Neville shut the door none too gently as he sat down in the passenger seat, doing up his seatbelt. Well, that was a colossal waste of time.
Antonio turned the keys in the ignition and pulled away from the neighbourhood. The majority of the ride passed by in silence. It wasn’t until they were back in Clovertown when Neville decided to break the ice.
“So what did you think?”
“Hmm,” Antonio said after a pause. “I’m not sure what to think. Your son did seem rather shifty there.”
“Yes…yes he did.”
“We need more information first.”
Neville drummed his fingers together.
“What do you think?” Antonio asked after another pause.
To that, Neville had no answer.
Despite having just checked at the motel, Neville wanted to return home already, but Antonio advised him against it. He could still well be in danger. They really hadn’t found out anything, after all. After some persuasion, Antonio convinced Neville to stay in his cheap and sleazy motel room for now. After some persuasion of his own, Neville convinced Antonio to take him back to the cabin first to pick up some more items. Neville had no idea when he’d be returning again, and he hadn’t efficiently packed last time.
Antonio agreed. Against more odds, his car made it through the ice and snow and up the mountainside without any accidents along the way.
“Do you need me to come in?”
“It’s okay. I won’t be long.”
Antonio waited quietly in the car while Neville unlocked the door and stepped inside. Neville sat down in his couch, longing to stay there and appreciate the warmth of another fire. He nearly succumbed to the temptation, but Antonio would only wait for him so long.
Despite his rushed packing job last time, he couldn’t think of anything else worth bringing. Maybe the real reason he’d come back up here was so he could see the cabin again. Even for the short length of time he’d been away from it, he’d already been starting to miss it.
And now he had to leave again already. He groaned, sheepishly trying to think of a good excuse when Antonio asked why he hadn’t brought anything with him. He was about to leave when his safe caught his eye. The safe he kept meaning to move to the basement, but never got around to. He was confident only he knew the combination. But confidence would do him no favours if he were wrong.
He opened the safe, to reassure himself everything was still there. Everything was… except…
No, it couldn’t be. He leaned his head closer to the safe and squinted, hoping to notice what might be hidden in plain sight. But it was not hidden in plain sight; it simply wasn’t there.
His heart raced as he took off on another frantic run through the house, throwing open drawers and cupboards. He jumped out of his skin when he heard the door knocking. But it was only Antonio.
“What’s with all the commotion?” he asked when Neville opened the door. His tight detective’s eyes sped around the house, taking in all the mess. “What –”
“It’s gone. The necklace.”
“What necklace?”
“My wife’s. I keep her necklace in my safe.” He led Antonio across the house to show him. “In there. That’s where I keep all my valuables. The necklace was there too. Now it’s gone!”
“I would love to help you look for it,” Antonio said, “but I don’t have all day. I need to get back to the station.” Like a father asking his child, he said, “Are you sure it was in the safe? Can you think of anywhere else you put it?”
“No, it wouldn’t be anywhere by this safe. I always keep it there; I never take it out. Could you give me time to look for it? Please? It’s my wife’s. It’s important.”
Antonio rubbed his chin. “Very well.” He left Neville there and returned to his car. He hadn’t said how much time he was willing to give Neville, but Neville fully intended to take as much time as he possibly could. Whatever important business Antonio had at the station, it could wait. It would wait. And Neville would have none of that ‘it’s just a necklace’ bit. This was not just a necklace. Anything but.
He scrambled around the house, flipping over and tearing apart every box or container he could find. The house grew messier and messier as every second passed, and the search grew more and more futile.
He sat down on the couch to take a short break, gasping for breath and sweating madly. Neville had ran out of time, it seemed, for Antonio came knocking on the door, again scaring Neville to death.
Looking at the even bigger mess, he wryly commented, “No sign of the necklace, I see.”
Neville slumped his shoulders.
“You’ll have other chances to look for it,” Antonio said. “But I’m afraid I –”
“I know, I know. You have to get back to the station.” Neville sighed, eyeing the pathetic mess that was his cabin.
He heaved himself to his feet. “Okay, let’s go,” he said glumly. He’d leave the messy, untidy cabin at it was. He’d clean it up some other day, when he had the time for it.
