twenty
As they stood in front of Mr. Packard’s house, she was having second thoughts. Her stomach rolled, her mouth filled with moisture. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she tried to quell the nauseous feeling. The driveway was empty, and all the curtains were drawn. It was time.
And it was the only way.
They couldn’t back down now. No matter how badly she wanted to.
“Are you ready to do this?” she asked him, shaking out her arms.
“I don’t know.” He glanced around, his eyes shifting nervously. They were hidden behind a cluster of large trees in Mr. Packard’s front yard. They’d be spotted if they didn’t hurry.
She blew out a breath. “If you have another option, I’d love to hear it.” If only.
He frowned. “I just wish your dad would’ve believed you.”
“Yeah, me too.” The bitterness that lingered around her heart seeped in a little further. “We need proof that Mr. Packard killed her, and the only way we’re finding that is by going inside.”
“I’ve never broken into someone’s house before,” Dylan breathed.
“Don’t worry.” She patted his arm with a gloved hand. “I have. Just follow my lead.” Her words were meant to reassure him, but clearly they hadn’t. His face turned a sickly pale, and he clutched his stomach as if he was ready to hurl. That made two of them. As scared as she was, she had to be brave. Grabbing his arm, she tugged him forward.
Pulse racing, she ducked down and walked along the side of the house. Every time they passed a window, she reached up to check it. “Keep your eyes on the road,” she told Dylan. “If a car comes, alert me.”
He nodded, his breaths coming out in shallow gasps. Great. Now she also had to worry about Dylan fainting or having a heart attack. But maybe that was good. If she worried about him, it kept her mind off of her own fears.
After checking all the windows, Harley exhaled in frustration. All locked. This would get a lot trickier if they had to actually break in. Their risk of getting caught would go up exponentially. She was about to give up when she caught a glimpse of a cracked basement window.
“Look!” She pointed downward.
“The basement?” Dylan’s eyebrows raised. “You want to go into the basement?”
“It’s our only way in.”
“But what if the basement door’s locked and we can’t get into the rest of the house?”
“Let’s take it one step at a time,” she answered.
Bending down, she opened the window the rest of the way. Then she stuck her head inside. It was dark, so it took her eyes a minute to adjust. White spots filled her vision. When the room came into view, she could see that he stored a lot of stuff down here. A wave of memories washed over her and she yanked her head out. The fresh air smacked her in the face, and she breathed deeply.
“We don’t have to do this,” Dylan said.
“Yes, we do.” Nodding, she gave herself a mental peptalk. She was so close to getting what she wanted. This was no time to quit.
“There’s a table underneath this window. I think if I go in legs first, I can stand on it,” she explained to Dylan.
Harley sat in the open window, her legs dangling inside. Holding onto the windowsill with gloved hands, she began to lower herself. Her feet didn’t quite touch the table, and she almost asked Dylan to pull her back out. But she knew if she did, she’d never work up the courage to go in again. It was now or never.
C’mon. Do it. On the count of three.
One.
Two.
She jumped. Her feet hit the table hard, and it jarred her, causing her to bite her tongue. But she was in.
“Okay. Now, your turn,” she called out, desperate to have Dylan beside her. Shivering, she slid down. It smelled musty, like mothballs and old furniture. She suppressed the need to sneeze.
Dylan joined her quickly. His presence calmed her somewhat. The violent trembling of her limbs began to steady. With his hand tucked in hers, she headed toward the basement stairs. When she reached the top, Dylan’s fear was confirmed. The door leading into the house was locked. Her stomach plummeted.
“There’s no way in,” she said sourly.
“Well, maybe there’s something down here.”
“In the basement?” Harley scratched her head. It felt like bugs were crawling in her hair, but maybe she was just agitated. Of course with gloves on, she couldn’t get a very good scratch in.
Dylan shrugged. “It would be the perfect place to hide evidence, right?”
He had a point. And it would be really nice not to have to go inside his house. A sick chill ran up her spine at the thought of being back inside his family room. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories to fade.
