rated * for adult themes and language
This is the sequel to The Darkness of Me.
It is highly recommended that you read it first.
Facing the Dark
by Amy Lucas
Prologue
Silence reigned in the living room after Mart left with Trixie in his arms. She had returned home an entirely different person from the one who had left but five months before. The person who had sat before them sharing her life, her struggles to survive emotional and physical upheaval, was not anyone any of them had recognized. As a result, there was fear lingering in each of their hearts. Fear that their friend, their sister, their daughter, their beacon of light, was lost to them forever.
She was so different. She was so pale and so hard and so fragile all at the same time. And her eyes, her beautiful eyes that had once shone with joy and laughter and light, were now dark pools of emptiness. Just as Dan had said. Those eyes saw right through them, beyond them to a darkness they had not even recognized existed. And so they sat there, the Bob-Whites and the Beldens, lost in the grim reality of their own thoughts, waiting in silence for Mart’s return.
Some thirty minutes later, Mart slowly descended the stairs and headed for the living room. Everyone look up at his entrance.
“How is she?” Peter asked.
Mart shrugged. “She’s sleeping, that’s good I suppose.”
Brian shook his head. “I should have asked more information, what scripts she was given, if she’s on any antibiotics, pain killers.” He sighed. “I’m not even sure she would tell me if I asked. She’s so …” he stopped, not sure how to continue.
“Detached?” Mart suggested.
“Yes.” Brian nodded. “That’s it exactly. She’s detached, like it happened to someone else, like it’s still happening to someone else.”
“What do you mean?” Diana asked. “Like what’s happening to someone else?”
“Her life.” Dan spoke up. “I told you before. It’s like she’s checked out, like whatever’s going on isn’t even registering on any level at all.”
Mart nodded. “I’m not sure she’s even realized that she’s home yet. I mean, yes on one level, she knows. But on another level… on the primitive, survival level, it’s like she’s not even here yet. It’s like she’s still off somewhere, lost in her own thoughts, in the experiences of the past five months.”
“So what do we do?” Honey burst out. “How do we reach her? How do we help her realize she’s safe and we’re here for her and she can tell us anything?”
At that, Mrs. Belden spoke up. “We do what we’ve always done. We love her and we let her know we’re here for her and we listen when she speaks. Other than that, we give her as much or as little space as she needs. If we push her too hard, she’ll leave. I guarantee you. So, all of you, please, tread carefully. Don’t push for answers she’s not ready to give. And don’t go looking for our Trixie anytime soon. I’m not sure who she’s become, but I can tell you right now, the Trixie we once knew has been forever and irrevocably changed.”
Chapter 1
I came flying out of bed, as usual, gasping for breath and grasping for the light. A quick glance at the clock told me it was half past three. I had slept for maybe an hour tops. And everyone would be downstairs, undoubtedly discussing me, what was to be done with me, about me, how to help me recover. They would soon understand. There was no recovering from something like this. It was simply a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and facing each day with a grim determination to make it through. I would continue on because I could do no less.
After a moment’s thought, I decided I could use another shower. This would be my third of the morning, the first I had taken immediately upon entering the house after my run, sometime around 4:30 this morning. The second I had taken after Bobby woke me by pounding on the door earlier and here I was headed toward my third. The nightmares always made for a rough sleeping experience. I usually woke drenched in sweat and fear. Fear has its own odor, you know, and I have discovered when confronting serial killers and the corpses of your best friends in nightmares, it will saturate a body most potently. Worse even than it will when facing these things in reality.
The nightmares were always worse than what I had already endured.
After showering and dressing, I headed back downstairs. This time I did not bother covering any of my wounds. I figured I had escaped Brian’s determination twice now, but could not possibly escape a third time. Better therefore to simply get it over with.
I entered the living room wearing a tee-shirt and cutoffs. The bruises and cuts on my neck, arms and legs were quite visible, as were the stitches tracing whip marks around my left arm and draping across my collar bone and shoulder to disappear into the back of my tee-shirt. The only wounds not clearly visible were the stab wounds to my side and right shoulder, though I was certain Brian would eventually ferret them out.
You would think, having slept a good four hours this morning and another hour just now, that I would be feeling 100% better. After all, the last time I’d had more than three hours of uninterrupted sleep in any given night was back before Kerry’s death. Unfortunately, I simply felt worse. My arm and back were a wall of flames, it took all my strength to make it down the stairs without collapsing, and a steady drummer was beating at the inside of my skull, alternating between a dull throb and a sharp stab. All in all, I felt like death hovered with baited breath, just waiting for a moment of weakness.
The truth is by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs all I wanted to do was climb back up them and fall into my bed. Sheer willpower kept me from that plan of action, sending me forward into the living room instead.
I had high hopes everyone had dispersed.
Instead, I walked into the same morose group I had passed out on an hour and a half before. I felt so freaking sick by the time I reached the doorway and saw them all sprawled on the floor and various pieces of furniture, staring into space, I didn’t even try to escape. I also didn’t wait for them to notice me. Instead, I quickly moved into the room and headed for the couch. Dan, Mart and Diana were sprawled there, Mart playing with Diana’s hair while she napped against his chest.
My original plan had been to make them move, but they were so lost in their thoughts they hadn’t even noticed me, and Mart and Di looked too cute to oust.
As I stood there hesitating, I realized I had waited too long and was going down, whether there was a chair under me or not. My legs buckled, but I somehow managed to grab hold of an armchair on my way down, which meant that I landed with a somewhat less resounding thud than I might have otherwise. Either way, it was still a less than graceful landing, one which jarred every injury I had and made my head throb even louder.
I heard voices, Brian’s in particular, demanding answers, coaxing me to stand and move, but there was a buzzing, then a ringing, in my ears that made it difficult to understand. In the end I let them move me where they wanted me and retreated a bit from reality again, pulling in upon myself, drifting in a sea of pain.
“Trixie!” It was Brian’s determined voice that eventually pulled me back into consciousness.
I opened my eyes and stared into his worried face. “I’m all right,” I whispered. I tried to sit up, but he immediately pushed me back down with a sharp command to be still.
I realized I was lying on the couch. So I had ousted Mart and Di after all. My vision was blurry and my brain felt fuzzy. I closed my eyes tight, then opened them again. The world swam in and out of focus before finally righting itself.
“Really, Brian, I’ll be fine.” I murmured to him.
He sighed. “You’re not fine, Trixie! You just collapsed, from pain or sheer exhaustion, probably a combination of both. You’re also too damn thin, so we can probably add hunger and malnutrition to the list. Now what have you been taking for the pain?”
I shook my head. “I’m not…” I began.
Brian exploded. “Don’t even think about lying to me, Trixie! I’m a doctor. I recognize the signs of extreme pain. Now what the hell are you taking?”
I just looked at him. What the hell was I supposed to say? Yes, I’m in pain, but I’m not taking any medication for it?
As it turned out, I didn’t have to tell him because Mart did. “Trixie!” he burst out. “Why aren’t you taking anything?”
Brian’s eyes narrowed. Without taking his eyes away from me, he answered Mart. “Oh that can’t be right, Mart. Trixie wouldn’t be so foolish as to ignore doctor’s orders and I know that no self-respecting doctor would have allowed her to leave the hospital without a number of prescriptions in hand.” He glared at me.
I decided his comments didn’t really require an answer, so simply rolled my eyes in response.
“Here,” my eyes widened as Jim stepped into view, passing to Brian several prescription bottles.
I glared at Jim. “Where the hell did you get those?” I snarled.
He smiled back at me. “From your backpack of course,” he answered without a single ounce of remorse or guilt.
