10. Look at the fire and think of me
10
Look at the fire and think of me
Moth
I looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling faintly above me as a sense of unease settled in the pit of my stomach. It had been a long time since I’d looked at the stars. When I was a kid, I had so much hope in the universe and everything it held. I had hope in the thought of wishing upon stars. I hoped a white stallion-riding knight would come and take me away from everything.
Of course, that had been before the incident.
That one day had taken all that hope away from me.
After breakfast at the diner, Barrett had taken me back to his place for a change of scenery. It was a beautiful blue Victorian farmhouse, framed with white picket fences and rolling hills. Behind it, acres and acres of farmland and pastures stretched for miles farther than the eye could see.
It’s what my dad’s old house could have been if he had worked a little harder at home and a little less at work. Just the thought had me sad .
We sat on the wooden porch swing, the chains singing as we rocked, nursing cold beers from the fridge and talking about life. For the first time in a long of years, nothing bothered me, and I wished I could reach out and hug him for that alone.
“No one? Not even a cute vet tech?” Barrett asked, and I snorted.
“I am a vet ,” I huffed. “It’s a female-dominated industry, and sadly, I am straight as a ruler.”
“Well,” he shrugged, looking over at me. “You never know unless you try.”
“I did, actually,” I countered, and Barrett choked on the beer he’d sipped from. “In college.”
“No shit?”
“No shit,” I agreed. “Typical college lesbian experience. Even after six tequila shots, it wasn’t for me.”
“After six tequila shots, I’m surprised you were capable of coherent thought.”
“Again, cop’s daughter,” I said, smiling over at him. “Drinking’s in my blood.”
He shook his head, swiping at the drop of beer that had slipped down his chin with the back of his knuckles.
“Funny,” he said, taking a deep drink. I stared at him with narrowed eyes. If he was about to say what I thought he was about to say, I may just smack him.
“What’s funny?” I asked.
The tone of my voice tipped him off. I could see it in the way he tried to bite back a smile.
“You stop lookin’ for a man, and now you’ve got one lookin’ for you. ”
Yep. He had been thinking what I thought he was thinking.
He was thinking about my stalker.
Now, the boulder in the pit of my stomach was back.
I should have smacked him.
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “Funny how that works.”
I watched the smile fall from his face, and he looked over at me with eyes full of apologies.
“Sorry. It’s not funny, really,” he grumbled, tipping his bottle back and swallowing what was left of his beer. He tossed it over the railing into a pile that slowly accumulated over the summer with the loud clatter of glass. Sometime around fall, before the first snow, he’d gather them all up and drive them to the recycling plant.
“Who do you think it is?” he asked.
“What?”
“Your secret admirer,” he said, pulling off his hat and dropping it onto one railing post. Night had fallen, and with it, so had the heat. “Any guesses on who it might be?”
There was a smile on his face, and I couldn’t tell if it was snarky, or if I was just really tired.
I glared at him.
“Barrett William Foster, if you are about to tell me it’s you and this is all some big fucking prank, I will turn your insides into outsides.”
He tossed his head back in a laugh, clutching his belly. Apparently, it was funny, but I just sat there, waiting for his mirth to settle.
I wasn’t joking .
“God no!” he said finally, wiping tears out of his eyes. “I can’t keep a straight face that damn long, I’d have cracked long ago.”
I finished my beer as he finished the remnants of his chuckles.
“But you haven’t… thought about it?” He seemed to be breaching the subject a lot more cautiously following my outburst.
“Of course I have,” I said, handing him my empty beer bottle. He sent it over the railing with the others, clanging into the forgotten pile to wait for the end of summer. I was never brave enough to do it myself.
“And?”
“And…” I said impatiently, shrugging. “I have no fucking idea. Truthfully.”
Reaching into the cooler, I pulled out another beer. I enjoyed the slick, chilled glass against my fingers and the weight of it in my hand. I’d already twisted it open before I noticed just how deep my head was spinning and I thought better of it.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Second thoughts?” Barrett asked, reaching out to take it from me. I nodded and handed it over.
We sat in silence, listening to an owl hooting in the treeline, and the crickets calling and chirping in the weeds. Occasionally, one of the cows in the barn would let out a long, mournful moo, or I would hear them brushing up against the wooden fence posts, or the metal gates.
“I mean, it has to be fairly easy to figure out,” he said, kicking one leg up until it hung over his side of the swing. “It’s a small town. What do we know about him so far? ”
I sat there, listening to the sounds of the darkness as I tried to get my brain to work for me.
