Searching for Yesterday (16 page)

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Authors: Valerie Sherrard

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BOOK: Searching for Yesterday
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“There's another entrance around the back of the building,” Brandon whispered as we hunkered down, hoping the darkness and brush were providing enough cover. “I'm going to work my way around there, just in case.”

If you've ever been in a position where you had to be really still and quiet, you'll know how difficult that can be. All of a sudden you're plagued with the need to cough or sneeze, and chances are good that you'll develop an itch that will nearly drive you crazy.

I willed away the scratchy feeling in my throat and did my best to ignore the tickle of sweat on my back. It seemed unfair that I was sweating when it was so cold outside, but I suppose the combined fear and excitement had something to do with that.

Time passed — I have no real sense of how much time. It could have been five minutes or half an hour. It seemed long, but I knew that in a situation like this it feels as though time is standing still. Now and then I'd
think I saw something moving, but when I focused and looked harder there was never anything there.

And then there were sounds — the first one sharp and loud, sending a shot of adrenaline racing through my veins, jolting my heart into furious action. To my left, I could hear sharp intakes of breath from Kayla and Annie and I knew that I, too, had gasped.

“It's just a door,” Kayla said in the lowest of whispers. And she was right, but there were other sounds that followed: shuffling, footsteps, and then a voice, low and intense.

“I don't know who you are or what you take me for, but you've just made the biggest mistake of your life, fella.”

“Lenny,” Annie said, her voice so low I could barely hear her a few feet away. “Is he talking to ...”

Kayla's hand reached out involuntarily and grabbed my sleeve as two men came into view: Brandon in front, Lenny close behind, looking around as they made their way toward Lenny's car.

“I'm not about to argue with a man who has a gun,” Brandon said. I knew instantly that he wasn't really speaking to Lenny — he was telling us, warning us, that Lenny was armed. He was telling us to stay out of sight.

It didn't matter. Kayla burst upward, crying out her brother's name, her voice an agony of terror.

“What the ....” Lenny swung toward Kayla and then, in a flash, back to Brandon. “Don't get any ideas,” he
snarled at Brandon and then added, speaking to Kayla. “And you, get over here where I can see you!”

I was just thinking that if only Lenny didn't come over, didn't look to see if anyone else was hiding, Annie and I would be able to call for help as soon as he was out of hearing range.

And then the phone in Annie's pocket rang.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-F
OUR

Annie froze, though one hand had begun to head toward the phone, moving reflexively

Lenny took a few quick strides in our direction, meeting Kayla halfway and spinning her around. “Anyone moves and she's dead,” he said. I couldn't see the gun, but by the way his arm was positioned behind her it wasn't hard to tell where it was.

Then he walked toward us, pushing her along while darting looks at Brandon to make sure he wasn't trying anything.

The phone was still playing a happy little tune when he reached us, looked down, and snorted. “You!”

“I
thought
I set the phone to vibrate,” Annie said. “I'm so sorry.”

She'd been looking at Kayla but it was Lenny who responded with, “Give me that thing.”

Obediently, she passed it to him. He took it, waited for it to stop ringing, and then snapped it open and punched the off button. He shook his head and kind of laughed. “
This
is what I was dealing with — this three ring circus? Man, this is unbelievable.”

“Look, we were just ...,” Brandon began.

“Shut up! I don't want to hear a word from any of you. I gotta think here.” Even though he wasn't yelling or anything, there was panic in his voice.

Annie and I were on our feet by then and when Lenny motioned for us to move, we did what we were told. He herded us over to where Brandon was standing and then, after looking at his car and apparently deciding against stuffing us all in there, he ordered us inside the foundry.

It was damp and very dark inside, but Lenny fixed that when he picked up a flashlight he must have brought with him and flicked it on. It was really bright, and we could see that we were in a small room — probably an old employee room or maybe an office.

“Over there — go sit along that wall,” he said gruffly, pulling a package of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lighting it.

“What are you going to do to us?” Kayla asked. Her chin was up and she wore a defiant expression, even though her voice was trembling.

“Who sent the letter?” he asked, ignoring the question.

“I did.”

“So, the whole thing was a trap. There was no blackmailer?”

I said nothing, but it was pretty obvious he had it figured out.

“I was
sure
no one saw me,” Lenny said, shaking his head. He seemed to be talking to himself. “I should have known this was a set-up.”

“Is
this
where my mother's body is?” Annie's voice was quiet, but there was a hard edge to it and I could almost feel the anger radiating from her.

Lenny didn't answer or look at her. “

Is it
?”

“Shut up, kid,” he said, but he still didn't look at her.

“I want to know
why
you killed my mother,” she said.

“You've got no proof that I did
anything
to your mother,” he yelled. “I don't even know why we're all here right now. You set me up to think some crazy is out to get me and you follow me here ...”

“I
know
what you did,” she said.

“Yeah? So tell me: what did I do?”


You
...
know
...”

Annie could get no further. The sorrow she had been holding in broke, pouring out of her in tears and anguished sobs. Lenny looked uncomfortable, and then angry. He waved his gun at Annie and told her to knock it off, but all she managed was to cry a bit more quietly.

“It's pretty hard to kill someone and get away with it,” I said, pulling his attention from her. “There are always mistakes. The only reason that no one found them before is because no one was looking.”

Lenny sneered dismissively, but I could tell he was nervous.

“It's even harder these days — with forensic evidence and all.”

“So?”

“So, what are you going to do next? Kill all of us? That's four bodies to get rid of. And you've got tracks in the snow, two cars to dispose of ... and through it all
one hair, one flake of skin
, is all it will take to give you away.