Brian quickly examined the three bottles, nodded to himself, and popped open one of them, shaking out two pills. “Here,” he handed them to me. “Take these.”
I glared down at the pills. I didn’t have a clue which ones they were – were they from one of the two bottles given to me after finding Kerry’s body and if so, were they the sleeping pills or the ones for anxiety? I hadn’t opened either bottle since a week after finding her body. Or were they the pain pills the doctor had prescribed for me immediately following the attack? I hadn’t opened that bottle either. “What are they?” I asked.
“Just take them,” he snapped at me.
“No!” I snapped back.
We glared at each other.
“Trixie,” Moms’ voice intruded on our little battle of wills. “Please, listen to Brian, sweetheart. Take the pills.”
I shifted my eyes to my mother. I hated to upset her even more than she already was, but there was no way I was taking these pills without knowing which ones they were, and hell, even if they were just the pain pills, I still probably wouldn’t take them. The doctor had said one of the side effects was drowsiness.
“I don’t need them.” I spoke as firmly as I could. “The only script I was told that I had to take was the antibiotics. I have those upstairs and have already taken my morning dose.”
“For God’s sake, Trixie,” Brian snapped. “The doctors gave you these pills for a reason. You’re in pain. These will help.”
I sighed. “If you’re that worried about it, Brian, I’ll take some aspirin or some other over-the-counter pain medication, but I’m not taking these. I won’t.”“Why not?” he roared.
I decided to give him a reason, even if it wasn’t the real one. “Because, Brian, I’ve seen good agents, career agents, ruin their lives because of an addiction to pain killers. I’m not taking the risk and neither would you and you know it.”
Silence reigned for a moment. Then Brian sighed. “Fine. Moms,” he turned and looked over his shoulder, “do we have any Ibuprofen?”
Moms nodded. “I’ll be right back.” She quickly hurried from the room.
Everyone was quiet until Moms returned with two innocent white pills and a glass of water. I downed them quietly, relieved that everyone accepted my reasoning at face value. It was true. I definitely didn’t want to take the pain pills and would avoid them at all costs, but the real reason wasn’t so much a fear of addiction as a fear of sleeping too heavily.
After I had swallowed the pills, Brian nodded and then spoke quietly. “Try and get some rest, Trixie. You’ve been through a lot and your body needs time to recover. Okay?”
A wave of exhaustion blanketed me, almost as if his words had brought it on. I sighed and nodded. “Fine, Brian. Just stop nagging me, okay?”
He said something in return, but my eyes were too heavy to hold open and my brain was already shutting down. Oblivion swam over me.
Chapter 2
When I woke, the house was silent. I slowly sat up and glanced around. No one was in the room with me. I was surprised. I figured Brian wouldn’t leave me alone for a while. I quickly climbed to my feet and wandered to the kitchen. No one was there either. Kind of weird that.
I checked the guest room downstairs, then slowly climbed the staircase. After checking all the bedrooms and the bathroom, I realized the house was empty. I headed back downstairs.
I was back in the middle of the living room, wondering where everyone had gone when I saw the note from Moms.
Trixie,
We’re at Manor House. Come join us!
Love, Moms
I left the house and started walking up the hill toward the Wheeler home. I must have slept longer than I originally thought. The sky was darkening and lightning streaked across it, lighting the sky in brief and eerie flashes. I heard no thunder. How strange.
I was at the front door to Manor House before I realized it.
I knocked, but no one answered.
I tried the door. It was unlocked. I quickly opened it and moved inside. “Hello?” I called. “Honey? Jim? Moms?”
My voice echoed back to me, but no one answered. I wandered through the downstairs rooms. No one was in either of the family rooms, the dining room, the kitchens, the study. Weird.
I reached the staircase and started climbing. I was feeling strange like I wanted to run out of the house, but I couldn’t stop climbing, couldn’t stop heading upstairs.
I reached the top of the stairs and glanced down the hallway toward Honey’s room. Her door was cracked, light was shining through.
I started moving down the hallway toward it. I heard opera music.
I wanted to stop, but my feet kept moving. I wanted to scream, but my throat constricted.
I had reached Honey’s door. I slowly reached out a shaking hand and pushed open the door.
The room was drenched in blood just like Kerry’s apartment. And Honey lay sprawled, staring at me with her accusing eyes, just like Kerry’s. Not Honey, no.
I moved slowly into the room, unable to tear my eyes from her broken body. I fell to my knees beside her, slowly touched her face. She was so cold.
Behind me there came a slow brush of breath, a chilling breeze. I heard the door close. My blood froze in my veins. I turned slowly toward the door and stared into a murderer’s smiling face.
“Trixie,” the voice sent chills up my spine.
I slowly turned my head again and looked down into Honey’s accusing brown eyes. “You killed me,” she whispered. “You brought a killer here to my home. Why didn’t you save me, Trixie? You should have saved me!”
Before my eyes, she morphed from Honey to Kerry, who reached for me, screaming, “I waited for you, but you never came! YOU LET ME DIE!”
I scrambled away from her, but she pursued me. “Why didn’t you save me?” she hissed. “You should have died for me. Why wouldn’t you die for me?”
I tried to answer but I saw a flash of black move before my eyes and then I was choking.
Honey’s room vanished. I was in my apartment, on the floor staring into a madman’s eyes and he was snarling, “You’re a whore who deserves to die. Die, whore, die!” I was choking, choking, choking.
He was falling on top of me, dirt raining down on the two of us, blood soaking the ground and spreading. A spreading stain across my arm, across the floor, touching the boots of a rescue worker.
He laughed and the sound sent chills through my brain as it slowly shut itself down. He laughed and slowly walked away. He walked away.
I stood in the middle of Honey’s room again, her body staring up at me, morbidly accusing of all my failings. NOT HONEY. NO.
The door clicked shut behind me. I turned around and stared into the eyes of a madman.
Chapter 3
Someone was screaming. Hysterically. Loudly. Sobbing and screaming. No words, just sounds of torture and pain.
Would they never stop screaming?
Just as the thought appeared, the screams died to sobs. Heartbreaking, horrifying sobs of loss and pain.
Voices murmured in the background. Others were crying too. Whispered words of comfort. People begging her to stop, though she never did. Crying and crying and crying. Yes, make her stop. But nothing they said made it stop. She just kept on and on and on. And then oblivion.
Chapter 4
When I woke, I was alone in my bedroom. How had I gotten up here? I slowly sat up and glanced at the clock. Huh. It must have stopped.
Dragging myself out of bed, I left the room and headed downstairs. The house was deserted. Where was everyone?
I stepped outside onto the front porch.
There were flies everywhere. Why on earth? Most of them swarmed in the garden. I slowly walked down the stairs.
I moved across the grass, noticing it was wet beneath my feet. Must have rained. I reached the edge of the garden and felt the earth change beneath my feet. I glanced down.
I was standing in a sea of red.
I followed the trail with my eyes to the center of the garden where Moms lay sprawled in disarray, a black whip wrapped tight around her throat. Her blue eyes stared at me in accusation, piercing my heart.
I heard a step behind me. I jerked around but too late. A hand caught me round my throat, lifting me off my feet. I stared down into the eyes of my killer.
Behind me Moms gurgled and died.
Chapter 5
Hysteria. Agonized weeping. Bloodcurdling screams of panic. Frenzied cries for help.
So sleepy. Would no one stop her from her hysterical shrieking? Would no one help her?
Slowly the sound faded to a distant roar and oblivion called.
Chapter 6
I woke feeling as if my body had been run over by a semi. I could hear voices, the sound of arguing, but couldn’t quite comprehend yet. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt glued shut. I was so weak I couldn’t even lift a finger to grab the attention of one of the voices. Slowly I began to distinguish nuances among the voices and was able to assign them to people I knew.
