PillowFace (7 page)

(I)

With her feet propped on the desk, her bare legs exposed, Haley read from a paperback copy of Dean Koontz’s
Bad Seed
. She’d seen the movie as a kid on TV and remembered loving it.  However, reading the book made her not like the film adaptation as much as she had growing up. The computer system had so much more personality in the book.  She pitied it. The way it wanted to live just so it could hold the woman it loved.  God, she would almost sell her soul to have someone love her half as much as the computer loved the woman in the story.

She really didn’t mean it. Because of the phone calls at home from whomever that pervert was, she found herself identifying more and more with Susan in the story. Actually, they had an awful lot in common. 
Stalkers. 
She wanted to laugh, but couldn’t since there was a possibility someone
was
obsessed with her.  She’d called the cops more than once, but they’d done very little, and basically made it sound as if they wouldn’t do anything unless he physically harmed her.  The best hope for her was to try not to let him frighten her. 

Yeah right. 
 

She’d had guys in her life that had actually claimed to love her, but she’d turned them away. Haley could be quite the heartbreaker, and couldn’t justify why she was such a bitch to the ones that truly seemed to care.  Was she a loner?  Did she enjoy the sadness of solitude?  God, she hoped not.  Yet, she had never been able to come up with a better explanation.  But, no matter how desperate she became, she would never dress the way Carlee had today just to impress a guy.  That had been just way too much.  Luckily, she’d convinced her to go home and change. 

Haley felt sorry for her.  She’d obviously been planning this, and knowing Carlee, she was probably sick with dread trying to decide what to wear, how she should style her hair, and what to say in hopes John Kilward would swoon over her, beg her to accompany him to dinner or a movie. 

Poor girl
. 
Poor, dumb, girl
. 

Someone knocked at her door, blunt and heavy.

Probably Carlee wanting to make sure I approve her new attire
. 

“Come in,” she said, without taking her eyes away from the book.  She wanted to finish the paragraph she was on before dog-earing the page.

“Is this how you greet everyone that comes into your office or am I just special?”

Oh, shit!!!! 
Quick to react, Haley slammed the book, cover down, on her desk.  She jerked her feet off the top, swung the chair around, and put her legs underneath.

“Mr. Jones…?  Wow…hello.” 

Geoffrey Jones, her boss, was adjusting his suit, as he flung the door closed behind him in one quick swoop.  He’d been tugging at his tie when he’d noticed her velvety legs were angled up on the desk, shoes on the floor, and her bare feet were arched with twinkling toes.  He had seen a lot more of her than she’d ever wanted him to.

Humiliated, her dusky skin flushed scarlet, liquid fire surged through her. 

“Come on now, you know better than to call me Mr. Jones.”  He pulled at his tie again.  Then he slid both hands over his thinning hair, weighed down by so much gel it glimmered in the fluorescent light.  His sloping nose sniffed, his head bobbed as if moving to a beat.  His facial structure had always reminded Haley of the rat from
Charlotte’s Web.
The way his nose crinkled, he looked as if he were sniffing for cheese.

“Right, I forgot, sorry. Geoffrey, this is unexpected.”

“Close, but not quite.”

“Geoff?”

“Bingo!”  He chuckled, his arrogance shining almost as brightly as his hair.

“So, what brings you by?”

“Well, I was just on my way to lunch.”

“Oh?” 

“Yep.”

She sat silently, wondering what his point was, or if he even had one.  He rarely did.  Normally when he peeked his head in, he’d say a few awkward comments about her neck, and be on his way. 

Holding his arms out, he slowly rolled them over each other as if trying to persuade her understanding.  “Come on Haley, I was on my way to lunch and…”  He waited.

“And?” she asked back.

His smile oozed above his chin.  “And, I realized I didn’t have a date.”

Help me.

“Oh…?”

“That’s right.
And
, I was wondering if you would help me correct this problem?”

“Geoff, are you sure that would be appropriate?”

He scoffed, as if offended by the question. “Haley? This is just lunch, of course it would be, plus I am your boss, so I’m demanding that you come with me and make me a happy man.” He picked at a piece of lint on the sleeve of his cheap suit, then flicked his fingers until the pesky flake was gone. 

“Isn’t that your wife’s job?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she already wished she hadn’t uttered them. She was well aware that she did not want to go with him to lunch, but damn it, she didn’t want to get fired either.  With the morning she’d had, getting fired halfway through the day would be a great way to top it off.

To her surprise—and relief—he laughed. Smirking, he stepped up to her desk, obviously taking her comment as a challenge.  She eased her chair away from him as he leaned over; placing both hands on her desk. “If she was making me a happy man, would I be in this office right now?”

She sighed. “Touché.” Haley knew that if she told him no, he’d keep bugging her until she eventually caved, and things at work would probably become awkward.  But, she was pretty certain that if she told him yes, then he’d make it a trend.  What else would he try?  What
wouldn’t
he try seemed a better fit.  Would he take this as her welcoming his advances?  If she went to lunch, would he expect more?  A special thank you, perhaps?   “But, just so you know, all this is, what we’re doing, is lunch.  Nothing else.”

“Absolutely.  What else
would
it be?”  He was lying.  She could read it through his bleached white teeth. 

She felt trapped, cornered. “I’m a cheap companion, but I like to eat classy.”

“And, that’s where I come in. You like to eat costly, and I can afford the cost.  We make a perfect team.”

She chose to ignore his last statement. “I’ll meet you at the elevator.”

“I’m happier already.” He walked to the door, stole a glance of her from over his shoulder, then left.