“He’s tall,” I said, looking away. “Last night when he grabbed me, the top of my head fell into the middle of his chest.”
“Or maybe you’re just really short.”
I glared over at him.
“I’m 5’6. That’s average.”
“Okay, okay! So, tall. Anything else? Cause you just described like half the town.”
“His voice is really deep. Like really deep.”
Barrett was quiet for a minute, pulling a few deep drinks from the beer.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. They have voice changers and stuff.”
“In Cottonwood Falls ?”
“On every single cell phone!”
I shrugged. He was right there, I supposed.
“So he’s tall, with a deep voice,” Barrett thought out loud, green eyes narrowed as he glanced over at me. “Sheriff Banner?”
My stomach twisted into a knot.
“No way!”
“Because there’s actually no way, or because you don’t want it to be?”
I paused again. Truly, I couldn’t think of a good reason to count him out.
“It should be real easy to figure it out, out here.” Barrett sighed, his impatient fingers plucking the label from the bottle. “Out here in the boonies, we don’t have a lot of folks with any melanin in ‘em but him.”
“True,” I said, thinking. “When he grabbed me, he was wearing gloves. Like leather gloves. I felt it.”
“He doesn’t seem like the stalkin’ type. He’s been married to Sheila for, what… twenty years?”
“Probably longer.”
I could feel my eyelids growing heavy, and my brain trying its hardest to shut off. Sleep deprivation was a hard monster to fight for longer than a few hours. The beers hadn’t helped, either. I should’ve known better.
“Alright, so Sheriff Banner. Who else?”
“I don’t think it’s anyone we know,” I shrugged, looking over at him. “That’s too weird.”
“Cottonwood Falls had a whole eight hundred people at the last census count, Ness. I’m pretty sure we have more cows than we have people. We know everyone .”
I snorted a laugh. Unfortunately, it was true.
“Maybe it’s just a high school kid playing a prank?”
“A high school kid that knew your dad, knows your landline phone number, and is tall and strong enough to rip a gun out of a terrified woman’s hands? Yep, makes perfect sense.”
“Well!” I threw my hands up with a sigh. “I have no other ideas!”
“What about…” he trailed off, and I knew exactly who he meant.
“No,” I said simply. “He’s still in prison. I checked.”
“Principal Lewis?”
“Too short, and too wide.”
He chuckled .
“Brad Coleman?”
I pulled a face.
“Isn’t he like seventy-six? Not strong enough.”
“Tommy?”
I rolled my eyes hard enough that it hurt.
“Tommy is married to his work. He eats, sleeps, and breathes smoke.”
“So maybe he found a hobby?”
I shook my head.
“Tommy is a hero. A real hero. Whoever this is? He’s a creep, plain and simple.”
“Judge Andy?”
I stopped, looking over at him.
“Who’s that?”
“Oh yeah, you don’t know him. He’s new.”
“Then how the hell would I know?!”
A while later, I convinced him to drive me home, even while he argued that I should stay.
“You need to get out of that house.”
“I’m not letting him win!”
And so, frowning at me the entire time, Barrett took me home. My stomach was in knots as we pulled into the driveway, but I struggled to swallow it away. I wasn’t giving up, and I wasn’t running away .
Holding my head high, I walked into the house and pushed the door shut behind me. I’d been fighting to keep my eyes open on the drive here. Now, I would struggle to sleep.
I kicked off my flip-flops by the door and moved into the living room, carefully checking every corner to make sure I was alone. The shadows were like shifting monsters, reaching out to grab me and drag me under the weight of my worry.
Reaching over, I flipped on my dad’s old lamp, and the light appeared in a wave, chasing away the shadows, and with them, my fears. Looking across the living room, nothing but the normal dust bunnies and piles and piles of stuff greeted me. I allowed myself to take a moment, pulling in a deep breath and calming the shaking of my limbs.
“Breathe, Ness,” I said, flopping onto the couch. “Everything’s fine.”
Maybe some reading would calm my nerves enough to let me sleep.
Laid across the coffee table, one of Dad’s journals awaited me, propped against the remote and an old, chipped coffee mug. Untying the cord, I propped it open across my lap and reached over, tipping up the lampshade and allowing the light to spill across my lap. I spent the first few minutes flipping through it, trying to find where I had left off, but all the words were blurring into one big mess. I remembered the page about the arsonist and the next couple after that, but I couldn’t recall the last one I had read. I continued to flip, my fingers moving across the pages until a sharp, acrid scent reached my nostrils, and I stopped .