“And what about the people we've talked to — who know all about this? We disappear, they'll be lined up at the police station pointing their fingers straight at you,” I continued. His face told me I was getting to him. “Or are you going to try to figure out who they are and kill all of them too? Where does it stop? You can't get away with it. You can't.”

Lenny seemed to shrink (though I can't say that for the gun in his hand). He took a couple of steps backward, his arms falling to his side. He mumbled something but I couldn't make out the words.


Where's
my mother?” Annie asked again.

Lenny looked around at the four of us, his eyes pleading. “I swear, it was an accident. I never meant to hurt nobody.”

“The court will take that into consideration,” Brandon said. “And your best chance of getting a fair deal is if you turn yourself in.”

“But now I've got this ....” Lenny waved a hand, taking us all in. “That thing with Gina just happened ... but
this
is bad.”

“Maybe we can all agree that this doesn't have to go outside the building,” Brandon said. “After all, nothing happened. We came in out of the cold; we talked. That's it.”

Kayla and I nodded to show Lenny we agreed, but Annie had something to say.

“Hold it! Before I agree to
anything
, I want to know exactly what happened to my mother.”

Lenny's head and shoulders slumped forward. He stepped back against the wall and let out a long breath. “That's fair, I guess,” he said. “Only I never talked about this before, to no one, so give me a minute to collect my thoughts.”

I wondered if he was stalling, trying to come up with a whitewashed version, but less than a minute passed before he began to speak.

“It wasn't long after your mom put you to bed that night,” he said. “I was flippin' through the channels, trying to find a game of some kind on TV, when Gina came back downstairs and started in on me for having my boots up on the coffee table. We hadn't been getting along too good for a while, and it didn't take long for
things to get out of hand.

“I called Gina, uh, a few things that weren't too nice, and told her to get off my back. That was when she flicked the dishtowel in my face. The corner of it hit me in the eye, and that stung and really made me mad. I got up and she could see that I was pretty steamed up. She told me to leave her alone and ran out of the room, but I went after her, into the kitchen.

“It gets a bit confused after that. She threw some things at me — a plate, a can of peas ... maybe a couple of other things. I just kept going until I got to her, and I grabbed her wrists and shook her. And I slapped her a couple of times, which I ain't proud of. Then she slammed her foot down on mine and screamed in my face that she hated me and she was leaving. Gina was always saying that — talking about going to the city, taking courses, getting away from a loser like me, anything she could come up with to make me feel small and stupid.”

He paused, averted his eyes, and went on. “I shook her again, kind of hard and then I just ... I guess you'd have to say I flung her across the room. It was harder than I meant to — well, I shouldn't have done it at all, I know, but I never meant to do it so hard. And she kind of twirled, like a ballerina out of control, and then she went down, crashing into the corner of a cupboard.”

There were tears flowing down Annie's face as he went on.

“I heard a sort of crunch and I could see that she'd slammed headfirst into that cupboard and I think I knew, before I even went to her, that it was bad.”

He paused, shook his head like he couldn't quite believe it. “She was just laying there in a heap, her eyes staring out without seeing anything. She was dead.”

He lifted his head and looked at Annie. “You might wonder about that — but I can tell you for certain, there was nothing that could have been done. I swear, if I hadn't been one hundred percent sure that she was gone, I'd have called for help.”

“But you didn't.”

“No, I didn't. I was scared and I panicked. And I guess you know the rest.”

“Where is my mother's body?”

“Here, on the grounds. There's an old well out back, boarded in. I'm real sorry, kid. For everything.”

I hadn't noticed Brandon moving closer to Lenny, but suddenly he was right beside him, taking the gun from his hand. Lenny made no move to resist.

“So, now what?” Lenny asked. “I'm going to take you to the police station,” Brandon told him, “and make sure you turn yourself in. Kayla, are you okay to take the girls home?”

She nodded and we made our way back to the car. No one said much of anything as we drove along. Mostly, I just held onto Annie's hand as she wept quietly.

It was late, well past my curfew, and I was totally wiped out from the evening's events. I knew I had to tell my parents the whole story, but I thought if I could just get into my house without disturbing anyone, that could wait until the next day. For now, all I really wanted was a quick, hot shower, a warm pair of pyjamas, and to crawl into my bed.

But the lights were on in the house when we pulled into my driveway. My folks were up — obviously waiting up. For me.

Looked like I was going to have to face the music right away.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-F
IVE

My mom and dad were sitting in the kitchen, coffee cups in front of them. Both looked up at me when I walked in, but their expressions weren't quite what I'd been expecting. They didn't have that angry/disappointed look I'd seen anytime I'd messed up in the past. Mom spoke first, gesturing toward the chair beside her. “Come and sit down, honey.”

It was all wrong: their faces, Mom's words, the whole atmosphere. Something uneasy stirred in me, but I said nothing. I crossed the room and took the seat Mom had indicated. Fear was beginning to grip me.

Dad cleared his throat.

“Shelby,” he said quietly, “there's been an accident.”

And then I knew.

“Betts!” I cried.

Mom nodded, reaching for my hand, but I was already on my feet, yelling that it was a mistake and
insisting, in spite of the cold dread I felt, that Betts was okay, that she
had
to be okay.

Dad was up and at my side in seconds. His arms circled my shoulders but I shoved him away and stepped back. “Tell me!” I yelled.

“She's alive,” Dad said. “But it's serious. That's all we know at this point.”

“She won't
die
, though, right?”

He couldn't look at me when he said, “It's too soon to say. It was pretty bad.”

“What happened? Do you know what happened?” I suddenly felt wooden, removed. It was like a switch had been thrown, completely shutting down my emotions.

“Guy she was with ran a red light,” Dad told me. “The car was hit on her side — no airbag.”


He
walked away from it,” Mom said. I'd never heard such a bitter tone from her before.

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