“How long is this going to go on?” That was Moms’ voice and she sounded upset.
“I don’t know, Moms.” Brian sounded terribly weary.
“What have you done to her?” Honey sounded close to tears.
Brian sighed. “I didn’t realize it would have this effect.”
“What did you do?” Honey repeated.
“When Mom passed me the Ibuprofen, I substituted a sleeping pill for one of them,” Brian admitted.
“For God’s sake, Brian, Trixie will kill you when she finds out!” Mart exclaimed.
“Have you looked at her recently, Mart?” Brian snapped. “She’s a walking corpse. She has black circles under her eyes and looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks. Which I’m sure is the case, because there is no way in hell that one sleeping pill would knock her out for more than 12 hours if she had been getting even half the sleep she needs!”
Silence. Then,
“But it’s like she’s being tortured, Brian,” Jim groaned. “I thought I would have a heart attack when she started screaming the first time.”
“She doesn’t even wake up when she does it,” Dan complained. “She just screams bloody murder, then cries herself back to sleep. I can’t take much more of this. It’s killing me.”
“Are you listening to yourselves?” Diana cried. “You can’t take any more of this? Because Brian slipped her a sleeping pill without her consent or knowledge, Trixie is re-living some of the worst memories of her life over and over and over again. We can’t even wake her up to save her from the worst of them, and you can’t take it anymore?”
I silently cheered Diana on, wishing I could pry open my eyes and mouth to add my own two cents’ worth.
Brian sighed. “The fact that the worst of her nightmares don’t wake her up tells us exactly how much she desperately needs this sleep. Say what you will, she’s not nearly as pale as she was this time yesterday.”
Silence again.
Finally Mart said, “Well, she’s quiet now. Maybe she’ll wake up soon. Don’t expect me to take the fall for you, though, Brian. I’ll be the first one to point out that none of us had a clue what you were planning.”
Brian grunted. “Thanks for the loyalty, Mart.”
“No problem!” Mart cheerfully exclaimed.
I tried to smile at the thought of his happiness at our older brother’s misstep, but couldn’t manage to make my face muscles work quite right. People were still speaking but their voices were fading into the dark silence of oblivion. I slept.
Chapter 7
I woke with that terrible feeling you get when you’ve slept too long. That drugged, groggy feeling that says you should have gotten up an hour earlier because now you’ve slept past the point of reason. I could barely pull myself to a sitting position and once there, wanted to do nothing else but fall back over into sleep.
I sat there, blinking around the bedroom. My eyes fell on the armchair by my bed. Mart was sprawled in the chair, sound asleep. My heart ached to see him there. Even in sleep, he looked worried, the creases in his forehead standing out sharply against his white face. My brother Mart, the one person on this earth I knew would always be there for me, no matter what terrible events transpired in either of our lives. He was my rock, my foundation. He was a more stable presence in my life than anyone I knew, more so than my parents, more so than any other Bob-White, including Honey. Of all the people I knew and loved, he was the one who understood me the best, the one I could always count on to see beneath the surface, to understand what I so desperately needed.
At least that had been him. Until a killer began making his rounds. Once that happened, Mart became a stranger, his teasing giving way to lectures, his easygoing acceptance of my nature giving way to fear and paranoia. Yes, he’d been right. They’d all been right, but it didn’t really matter, did it? A killer had changed all of our relationships, and had also changed the way in which they would view me. I was no longer the Trixie of our youth. Instead, I was a victim and a killer, all at the same time. How could they not hate me? How could they not despise what I had become?
Shaking away my self-pity, that newfound loathsome tendency to wallow in my own misery, I struggled free of my bed’s linens and made my way quietly to the door of my bedroom.
It was dark in the bedroom and dark in the hallway. I imagined it must be late, perhaps even the middle of the night. I stood there in the darkened doorway, listening to the sounds of Crabapple Farm in the night. Yes, there they were – the sounds of Bobby’s snoring down the hallway, the quiet hum of the refrigerator from downstairs, the ticking of the hallway clock. All was normal at Crabapple Farm, all but me and the silent, worried presence of Mart in my bedroom.
I slipped back into my room, grabbed my running shoes, a sports bra and pair of shorts, then headed down the hallway to the bathroom, where I quickly changed from my pajamas to my running uniform. I silently slipped from the bathroom, down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. I raced down the back steps and hit the ground running. I ran and I ran and I ran. I ran from the nightmares I knew my family had now witnessed. I ran from the knowledge that they could now see inside me, to the darkness that consumed me.
I ran from the killer I had become.
I ran until I reached Sleepyside, until I passed under Hoppy without a single greeting to share, until the sun began to lighten the sky and dark turned to gray then to day. Finally, when I realized I would soon be headed for White Plains should I continue running, I turned and began the long run home.
I arrived at Crabapple Farm to find the entire place in an uproar. I walked into the house the same way I left it – through the kitchen door. I immediately heard a babble of voices in the living room, voices tinged in hysteria. I headed there, and innocently asked, “What’s going on?”
That’s when all that hysteria found its target. It’s not like this was a new scene. I had certainly been on the receiving end of any number of lectures while growing up and had much experience with being the target of a lot of emotional fury due to my “impulsive behavior.” As a result, this should have been a very familiar scene for me, except there was something not quite right about all of it. There was a manic feel to the air, and everyone, including my father and Brian, were beside themselves with fury.
“Where the hell have you been?” my father roared at me.
I was so shocked, I couldn’t seem to find my voice. I can honestly say that my father has never screamed at me in that way. Even at his angriest, he’s always been calm and collected. I had literally never seen my father so agitated and upset. He was furious, pacing back and forth, and looked like he would like to hit something, maybe even me. I couldn’t seem to grasp what was happening, could not connect his sense of agitation to myself or anything I had done.
I finally managed to find my voice and spoke past my shock, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” he snarled, “what’s wrong? Helen, explain to me how she cannot know what’s wrong?”
I was starting to panic. I could feel it welling up inside me. I could see to my right that Jim was restraining himself. He had seen me walk in and had leapt to his feet, then had stormed away as if he couldn’t quite decide what to do. He had been pacing ever since, back and forth, in a short line, clenching and unclenching his fists, like he wanted to punch something. Me?
The rest of the Bob-Whites were glaring at me as if I had done something terrible. Had I done something terrible? I had, of course I had. I had killed a man. Was that why they were so angry?
I started to shake. I couldn’t seem to understand what was happening. Even though I knew they would react this way, of course they would, I couldn’t seem to believe it. Why were they so angry?“Trixie!” Moms’ voice dragged me back to the moment.
“What?” I shook my head and looked at Moms. “What, Moms?”
“We were so worried, baby, where were you?”
“What?” I asked again. She knew where I’d been. I’d been in D.C. and I told them about the hospital, didn’t I? They knew I was late to Mart’s party because I’d been at the hospital, right?
“Where were you?” she asked again.
I started to answer, but Brian blew up before I could. “What were you thinking, Trixie? Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I couldn’t,” I whispered. It was true. I couldn’t tell them. How could I tell them? They were so angry at me. If they knew, they’d be even angrier. It was a secret. It was supposed to be a secret.
“That’s crap!” Jim roared. I flinched. “What did you think we would do? You should have called someone, Trixie! It was the middle of the night! What were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry,” I shook my head frantically, “I didn’t know what else to do, I couldn’t get to a phone, it was too late and he was too fast and there wasn’t anyone to call, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I could feel the tears welling and the panic rising, oh god, I couldn’t hold it all in, any minute, I was going to break, and break, and break.
