Clawing Free Page 9

  “I actually met her,” Lissy tacked on. Henry brightened. “She was so happy.”

  Henry nodded, smiling. “Yep, that’s right. That was Melissa, always had a smile on her face.”

  The idea that Melissa had killed herself seemed even more ludicrous now, sitting in the Atwell’s kitchen, talking to Henry. Lissy decided to make an attempt at being bold and ask the question, knowing Logan may not be pleased. It just felt like . . . she had to know. “Do you think your wife took her own life?”

  Lissy held Henry’s gaze, not wanting to see if Logan looked angry or not, although his silence made her wonder if this had actually been exactly why he’d invited her. Henry stared at Lissy, searching for the words.

  “How long did you interact with Melissa when you met her?”

  Lissy thought back to that night at Rose’s restaurant and answered, “Only for a few minutes.”

  “I see. Well, let me tell you something about my wife.” His eyes were fiery with intensity as he described her. “In the five minutes you met her, I know who you saw. You saw a woman so full of joy that it might have even gotten under your skin. She was bubbly, full of life and love for everyone around her. And even though her husband was miles away in the city for work half the week trying to afford this house”—he gestured around them—“she didn’t say an ill word about him. You know why? Because she didn’t have a salty bone in her body. She was all joy, all the time.” He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back tears again. “So, you tell me, did she kill herself? ’Cause the Melissa you met is the only one I knew.”

  Lissy froze, staring at him.

  “I-I’m so sorry,” was the only thing she knew to say. She finally looked over to Logan. His face was emotionless, but he wasn’t angry with her, which told her she was right. No one sitting at that table actually believed Melissa Atwell had jumped off a cliff.

  12

  August 22, 2019

  The spare room was small, but just as comfortable as Lissy remembered it. There was a full-size bed, a small TV, and a sewing machine against the wall. Rose used the room for her children when they travelled back home from Denver, although she said that didn’t happen nearly as much as she would like.

  Lissy had considered stopping at the liquor store and picking up something strong enough to calm her nerves, but she’d never been the type to rely on alcohol to self-soothe. And besides, Melissa hadn’t been able to drink her problem away, nor had Mia or her friends. Also, there was nothing to indicate that getting drunk wouldn’t just make the visions come on stronger, or become more vivid, if that was possible. No, she would just have to cope.

  She’d been lying in bed for an hour and, although she felt exhausted, sleep still eluded her. While her body desperately wanted the rest, she knew that with sleep came dreams, and she had no desire to dream.

  She stared at the large numbers on the alarm clock next to the bed, but her mind was elsewhere. It was replaying the last vision: the colossal, shadowed figure rising from the water and slamming into her. What was that thing? She had the feeling that she hadn’t actually seen it, as if it had shrouded itself from her. She tried to dispel the notion that the visions were being given to—or imparted into—her by some ethereal force, but she couldn’t shake the idea that she was being communicated with.

  The stories about the Diamond Lake monster played through her mind. Only hours before, she had assured Neil that the thought itself was nonsensical. But after the second vision, she was no longer finitely sure. There was the possibility that a person had killed Melissa as well as Mia and her friends, but if that were the case, how did they accomplish tipping a Jeep? What made the claw marks? And why had Mia been freaking out that weekend? She had to at least admit to herself that the markers were pointing to something unusual—monster or not.

  And then there was the growing desire to go back to the lake. The gnawing at the underside of her memory that increased with every thought of the lake, Mia, or the visions. Everything seemed to point back to the lake. The thought of returning was beginning to make her palms sweat; it would be horrif—

  Bzzt! Bzzt!

  She jerked to attention, her thoughts silenced by startling noise. She realized the sound had only been her cell phone vibrating on the side table.

  She picked it up. Neil. She’d texted him earlier that she was staying at Rose’s and would call him the next day, so seeing his name on caller ID in the middle of the night sent a fresh shot of adrenaline through her system. It simultaneously woke her up and made her feel nauseated.

  “Neil, what—”

  The urgency in his tone caused her palms to sweat.

