5. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Melanie
The hidden passageway swallows me in darkness, Mr. Daggers' heavy presence at my back, making each breath feel like borrowed time. The beam from my small flashlight barely penetrates the gloom, casting more shadows than light. Each footstep echoes off the narrow walls, his much closer and quieter than they should be. The musty air tastes of old wood and secrets, the confined space making my wedding day perfume cloying and suffocating. Reaching the door, I turn.
“You don't have to do this. You could help me,” I say, gathering every scrap of courage to face him. My head barely reaches his chest. In the dim light, the dagger tattoos on his cheeks look like fresh wounds.
His eyes rake over me like physical touches. “If I were in charge, I'd do worse.” The sneer in his voice makes my skin crawl. “Be glad it's not me.”
My car sits three spots from the building's side entrance. My hands shake as I dig for my keys, the chirp of the unlock seeming obscenely loud in the morning quiet. My finger brushes the indentation where my engagement ring should be - a phantom reminder of the life I'm being forced to abandon. One final scan of the surroundings and I sprint, diving into the driver's seat. The engine roars to life and I'm gone, forcing myself to drive normally despite every instinct screaming to floor it. The last thing I see in my rearview mirror is Mr. Daggers watching.
Slow down. Don't draw attention. But where will I go? Where can I go? Each turn of the steering wheel feels wrong, like the car is willing me to return to what I've lost today.
The car announces, “Incoming call from Michael,” and I choke back bile. No fucking way am I talking to him. I need time. Need to think.
Rule one: Answer the phone, plays in my head. But I don't care. I have to figure things out.
Yes, my apartment, I can grab essentials before he thinks to look there. Thank God I haven't moved completely out yet. The phone keeps ringing with bridesmaids, friends, my mother-in-law. No doubt wondering where their bride has disappeared to. If they only knew. If I could only warn them about Michael.
Getting to my place, I step out of the car before I've put it in park. Inside, I throw on a pair of sweatpants, a sports bra and a t-shirt. Opening a suitcase, I started grabbing things including the bride robe I was wearing, my mind racing faster than my hands can move. Work files, spare laptop, anything I might need to survive whatever this nightmare has become. A soft brush against my leg nearly stops my heart before I recognize Moses. One of the sweet men in my life, a long-haired grey cat.
“Shit! Moses, I almost forgot you! Stay right there, pretty boy. I'll be right back.” My hands shake as I stuff his food and toys into a bag. He's going with me. Normally, he'd be at the house. But I brought him here while we had the party and wedding. Tonight, my in-laws were to pick him up and take him to their place while we went on our honeymoon at the house.
In-laws. Coming here. Tonight. My eyes scan the room while my brain runs through ideas. Grabbing a piece of paper, I scribble:
FROM MELANIE: PLEASE READ.
Michael is bad. Very bad. He's why I left, something about them wanting me. Not good. Not sure how I'll get in touch but I will. All our phones are bugged. Make sure Mom and Aunt are safe. Moses with me. No matter what, I love you all.
I take the note and a can of cat food and place them on the counter.
“They go for the food; they'll see the note. Thank God.” The feeling of hope brings tears to my eyes. “Guess you're not so smart after all.”
Thank God for ground floor apartments. I make two frantic trips loading the car, then scoop up Moses. A photo on my desk catches my eye - Mom, Aunt, and me from last year's visit, one of Mom's rare lucid days. My throat closes remembering her laugh, how she'd held my hand and admired my new engagement ring, even though she couldn't remember Cameron's name. Moses' rough tongue on my chin pulls me back. No time for memories. I grab the photo and run.
“Mew meww!” Moses protests as we race to the car.
“Sorry handsome, we have to hurry.” I settle him in the passenger seat where he immediately stands to peer out the window, ever curious despite our circumstances. At least one of us can maintain normalcy.
“Incoming call from Cameron, my love.”
My heart stops. Shit, shit, shit. I can't. If I tell him anything, he'll come after me and Michael's sure to be right there. He's in the wedding. No... no. I can't risk it. My thumb traces the indent on my finger where Cameron's ring should be, where it would have been forever if Michael hadn't destroyed everything. At least for a moment I can keep Cameron safe.
The ringing stops. Deep breath. Back out slowly. I head for the complex's rear exit.
“Incoming call from Cameron, my love.”
Tears blur my vision as I white-knuckle the steering wheel. Moses climbs into my lap, concerned he paws my face. Something he's done since he was a kitten. As I move him back, warning beeps pierce the air. I swerve hard, barely missing an oncoming truck.
Focus, Mel! Dead women save no one!