“Harley? You okay?” Dylan asked gently.
No, she wasn’t okay. Far from it. But she would be once they found evidence that would put Mr. Packard away for a long time.
Nodding, she said, “Yep. Let’s look around.”
Together, they made their way back down the stairs. Each step moaned beneath them, as if people were trapped inside.
At the bottom, she reluctantly released Dylan’s hand. It would take too long if they searched together, so they split up. Harley found old books, a box of woman’s clothes (who did they belong to?) some tools and some porn magazines (no surprise there). Feeling sick and frustrated, she moved away from that corner. There was an empty bookshelf, a couple of chairs. She was beginning to think this was a wild goose chase when her eyes rested on something. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Dylan.” Harley motioned him over, her heart racing. “Look at this.”
He hurried toward her, bending down on his knees in front of the pink, sparkly phone. They both knew it was Lauren’s. It even had the signature “L” on it. Harley could picture her walking around school with it in her hands, the bling so bright it was blinding. When Dylan reached out, Harley placed a hand on his arm to stop him.
“Don’t touch it,” she commanded. Even though they were both wearing gloves, she didn’t want to chance touching anything they didn’t have to. She still couldn’t believe they’d found it. What were the chances? Relief flooded her at their good luck. The phone was cracked across the front, and Harley doubted it worked. But the phone itself was proof, wasn’t it? Grabbing Dylan’s hand, she held tightly to it. He squeezed back as if he’d heard her thoughts.
“We need to tell your dad.” Dylan’s hand left hers, and he stood.
That’s when reality hit like a hard punch to the gut. Harley’s stomach dropped to the floor.
“We can’t,” she said quietly.
“We have to.”
“What will we tell him? That we broke in? That we found her phone? At the very least he’ll punish me. At worst, he’ll arrest us.” Defeated, she sunk to her knees. They hit the floor with a thud. She had mistakenly believed that this would be over soon. Now she realized it may never be. When she came up with this plan, she was only thinking about finding proof, not the fact that the way they were getting it was illegal. “He’ll never believe us anyway. It will be just like before.” The floor was cold. As it seeped into her skin, her teeth started to chatter. She hugged herself.
Dylan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What choice do we have? We found evidence.”
“I know,” she answered, feeling more confused by the second. Frowning, she lowered her head into her hands.
“We can’t let him get away with this.”
Anger sparked. “You think I want to?” she snapped. “I’m the one who insisted we do this. I’m the one who put myself through hell…who came back to this…this…awful place.” Her lips wobbled.
“Harley.” Dylan crouched down in her front of her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. I just can’t let this go. I want him to be caught and punished. For what he did to Lauren.” He paused, his gaze penetrating hers. “But mostly because of what he did to you.”
He body sagged, the anger withering away. “Me too.”
“What are we gonna do?”
Her mind ran through all the possible scenarios, and every single one was a dead end. Except one. Pulse quickening, she stood up and glanced around the room. It was filled with all kinds of odds and ends, old furniture, closed boxes, some Christmas decorations. Spotting what she needed, she raced in the direction of it. After picking it up, she coiled it around her arm.
“Rope?” Dylan asked. “What’s that for?”
As the plan took shape, her heart became more erratic. So much so she feared for her health. Taking a deep breath, she willed it to slow. If she wanted to go through with this, she’d need to calm down. With the rope in one hand, she used the other hand to yank off her bracelet. The one she always wore.
“Here.” She thrust it out toward Dylan.
His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you giving me this?”
“Just take it,” she insisted, and he reluctantly wrapped gloved fingers around it. His brows were furrowed. She knew she was acting manic, but she had to. If she stopped to think too long she’d never go through with this. It was like ripping off a bandaid.
She had to simply do it, and do it fast.
Sucking in some air, she reached up and tugged at a strand of her hair. At first she didn’t do it hard enough, so she tried again. It was futile with the gloves on. They were too slick, causing her fingers to slip right through. Yanking one glove off, she tried again. This time pain shot through her scalp, but she was successful. Opening her palm, she held the strand of hair out to Dylan.
