Chapter 35 #2
My vision went black for a few moments, and then cleared to reveal Clayton hovering over me with silver stubble sparkling from his chin. “Rhea, are you all right?”
I nodded, afraid my voice would sound too frail if I spoke.
He shook his head. “Please forgive me for showing you that song.”
I took a deep breath, and felt my body start to return. “No, I’m glad you did.” I took another deep breath. “What are the other songs like?”
He eyed me, then said, “Every song is the same—the only thing that changes are the different ways the woman dies.” He glanced at me again and continued, “She said the songs were coming to her at night, like her head had gotten stuck on the wrong channel. She said she couldn’t write any other kind of music, and it was driving her nuts.
She thought recording would banish them.
That’s how it usually worked when she had a song in her head. ”
“Did it work?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I… I thought I was respecting her privacy.” He looked away, ashamed. “I wasn’t around when she was using drugs. But it reminded me of people I’d known in the past. I can’t say for sure, but I wondered…” He drifted off, uncertain of whether he should continue.
That same theory again. I wondered if he and Hess had spoken or merely arrived at the same conclusion separately.
“Did she tell you anything about a curse?”
He frowned. “A curse? What do you mean?”
“Like a family curse.”
His frown deepened. “No.”
“What about the Cursed Woman album?”
He gave me a perplexed look. “I didn’t work on that one.”
“She never spoke about the inspiration behind it?”
“No, we didn’t talk about her old work. Not even the albums we’d made together in the past. She was always focused on what was next.”
“Okay.” I paused. “Can I listen to the rest of the tape?” I asked furtively.
He eyed me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please. I need to hear it.”
He clicked his tongue and exhaled. “All right.”
The next few tracks were just like the first one—unsettling, spine-tingling music set to lyrics that imagined different ways she might die. I gritted my teeth against the visions, attempting to stay focused on the words themselves and what I could learn from them.
Around the fourth or fifth track, instead of music or singing coming through the speakers, I heard only my mother’s voice, telling a story:
I was surprised to find England wasn’t so different from where I’d grown up. The Brits had a real sense of humor that was dry and self-deprecating. Life was pretty simple and gray there, but they got a laugh out of it.
Martha and I played small clubs out in the countryside, and then afterward Tate and I got pissed on pints with the locals. There wasn’t much to do but drink.
Tate knew a band who’d rented a house nearby, and he, Martha, and I went to visit them…
“What is this?” I asked him.
“Oh, right. I forgot about that one. She asked me to cut that out and send it to her on a separate tape, but I never got around to it. She said she was recording stories for you so you could have them when you got older.”
Holy shit.
I continued to listen as my mother told me a story about doing heroin with my father for the first time at an English manor rented out by a rock band.
It sounded more elegant than tawdry, a young person experimenting with ecstasy.
I could see why she had done it, and also how it might have taken over her life.
It didn’t seem as simple as Hess had made it—my father had been part of the introduction, but my mother had tried it on her own, of her own free will. Was it fair to blame him?
“Are there more stories on here?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, that’s the only one. I think it came to her while she was in the booth, and she wanted to get it down before she forgot.”
My heart sank. “Do you know where the other recordings are?”
He shook his head again. “No, I don’t.”
If only I could find those tapes.
His eyes watered, and I saw that he was exhausted. “If you need to rest, please go ahead. But would it be okay if I stayed here and kept listening?”
He looked like he might say no, but then he seemed to give into the fatigue. “Sure. Let me know if you need anything.”
He got up, and I continued to play the tape.
I went from track to track in feverish concentration, and when the album ended, I started it over again. There had to be clues in these songs. Perhaps even clues she’d left for me on purpose, knowing that one day I would need them.
It was during my fifth or sixth time listening to the heroin story that a quiet voice came from behind me.
“Rhea.”
I jumped, adrenaline shooting through my veins. I switched off the track.
The voice said “Rhea” again, and this time I recognized it. I turned and found Hess standing in the doorway, her face pale but calm. My first instinct was to be relieved, and my next was terror.
Micah must have called her. She’s going to drag me back to Arizona. They’re going to lock me up.
My eyes scanned the room quickly, noting that there were no windows in the studio. The only way out was through the door behind Hess, which she had closed. If I could just get around her, I could leave, run through the house, and be outside before she could stop me.
“Rhea, are you okay?”
I turned my gaze back to her. “Did Micah call you?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. He said you ran away and asked if I knew where you were.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him I didn’t know, which was the truth until about an hour ago, when Clayton called me.”
“Why would Clayton call you?”
“He was worried after you just showed up here unannounced.”
“Does Micah know I’m here?”
“No.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
How can I trust her? What can she possibly say that I can believe?
My eyes flicked to the door again, visualizing stepping around her and pulling down on the handle. It would be easier if she moved farther into the room.
I went over to a cluster of couches and took the seat closest to the door. Hess instinctively followed, sitting a polite distance away, clearing the way for my escape. I pretended to relax back into the cushions.
“How is Night Songs?” Hess asked, catching me off guard. “Part of me always wondered what it sounded like, and the other part didn’t want to know.”
Clayton must have told her. I wanted to feel violated, but I liked that she didn’t pretend not to know.
“Honestly, it’s pretty disturbing.”
She nodded soberly. “Is it like The Cursed Woman?”
“No. That album tells a story, and it is so… emotionally complex.” I paused. “When I listen to these songs, all I feel is her fear.”
Hess put the back of her hand up to her mouth and turned away for a moment. I sat there with her, the unease of the recordings still lingering in the air.
“I think I know why you’re here,” Hess said, turning back. “You’re looking for answers about who your mother really was and what really happened to her.”
I stared at her, unwilling to confirm or deny this.
“I want those answers, too,” she said. “I’ve had the same questions for almost thirty years.”
I studied her face, considering if this was a trap. Is she trying to lure me into a false sense of security? I imagined men outside the studio, waiting to grab me and force me into a van so they could take me to whatever local facility Micah had picked out.
Despite the things she had kept from me over the years, there was still a part of me that trusted her implicitly.
But I’d learned that even, or perhaps especially, the people you loved and trusted the most could betray you.
“Let me help,” she pleaded.
“How do I know you won’t just tell Micah where I am?”
She thought for a moment, then pulled out her phone and, sidling closer to me, showed me her conversation with Micah. His last text was from an hour ago, and it said: Still no word?
I imagined him hunched over his phone, eyes bloodshot, and I pushed the image away.
Hess typed Sorry, no word yet. into the text box and hit send.
It didn’t prove anything—she could still contact him. But I needed her help—I had less than four days left. And as long as I kept my guard up, I could still escape at any time.
“All right.” I paused. “I still haven’t found the name of the town.”
She nodded. “So what’s our next move?”
“I think we should go to the records office in Pigeon Forge and see if there’s anything in the physical files there. It’s all I have to go on.”
“That sounds like a good plan. It’s too late to go out there tonight, so why don’t you come back to my place? Tima and Phoebe are there, and maybe you can pick their brains more. We can leave first thing in the morning.”
She could trap me there. I will wake up, and there will be people waiting to take me away.
“Rhea, all I want to do is help. I promise.”
What choice did I have? I had to see where this would go. I had the strong sense that she might hold the key to this mystery.