There was a frozen silence in the room.
Then Moms grabbed me hard and pulled me against her, “No, baby, no, no, no,” she murmured, pressing my face into her neck. “No, you did just fine, just fine, oh, baby, no.” Stroking my back, she led me to the couch, speaking frantically to the others, “You tell her it’s okay, you tell her she did all right,” then to me, “baby it’s okay, you did just right, you fought back and you made it out alive and that’s all that matters, you did right, you did right.”
“But he’s dead,” I moaned, “he’s dead and I killed him and it didn’t make anything better, nothing’s better, nothing, it’s just all dark, it’s dark, it’s so dark.”
“What’s dark, baby?” Moms asked, even as she rocked me against her.
“I am. I’m lost. I’m so lost, Moms. And everything’s so dark. Oh god, where is she? Where is she, Moms? Where did she go when he killed her? Into the dark? Into this terrible darkness where I live every minute of every day, into this terrible black? I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Oh, god, I hate him. Oh, god, Moms, I want him back. I want him back so I can kill him again. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. Look at what he’s done to me. Look at what he’s done to me. I want him back. I want him dead again and again and again. I want her back. I want her back.”
By the end I was sobbing so hard I’m not sure anyone really understood what I was saying, but I knew. I knew every wretched, horrid thought that lived in me and it spewed out like the darkness it was, all the hatred and the anger and the fury, everything that was him, that now lived in me, spreading like a vile disease through my sanctuary, my home, my Crabapple Farm.
I was only peripherally aware of the others in the room, as they slowly sank to the floor or into chairs throughout the room, as they wept with me, as they slowly sank into the darkness of my despair.
Chapter 8
Hours passed. When the storm of weeping finally subsided, I simply lay against my Moms, worn to the bone, exhausted, despairing.
Finally, Brian spoke up. “No one was questioning what happened at your place, when that maniac attacked you, Trixie. You did everything right. You lived and that’s all that matters.”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I killed a man, and I didn’t do it for such pure reasons as defense of my life, though that’s what the FBI would claim. I killed that man in rage, in hatred, from a very dark place, a place I never even knew existed. I killed him because I could not contain all the anger I felt, because I hated him that much, because I needed him to die for what he did to Kerry.”
Dan spoke up. “He was hurting you, attacking you, Trixie. It doesn’t matter what you felt at the time, whether it was anger or fear, you were in defense of your life.”
I hesitated. Maybe I could get away with that, with leaving it at that, but they deserved to know the truth. “Not then, I wasn’t,” I said.
“What do you mean, Trixie?” Moms asked.
“I wasn’t defending my life when I killed him. I was dying then and I knew it. He was killing me and I knew it. I grabbed that pot and I swung it as hard as I could because I was determined to take him with me. I killed him, in the heat of passion, yes, but still with forethought. Do you think in the many months since I found Kerry and followed his trail, that I did not imagine over and over again, an encounter with this maniac? I did, I imagined it again and again and again, and every time in my imagination, I killed him, because he did not deserve to live, not even in prison, not even on death row. I wanted him dead, and I feel no remorse for having taken his life. I only wish I could kill him all over again, and this time, look into his eyes while he’s dying. I hate him that much.”
I pulled away from my Moms and looked her in the eye, letting her see within me the resolve, the cold killer I had become. She looked back at me with love in her eyes, so much love it almost broke me. I looked away, shamed by her love. I locked eyes with Dan and saw in him shining back at me, the barest hint of the potential killer he once was. He understood. Of everyone there, perhaps he was the only one who truly understood. That realization about broke my heart. I glanced at Mart, and saw only the chasm that stretched between us now, between the one who once knew me so well, and the person I had now become. Would we ever find our way back to that easy acceptance, back to that effortless bond that once linked the two of us together, united against the world?
Silence stretched for a while, as if no one knew how to respond to my declaration of murderous intent. Finally, Honey spoke up.
“I would want to kill him too. I do want to kill him, Trixie. If he were here in front of me, I would want to kill him for what he did to you.”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled, then chuckled, just a little.
“Why is that so funny?” Honey demanded. “You think you mean less to me than Kerry meant to you?”
I shook my head. “No, of course not, Honey. I do believe, one hundred percent, if he was attacking me or anyone else you loved, or even a stranger for that matter, I know that you would kill him without hesitation in defense of an innocent. That’s as far as it goes, though, because you and I, we’re vastly different. If he walked in that door right now and smiled his evil smile, then turned and walked back out, you’d lock the door behind him, then call the police. I, on the other hand? I would grab one of Moms’ butcher knives and dive out the door after him. Then I would cut off his genitals and watch him bleed to death with joy in my heart. That is who I have become, that is what he has made of me.”
Honey looked shocked for a moment, then rallied back. “What makes you think if he did to you what he did to Kerry, if I had walked in on your body, the way you walked in on hers, that I would not spend the rest of my life hunting him down just for the pleasure of gutting him like the animal he was?”
Now it was my turn to be shocked. She spoke those words as if she meant them. The fiery light in her eye said she meant them. I shook my head.
“You can’t have all the credit, Trixie,” Diana spoke up.
I looked at her in confusion. “What?”
“You aren’t the only one who has friends they would die for or kill for. Everyone has a killer in them, Trixie. The issue isn’t that you killed this man. The issue is whether he deserved it, and unquestionably he deserved that and more.”
This was not the reaction I had expected from any of them. Of course, it did not escape my notice that I had not heard from two of the most important men in my life. What of Mart and Jim? I had avoided looking at Jim, but glanced at him now, to find his eyes locked on my face. He seemed to be searching for something, a tiny glimpse of the Trixie he once knew? I knew he would not find her and I glanced away quickly, not wanting to watch the illusions shatter upon his face.
“Trixie,” Jim spoke up, then hesitated, as if searching for the right words. I could not bear to look at him, for surely whatever platitudes he was about to speak, I would see them for the lies they were by the look in his eyes. Jim was too honorable to ever tell a lie well. “Trixie,” he repeated. “You have to know that we are fiercely grateful you killed this man. We could not bear it, I could not bear it, if he had killed you. And truthfully, in killing him, you have once again saved my life.”
This blatant lie dragged my eyes back to his face in astonishment. He nodded firmly. “It’s true,” he said. “If he had managed to kill you, I would have hunted him down and executed him, then I would have spent the rest of my life in prison.” His eyes were dead serious. “Even if you had survived, I still would have hunted him down and killed him for what he put you through. Even if the FBI had managed to capture him and put him on trial, I still would not have been content to wait for justice. I would have felt compelled to visit the trial and to execute him on national television. Truthfully, it’s for the best that he’s already dead. So there you have it. Whatever darkness you believe lives in you, it also lives in me.” I could tell he meant it. He truly meant every word he spoke. Had Strangler X not perished in my apartment, Jim would have given up everything, including his freedom, for the chance to kill my would-be murderer.
Tears welled in my eyes as I realized what he was saying to me. What Jim had never been able to articulate before came through beautifully in everything he tried to say in that moment. For me, Jim would give up everything, including his precious freedom and even more shocking, his honor. I so did not deserve him, but God, how I loved him.
Pulling my eyes away from his face, I carefully searched the faces of the rest of the Bob-Whites. On each of their faces, I saw the same resolve I saw on Jim’s. They truly did not condemn me. I could not understand their loyalty in the face of my descent, but I was too grateful to probe beneath the surface of their support. I so did not deserve them, but God, how I loved each and every one of them.
I had to lighten this atmosphere. I had to do something. So I pulled the conversation away from killing and asked the question lingering at the back of my mind.
