Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
The screaming began like it did every night; echoing from somewhere outside the walls of a room that was no longer mine. The shrills grew louder as my fists clung to the scratchy white sheets of a bed. My breath hitched in my throat, my body paralysed like an invisible elephant sat on it.
I was trapped. Listening. Waiting. Trying not to suffocate in my panic.
Light footsteps padded past the closed bedroom door, followed by heavier ones. Then a tear-strangled cry.
Silence.
The brass handle of the dorm room rattled as it was opened from the outside.
I heard Olivia in the bed next to me scratch her arms. She did the same thing every night before they took her.
I wanted to save her, but I didn’t want to go in her place, and so I stayed there, eyes closed, pretending I was asleep.
Be quiet. So quiet.
The silence surrounding the now-open door told me that someone was watching us.
Deciding.
Please leave me alone. Please leave me alone.
I willed my heartbeat to still and not give me away.
We weren’t supposed to be awake. The ones who didn’t sleep were always taken first. I let my mouth drop open and forced my forehead to smooth out.
Footsteps approached, and I focused on my breathing.
In and out. In and out.
A sliver of breeze crossed my face, carrying the smell of Dettol. A hand slipped under my pillow. It should have made me shudder with fear, but I was relieved.
It wasn’t my turn.
As the door closed, I snaked my hand beneath the pillow and took out the gummy lolly that had been left as my reward, savouring the sweetness of the bribe.
“Riley!” screamed Olivia from beyond the now-closed door. “RILEY!”
I jolted awake, my legs thrashing in the sleeping bag automatically and my nerves feeling five years old. Guilt choked me like concrete.
Thirty years meant little to a memory.
Pulling the pillow off my eyes, I squinted at the sunlight that streamed through the back window.
What time was it?
My phone, which thankfully still had charge, read 6:47 a.m, and I forced myself to look around, the way I always do after that dream.
Torn ceiling fabric. White sneakers on the floor. Looming nightmare house to my left.
A shadow passed across the windscreen, making me jump, and a swift burst of adrenaline dumped into my veins.
“Geez!” I said, clutching my hand over my racing heart before dialling Rick.
“They know,” I blurted as soon as he answered.
“Ry, it’s not even 7 a.m.,” he croaked.
“Then put your phone on flight mode at night if your precious sleep’s that important,” I snapped.
“I can’t. I need to be contactable during the night…”
I didn’t bother answering. I didn’t want to hear how thriving his love life was when mine had flatlined.
“What do they know?” His frustration was audible.
“That I’m a single loser.”
“What?”
“The cats. They know,” I answered.
“I’m lost.”
“There’s a cat on the windscreen of my car,” I told him.
“What?”
“You know, a woman of a certain age, still single. The cats know. They’ve come to claim me.
They know I’ve got no job, no home, and my relationship skills are tragic.
I’m destined to become a cat hoarder who’s oblivious to the fact that her house reeks of crap.
” The ginger cat rolled lazily on my bonnet, soaking up the rising sun.
“Shoo!” I hissed, flicking my hand at the glass, but he only stretched further. “My eggs are still viable. I’m not a spinster!” I shouted.
Rick cleared his throat. “I’m still here, you know.”
“Tell me I’m not a failure,” I blurted.
“You’re not a failure,” he yawned. “Minor redirection. What’s the plan for today? How did it go with the house?”
I filled him in on everything that had happened the day before.
“Why the fuck didn’t you sleep in the house?” he shouted. “You’ve got no idea what sort of creeps are out there.”
“And you’ve got no idea what sort of monsters used to run that place,” I snapped.
“Fair point. But seriously, Ry, sort something today. Don’t make me transfer my hard-earned house deposit into your account.”
I inhaled sharply, my cheeks burning. “Don’t you dare.”
“I will,” he said in that bossy tone he normally saved for when it was my round.
“Fine. What about the cat?”
“What about the cat? It spends half its life licking its own ass. Don’t worry about the cat,” and he hung up.
Why did I have to tell Rick I’d slept in my car? Thinking before I spoke wasn’t my strong point, but I was starting to see its benefits.
I got changed into light-blue skinny jeans, tan knee-high boots and a white cotton shirt that I tucked into my belt buckle.
Technically I was homeless, but that didn’t mean I had to look it.
I scowled at the cat as I brushed my teeth outside, rinsing with a bottle of water I’d found rolling around the floor of my car. Life couldn’t sink any lower.
