the darkness. She squinted into the corner; she couldn’t see a thing.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Jake asked in a muffled voice. Apparently he had already fallen asleep. He sounded like he was still half asleep.

“I thought I saw my mom. I guess it was a dream,” Gabby whispered. “But she seemed so real...”

Jake cleared his throat and sat up. “Gabby, we’ve only been here thirty minutes. I know you did the drivin’, but I’m tuckered out, girl. Can you go back to sleep?” Jake asked hopefully.

They’d driven the three hours to the beach without stopping. Jake had made reservations using Gabby’s phone and they checked in and turned in immediately, barely taking the time to properly get ready for bed. At least their teeth were brushed. Gabby had felt so much safer—away from the house—that she’d fallen asleep immediately.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Jake. Go back to sleep.”

Jake lay back down. Her eyes felt drawn to that dark corner, but she couldn’t see a thing with the blackout curtains of the hotel, and they hadn’t left a single light on.

I guess that answers that. I can’t see a ghost in the pitch dark... Must’ve been a dream,
she thought. She too snuggled back down in the bed, squeezing up close to Jake, feeling the heat off of him flush her skin. She closed her eyes, hoping to fall back to sleep quickly. But she couldn’t. Something picked at her, keeping her eyes open but staring into a blank wall of darkness—in that same corner. She couldn’t stop looking back to the same corner, as if something were drawing her attention there.

Okay. I’ll turn on the lamp. Then I can see there is nothing there and go back to sleep,
Gabby thought to herself. She pulled away from Jake very slowly—he was already snoring quietly again—and eased herself up without disturbing the bed. She fumbled around the lamp quietly with her fingertips, looking for the switch. Finally, she found it and turned it on.

She turned quickly toward the corner. Nothing there except two empty chairs and a small round table where they’d piled some of their stuff when they came in. Gabby almost laughed at her silliness, except she still could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention. Something was wrong—she could feel it. She thought about her dream... Mom was wringing her hands as if she were worried.
It’s just a dream, Gabby. Go back to sleep,
she silently told herself.

Gabby lay back down but left the light on. She knew her brain wouldn’t let her go back to sleep right now. She stared at the corner while she went back over what she’d told Jake. Between all the weird, random things happening to her and now dreaming of Mom, Gabby felt like maybe she needed to call her doctor tomorrow and talk to him. Maybe he could prescribe something. Maybe she was making more of this than there should be and freaking out over nothing.

Gabby wished her mom would appear again. She could shoot straight with her—at least she had been able to for the last five years or so... Her mom wouldn’t think she was foolish. She’d always believed in signs and fate—and even fairies. Gabby choked back a quiet laugh that threatened to turn into a sob. She couldn’t grieve for Mom right here and now; she knew once she started back up, she’d be loud and most likely hysterical. Then Jake would wake up again, and he really needed his rest. He deserved to sleep after spending six weeks at the hospital, only to come home and be there less than one day before having to get out of Dodge with Gabby. He was seriously tired.

She held her breath; sometimes that worked as a dam to hold back emotion until she could shake it off. She thought about Mom and all her stories she shared with them after her illness. Crazier things had happened to her. Gabby thought back on the story they used to love to hear Mom tell, where she and Dad were just kids themselves, with three children, stuck way out in the country during a typical Midwest snowstorm.

It was almost Thanksgiving and they didn’t have much food. They were broke—flat busted broke. Dad wasn’t even sure he had enough gas to make it into town, even if the old car they were driving could get through the snow. He and Mom worried for days they wouldn’t have enough food to last until the storm stopped and the roads cleared. On Thanksgiving, they heard a knock on the door. When they answered it, there was no one there. But in the snow on the front stoop was a basket full of food: a turkey, potatoes, veggies, and even a pie... all the fixing’s for a Thanksgiving dinner. Mom had said she never heard a car and she truly believed it was angels. She’d always said her proof was the absence of footprints in the smooth, unblemished snow.

Yeah, if Mom believed in angels on Earth, she would believe in warnings and signs. If she could, she’d probably come back right now to tell me everything’s okay, or warn me if they weren’t...

Gabby scrambled to an upright position again, startling Jake out of his sleep yet again.

“Jake! I know now... Mom was warning me! She’s trying to tell me something,” Gabby whispered loudly.

“Gabby, seriously? I love you, girl... but you’ve got to let it rest. You wanted to leave—we left. Can we get a good night’s sleep and talk about it tomorrow?” Jake reasoned with his face half buried in his pillow.

“But what if tomorrow is too late? I swear, Jake. I feel like the dream was Mom warning me about... something!”

“Okay, Gabby.” Jake sat up, squinting against the intrusion of the lamp. He rubbed his eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, Jake!” Gabby whined and hated herself for it. “But I can’t sleep feeling like this.”

Jake sighed. “Gabby, just tell me. Is this about that French bastard? Is it him you’re scared of? That I can deal with. I’ll kill the bastard if I have to. But I can’t deal with
I don’t know.
”

Gabby felt like she’d been struck. She shook her head from side to side. Jake had prompted her memory; now it all made sense.

“What?” Jake asked. “What is it?”

“He’s dead, Jake. René is dead.”

“How can you know that?”

Gabby ran her hands over her face in disbelief that she hadn’t put it together before now.
He’d outright told me in so many words. The flowers were France’s national flower... his uncle had killed himself after a ruined marriage... and then told me I should know. It was Tom. It had to be. He’s René’s nephew, even though his name isn’t French—isn’t Tom a German name? That’s probably why I didn’t connect the two. It’s the only thing that makes sense,
she thought.

She told Jake about her encounter with Tom, methodically stating only the facts but excited at finally piecing it together. She felt the fear melt away now that she knew... and there were three hours’ drive time between them. Obviously, René had told Tom about her tattoo and painted her as the other woman in a torrid affair rather than his victim. Tom was screwing with her mind, probably for revenge for his uncle losing his wife and taking his own life. There was no telling how far he would take it if he was related to René.
Crazy does breed crazy,
Gabby thought.

Jake was furious. He got up and paced the room, hobbling and limping with his bum leg. “Great day, Gabby! How could you just remember this? If you’d’ve told me this at home, I coulda handled him then.” He shook his head.

Gabby sat very still. It was rare to see her husband angry.

He blew out a breath between his teeth. “Okay, honey. I’m sorry if I sounded mad. We’ll just have to go back and deal with the sorry sack of shit,” Jake said, the droop of his shoulders giving away his lack of energy. Gabby squeezed her brows together. She hated putting Jake through this.

“Jake, wait a minute. What if he doesn’t know? What if René gave him a jacked-up story hoping he’d take revenge on me? Maybe if you talk to him and tell him what really happened, he’ll understand,” Gabby said.

“People like him—men like him—they don’t understand
reason
, Gabby. If he was willing to listen to reason, he would’ve asked you about it
before
plantin’ dead bugs in my truck or bringing you France’s friggin’ flowers and writing that card. The guy is whacked!” Jake yelled, though not at Gabby, just at the frustration of it all.