6. Nim
Chapter 6
Nim
I wake up with a start, grainy, stinging eyes lidded as I try to figure out where I am. My phone vibrates again, and I turn sleepily to the nightstand, yelling when I roll onto my wounded thigh. I fumble my phone, sending it to the floor.
“Shit.” I slide reluctantly out of bed and crouch down to scrape my phone out from under the bed. I stare groggily at the screen.
I don’t recognize the area code or the number, and the call ends before I can answer. I’m so tired, I almost climb back into bed and fuck-cares who was trying to get hold of me. But then I remember everything.
I sit bolt upright.
Fuck.
I pick up my phone, glance at the time. It’s two in the morning. My parents must be back by now—the last time they went out, they didn’t make it past midnight.
Grabbing my black silk robe, I throw it around my shoulders as I walk, yawning, out of the guestroom. I stand for a minute in the gloomy hallway. I have no idea which room they’re in, but at least I know her other kids aren’t home, so I won’t be trespassing.
I try the door opposite mine first. From the pink wallpaper and framed paintings of ballerinas on the wall, I’m assuming this is one of Vicky’s daughter’s rooms.
The next one has my parents’ bag in it...but it’s empty.
My stomach somersaults. Why aren’t they home yet? I hurriedly unlock my phone and call Dad’s phone.
Off.
I try Mom next, but it just keeps ringing. I can barely control my shaking fingers as I call back the strange number that dialed me a minute ago.
“Cinderhart Sheriff’s Department, how may I direct your call?” a lady’s sweet voice answers.
Oh my God.
My stomach bottoms out, and ice pours into my limbs.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
“H-Hello?” My voice hitches, panicked tears threatening to spill down my face. “I, uh, I just got a call from this number.”
“I’m speaking to?”
“N-Nim. Winters. Nim Winters. Is this about my parents? Because I can’t get hold of them. Are they okay?” The last is barely a whisper.
I already know they’re not, which makes no sense. I mean, they could still be out partying. It is a two-hour drive. They’re probably about to pull into the drive and here I am, bugging these nice people who just happened to have dialed the wrong number.
“Winters?” There’s a pause on the line before the lady says, “Please hold for Deputy Thatcher.”
“Who—?” But the phone’s on-hold music cuts me off.
My thigh is throbbing so painfully, I wonder if I opened it up while I was sleeping. But I can’t move to check it. I can barely fucking breathe.
“Deputy Thatcher.”
“Hi,” I whisper back.
“Yes? Can I help you?” He sounds irritated.
“Um...I…think you tried to phone me.” My voice is slowly disappearing as my throat starts to tighten more and more.
“I’m speaking with?”
“Nim Winters.”
“Nim. Yes.” The change from irritation to sympathy is abrupt. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
For some reason, I expect him to mention the boys in the woods. I’m sorry, Nim, but they’re not convinced you’ll stay quiet. They’re coming to get you.
Which is ridiculous, because he’s a deputy and he wouldn’t be calling to warn me that some killers were headed my way.If anything, he’d say that they sent out a squad car, that it would be arriving any minute and then I’ll be safe.
Oh, shit, I’m zoning out instead of listening.
“...about an hour ago. We’re still investigating the cause, but it appears that?—”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Thatcher clears his throat. “It’s your parents, Nim. They were involved in a car accident about an hour ago along the Bug Ash Pass.”
“Are they...are they okay? Are they in the hospital or something?”
“Nim, no, I’m so sorry.” He pauses, breathes into the phone like he’s sighing. “They were declared dead on the scene.”
My ass thumps onto the carpet in the middle of the hallway. It hurts, but in a faded, distant kind of way. I can still see into the dark, empty room where my parents were supposed to be asleep.
“What?”
“Do you have someone you can go to? A nearby relative, perhaps? Someone you can call?”
“No...um...I’m at Vicky’s house.” It’s the stupidest thing to say. How could this guy possibly know who?—?
“Vicky Pellegrino?” Thatcher sounds surprised. “Her place in Blackstone Heights, or the one in Lavender Valley?”
Gees, is there a single person in Cinderhart who doesn’t know Vicky?
“Uh...the one by the forest?”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Thatcher pauses, exhaling into my ear. “I’m sorry, I had no idea you were in Cinderhart, Miss Winters, otherwise I would have come to see you in person.”
“Okay, thanks.” I end the call while he’s still saying something and then wish I hadn’t. My hand drops into my lap, and I stare at my phone’s screen for a few seconds.
My friend Peggy sent me a text. Must have been when I was asleep.
KRAZY 2NITE. MISS U ALREADY. CALL ME IN THE MORNING.
But I call her straight away, because I need a dose of reality.
She doesn’t answer. Guess she’s busy. I go downstairs and rifle through the first aid kit for painkillers while I wait for Deputy Thatcher to arrive.
I buzz his patrol car through the gate about twenty minutes later, and go to open the door.
That’s when I remember that I told the boys in the woods where I’m staying. They could be waiting in the bushes, waiting for this exact moment to jump me.
But not if there’s a cop on the lawn.
Thatcher is thirty, maybe thirty-five, and handsomely rugged. Guess they have good genes in this place—everyone looks like they walked off the pages of a magazine.
He takes one look at me and frowns. “Are you okay?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
His frown deepens, and he looks past me to the interior of the mansion where only the kitchen light is on. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Winters...” A hand lands on my shoulder. “You need to come back to the station with me.”
“Why?”
“You shouldn’t be alone right now.” Sympathy floods his brown eyes.
I feel so disconnected right now. Like I’ve possessed the body of Nim Winters while she’s still inside, moving around and talking. Everything comes as a vague surprise.
“Is Vicky also dead?” The word dead sounds all kinds of wrong in my head, but I force myself not to linger on it.
“We only found two—” Thatcher cuts off with a grunt. “No, Nim. We’ve been trying to contact her since we got the report.”
I shake my head. “Can I go home now?” I whisper, watching the Deputy without blinking.
He stares at me for a beat before glancing around the house again. “Why don’t you go fetch your things? I’ll organize you some transport once we’re back at the station.”
“Okay.” I make for the sweeping staircase leading to the second floor, and pause with my hand on the railing. “Should I bring their things too?”
Deputy Thatcher starts after me. “Sure. Were your parents using their own vehicle, or a rental?”
“Their own.”
“I’ll send someone later to collect it. Let me help you with the bags.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I feel disembodied as I pack my things away. The word dead keeps playing in my head, but I can’t seem to connect it with my parents. I saw them a few hours ago. They were smiling, happy, alive. This is just a nightmare, right? A terrible, never-ending nightmare.
Thatcher is silent as we take the bags to his cruiser and pack them in the trunk. He opens the passenger door for me, strangely quiet the whole time.He must think I’m in shock. Fuck, I probably am. This all feels like it’s happening to someone else.
What I do know is that I want to get the fuck out of Cinderhart as fast as Deputy Thatcher can make that happen.