I pencilled a list of goals for the day on the back of yesterday’s servo receipt.
Eat actual food (forgot yesterday entirely)
Find some kind of temporary work and/or a place to stay that doesn’t cost over twenty a night (lol)
Let Rick know I’ve solved everything before he Venmos me
Make a list of people who could have left me the house
Don’t die
I decided to start with the first one because some days I liked to eat my emotions. Today, I just needed calories to outrun them.
I shoved the list into my pocket, gave the cat the finger, and started the engine.
The ginger tom watched me leave like he already knew I’d be back.
Steamy Sips was a cottage-core style café with a long cobbled courtyard on the town’s main street.
The exterior walls were painted white, with a mural of flowering cherry blossoms, and the outdoor area was dotted with folding slatted tables and chairs.
A bell jingled as I entered, interrupting what I could only describe as a gyrating group of ageing men dancing in a circle to It’s Raining Men.
They didn’t seem nearly as disturbed by my presence as I was by theirs. I instinctively scanned the room to make sure I hadn’t stumbled into a middle-aged strip joint. Was this the steamy part of Steamy Sips?
“Just a minute!” called a soft voice from down the hallway beyond the low counter.
I smiled uncertainly and fidgeted with my watch as one man locked eyes with me, mid-body roll, in perfect synchrony with the rest of his group.
An involuntary convulsion moved through me, and I perched on one of the low barstools at the counter.
A novelty I wasn’t used to after London life.
The intimacy of sitting so close to everything felt uncomfortable, but I wasn’t brave enough to sit at one of the tables, which had all been pushed back to make room for the twisting men.
“Sorry about that!” A bright voice emerged from the hallway carrying a heavy box full of coffee beans, which she dropped to the floor.
The woman’s blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her hazel eyes sat in a face dotted with freckles.
She scrambled under the counter looking for something and emerged with a peach and white lace apron.
“There,” she said as she tied it around her waist. “Now I’m ready. What can I get you?”
Her smile sparkled, and she looked like someone about to be discovered by Victoria’s Secret.
“Can you do a long black?” I asked, trying to ignore the dancing in my peripheral vision.
“I thought you might challenge me, being from out of town. No triple mocha chai salted caramel swirl latte?” She teased, loading a shot into the machine.
Ew. And expensive. I wrinkled my nose.
“How’d you know I’m not local?” I asked.
She lifted one shoulder. “When you work at one of two coffee shops in a small town, fresh faces stand out. Sorry about The Balls Club, by the way.”
“The what?”
She nodded towards the hip-thrusting men.
“The Balls Club. That’s what they call themselves. It’s a prostate cancer support group. They rent the space after hours and come together a few times a week for a cardio-strip fitness class. No actual stripping,” she added quickly, seeing my expression.
Thank fuck for small mercies.
“Then they all have coffee here. You’re a little early, so they’d usually have packed up by the time we're open.”
Hanging in the window, I noticed the sign on the door was still turned to Closed. Riley, get your head out of your own ass for a change!
“Sorry! I can come back later?” I said, my palms now sweaty on the counter as I considered having to leave my beloved coffee behind.
“Oh, gosh don’t even worry about it. I’m about to open anyway.” Her eyes crinkled as she placed the drink in front of me. I reached for cash, but she waved it off.
“First one’s free. As long as you come back,” she said, winking. I felt at ease around her in a way I rarely did with people. Smart marketing too, because now I felt obligated to return and avoid the other café altogether.
“So, what brings you to Glades Bay? Got a penchant for old fishing villages?” She asked as she began pulling the tables into place now that The Balls Club had wound down.
I thought about giving her one of my standard vague answers, but then I remembered my other goals for the day.
Someone who worked at one of the only cafes in a small town no doubt knew more about the comings and goings of Glades Bay than most.
“Solving a mystery,” I answered, taking a sip of my coffee. Jack Reacher, eat your heart out.
“A mystery here? Go on,” she said, eyes wide.
I hesitated. I wasn’t one for opening up, but I needed intel.
“Someone left me the old Bellamy Children’s Home. I’m trying to figure out who,” I said as casually as I could, my elbows resting on the counter.
“No way! That place is spooky as hell.”
She adjusted her apron while I gave her a condensed version of the story. Just enough that she might let me know if she heard anything, but not enough to make it a confessional.
“So you’re not keeping it, even if you find out who left it to you?” she asked, folding her arms across her white shirt.