Chasing Amanda (15 page)
“I saw a girl. It totally freaked me out.” The words tumbled uneasily from his mouth.
“Oh, Erik,” Molly said. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
“What, Mom?” his voice became louder as his frustration grew. “What the hell is it? Who is she?”
“I think she’s the little girl who’s missing, but I don’t know that.”
“Oh, great!” Erik said, sarcastically. “This is freakin’ great, Mom.”
Molly could hear his panic rise.
“Well, guess what—there’s more. The little girl was in some kind of a...I don’t even know what,” he yelled, “a freaking hole! She was in a freaking hole in the goddamn ground, Mom!” his voice cracked.
“Erik, listen to me,” she paused, listened to his breathing. “Erik, you probably—”
“Don’t even say it, Mom,” he warned. “I’m not
like
you, Mom. I know you’re going to say it’s a
vision
or something, but it’s not.”
“Erik, listen. Please, don’t hang up!” she pleaded. “It’s horrible. This little girl’s been missing for a few days, and Erik,” she closed her eyes tight, hoping he would not hang up, “I had the same dream.”
Her revelation was met with silence.
“Erik?” she said tentatively.
As the phone remained silent, Molly grew anxious.
“Erik!” she demanded.
“What!” he said harshly. “Jesus Christ, Mom. What do you want me to say?” he yelled. “I just freaking saw a missing girl in a hole, and you want me to talk about it?”
“Erik, you can help her. I know you don’t really believe in this stuff, but you
can
help her. You
have
to help her. Please!” Molly’s heart felt as though it were going to burst through her chest.
“That’s just it, Mom,” Erik answered, “I do believe in this stuff,” he said sheepishly.
Molly let out a sigh of relief.
“But I don’t want to,” Erik said. “Don’t you think I’ve seen what you go through—what you’ve gone through all these years? There’s always something that you
just know
. Goddamn it, Mom!” he said angrily. “I don’t want to be like you!”
Molly bristled. His words stung. “I’m sorry.” She wiped her tears, wishing she could erase his memory of the images. “Honey, I know this is hard, but do you know where she was?” she asked.
“Uh-huh, sort of,” he said. Molly could hear the tension in his words, his desire not to reveal what he saw.
“Erik, please,” she pleaded.
“Fine, whatever! I saw woods and could hear kids in the background, okay? And, no, I don’t know where exactly, but it sounded like she was near a park, or a school, or some shit like that.” He took a deep breath.
Molly waited.
“There’s more. I’m pretty sure I saw Hannah Slate kneeling over her.” He spoke through clenched teeth, “What the hell, Mom?”
Molly eyes grew wide. “I’m not sure, Erik.” She tried to waylay his fears—and her own, “I’m sure it’s nothing. Hannah helped search for her. That’s probably what you saw.”
“The guy, Mom—you have to find him. I think he’s trapped somewhere. I think he needs to get out. I think he was trying to say something important.”
“Okay, honey. I’ll do everything I can to find him—and to find Aman—Tracey.” She decided to go one step further, “Erik, did you
feel
anything when you saw her?”
Erik didn’t hesitate. “I didn’t feel anything other than being totally freaked out when I woke up—but Mom, find that guy, please. I don’t know why, but it’s really important that you find him—soon.”
“I will. I promise to hunt him down!” She laughed, heard Erik utter, “Jesus Christ!” and added, “Really, honey. I’ll try—and if I can figure this all out, I’ll call you right away.”
He let out a deep sigh. “Good.” His voice softened, like the boy he used to be, “Mom, what if she’s…you know…like Amanda?”
Molly braced herself against the back of the bed. “She’s not, Erik,” she closed her eyes and said, “I’m sorry that you have to go through this. I hoped that you wouldn’t have these…abilities.” Molly’s sadness hung in the air.
“Yeah, whatever. You’re probably happy that you have a kid who’s just like you.”
His sarcasm was not lost on Molly, who smiled at his ability to remain positive about something that just might change his entire life.