He recoiled, but she forced the strand of hair into his hand anyway. “What the hell, Harley?”
“I need you to hit me,” she said quickly before losing her nerve.
His mouth gaped open. “I’m not gonna hit you.”
She sighed. “We can’t go to my dad and tell him what we found. But what if we lure my dad here?”
Curiosity filled Dylan’s eyes. “How?”
“Convince my dad that Mr. Packard kidnapped me.” Dylan frowned, his mouth opening as if he was going to protest. Desperation bloomed in Harley’s chest. “Hear me out. You’ll hit me in the face and tie me up in the basement.”
He winced, shaking his head. “No way.”
“You want to prove it was Mr. Packard, right?”
After shoving the bracelet and strand of hair into the pocket of his jeans, he stepped forward. His gloved thumb grazed her chin. “I can’t hurt you. Please don’t ask me to.”
“It’s the only way.”
He groaned. “What’s the rest of the plan?”
Hope reigniting, she spoke swiftly. “Okay, after you tie me up, you’ll plant my bracelet and my strand of hair in Mr. Packard’s front yard where my dad is sure to see it. Afterward, you’ll go to my dad and convince him that I’ve been kidnapped and you suspect Mr. Packard.”
“There are so many things wrong with your plan, Harley.”
His words stung. “Do you have a better one?”
He ran a hand over his head. “Okay. Fine. Say I go along with this. How will I convince him? The evidence only works if he comes here, and that’s the part that will be a challenge.”
Harley knew he was right. There could be no room for errors. Her mind whirred like a blender on full speed. “I’ve got it.” She yanked her phone out of her pocket and hurriedly sent off a text to Dylan, typing with the glove-less hand. Then she smashed her phone into a nearby table. The screen resembled a spiderweb, cracks covering the screen.
Dylan flinched, startled. “What are you doing?”
“Check out the text I sent you.”
Glancing down at his phone, he read it aloud, “We were right.” He looked at her, his nose scrunched. “I don’t get it.”
She nodded. “Dad knows I think it was Mr. Packard. Tell him I wanted to break in here to find evidence, and you tried to talk me out of it. But then I took off, and the next thing you know, you get this text.” Pointing to his phone, she said, “Call me a few times…it will show in your log. You can tell Dad that I’m not answering now, and you’re worried I went through with my break in plan and something went wrong.”
“You think he’ll buy it?”
“If you’re convincing.”
“I still don’t know if it’ll be enough,” Dylan said.
“Make it enough,” she said firmly. They were running out of time.
Hesitation lingered in his eyes. He glanced upward. Her stomach twisted. Reaching out, he tenderly touched her face, the glove soft against her skin.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he spoke softly. “I mean…what if he comes down here? What if he finds you?”
The thought caused bile to rise in Harley’s throat. Memories swept over her.
His hands hot and insistent against her skin, his breath smelling of cigarettes.
“Harley?” Dylan’s voice brought her back.
She stared into his eyes, drawing strength from him. “I’ll be fine.” She lifted her chin.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s our only hope, Dylan,” she pleaded with him. “We have to do this.” Before he could argue again, she continued, “I’m doing it with or without your help.”
He froze, his eyes studying her a minute. Then a look of resignation painted his face. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
Nodding, she took off the other glove and handed them both to Dylan. He added them to the items now bulging out of his pockets. Swallowing hard, she held her head steady. “Now, hit me.”
He flinched. “I meant, I would tie you up and go talk to your dad. I’m not hitting you.”
It was sweet, and any other day it would make her heart soar. But right now she wished he’d grow a pair.
“Fine.” She stormed over to the table and snatched up a hammer.
“W-what are you doing?” Dylan’s tone was frightened, wary.
“If you won’t hit me, I’ll have to do it myself.”
“Why?”