  “Lissy. I—” He broke off, crying.

  “Neil, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s David. He—” His sobs choked off his words.

  But he’d already said enough to cause her breath to catch in her throat.

  “What happened to David, Neil?” she asked, attempting to remain calm.

  He didn’t respond, only cried.

  “Neil! Tell me what’s happening!”

  There was a long pause. She heard him gasp, then he forced out, “David is dead.”

  “Oh my . . . Where are you? I’m on my way.”

  “My place,” he replied, Lissy barely able to make out his utterings.

  Logan and the sheriff stood on the other side of the coffee table with their backs to Lissy and Neil, who shared the couch. The men spoke in whispers.

  Lissy held Neil’s hand with her left and pulled him close with her right. He hadn’t said a word since she’d arrived, only stared blindly forward.

  After a couple of minutes of muted chatter, the men turned to face them.

  “Lissy,” Logan said, “would you mind if we asked you a few questions?”

  “Sure. I mean, I don’t know what help I’ll be. I’ve barely talked to David in the last eleven years.” She gauged Neil’s response. If he’d heard anything they said, he didn’t show it.

  “Why don’t you come into the bedroom and we’ll give Neil a minute,” Porter said.

  She started to stand, but Neil pulled her back to him. Porter and Logan saw it too.

  “I guess we’re talkin’ in here,” Porter said. He flashed a subtle look of understanding at Lissy as he sat his phone on the coffee table and tapped Record.

  “Okay then,” replied Logan. “When was the last time you saw David Sheridan?”

  “Tuesday. Before we talked to you guys at the station.” She cleared her throat nervously.

  “You didn’t see him after that?” Porter asked.

  “No.”

  Logan was beginning to look uptight, as if he didn’t like where this was headed.

  Porter rolled his head to either side of his thick neck and stepped closer to Lissy, hovering over the coffee table as he asked, “Where were you last night, Elisabeth?”

  Now she got it. They weren’t just trying to get info on David’s state of being when she saw him. She was a suspect. The sister of the missing girlfriend finally kills the hermit boyfriend after eleven years.

  She was rattled, trembling. “Come on, Jack. You’ve known me since I was five.”

  “I just asked a question,” Porter replied firmly.

  “It’d be a whole lot easier if you work with us on this, Lissy,” Logan interjected. “If you got nothing to hide—which I know you don’t—then just tell us the truth.”

  She swallowed, trying to push down the anger and nervousness simultaneously brewing within her.

  “I was at Rose’s house all night.”

  “Okay. That’s good, that’s good,” Porter replied. “We’re just makin’ sure to check every box, you understand.” He backed off a bit. “And Rose saw you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He was relaxing a little bit. “Were you alone at any point between arrivin’ and when Neil called you?”

  “I . . .” She paused and thought through the events that had happened just hours before. Rose had come home to set h
er up, but then she’d gone back to the restaurant for a couple of hours. “I guess I was alone for a couple of hours while Rose and Albert were at the restaurant. Jack, I didn’t hurt David.”

  “Didn’t say you did,” Jack came back. “I’m just tryin’ to work out a timeline. That’s it.”

  Lissy didn’t reply, only looked at Neil for some kind of backup. But it was as if they weren’t even in the room. He peered beyond Porter and Logan.

  “Listen,” she said, “I don’t know anything about David. At least, not any information that’s not eleven years old or more. I’m of no help to you, and Neil needs to grieve his brother’s death now.” She spoke the final sentence with intensity, driving the point home. Her shivering was visible now, her nerves completely frayed.

  “We understand,” Porter responded. “But we’ve got two deaths on our hands, and you guys are the closest things we have to witnesses at this point. And, as far as we know, you’re the only people who have had more than a passing conversation with David in the last year . . . possibly longer. So I’m going to have to ask you to throw us a bone here.”

  Lissy felt anger rise up inside her. Jack didn’t care about Neil, or David, or Melissa; he was just checking boxes. Then it dawned on her. Jack said two deaths. Were they now investigating Melissa’s death as more than suicide?