East. I'll head east on the interstate. Maybe distance will help me think clearer. I need time to process what Michael said about they. Who are they? And the warehouse, what's that? I knew from his tone that neither the warehouse nor they were anything good.
“Incoming call from Cameron, my love.”
“FUCK!” My fist hits the steering wheel and accidently the answer button.
“Mel! Mel! Are you there?” Cameron's voice, thick with worry, fills the car. Moses perks up instantly, recognizing the voice he's heard every day for years.
“Mew?”
“Moses! Mel, are you at home? Did you forget something? Are you hurt? Make any noise - I'll bring my brothers.”
I hear rustling and the guys' voices behind him saying “he's got her.”
“I can't,” I manage. “Not dead. I just... I can't... I can't be the cause of the deaths. I have to save you.”
“What? Mel, you're not making sense. Tell me where you are. I'll come right now. Are you hurt?”
“No, Cameron. No. I can't - he'll know. I have to figure it out. I don't understand how he- check on mom for me. Our..”
Michael's voice cuts through the background: “They said you found Mel. Is that her? She’s not at her apartment so, where is she? Let's go get her.”
Pure terror sends my hand flying to the disconnect but before I can, my phone shuts off on its own. A text from Michael appears.
Nice Try. Oh, and thanks for speaking so highly of me in the note. First Warning.
“FUCK!” I throw my phone aside, nearly hitting Moses. My lungs won't expand. I pull into a rest area, gasping.
He was right there. Of course he was. Damn it, he took the note!
“Incoming call from Cameron, my love.”
“Incoming call from Colton.”
“Incoming call from Connie.”
“Incoming call from Ruthie.”
“Incoming call from Cameron, my love.”
“Incoming call from Debbie.”
“Incoming call from Mom C.”
“Incoming call from Cameron, my love.”
I punch the steering wheel again as tears stream down my face. Moses headbutts my arm, his quiet “mew” full of concern.
I see the text from Michael. My aren’t we a popular little bunny, all the calls of concern. Oh well. I’m coming for you.
“What are we going to do?” I gather him close, his purrs vibrating against my chest, his paw patting my face. “You're getting all wet, silly boy.” His rough tongue catches my tears. “I know you know I'm sad. It'll be okay. We just need time to figure this out.”
The center line passes by like a clock's minute hand as I continue heading East. I've been asking myself the same questions over and over. My journalism mind breaking through the mind fog and endless tears. What was Michael's game? Why me? Has he always hated us? Was the Whitaker house really wired? Who are they? Where and what is this warehouse? Are Mom and my aunt really safe? What am I going to do? How can I prove any of this? The questions roll through my head as fast as my tires put miles between me and my loved ones.
After another sixty miles and at least three hundred attempted phone calls, exhaustion hits like a wall. I pull off, making my way into the small town, searching for anywhere I can park and breathe. A mom-and-pop motel appears. It's the older style where the doors open to the parking lot. I drove by once then circled back around, seeing there was only one other car in the lot.
The older woman at the desk has kind eyes, crow's feet that speak of a lifetime of smiles. Her gaze immediately looks me over. Our eyes meet and understanding floods her features.
“Hel-lo, wel-come to de Road-Side Inn,” she says carefully, her accent thick. Her hands move expressively as she speaks. She slides a card marked registration and mimes writing, then sleeping, making her meaning clear. “Uno?”
I nod and hand over my credit card, wishing I spoke Spanish. That might be the saddest question I've ever been asked. Uno, one, just me. I push out my breath and wipe away a tear. Looking up, I see she's surveying my face with grandmother's eyes, gesturing asking if I'm okay. The kindness in her expression nearly breaks me. Her own well-worn wedding ring catches the light as she reaches for the registration card.
“Sorry,” I manage, my voice cracking. “Just need somewhere to think.” I rub my empty ring finger unconsciously, and she nods with deep understanding.
She touches my hand, her finger pausing where my own ring should be. Gently she passes me the registration card, then taps the signature line. “Ja-ne Doe,” she says softly, her meaning clear even through the language barrier. She's done this before, helped other women running from something or someone. But I doubt she's ever helped someone running from a monster like Michael.
I nod gratefully. “Thank you.” I then remember Moses. “Oh, I have a cat.” I mime whiskers and meow, hoping she'll understand.
Her smile broadens as she makes a gentle pawing motion. “Mow ok-ay.”
“Thank you.” I turn away before she can see fresh tears, her kindness more than I can bear right now. Behind me, I hear her making soft clucking sounds of concern, the universal language of women, mothers, and grandmothers who know when something's very wrong. If she only knew how wrong of a situation I was in.