“This has to be believable, Dylan,” she explained. “Dad knows I wouldn’t go down without a fight.”
Dylan ran a hand over his face. “Put the hammer down,” he growled. “There’s no way I’m letting you use that. You’ll kill yourself.”
She dropped it and stood in front of him again. Then she lifted her chin and squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay. I’m ready.” Her heart thudded in her chest, her palms coating with moisture.
“I-I don’t think I can.”
She opened her eyes. “Please.” Her lips wavered. “I want this to be over. I want him to get what he deserves…” the words trailed off, her eyes filling with moisture.
“Hey.” His hand cupped her face. Leaning forward, he gently placed his lips over hers. It was fast, just one peck, but it was enough to calm her nerves. “Don’t cry. I’ll do it. There’s no way I’m letting Mr. Packard get away with what he did to you.”
“And to Lauren,” Harley added.
Dylan eyes flashed. “Right. And to Lauren.” Stepping back from her, he squared his shoulders. Then he took a deep breath. “Ready?”
“Just do it.” Her heart slammed against her rib cage, and once again she closed her eyes. “Now!”
“Fine.”
When his knuckles connected with her face, she cried out in pain. He didn’t hit her that hard. Not as hard as she had anticipated. She could tell he had been holding back, and the gloves cushioned the brunt force a bit. Still, it stung.
“Oh, my god.” His face scrunched up, horror written all over it. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied, rubbing the spot where he’d hit her. Blinking, her eyes filled with moisture. “Now hurry and tie me up so you can get outta here.”
“Okay.” His agitation was clear. As he reached out to grab the rope, his hands shook.
Harley’s cheek throbbed, and she could feel it swelling by the minute. She prayed this would all be worth it. Lowering herself to the ground, she put her hands behind her back. “Go ahead and tie me up.”
Without a word, Dylan knelt behind her. The rope chafed her skin as he wrapped it around her wrists and pulled it tight.
“Is that okay?” He asked, once it was securely knotted.
“Yeah,” she answered.
A door slammed above and both of them flinched. Dylan’s face paled. Harley’s pulse quickened.
“He’s home,” she breathed, panic taking root in her chest.
“We don’t have to do this.”
She almost nodded in agreement. She almost begged him to abandon the plan; to get her out of there. But she couldn’t. They were so close. They had to follow through with the plan.
“Yes, we do.” She bobbed her head toward the window they’d entered from. “Go.” Sensing his hesitation, she added, “Hurry.”
Footsteps bounced over their heads. Harley’s stomach rolled. Mr. Packard was upstairs, but he may as well have been breathing down her neck. She could practically feel the warmth of his rank breath, smell his putrid scent. Shivering, she fought against the terror that knocked around in her bones.
Bending down, Dylan brushed his lips over Harley’s cheek. “I promise I’ll be back soon,” he murmured.
“With my dad,” she said firmly.
“With your dad,” he agreed, his legs straightening.
By the time Dylan made it to the window, Harley’s arms were already tiring, her shoulders growing sore by the minute. She prayed he’d keep her promise to come back soon. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched him slip out the window and then close it. He threw her one last wave before disappearing.
The pain in her cheek was worsening, and her back and arms ached from the inhumane way she was sitting, all folded up like a piece of origami. The ceiling moaned like a small child. Her fingers turned to ice, slick and cold. The lighting shifted, no longer bright. Peering behind her, the window revealed grey clouds covering the sky. She refused to believe it was a sign.
Facing forward, she drew in a breath and waited.
Minutes ticked by, the darkness growing until it covered her like a thick blanket. She had no idea how much time had passed. With her ears perked toward the window, she listened intently for sounds of cars in the driveway, police sirens, people’s voices. But it was quiet. Eerily so.
The silence spun around her like a spider weaving a web. It was as confining too. Panic threatened to overtake her. Overhead, Mr. Packard was moving again, his footsteps slow and methodical. When they neared the basement door, her insides churned. She froze, involuntarily holding her breath, as the knob slowly began to turn.