  “Wait. Two deaths?”

  “Yes, David and the girl.”

  “You said the case was closed. Why are you looking into Melissa’s death now?”

  “Why I do what I do is information you ain’t privy to,” Jack snapped back. She’d clearly struck a nerve.

  “What else do you need, Sheriff?” She seethed.

  Sighing, he replied, “In my office, you said that you believe the marks on Miss Atwell’s face matched those that David had seen eleven years ago on his friends . . . on your sister. Had you discussed what David witnessed prior to Melissa’s murder?”

  “No.”

  “Then why drive all the way to his trailer if you hadn’t spoken to him in years?”

  Lissy found herself tripping over her words. She felt cornered and defensive. “I—Neil told me we needed to talk to David.” She glanced at him. He was still vacant. “Something I said sparked his memory about the marks. David had mentioned it to him a few years ago.”

  The men were silent, both looking at Neil, who said nothing. Lissy squeezed his hand, trying to pull him away from wherever he’d traveled in his mind. He blinked a couple of times and looked at Porter. “I, uh . . . What’s that question?”

  Porter repeated himself, “How did you know about the scratches, Neil?”

  “Oh,” he said slowly, as if pulling the memories from a dense fog. “From David. He’d mentioned it a while ago. I guess it stuck with me.” His countenance shifted. “Does David have them too? The clusters of three claw marks? That’s what this is about. It’s too similar to Mel—”

  “We can’t share that with you, Neil. Not yet,” Porter replied. “You have to understand, you two were the last people seen with the vic—with David.”

  Lissy cut in, “Jack, we all know this conversation wouldn’t be happening if there weren’t similarities. And if I killed him, then I already know how he died, right?” Her tone was softer as she pleaded, “It’s his brother. He deserves to know.”

  Porter hesitated, then said, “The trailer had scratches. Groups of three, like ya said.” Lissy grimaced. While she’d already known it had to be the case, the confirmation made it hurt that much more.

  “But there was something more,” Logan added, looking to the sheriff.

  Porter picked up where Logan had ended. “He, uh . . . David was burned. Real bad.”

  Neil gasped, and his grip on Lissy’s hand tightened to the point of causing her pain. She had the ominous feeling that David’s being burnt to death was meant to be an indicator of the personal nature of his killing. Like whoever or whatever did this was finishing the job it had started eleven years before in which David’s face had been left scarred.

  They sat in heavy silence for minutes before Porter spoke again. “Uh, one more thing we haven’t talked about. The trailer. Well, the only reason we even found David as soon as we did is ’cause his trailer ended up in the middle of the road. Also completely fried. David was . . .” He trailed off. Lissy knew what it meant though. David had been in the trailer when it burned.

  “The road?” Lissy said, looking at Neil. “Jack, his trailer was a couple hundred feet from the road. You mean it—”

  “Truck driver called it in,” the sheriff replied as gently as he was capable of. “We found it upside down, burned, and smashed all to blazes.”

  Lissy searched Neil’s face. It was empty, devoid of life. She was terrified at the feeling that her entire world was coming untethered. She wondered if David had seen the shadow from her vision before he died, or maybe even the unveiled beast that she felt was hiding itself behind the dark shroud.

  Her mind spun with fresh revelation. Whatever this thing was, it was moving toward the city. David was miles down the freeway from the lake. Would it come for her next? Or Neil? The more she considered it, the more inevitable it felt. It would come for them, just as it had in her visions.

  “Okay. Thanks, you two,” Porter said. “I think that’s enough for tonight.” He looked to Logan, who nodded. “We’ll keep in touch if we have more questions.” Lissy watched them leave and waited until she heard them pull out before moving. Then she put both arms around Neil and held him. He laid his head on her shoulder and they sat in silence until, eventually, she realized he’d fallen asleep. He had to be completely exhausted. She eased him off her shoulder, laying his upper body on the couch. Next, she lifted his feet, sliding off his shoes before covering him with a blanket and turning off the lights.