“So… if you weren’t hollering about what happened in D.C., what was everyone so upset about when I came in this morning?”
And just like that, all the tension of the morning came racing back through the room. I could almost hear Jim grinding his teeth in vexation, yet no one said anything. It was almost as if they were afraid to speak, afraid of what emotional avalanche might occur this time.
“Come on, tell me.” I glanced at Mart. He looked away quickly, as did everyone else I looked at in the following moments.
Taking a deep breath, I decided to be brave and grab the bull by the horns, so to speak. “Daddy?” I asked. “Why were you so upset?”
He looked at me, took a deep breath and shook his head. “It’s not important, sweetheart.”
I sat there a minute, completely stunned by this about-face. I briefly considered letting the matter drop, but if I did that, I’d probably never know what I had done to make them so angry, then I’d just do it again, so….
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said. “All I have to do to avoid lectures for the rest of my life is just almost get killed? Well, sign me up. I’m all for this little side benefit.”
“Trixie,” Moms gasped. “That’s not funny!”
“You’re right, it’s not,” I said. “I cannot believe that you guys are just going to pretend that whatever set you off this morning didn’t even happen. What’s wrong with you?”
At that, Jim exploded. “Mart discovered you missing at 4:00 this morning. You didn’t come home for another two hours! Where the hell were you?”
And just like that, the ice was broken and everyone started shouting at once.
“You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.”
“You could have been anywhere.”
“We had no idea where you were or if something had happened.”
“It was the middle of the night.”
“What could possibly be so important that you’d leave the house at four in the morning?”
“You don’t even have a car so where did you go?”
“No one could find you.”
“We were frantic!”
The babble of voices went on for a while as I processed the fact that my morning run was what had set everyone off. What did I do now? Apologize and pretend that I wouldn’t do it again, when I knew that the very next morning I’d be doing the same thing? Admit that my sanity hinged on my ability to run in the middle of the night? How did I deal with this? No one had tracked my comings and goings since I moved to D.C. four years ago to attend college. Now I was back home and everyone was a little too obsessed with my well-being not to notice if I continued to disappear in the middle of the night. How was I going to deal with this?
I realized that everyone had finally stopped yelling and was simply staring at me, waiting for me to speak.I hesitated, then, “I’m sorry?” It wasn’t a very good response especially since my apology sounded more like a question than a statement, but it was all I could come up with on short notice.
Of course, Jim immediately exploded again. “Well, that’s just great!” he roared. “You’re sorry!” He started to open his mouth to blast me some more, then stopped, grabbed his red hair and pulled it hard. Hmmm… he looked a lot like me when I was trying to overcome a bad case of diarrhea of the mouth.
Finally he spoke again. “Where were you, Trixie?”
I hesitated. What should I tell them? While I was pondering, Mart spoke up, “Don’t even think about lying, Trixie. I can see the thought in your eyes. We searched all of Crabapple Farm and the surrounding woods so we know you weren’t there. We searched the clubhouse and Manor House so we know you weren’t there. I’m not sure where else you could have gone in the middle of the night without a car, but obviously it was somewhere we didn’t think to check, so you might as well tell us.”
I glared at Mart. He glared right back at me. I remembered how he guessed that I wasn’t taking the pain pills. Maybe the killer hadn’t completely destroyed our closeness. Mart still seemed to have a good grasp on my thoughts and motivations. Just like always, it seemed he could see right through my attempts at deception.
“Come on, Trixie, it can’t be that bad,” Honey coaxed. “Whatever you tell us can’t possibly be as terrible as we were imagining.”
I sighed. “I was running.”
Silence. Finally, “What?” Mart spoke for everyone.
I shrugged. “I was running.”
“Running where? And why?” Dan asked.
“Anywhere. To escape.”
Silence. “Where did you run to last night, Trixie?” Moms asked.
“I ran to the outskirts of Sleepyside.”
“But that’s more than ten miles!” Honey exclaimed.
I shrugged again and decided not to mention that I had actually run through Sleepyside to its opposite outskirts.
“In the middle of the night?” Brian exploded.
“Trixie,” Moms began, “Why on earth would you go running at 4:00 in the morning?”
Because I was awake. Because it helps me sleep. Because it keeps the nightmares at bay. I didn’t feel comfortable sharing these answers. So I lied.
“It’s good exercise.” Of course, it was an absurd response, but I couldn’t think of a better answer at the time.
“In the middle of the night?” Brian repeated again, incredulously.
I was getting a little nervous. Not because of the reactions I was getting, but because of the reactions I wasn’t. Mart was simply staring at me, his eyes observing me, calculating my responses. I avoided looking at him, certain if I did, he would read the truth upon my face. I began to tap my fingers on my knee, rapidly.
Jim stared at me too, from the opposite end of the room from Mart. Between the two of them, I was going to have a nervous breakdown and confess everything. They should be interrogators for the FBI. Those stares were deadly.
“Couldn’t you wait until a decent hour?” Brian persisted.
“Not really,” I shrugged.
That’s when Mart spoke. “How often do you go running in the middle of the night, Trixie?”
I glanced at him, then quickly away. “I don’t know, I don’t really keep track.”
“Once a month?” he asked. “Twice a week? Every night?” The way he said that last phrase, I knew he’d figured it out. I couldn’t help the tiny jerk I gave when he said those words, nor the quick glance I threw him before looking away.
The gasps that echoed through the room let me know that others had caught the telltale signs of my guilt.
“Every night?” Jim repeated in shock.
“But why?” Diana asked.
I shrugged again and tapped my fingers faster. Mart, who had been leaning against the living room wall, watching me this entire time, pushed away from the wall and approached me. He settled on the couch on the opposite side of me from my Moms and quickly captured my fingers. Though my fingers stopped tapping, in my head the rhythm continued tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
“Trixie,” he spoke quietly. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. He lifted our hands together and pulled my face around so that I was looking him in the eyes. Tap-tap-tap. I couldn’t maintain the rhythm while trapped in his eyes. “Why every night?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Yes, you do,” he nodded. “Why every night?”
I hesitated. Could I tell him?“Tell me,” he insisted. “Why every night?”
“Because I have nightmares every night,” I whispered. “Running makes me tired and keeps the nightmares from getting so bad.”
He nodded. “How far do you usually run?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Usually I run until I feel like I’m going to collapse from exhaustion, then I turn around and go home. Maybe 10 miles each way. Maybe 15, I don’t know, it depends on how I feel, but a lot.”
“Did you run in D.C.?” I could feel the tension in the room ratchet up a notch with that question. Should I lie?
He shook his head at me. “Don’t even think about lying,” he admonished. “I can see by the look on your face that you did.” He waited, perhaps waiting for an acknowledgment from me, so I nodded. “Did you run in the middle of the night there too?” I hesitated, then nodded again.
“Trixie,” Dan groaned. I glanced his way. “That’s so damn dangerous.”
I leaned forward so that I could rest my face in my hands. What did he want me to say? Should I tell them the truth, that I relished the danger, that I relished the thought of attack so that I could release all my pent-up rage on some unsuspecting criminal?
“I know it’s only Sleepyside, Trixie, but it’s too dangerous to be out alone in the middle of the night, running,” My father spoke up. “I want you to promise me you won’t go running again.”
I looked at him and desperately wanted to make that promise. “I won’t make another promise I can’t keep, Daddy. I just won’t. Running is the only thing that’s keeping me together right now. It’s the only thing that gets me through the nights. I won’t give it up. I can’t.”
He hesitated then nodded. “All right, then. At least promise me you won’t go running alone. If you have to run, you’ll take one of the boys with you.”