“The fuck?” I muttered, looking around. Something smelled hot, like it was burning.
My heart leaped to life in my chest, and I snapped the journal closed, tossing it down onto the coffee table and jumping to my feet.
It didn’t take me long to find the source.
Thick, inky black smoke billowed out from behind the couch, rising into the air like a biblical leviathan. I yelped, tearing across the room and into the kitchen, my feet slapping over the hardwood and my lungs burning. I still couldn’t find my phone, and I couldn’t waste time looking, so the kitchen landline was the next best thing. Ripping the receiver down, I punched in the numbers, eyes wide as I stared towards the living room. Part of me was expecting to see flames leaping towards me. The phone rang just a couple of times before it connected.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Y-yes, this is Vanessa Harper. There’s smoke. I think maybe fire, but I don’t see flames.”
“Chief Harper’s residence?”
Thank goodness for a small town. I didn’t even need to rattle off the address. Good thing, too, cause I wasn’t sure I could remember it at that moment even if I tried.
The next few minutes were a blur. I remembered once Dad showed me where the breaker box was, in the closet under the stairs, just in case of a situation just like this. I dropped the phone, and I heard it clatter to the floor as I skidded around the corner and threw myself under the stairs. Pulling the door open, I shoved a couple of boxes aside and found the pull string, popping the lightbulb on and reaching past it. The grey steel breaker box grinned at me from the darkness, but I could barely reach it. Grunting and cursing, I pushed up onto my toes. By the time my fingers could grasp the handle and tear it open, I already heard the sirens screaming down the road toward me.
I found the breaker marked ‘living room’ and flipped it off. That had to be it.
By the time I pulled myself out of the closet, the sirens were louder, and I could see the ocean-blue and blood-red lights coming down the driveway. I hurried to the door and pulled it open just as the enormous truck came to a halt in front of the porch, and all four doors popped open.
I watched Tommy Eades and Dale Watchman, clad in all of their gear, file past me and into the house. A couple of newer, clearly very young firemen followed suit, eerily eager for the circumstance. Sheriff Banner stepped onto the porch, his hand wrapping around my bicep and pulling me away from the door. I hadn’t even seen his patrol car pull up. Had he come in the truck?
How long had he been here?
“Vanessa?” he asked, gently leading me away from the door. “You okay? What happened?”
“I-I don’t know. I was just s-sitting there reading and all the sudden I saw smoke and—”
I stopped, stealing glances over my shoulder, waiting to watch the house erupt in flames.
But nothing happened.
I stood shivering on the porch with Sheriff Banner, despite the lingering heat of summer that still hung in the air. The shadows were quiet, every insect and animal seemingly holding their breath right along with me, waiting to hear the worst.
“Don’t you worry, now,” the Sheriff told me. “You got two of the best firemen I’ve ever known in there.”
My heart was hammering in my chest, slamming against my sternum and rattling me where I stood. Periodically, I held my breath, listening for voices, screaming, or anything else that could tell me what was going on inside. Before long, I heard the heavy footfalls approaching, and the front door popped open. Tommy came out first, his brown eyes watching the ground as he walked, long legs moving past me and toward the truck. The two rookies were next out, one, a baby-faced blonde, looked sad and defeated. The next was a tall, lanky redhead, and the look on his face could only be described as angry, except with no one to be angry at. Not long after, Dale walked out of the house, flashing me a wide, cheesy grin as he stepped toward me. Dale reminded me of the classic 1980s sitcom Dad, with a mustache and deep, soulful blue eyes. He even had the beer belly to match. Something about him always seemed so calming.
“Electrical fire,” he said, coming over to stand beside the Sheriff and me. “Didn’t even flare up, just smoke. But you’ll need to get it looked at.”
I sighed.
Of course. More bad news. Just what I needed.
“Do you think it’s safe for me to stay here tonight?” I asked, reaching up and running a shaking hand through my hair .
“Oh, yeah.” Dale waved a hand through the air. “You’re fine. The breakers off—good job there, by the way—and we went ahead and capped off the affected wires. You’re gold, kiddo.”
I snorted. Kiddo. Some things never changed. Most things in this town, actually.
“Alright,” I sighed, forcing a smile. “Thank you, Dale.”
“Oh, no problem,” he said. “Happy to help.”
I expected him to walk away, but he stayed where he was, a contemplating look on his face.
“Do you happen to know who did your wiring?” Dale asked.
I shook my head.