  She climbed into the chair beside the couch, tucked her legs beneath her, and settled in for her turn as guardian.

  “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”

  * * *

  ~ C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

  13

  June 5, 2006

  Mia watched Lissy climb out of their mom’s car and slam the door. “I said I’m fine!” she yelled, storming toward the house. Mia winced as Lissy threw the front door open hard against the wall and trudged through. It’d been a rough day on her little sister—on all of them. Lissy and her mom had gotten into an argument due to Lissy’s refusal to say a few words for her dad’s birthday.

  Mia entered the house and headed toward Lissy’s room. The argument had hit peak voltage when Lissy told their mom she wouldn’t talk to someone she’d never even known and never would. She’d said it was just a dumb waste of time.

  Mia knocked on the door.

  “Go away!” Lissy shouted from the other side.

  “It’s me,” Mia said calmly.

  There was a pause before her little sister finally responded, “Fine.” Mia reached up and grabbed the small key they left on top of the doorframes and used it to open the lock.

  Mia stepped in and pulled the door closed behind her. She sat down on the bed where Lissy was fuming and took her hand. Lissy didn’t pull away.

  “You know she’s hurting too,” Mia said, not a tinge of harshness in her words.

  Lissy considered the statement and then answered, “I know. Doesn’t mean I have to pretend I’m all broken up over somebody I’ve never met.” The words cut Mia. While Lissy wasn’t wrong, it killed her to hear her baby sister talk about their dad that way. But she didn’t let on, she wouldn’t. She had to be the strong one—strong enough for all of them.

  “If only that were true. If it was, it wouldn’t hurt Mom so much to see you acting out.”

  Mia could tell Lissy wanted to clap back, say she wasn’t acting out, that she wasn’t hurting. But they both knew Lissy’s little outburst was enough for even the most oblivious onlooker to recognize she was actually suffering deeply.

  “You know,” Mia said, “when you were two—just after
your birthday—Dad did a stint in the hospital. It was the first of many. But I’ll never forget this one, because this was the first time you’d been away from him for so long.”

  “I don’t know if I feel like story time today,” Lissy said.

  “Lemme finish, then I’ll leave. Deal?”

  Lissy nodded.

  “Anyway, it was over a week and neither of us got to see him. Him and Mom thought it might scare you to see him in that state.” She paused, looking Lissy in the eye. “But that day, when Dad finally came home, you smiled so big when you saw him.” She grinned at Lissy. “You knew, Lis. You missed him so much you almost knocked him off his feet ’cause he was so weak. Mom tried to get him to go straight to bed, but he wouldn’t. He sat down, right in front of the door, and he hugged his girls with every bit of strength he had.”

  Despite her attempts to remain sober, tears began to well in Mia’s eyes, matching the ones already in her little sister’s.

  “See, that’s why it hurts her so much to see you try to let him go. Mom remembers how you lit up every time he walked into the room. You’d get this huge smile, one only Dad could bring—without even trying.”

  Lissy let out a small laugh as Mia continued. “Mom remembers just how much you did know him. And, oh man, how much you loved him, with every ounce of your little body.” Mia allowed the slightest amount of hurt to show in her eyes as she leveled them at Lissy again. “So next time you want to remind her how little of him you remember, keep in mind how much of him she does.”

  Lissy was quivering as she wrapped her arms around Mia and hugged her tight. It broke Mia’s heart when, with so much pain in her voice, Lissy cried, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Mia held her sister until her tears began to lessen and then, brushing Lissy’s damp hair out of her face, she said, “Life’s got a way of amplifying the bad and forcing out the good, sis. And I won’t lie; it’s hard to stop the process sometimes. We tend to remember tough experiences more than easy ones. We see flaws before we recognize beauty. We’re quicker to remember someone’s hate than their love. But life’s so much better when we fight with everything in us to hold on to what’s good. So please, Lis—not just for Mom, but for you—don’t let him go, not willingly. Fight to hold on as long as you can, ’cause love like his was one of a kind. But hate and disappointment will show up at every turn.