The office was pummeled with stillness.      

It’s just lunch.  He’ll treat you to a nice meal, better than the pig-slop you’ve been feeding yourself and Joel for the last several weeks.  It’ll be okay.  Just put up with him for an hour, maybe a little more, and get a good meal out of it.  How bad could it be?

Plenty.  

What had she done? 

(II)

Joel sat at his desk, the search engines pulled up on his laptop, determined to find out all he could—if anything—about this man.  There had to be something online, a story or an article about either an eyewitness, or a…
murder
. 

He typed into the search-bar: 
Unsolved Murders in NC history. 

Enter
.

The links filled nearly two hundred pages. Groaning, he didn’t know where to begin.  Some were dated as far back as the twenties.  He decided to narrow it down the best he could.  Trying again, this time he typed: 
Recent Unsolved Murders in NC.
 

Enter.

A slightly smaller list of websites with article links popped up.  Scrolling through the pages, he found something on the third that caught his eye. 

Missing Hikers in Danover. 

A small town on the other side of the mountain. Sounded like it could be his guy. 

It was dated April 29
th
, almost three months ago.  He clicked it. 

The article loaded immediately.  He whispered it as he read.  It helped him focus.  Often when he read his mind would wander, thinking of things other than the words in front of him. 

“Two bodies found near Oak Hollow.  Has to be him.”  He scrolled the pointer down a few sentences to where the article began.  “Early Wednesday morning, a group of water skiers discovered the bodies of Anthony Hern and Shannon Hammond floating in the waters of Canopy Creek.  Amputated, mutilated, and covered with stab wounds, pieces of the body had been removed.  Blah-blah-blah….”  He skipped lower.  “The pieces of meat looked as if they’d been removed by a butcher…..”

He sat back in the chair. “Cannibal?  Could he be?  Doesn’t seem like him.  That’s more of the
Hills Have Eyes
type of killer.  He doesn’t come off like a people eater.  But, I guess, anything’s possible.” 

Scratching his head, he wondered if he should ask him about it. 

The glass of soda sitting on his desk bobbled slightly.  The Coke inside rippled.

STOMP!  CREEAAK! STOMP!!
 

He was coming to the bedroom. 

Joel quickly exited out of the website and closed the computer.  He spun around in his chair as the door slowly opened. 

His dad stepped into his room, dressed to change the oil in one of the cars.  A rush of excitement cascaded through Joel, but it quickly died when the image dissolved to the maniac as being the one who was really dressed in the clothing.  Joel remembered he’d left them out for him.  Camo-pants, the dark blue mechanics shirt, and the burlap mask.  It fit him fine around the face, but looked a bit too large for his head.  The top section draped over on each side like dangling ears.  It didn’t make the mask look ridiculous; it actually added more personality, more charm.  He’d used the thread to loop the mask snug around his neck.  The tattered tips of burlap draped his collar bone. 

He looked as good, if not better, than any slasher-movie icon Joel adored.  He seemed more massive, and menacing.  He didn’t know whether to be amazed or frightened by him. 

So far, fright had little to do with it. 

“Looks good,” he said.  “Do you feel better?” 

Ignoring him, he walked to the upright mirror on the back of Joel’s closet, and stared at his appearance. 

Joel leaned up in the chair, “Do you like the mask?”

He raised a hand to his chin, rubbing it along the burlap.  It made a soft, coarse sound of friction.  Then he nodded. 

Unable to hide his beam, Joel allowed it to conquer his face.  “I’m glad you like-” 

His words were cut short by the man viciously ripping off the left sleeve of his Dad’s shirt.  He tossed it aside like useless trash.  The arm underneath was thickly layered with strength, and raked with surface abrasions. 

He’d ripped the sleeve as easily as paper. 

“What’s wrong…did you not….”  Before he could finish, he’d torn the right sleeve away as well. Both arms were now exposed. Joel would have never thought it possible, but he looked even more intimidating than he had just moments ago. “Wow,” he snickered. “Nice touch…..You look….scary.” 

He turned around, nodding. Obviously agreeing with what Joel had said. 

“I was thinking….if you want, you could hide out in the basement as long as you’d like to…you know to recover or whatever.  I’m no doctor or anything, but I can tell you got messed up pretty bad and could probably use a place to rest. My sister never goes down there, it’s a shithole.  Too much junk everywhere.”

Haley
.

He leaned his head back, groaning as he remembered. “Shit. My sister’s going to be home in a few hours.” The man tilted his head. “We had a fight earlier, and she told me I had to do all this yard work or she was going to throw out a bunch of my stuff.” 

He exhaled a heavy breath through the mask. 

“It’s okay, I have to do it.  I sort of egged her on, you know.  If I don’t get that yard looking good, I’m dead meat.”  Joel realized his choice of words might not have been best suited for the circumstances, especially after reading that article. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to run a weed-eater would you?”

(III)

The tables inside the restaurant were full so they had been seated outside.  It was a lovely day, and Haley didn’t mind a sidewalk table.  She scanned the menu like a detective searching for clues. Everything looked wonderful.
Wonderfully expensive
. But, that didn’t matter, she wasn’t paying for it.  Jonesey was.

She choked on the thought. 

Jonesey.
God, how’d I get here
? 

At least it was a chance to eat at a lovely place like Palmers. She’d driven by it many times, wondering what it would be like to eat here.  She’d know soon enough, just have to put up with Jonesey for an hour. 

Shouldn’t be too bad, right? 

She dreaded the next hour.  And, the car ride back.  Her attempt to use him for a high dollar meal would undeniably backfire in her face.