Molly unwrapped the bandage from her hand and touched the T which had become a simple scar. She wondered how it could have healed so quickly, but like so many other aspects of her life, accepted it without too much deliberation. She poked at it, curled her fingers into a fist, and stretched them as far as she could—the scar did not tear. It had become as sturdy as the rest of her palm. The T had become a part of her—a constant reminder of the little girl who was yet to be found.
Molly showered, turning away from her own naked reflection in the mirror,
Geez, I look like Mom already
, she thought. Molly had always thought she’d be able to outrun the aging process, and as she took in her own image, she realized that age lays claim to a body without any fanfare; a few extra pounds here, a little less muscle there, until one day, in the mirror appears a wrinkled face that seems foreign. She turned away from the mirror to dress and began making her mental to-do list.
At her computer, she
checked her email and found one new message from Newton Carr:
Hello Molly. I hope you’re feeling better. You looked rather ill the other night. I cannot take you to the Perkinson House. The Perkinson family has requested that only Pastor Lett walk the property. I do apologize, but I must respect their request. Several family members died in their house and with the rumors of ghosts on the property they’ve had issues with curious teens. I’d be happy to tell you all about it, but I’m sorry I can’t take you there.
Take care, Newton.
P.S. There is no electricity turned on as far as I know.
“Great,” Molly sat back in her chair, deflated. “Ghosts. That’s all I need.”
Molly stepped inside the Country Store, and the familiar bell chimed above the door.
“Hello!” Jin called from the back of the store.
Molly poured herself a cup of coffee, “Hey, Jin, how are you?”
Jin came to the front of the store, “Fine, fine, and you?”
“Great. Tired.”
“It’s late for you. What happened?” he asked.
“Don’t even ask!” Molly laughed. “I was up all night. I’m whipped!” she took a sip of coffee and grimaced at the taste.
Jin pointed to the cup, “Coffee? No water?”
“Not today. Today I need some fake energy!”
“No running?” he asked. Molly had become accustomed to Jin’s clipped sentences.
The back door of the store opened and closed, and Molly turned to see Edie slip into the office and close the door.
“Tomorrow,” Molly said, distracted. “Today I’m making sure my ankle is okay.” She paid for her coffee and turned to leave.
“Rodney. He did not kill that girl.” Jin’s serious tone stopped Molly in her tracks. “He did not do it.”
Molly’s shoulders dropped at the mention of his name. “Somehow,” she turned and said to Jin, “I think you might be right, but that doesn’t help him—or Pastor Lett, who has already lost a brother.” Hannah walked in as Molly left the store, breezing by her with a quick hello. Molly sat on the worn wooden bench in front of the store. She set her coffee cup on the ground in front of her and sat back, contemplating the sorrow she felt for Pastor Lett. She thought about the Boyds Boys and how nice it must have been for them to be together for all of those years. The hum of the passing cars and the view of Sugarloaf Mountain in the distance calmed Molly. She relaxed into the bench and began to formulate her plan for the day. Hannah hurried from the store, into her car, and drove off with a quick wave. Molly stood, waved, and climbed into her car. She blew out a frustrated breath and stared at the block-lettered message that was taped to her steering wheel:
DOWN ON KNEES, SECRETS NEAR
FIND HIM, IT WILL BE CLEAR
“What the hell?” Molly said. She tore the note from her steering wheel. Suddenly, she was hit with a stabbing pain that shot through her arms and traveled to her chest. She grabbed hold of the steering wheel, her back as straight as a board, her eyes wide open. The vision hit, sharp and swift—followed by a cold burst that ran through Molly’s body, prickling her skin:
Tracey knelt in front of candles, unafraid, peaceful. Next to her, a large woman prayed. The woman turned toward Tracey, her face shrouded in shoulder-length dark hair.
Just as suddenly, the vision ceased. Molly’s body pitched forward, spilling her coffee. She felt the warm liquid dripping down her leg but didn’t have the strength to wipe it away. A combination of relief and fear settled in her mind—Tracey was likely still alive, but something about the woman with her had appeared unnervingly familiar.
