The Lurking Man (12 page)

A second black box slid into the light and came to rest at her feet.

“Take this box to the table, place it next to the first one, and open it. Inside, you will find out what you really are like deep down inside. Because what is inside there is the moment that defined you, captured by me for you to see. I've held onto it all this time for this very moment.”

She chuckled in doubt and lifted the box without hesitation. It was heavy and she struggled to place it on the table. Ends of an elaborate black silk bow were easy to see. She gave them a gentle tug that unraveled the knot elegantly. The black wrapping required a detailed
examination to locate the seam, and when she found it she peeled it away and a plain brown box was all that remained.
 

Apprehensive, but unable to resist the need to open it, she drew a deep breath and grasped the lid with stiff fingers. Lifting it, her eyes widened but her expression sullied. The light above her head, as powerful and as bright as it was, didn't illuminate the contents of the box. The pitch-black held within the square matched what was beyond her circle of light perfectly.

Submerging her hand into the uninviting maw, the sting of its touch mimicked that which Sariel's stroke had left on her chin. Refusing to give into the desire to pull away, she discovered something big and heavy lying flat on the bottom. She took hold of it and strained her muscles as she withdrew it.

She stared at it for a moment and tried to figure out what she held.

“Turn it over and look at it,” Sariel said.

She rotated it and jerked in surprise. A forceful shriek erupted from her opened mouth and she tossed the heavy thing to the floor. It was some type of mold of Mr. Hagen's face, the man that had tracked her down in the lily garden and grabbed her by the ankles. The porcelain cast split in half. The crack went around the left side of the mouth, across the bridge of the nose, and through the right eye.

“It is his death mask,” Sariel said.

“Why would you mold his face and show it to me?”

“So you could see what he looked like in his final moments.”

“Damn him,” she said in a blind rage and picked up the smaller half of the mask, lifted it over her head and slammed it on the tabletop. It shattered and blended perfectly into the snowy floor.

“Yes,” Sariel said. “Damn him.” 

Chapter 14

 

 

A WHITE LIE

 

 

The past.

 

Mr. Hagen pulled Cailean out of the thicket by her ankles.

“No!” she screamed. “Get your hands off of me!” She kicked and clawed at the dirt.

“Stand up on yer own two feet!” he said.

He picked her up and set her down.

“Look at what you've done to my lilies!”

She stared into his wide eyes, filled with rage. The overpowering stench of body odor filled her nostrils and she turned away.

“Look at me when I'm talking to you!”

She took a small step back, but the thicket blocked her way.

“I want you to look at what you've done,” he said.

She looked down the path she'd been running and almost every single one of the four-foot flowers leaned over, their stems split. The disappointment that she didn't get them all made her frown.

“Why would you cut down my lilies?” he said.

“I didn't do that,” she said. “I don't know how that happened.”

“Is that so?”

He watched her closely.

He took out a cigar and lit it. Three quick puffs and he bent at the waist and looked into her eyes. “Then what was it you were doing when I shouted your name?”

“I wasn't doing nothing! I didn't even hear you call my name like you say you did.”

“Then why did you try and hide after I shouted out to you?”

“I wasn't hiding. I was playing and I fell.”

“You were playing?”

She nodded.

“I don't like what I see in your eyes,” he said. “Something ain't right with you.”

She shrugged.

“Your dress is covered in dirt. Your mother is going to tan your hide for ruining your Sunday's best.”

She inspected her clothes and saw the stains. “I have to get home and clean up.”

She motioned to step past him, but he blocked her way.

“I don't want you going anywhere just yet.”

He knelt and looked around the undergrowth he had pulled her from. She could see him crane his neck from side to side.

He stood and held up two sickles for her to see. “Then what were you using these for?”

She shrugged again. “I wasn't using them because I ain't never seen those before.”

“You sure are trouble, child. If I were to show these to your father do you think he'd recognize those as belonging to him?”

“I don't know, it's like I said, I've never seen them before.”

“That's your story and you're going to stay with it?”

“It's the truth,” she said and stepped on a bug that dared cross her path. “Besides, how should I know what kinda tools he's got? I'm not allowed in the toolshed and he made me promise I wouldn't go in there.”

“Is that so?”

She smiled.

“What causes you to behave the way you do, Cailean?”

“I didn't do nothing wrong,” she said.

With a look of discontent and a shake of his head, he said, “I'll never get the truth from you. Where are your parents right now?”

She hesitated. “They went to the store and they won't be home for at least another hour.”

“I think you're lying because that is all you seem to do. Now tell me, are they home right now?”

“No! Go ahead and look if you don't believe me,” she said. She waved her hand in the air and tried to disperse the cigar smoke.

He rubbed his chin and puffed on his cigar. “I don't know why they insist on leaving you home alone when you do nothing but cause trouble. This is the second time this week you've destroyed things of mine and now you're going to have to answer for it.”

She glared at him. “I already told you I didn't do nothing to your stuff!”

“Go on,” he said and stepped aside. “Get outta here. You're destroying my livelihood and I won't stand for it anymore. I'll be over your house around suppertime to speak to your parents. That should give you plenty of time to come up with an excuse. You better make it a good one.”

She hesitantly stepped around him and watched him out of the corner of her eye.

“I know everyone is struggling, but there's got to be repercussions for your bad behavior or you'll grow up to be a no good bum.”

“That'll still be better than what you do,” she said and continued to watch him. When she created enough distance, she ran as fast as she could through the field of lilies and around the side of his house, across the street, and into her house.

“Mom!” The tears came quick and her mind worked fast.

Her mother met her a few feet into the doorway. Cailean was in full hysterics, crying so hard she could barely breathe.