I hesitated. “Do you understand that there is no question here? I will have to run, every night, sometimes twice a night, and no offense, but I doubt seriously if any of you can keep up.”
Dan snorted. “You may run fast, Shorty, but I’ve got the longer legs.”
I looked at him, then shrugged. “Fine. You’re elected for tonight’s run. If you can’t keep up, I’ll leave you behind.”
Dan nodded. “No problem, Shorty.”
Chapter 9
That night I dragged Dan out of bed at 3:30 in the morning. He groaned, but did not complain and so we ran. At first, I went easy on him, but once I realized he could keep up, at least for a while, I stretched out and began to really haul ass. We reached the outskirts of Sleepyside before his energy began to flag.
“Damn, Trixie,” he gasped. “Mercy already. Let’s head back, okay?”
I laughed. “Not even close, Danny boy. I’ve got at least another five miles in me before it’s time to head back.”
“Jeez,” he groaned.
“Why don’t you head back and I’ll catch up with you in a bit?”
“Hell, no!” he exclaimed. “I can’t show up there without you, not after the big fuss we made last night. I’ll stick it out.”
“I promise I’ll catch up with you before you make it back to Crabapple Farm.”
“Not a chance,” he stated.
“Dan, you’re going to hurt yourself, pushing yourself beyond your limits like this.”
“Oh, really, and what are you doing, if not pushing yourself?”
“Outrunning my nightmares,” I retorted.
He nodded. “I suppose there’s that.” After that, we no longer talked, for Dan had to concentrate on breathing and I wanted to focus on nothing but the burn in my lungs and my legs. I went into the zone and before I knew it, we had circled Sleepyside and were on the long road home.
Over the following two months, we developed a sort of routine. After Dan, each of my brothers took a turn, as did Jim. After Dan warned them that I was an insane runner, they each of them showed up for the nightly run with their bicycles. From there, we developed a sort of rhythm, with one of them always on call to accompany me on my runs. I actually found the company to be comforting, the sound of the wheels on the bike blending with the pounding of my feet on the pavement, the sounds of companionship soothing to my weary soul.
Of course, when it was Brian’s turn to escort me, I pushed myself the hardest, forcing him to accompany me well beyond the city limits. By the time we returned home, he always looked ready to collapse, which was definitely my intention. After all, I still owed him for those damn sleeping pills. It also had the added benefit of getting him off my back for most of the following day, since his exhaustion kept his energy level way down.
We usually arrived back at the house around five or six in the morning, at which point, whoever had accompanied me would walk me to my bedroom door, before heading further down the hallway to the boys’ bedroom. If it was Dan or Jim, they would usually force one of my brothers to get up so they could collapse in their place. I of course never stayed in my bedroom. Instead, I would grab a change of clothes and head for the bathroom. After showering, I would then return to my room to collapse myself.
By the time I got up, usually a good four hours later, most of the rest of the household would be up and around. When my running companion finally emerged, he would usually grumble at finding me already up and about.
“Why aren’t you still in bed?” Brian growled when he found me in the garden weeding after a particularly difficult night.
I turned to look at him. “I have things to do, of course. What’s wrong with you anyway?” He looked exhausted.
“What’s wrong with me?” he repeated. “I’m exhausted, that’s what’s wrong with me and you’re running around like the energizer bunny, cooking breakfast and weeding the garden!”
So. Moms must have told him that breakfast was on the table by the time she made it downstairs at six-thirty, which of course let him know that I had only slept an hour at most before getting up to face the day. I sighed. “You really don’t have to come with me on my runs, you know, Brian. None of you do. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
He shook his head. “That’s not the point, Trixie. You run so that you can get some uninterrupted sleep afterwards. Usually you sleep until nine or ten o’clock after we’ve returned. What got you up so early this morning?”
I shrugged and turned away.
“I told you. She’s not talking to us,” I heard Mart’s voice murmuring in the background. God, would they never stop obsessing about the state of my mind? I had been home almost eight weeks now and we were all beginning to finally relax a little, though Mart and Brian still watched me like hawks, as if they expected a breakdown at any moment.
The only peace I ever really got was when everyone was at work. Even though it was summer and Jim’s school was not officially scheduled to open until the fall, he and Mart were still busy, not just in preparation for the school’s grand opening, but also gearing up for a three-week father-son summer camp that was Jim’s big promotional fundraiser for the summer. The camp was to give prospective investors a glimpse of what life would be like at Frayne Academy. Though Mr. Wheeler had invested Jim’s inheritance wisely and though it continued to bring in encouraging returns, Jim was already thinking in terms of long-term planning. He wanted to make sure his academy would survive well into the future. This was his first step in that process and his excitement was contagious, as was Mart’s.
To everyone else’s surprise, though not my own, Mart had double majored in literature and education in college, and had become the first live-in teacher to be hired by the Frayne Academy for Boys. While supervising the construction and planning process of the academy, Mart and Jim had moved into the first cabin built on Ten Acres grounds. An additional fifteen cabins had been built since that first one, with the intention of eventually housing forty young boys and ten live-in teachers.
Of course, since my return home, their cabin in the woods had seen less and less of their presence at night. None of the Bob-Whites seemed to want to leave Crabapple Farm when darkness fell, instead choosing to subject my parents to the longest extended Bobwhite sleepover in history. Honey and Diana had pretty much taken over the guest room, while Brian, Mart, Dan and Jim rotated their sleeping schedule, with two of them staying in Brian and Mart’s room and the other two either camping out on the floor or a couch, or returning to the Ten Acres cabin. .
Brian did occasionally make use of the apartment he and Dan shared in White Plains. He would stay there when his shift at the hospital ran too late for it to be feasible for his return to Sleepyside before having to report back to the hospital the next morning. Though I love Brian dearly, those days when he was too busy at the hospital to make it home were much more relaxing than when he was around. Brian, of course, worked ridiculous hours at the hospital in White Plains where he had just begun his residency. We would hardly see him for seven days in a row, then he would be around for two, generally driving me insane.
As for Dan, he had graduated from SUNY with his degree in criminology and had immediately applied to the Westchester County Police Academy. He was now a rookie for the White Plains police department.
“Trixie!” Brian’s voice interrupted my musings about the Bob-Whites’ various career paths and living arrangements. I jerked in surprise, then continued weeding without even acknowledging his demand. I was too busy trying to make some of my own decisions about careers and life moves to deal with his paranoia.
Diana, Honey and I had discussed finding our own apartment in White Plains after graduation, but those plans were now on major hold. I suppose they both would probably follow through with those plans, but I was pretty sure I would not be a part of them after all. Though I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, the FBI had begun exerting a fair amount of pressure the past several days.
At first, they had allowed me some breathing room, calling only once to verify that I had arrived safely, then allowing me to simply enjoy the break from serial killers and their victims. The peace of course, could not last. Agent Michaels had called me three days before to ask if I had made any decisions. I stalled as best I could, but he had kept up a steady round of calls since then, checking in with me on a daily basis, reminding me that I was made for the FBI, that one serial killer should not be allowed to derail my future plans. I knew he was right, but I wasn’t ready to make a decision and I told him that. He said that was okay but that he would continue checking in with me until I was.
I suppose I might be ready to commit to a decision by the end of the summer, but would they be ready to hear it?
“Trixie!” Brian exclaimed again.
“What?” I stopped weeding, sat back on my heels and raised my eyes to the face of my very concerned older brother. He just stared at me, not saying anything, just staring, as if he could read the state of my mind on the tip of my nose.
No. They would definitely not be ready. He would not be ready. God, he was making me crazy.
I shook my head and bent back to my task.