“Alright,” he said, and he looked defeated. “Just… get it looked at soon, alright? Things looked a little wonky in there, and I’d hate somethin’ bad to happen to you.”
“Wonky like… tampered with?”
He shrugged.
“I wouldn’t say that necessarily. Maybe just old?”
I told them my goodbyes and retreated back into the house. I watched out the window as the enormous truck backed down the driveway and out of sight. When most people thought of firetrucks, they imagined huge, lumbering red beasts, but not this one. Dad had always said it was common in more rural areas, without the bright city lights, but our fire truck was highlighter yellow.
When it was gone and the house was quiet, I found myself wishing they’d come back. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to be alone out here in the darkness with no one to save me from the monsters hidden in plain sight. Part of me wondered if I should get into the car and drive over to Barrett’s house, pounding on the door until he woke up to let me in. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to—
The sound of the phone in the kitchen tore through my thoughts, and my heart leaped to life once again. I turned to look into the kitchen, a finger of dread dragging, icy cold, down my spine. Immediately, I felt eyes on me, and something crawled beneath my skin, something with many watching eyes and millions of tiny, scurrying legs.
“You have got to be—”
It trilled again, cutting me off.
Maybe if I ignored it, whoever it was would decide I’d gone to sleep and leave me alone.
It rang again, shrill and screaming through the fragile silence.
Please stop. Please, just stop.
Leave me alone. I don’t wanna do this.
I can’t do this. Not now. Not after everything else.
It rang again, and this one seemed louder, drilling into my inner ears until my head buzzed.
I moved away from the door, my arms wrapped around my stomach and my lower lip quivering. I pulled it into my mouth and bit down, hoping the pain would drive away the tears that stung the corners of my eyes. The ring sounded again, and I continued into the kitchen, my shaking fingers grabbing it from the cradle and lifting it.
Odd. I hadn’t remembered hanging it up after calling 911.
Why was that the thought that was stuck in my head?
Why?
I lifted it to my ear, careful not to move, or even to breathe .
“Hey there, my Little Moth.”
His voice was so deep, like the darkness outside the window had come to life.
I stayed quiet. I didn’t know what to think or feel, let alone what to say.
“Did you miss me?”
“How can I miss you if you won’t leave me alone?” I spoke without thinking now, my voice shaking like a leaf, just like the rest of me.
He laughed, a deep, growling sound, and I felt my entire body shudder.
“You are so beautiful when you’re scared.”
He could see me. How could he see me?
I turned around, looking through the kitchen window and out into the darkness, but I didn’t see much. I couldn’t see past the reflection of the overhead light, glaring across the glass.
Maybe that was for the best.
Maybe I’d go mad.
I choked on my tears, one hand coming up to press against my lips. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing me fall apart.
“Awe, don’t cry, baby. You’re too beautiful to cry.” He paused, and I could hear him grunt and growl on the other end. “I hate how hard your tears make me, Vanessa. I could never hurt you. Ever.”
With a sound of frustration, I slammed the phone down on the hook so hard that a loud snap echoed through the kitchen, and a crack appeared on the back of the earpiece.
“F-fuck,” I muttered .
A rising wave of nausea rocketed through me, and I swallowed hard. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. I needed answers. Maybe if I could get him to talk, I could learn who he was, and then I could go to the sheriff. I could—
What if it was the sheriff?
Snatching up the phone, I put it to my ear.
“Hello?”
Nothing but silence, just as I expected.
Reaching up, my shaking fingers moved on muscle memory, punching in a number that I hadn’t used in years. *69 would redial the last number that called me, and I would know exactly where he was calling from.
There was a click on the other line, and it began to ring. Part of me wondered if he’d answer.
Two rings.
Three Rings.
Four.
There was an audible click, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Hey there! This is Vanessa Harper! I’m a little busy right now, so leave a message, and I’ll get back to you! Thanks!”
That was my voice.
That was my own voice.
I could feel the blood rushing out of my face and away from my head, and beginning to pool in my arms and legs. My fingers and toes began to tingle and ache, and my thighs shook and jumped. I gasped for breath, feeling as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving me struggling for scraps.
I wanted to run, but I had nowhere to go .
It was a voicemail.
My voicemail.
He was calling me using my phone.
Gently, I placed the receiver back on the cradle and turned from the room, my stomach twisting and flipping. If I had eaten anything since this morning, I’m sure it would have ended up on the floor at my feet. I moved up the stairs and retreated into the guest room. This time, it took me several tries to push that old dresser in front of the door.