“Cailean, honey, what is it?”

She tried to speak but the words were indecipherable.

“I need you to calm down, honey,” her mother said. She rubbed her back and hugged her. She brought her daughter into the kitchen and looked over her daughter's filthy hands, stained dress, and muddy shoes.

“Were you up in the tree again? Did you fall and hurt yourself?”

“No,” she said and shook her head, her hair whipping from side to side.

“Tell me what happened. Please, baby, you're scaring Momma.”

“Cailean?” her father said. He appeared by the back door and the bright day's sun cast him in shadow. “You need to answer your mother and tell her what's going on.”

She calmed herself as she watched her father move into the house. He was a big man and was very quiet. He worked hard all day long and she hardly ever saw him. Providing for the family was what he always did.

Sweat soaked his shirt and he wore his field hat with a bandana pinned to the back to protect his neck from the hot day's sun. He removed his hat and watched her carefully. Concern covered his tanned face.

“What happened, darling?”

He had been working in his own lily fields, tending to the harvest he readied to pot so he could sell. He reeked, too, but his smell didn't bother her.

“I did something terrible today, Daddy,” she said. “I went across the street to Mr. Hagen's. I went to see his lilies.”

“Aww, dammit, Cailean.” He slapped his hat against his thigh. “You went back over there after what happened with him the other day? Why would you go and do such a thing? Do you know what trouble this can cause us?”

“Shh, let her speak,” her mother said.

“Daddy is right. I shouldn't have gone over there,” she said, and the tears continued to flow, breaking down her composure. “I just wanted to compare his against ours to see how much we might get against his stock.”

“No, honey, you let the buyers decide that,” he said.

“I know how important it is that we sell our stock this year . . . that our farm depends on it. But all I was doing was looking, I swear.”

“So why are you covered in dirt?”

She cried hard. Her face was as red as an apple and she wiped her tears with her dirty, trembling hands.

“Please, Daddy, don't be mad at me.” Smudges of dirt hid her freckles.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I went over there when I knew I shouldn't. And . . . I don't want to say it because I'm afraid of what might happen.”

“Why would you be afraid? Did he threaten you or something?”

Cailean stopped her tears and looked at him in the eyes. Devoid of emotion, she said, “No, he did something much worse than that to me.”

“Worse?” He dropped to a knee and took his daughter's small hand into his calloused grasp. “What do you mean, ‘worse'?”

“He forced me to my knees and unzipped his pants.”

“He did what?”

“Oh my God!” her mother said and she started a frantic search for the phone.

“I don't want to hear any more,” he said, and stood. His movement was robotic and his demeanor changed to make room for the obvious, unspeakable rage that filled him.

“He told me he could make your life hell because of what I did, and he said if I didn't do as he said he'd say I damaged his crops. I ran away as fast as I could.”

Blank faced and clearly detached from the moment, Cailean's father exited the kitchen.

“Hank?” her mother said. “Don't do anything stupid. Let me call the police and let's let them handle it.”

He apparently didn't acknowledge his wife's words. Inside the hallway closet he removed a shotgun and exited the house.

“Mom?” Cailean said, and she thought she might have gone too far. She ran to her mother's side. “Daddy, please don't go over there!”

“Hank!”

As he walked across the street, Cailean saw him check to see if the gun was loaded. When he arrived at Mr. Hagen's front door, he knocked hard, took a step back, and aimed his weapon.

When Mr. Hagen opened the door, Cailean could see the flash from the muzzle and simultaneously, see the old man get blown back inside his house. The piercing sound of the gun blast quickly followed and she watched her mother run out of the house and across the street. Grounded by her lie and what it caused, she began to cry.

“Hank, what have you done?” her mother screamed. 

Chapter 15

 

 

KEEPING SECRETS, NO MATTER WHAT

 

 

Present day.

 

“Your father spent the rest of his life in prison, believing with all of his heart and soul that he was being punished unjustly. You put him there because you were a coward,” Sariel said.

“But I was only a child.”

“He thought the man he killed was a terrible person that had committed an unspeakable act against his child. In that moment he went to get his gun, something inside his mind snapped and there was no going back. He didn't plan his malice like you did.”

“I can't be held responsible for that. I was scared and didn't know what to do.”

“You weren't scared. You were . . . emerging.”

The insinuation inflamed her ire and she pushed her fingers into her ears to try and elude it.

“Stop telling me these things. What's done is done and I cannot change it,” she said.

“Cold and calculating, that's what you are. I often wondered how he would have felt if he knew the truth.”

His gruff voice penetrated her barricade, and to her dismay, she heard every word.

“Do you remember the first time you saw your father through the glass inside the prison?”

“Yes,” she said and the memory came as he spoke it. The concrete and steel and the loud bangs and tight handcuffs seemed so inhumane. He appeared tired and weak and she couldn't stand to see it. Apprehension, regret, denial, and guilt were in a tug-of-war with her emotions.

“What was he doing?”

She lowered her hands away from her ears.

“He was holding the phone, waiting for me to take it from my mother so he could talk to me.”

“What were you feeling?”

“I was frightened. I didn't want to talk to him, but I knew I must or he'd somehow know about my deception.”

“He was locked in a cage for the rest of his life and armed guards surrounded him constantly. What were you frightened of?”

“Anyone finding out the truth—especially him. I wanted to tell him and almost did, but I couldn't.”

“Why?”

“Because then everyone would know it was my fault.”

“During the trial they said he had gone on a rampage; that he had snapped over Mr. Hagen's success and his own failures. They charged him with premeditated murder and your father pleaded guilty to those charges.”