“STOP WEEDING!” Brian exploded.
“What the hell?” I shouted as I surged to my feet. “WHAT is your PROBLEM?”
“My problem?” Brian shouted. “You’re the one who’s weeding herself into exhaustion!”
“What? Who told you that? Yes, I’m weeding, it’s needs to be done. If I were exhausted, I’d be sleeping!”
He just looked at me. “Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I wouldn’t be sleeping, but I sure wouldn’t be weeding. In fact, I’d probably be out running right now. Is that what you want me to do? Go run some more miles, Brian? Just for the privilege of sleeping another two hours?”
“Another two hours?” he asked. “I don’t think so. You didn’t even sleep the first two hours!”
“Fine, FINE!” I shouted. “You want me to sleep, FINE!” I stormed past him and Mart toward the house.
“Now, Trixie,” I could hear Mart scrambling behind me, trying to keep up. “I’m sure that’s not what Brian meant. Is it, Brian?” I could tell that Mart was irritated with Brian as well, perhaps not as irritated as me, but irritated enough. It made me feel good inside, to know that Mart and I were once again united, that he would stand with me, even against our older brother’s overprotective nature.
Of course, knowing that did not stop my crazed outrage, I’m sorry to say. I stormed into the house, shouting for Moms.
“Trixie!” Moms appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking slightly scared. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“I need my sleeping pills.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Why?”
“Because your overbearing, obnoxious son will not stop pestering me! So, fine! I will take those damned sleeping pills and let them knock me out for another ten hours. Maybe then I’ll finally get some peace around here!”
She looked shocked. I felt a twinge of guilt, but couldn’t seem to stop myself. I knew I was acting insane, but I couldn’t take the pressure anymore. I just couldn’t. Everyone staring at me like they expected me to have another breakdown at any given moment. Brian acting like I was in danger of imminent collapse. Jim and Dan tiptoeing around me, as if they were afraid to treat me like normal. Honey and Diana, never certain what to say to me, everyone so afraid all the time, because the Trixie Belden they knew was not the Trixie Belden they had to face each morning. I was so SICK of it.
I pushed my way past Moms into the kitchen, where I instantly spotted the basket of medications sitting on the kitchen counter. I darted over to it and in a frenzy managed to upend the entire thing before finally finding the right bottle. I then of course could not get the thing to open, those things are made to keep elephants out of them.
While struggling with the bottle, I stormed back into the hallway, where the entire clan still lurked, looking like they were in shock. I noticed in surprise that everyone was there, including Jim, Dan, Diana and Honey. Why wasn’t anyone at work? Didn’t ANYONE work anymore?
The lid popped off the bottle and pills sprayed everywhere. I didn’t bother cleaning them up. I simply upended the rest of the pills into my hand.
“What do you think, Brian?” I sneered. “How many do you think I need, to get enough sleep to make you happy? Two, three, TEN? How many pills do you think I need to make you stop nagging me? Fifteen? I’ll take the whole damn bottle if you’ll just STOP!”
Brian looked beyond shocked. In fact, he seemed speechless. Jim stepped forward. “Here, give me the bottle, Trixie.”
I just looked at him.
“Please. Give me the bottle. You know you don’t need those. You have a much healthier way of dealing with your exhaustion than a bunch of pills. You know it, I know it and so does Brian. He’s just concerned, as are we all, because no matter how many hours you run, you never sleep enough to keep a gnat alive, let alone someone who expends as much energy as you do in one day.”
I sighed. “When did you become so damn reasonable, Jim?” I handed him the bottle.
I turned away. “I’m going for a run.” I walked back into the kitchen and out the backdoor.
I hit the ground at a full-fledged run and was in White Plains before I calmed down enough to finally realize what it was that I was running from. No longer myself. No longer the killer I had become. No longer the nightmares. This time, I ran away from love.
Chapter 10
The phone was ringing when I walked into the house an hour later. I ran for the phone in the kitchen, but it stopped ringing before I got there.
I glanced around, surprised the kitchen was empty. I listened but everything was silent. It was as if the house was deserted. Was I awake? Was this another nightmare?
“I made them all go home.” Moms’ voice spoke quietly behind me.
I sighed in relief and turned around. “Thank you!” I exclaimed, but then asked, “Even Brian and Mart?”
“Even them.” She nodded. “They have their own homes now. I told them that you needed a break and the only one I wanted to see in my house this evening was your running companion. Mart said it was his turn and that he’d be back in time for dinner. Until then, the day is yours, sweetheart.”
I smiled and threw my arms around her, squeezing tight. “Oh, Moms, thank you so much. You always seem to know just what I need.”
Moms hugged me back, then pulled away and led me to the kitchen table where we both sat down. She reached out and placed her hand on mine, squeezing gently. “Don’t misunderstand, sweetheart. I’m just as worried as the rest of them, but I also know that you’re strong, stronger even than any of us knew, and that takes care of a lot of my anxiety. It amazes me that they don’t see it.”
“They think I’m fragile,” I spoke bitterly. “They treat me like I’m going to break and maybe they’re right. I do seem to break apart often enough around them, acting like a crazy woman.”
“No, sweetheart, no, it’s not that. It’s just that they’re scared and they desperately want to help. They want to be a part of your healing process. None of them were there when everything went so wrong, and they feel guilty and desperate to be there for you now.”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “I should have told them,” I whispered. “Maybe if I’d told them…”
“No. No, sweetheart, you did the right thing. If you had told them, would Jim be opening his school in the fall? Would Brian be working out his residency at the hospital? Would any of the Bob-Whites be fulfilling their dreams right now? Would you be considering a job as an agent for the FBI?”
I gasped. “How did you know about…”
Moms smiled. “Sweetheart, you must be joking! You cannot honestly believe that we don’t know how desperately the FBI must want you to join their ranks? Of course, we know, and that of course, is another wave of fear racing around the farm right now. Everyone is terrified you’re going to up and leave us, heading back toward a job where you’ll end up chasing after serial killers for the rest of your life.”
I hesitated, then asked the question that was burning on my mind. “Would that be so terrible, Moms? If I became an agent and went after men like Peter Wright?”
“For us? For your family and your friends, who love you so dearly? It would be the worst thing you could possibly do to us. But for yourself, baby? For the woman you’ve become? It would be absolutely, 100% the right thing. I think all of us know that you’re only here for a short time, while you heal. And it’s a bittersweet thing to know. We want you better, but we don’t want you gone. So, I think, in some ways, they’re in denial. The boys especially. They see the woman you’ve become, they see the detective you’ve become, and they either shut down, or they explode, and it’s all out of fear.”
I nodded. “What am I supposed to do, Moms? I can’t keep putting off the FBI and …” I sighed. “The truth is I don’t want to keep putting them off. There are still lines of investigation not yet closed and I still have questions and …” I hesitated. What was this I was feeling? What was this impatience that I was constantly struggling with? Was it truly directed toward the male Bob-Whites or was it something else entirely?
“And what, sweetheart?”
I looked at my mother and shook my head, still caught up in my thoughts. What was this feeling, this strange feeling of … “I miss it,” I whispered in awe, hardly able to believe what I was saying. “I miss the person that I was when working on this case, the person that I was when working on the cases before it. I miss the feeling of knowing who I am and what I’m doing with my life. I’m just ….”
I fell silent and Moms waited quietly.
“I thought coming home would solve everything, you know? I mean, I desperately needed this time to be with everyone again, to come to terms with what had happened to Kerry and also what happened to me, what I did, who I’ve become. But it’s not enough. Just being here isn’t enough because, because…. because this isn’t where I need to be anymore.”