Molly did not like women who played the part of damsel-in-distress rather than taking their due, but today, she was going to try. The last thing she needed was another parking ticket. She swallowed her confidence and timidly approached the male officer standing behind the front counter of the police station. “Excuse me,” she said in a quieter-than-normal voice, “I have a question.” She laid the ticket on the counter and tried her best to appear embarrassed, lowering her voice to a whisper. “The other night, I stopped my car on the side of the road because I thought I saw a child down by the lake, and it was really late,” she lied. “I ran down to the lake to see if it was in fact a child, and I walked around a little, you know, checking it out. When I came back up, this was on my van.” She pushed the ticket towards the officer, adding quickly, “I was worried, with the little girl missing and all. I thought I’d better not waste any time. I didn’t want to miss a chance to find the poor girl.” She flashed him her sweetest smile and shrugged, all the while, hating herself for having to pull such girly crap.
“Ma’am, how long were you parked there?” the young officer asked, in a tone that was more like Erik’s than a man’s.
“Oh, not long,” she eagerly replied. “I ran down, walked around a bit,” she glanced up toward the ceiling, tapped her chin with her fingers, as if thinking, “maybe a few minutes, fifteen or so—not so long.” Behind her back, Molly’s fingers were crossed.
The officer held the ticket in his fingers and scrutinized it, as if the answer to his dilemma were written there. Molly tried to appeal to his maternal side—everyone had a mother. “It’s just that,” she looked down at the counter, lowered her voice again, “I have a son, and if someone had seen my son who was missing, I would want them to stop and check it out.”
“Of course you would,” he said kindly.
Molly surveyed him. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-three years old. She pushed a little harder. “It doesn’t seem like something I should be penalized for, you know?”
The officer gave her a pitying look, as if contemplating what he might do for his own mother. He leaned forward and said quietly, “Let me see what I can do.”
Molly was surprised. “Oh, thank you so much,” she said eagerly. “That’s so nice of you!” Molly’s voice seeped maternal gratitude, which she knew would land in his ears the way a proud mother’s might. She watched him walk away and mumbled, “Please God, don’t get me for this!”
Molly waited nervously for the officer to return. The thought entered her mind that perhaps his superior would come out and lecture her on the inappropriate behavior of a civically-responsible adult. She was relieved when he came around the corner five minutes later. He settled himself behind the counter and leaned toward Molly.
“Ma’am?”
She hurried over, “Yes?”
“It’s okay, I took care of it.” He smiled, proud of his accomplishment.
Molly brought her hands together and almost clapped, stopping herself and clasping her hands together instead. “Wonderful! Oh, thank you! You are so kind, really! Thank you so much!”
“No problem,” he grinned, “but from now on, please park on the correct side of the street.”
“I will,” Molly said. “I promise,”
He set the ticket aside, then looked back at Molly. “Thanks for checking out the sighting. Did you find anyone?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
Her smiled faded. “I didn’t find anyone. It must have been a deer or something. I looked everywhere and didn’t see anyone. I was so bummed.” Molly turned to leave, and then turned back to the young man, “Thank you again. Do you have any news about the missing girl?”
The officer shook his head, “No, unfortunately not, but we aren’t giving up hope, and ma’am, we would hate for you to be harmed. Please, in the future, notify the authorities if you see anything suspicious.”
Molly nodded and left the building. She was digging through her purse for her keys when she ran head-on into Officer Brown.
“Mrs. Tanner, fancy meeting you here,” he said.
Molly was caught off guard, “H…How are you?”
“Just fine and dandy, though we’ve got no word on Tracey yet,” he said.
Molly glanced hurriedly over her shoulder, embarrassed about talking her way out of the ticket. “I know, I just checked,” she said, hoping her cover would negate his need to follow up on her visit with the officer inside. “I’m so sorry that I ran into you!” she said, touching his arm. She quickly reached back into her purse. “I was looking for,” she brought out her key ring and jingled it, “my keys,” she said.