I caught my breath, that thought so terrible and so right, all at the same time. Crabapple Farm was no longer where I needed to be, nor was the Trixie Belden who once lived at Crabapple Farm the Trixie I was destined to become.
“I’ve let him win,” I whispered. “He’s pushed me away from the best work I ever did, the best things I ever accomplished, the best person I could ever be.”
I fell silent.
“So when are you leaving?” Moms asked quietly.
I shook my head, hardly able to bear the thought. “Soon,” I whispered. “Soon enough.”
Chapter 11
I was weeding again. A chore I used to hate when I was a teenager had become another form of therapy. While weeding, I could think in peace, often for hours at a time. Most days, I spent that time going over every detail of that terrible case, trying to figure out why it still haunted me so. Today, however, I had other things on my mind.
I was thinking about my conversation with Moms in the kitchen earlier, coming to terms with my decision. I was leaving. It was time. As soon as I got up my courage, I would be calling Agent Michaels, to tell him of my decision. Though I was still too young to enter the Academy officially (I had to be 23 to apply to become an agent), they had offered to hire me as an outside consultant and to pay for me to pursue my master’s degree while waiting to reach the required age. One year. That’s all I needed. And during that year, I planned to use my consultant position to figure out what it was about the Peter Wright case that still disturbed me so. What was it that nagged at me in the middle of the night, that kept me from sleeping, that kept Kerry from leaving me in peace, that continued to bring those nightmares to my life night after night? Why couldn’t I let the case go? Why couldn’t I accept that it was done and she was gone and there was nothing left that I could do for her anymore? God, I missed her so much.
“Trixie!” Mom’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
I glanced back toward the house. She was standing on the porch. “Yeah, Moms?” I called back.
“You have a telephone call!”
I slowly stood up and began walking toward the front door. I figured it was probably one of the Bob-Whites, wanting permission to come nag me again. Well, they were simply out of luck. I was going to enjoy the peace and quiet Moms had arranged for me. Nothing they could say would make me issue an invitation to return before dinnertime.
I quickly moved into the kitchen where Moms handed me the phone.
“Hello?”
“You ran away, little girl.” The voice was gravelly and dark. It made me shudder though I didn’t know why.
“What do you mean? Who is this?”
“You ran away from our little game. Do you think you’ve won?”
For one moment, my breath caught in my throat, then I forced myself to exhale slowly. I quickly glanced around the room and noted to my relief that the kitchen was empty. Moms must have left the room after handing me the phone. Carefully placing a hand against the kitchen wall, I spoke quietly into the phone.
“What game are you referring to?”
“The mystery game, of course. You’re always so good at solving mysteries, my darling. Why don’t you tell me who I am?”
And just like that I knew. It was terrible, a terrible thought, a terribly destructive idea, but I knew it was true. “You’re Peter Wright’s partner,” I whispered.
“Very good, my little detective. Very good.”
“You were there in the apartment when he attacked me.” I glanced wildly at the door and was relieved to notice it still stood empty. Moms had not yet realized that this was no ordinary call. “Why did you walk away? Why didn’t you kill me?”
A memory from my nightmares came rushing back. The black boots of a rescue worker, the sinister laugh after I had already killed my attacker. The black boots walking away from me.
“Where would the fun in that be?” he asked. “You fought back so beautifully, you were like a vision, fighting him so desperately. Such rage, such passion, such beauty. I knew if you managed to beat him, you would be the one. But it wouldn’t be fair not to give you warning. So, my darling, Trixie, here’s your warning: Stay with your family and I’ll kill them. Go back to the FBI and I’ll kill your precious Bob-Whites. Run away from everyone and everything. Run away, little girl. I will find you and when I do, we’ll play. Don’t run away and I’ll play with your friends and your family first.”
Black spots were forming in front of my eyes. Leaning against the wall, I slowly slid down until I was seated upon the floor. “Why?” I whispered. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can. Because I can and because Angela needs a playmate. Come find me, little pet. Come find me if you can.”
Epilogue
Mart climbed out of bed and quickly got dressed. He was scheduled to accompany Trixie on her run tonight, but it was already four o’clock and she hadn’t come for him. Usually he was sleeping like the dead when she tiptoed in and woke him. But she hadn’t come and somehow his internal clock had known to wake up and check on her.
He wanted to think that she hadn’t come because she was actually sleeping nightmare-free, but he was afraid she hadn’t come for some other reason. Something was wrong. He knew it. She’d been acting weird all evening, but she kept insisting everything was fine.
He’d caught her on the phone in an intense conversation with the FBI right before dinner. When he’d questioned her about it, she’d told him that they wanted her to join their team, which he certainly believed was true, but he was not convinced this was the subject of the telephone conversation he interrupted.
Reaching Trixie’s door, he quickly knocked then entered. He was not surprised to find it empty, though he desperately wanted her to be there. He stood there in the doorway, staring at her empty bed, knowing that this was not a good thing. The lamp on the bedside table was on and propped against it was a white envelope with his name on it.
His heart squeezed in protest. God, what was she doing now?
Gathering his courage, he crossed the room and grabbed the envelope. He opened it and read,
Dear Mart,
I’m so sorry, but there are some things that I have to do for myself. I love you so very much and I cannot tell you how much your support has meant to me over these past few months. As soon as I’ve finished what I’m meant to do, I’ll come home. I promise. Until then, please try not to worry, though I know it will be hard. I’ll miss you, but I promise to keep in touch.
Love, Trixie
Mart sank down onto Trixie’s bed, his eyes burning with unshed tears. Why had she left? What did she still have to do? What in God’s name was he supposed to do now? Was he supposed to just let her leave? How could he possibly do that? The answer was he couldn’t.
Filled with purpose, Mart jumped up from Trixie’s bed and raced back to his own room, where he grabbed his keys, cell phone, wallet and backpack. Throwing a change of clothes into the backpack, he quickly exited his room and ran downstairs.
Upon entering the kitchen, he saw another envelope waiting, this one addressed to his Moms and dad. Grabbing a notepad off the counter, Mart quickly penned a note to add to Trixie’s.
Moms and Dad,
Don’t worry. I’m going after her. I’ll stay with her until she’s ready to come home. I’ll call as soon as I can. I love you.
Mart
Scooping up his backpack, Mart headed for the bikes. Immediately noticing that Trixie’s was gone, he cursed quietly. If she’d been traveling on foot, he’d have had a much better chance of catching her. She was so fast when she was running, he couldn’t imagine how much faster she’d be on that damn bike. Of course, it could be worse. She could have a car at her disposal. Luckily, she had never really needed one in D.C., and though she had arrived home in a rental car, it had been returned almost immediately. As a result, he might still have a chance if he hurried.
Racing for the old jalopy he had inherited from Brian two years before, Mart said a quick prayer that it would start right away. He gave a sigh of relief when it did, then quickly reversed down the driveway.
As he drove away from Crabapple Farm, Mart debated his plan. He would head for Sleepyside first. If he didn’t find her biking along the way, he would check the bus and train stations there before heading for White Plains.
He debated involving the rest of the Bob-Whites. If he got all of them involved, they could each of them head to a different station. Between the lot of them, they could probably catch her. But what then? She obviously felt the need to get away and if he sent everyone after her, would she ever trust him again? Would she even consider taking him with her if he ended her bid for freedom by sending everyone after her? He knew in his heart the answer was no. His only chance was to approach her alone and perhaps in a moment of weakness get her to agree to take him with her.
She would say yes, she had to, because he wasn’t giving up. There was no way he was losing his sister to that monster or the demons he had left her with. Trixie was theirs and he wasn’t giving her up. He would bring her home or die trying.
The End