Neville locked the cabin door behind him and, suitcase in hands, he followed behind Antonio and piled his stuff into the car.
It is just a necklace, he told himself. Only the necklace that belonged to his late wife.
As the small car drove down the mountainside, an ugly thought occurred to him.
What if someone had stolen it?
He lay on the hard, flat mattress of the motel bedroom. The dull, creaky fan spun around and around above him. He was pretty sure he could literally see the dust forming thicker and tighter the longer he stared at the walls and ceiling. The fan’s spinning motion was soothing, yet he shut it off when the creaking became too much. With the fan off, the room grew insufferably hot. Hot to the point of making him sleepy, yet he wasn’t tired enough to actually sleep.
Neville was used to mind-numbing boredom, but this was too much even for him. The room was so sweaty and stuffy, the intense cold outside had grown appealing. He longed for something to do that could help him take his mind off the necklace. Sitting alone in this drab room and watching the fan only made the brooding worse and worse.
He left a note for Antonio or any other officers who might come to check on him, declaring his intent to go for a walk. He wondered if he should phone them to get their permission first, but he didn’t want to be told he couldn’t leave the motel room, as he suspected. No, a note was good enough.
Tightening his coat around him, he trudged through the snow with no clear direction of where he was headed.
Clovertown was a small town, but you wouldn’t know that from wandering through its cramped, maze-like streets, surrounded on all sides by tall buildings that blocked any view to the outside world.
A reprieve finally came in the form of a small park outside the claustrophobic bustle of the downtown. Snow blanketed the swings, monkey bars, and other intricately-designed play equipment. Today, it looked to be nothing more than a desolate wasteland. He brushed the snow off one of the swings and sat down. He rocked back and forth. Gently at first, but he swung higher and higher the longer he stayed. The eight-year-old in him took the challenge to see how high he could go, aiming to beat his record. Every time he cleared it, he aimed to top the next one by swinging even higher.
It soon made him nauseous. He slowed back down to the gentle, idle pace he’d begun with.
The neighbourhood surrounding the park was a lot like his son’s neighbourhood. Not the same, but similar; just a tad less poor. While Thomas’ neighbourhood was uncomfortably poor and shabby, this one struck the right balance of being neither too rich nor too poor. It was humble and gentle.
Many of the lights from the houses were on, with families enjoying warm dinners. Neville even caught eye of a chubby St. Bernard curled up next to the window, fast asleep.
He’d always liked dogs. He had to ask himself, not for the first time, why he didn’t already own one. He enjoyed his solitude. And yet, the companionship of a dog still appealed to him after all these yea
rs. He remembered as a child, his family had owned a lot of dogs, and he had loved each and every one of them.
Those days were long gone now. The thought of it filled him with a sadness too vast for words. He tried to think of something else and would up thinking about the necklace again, an even more depressing topic. And he wished he’d never thought of the idea that someone stole the necklace; now it was something he couldn’t stop obsessing over. The fact that he had not the slightest idea of who could’ve stolen the necklace only served to make it that much more infuriating.
He again looked into the warm house where the St. Bernard lay. It stared idly at Neville out in the cold on the swing, stretched, yawned, and then walked away from the window.
In contrast from the house interiors, the streets were as cold and deserted as ever. If you took the houses away, it would be as chilly and barren as his mountaintop. There was only one other figure standing near the park. Nobody else was outside for as far as Neville could see; they all had the good sense to shelter themselves inside their houses and appreciate the warmth.
The lights in the houses reminded Neville it was around suppertime. He didn’t look forward to returning to his uncomfortable motel room, but he was getting peckish. Perhaps he could find somewhere to eat. He was not a fan of restaurants, but so long as he remained in town, he might as well try and make the most of it. Pulling his jackets as tightly around him as they’d go without breaking, he left the park behind.
He gave one last glance behind him. The figure was also leaving the park and coming down the dark, icy streets.
Neville followed down the road. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t remember which way to go. He hadn’t paid any attention to where he’d been going in the first place and had only found the park by chance. He knew he came from downtown, but that was about it. And even then, he couldn’t remember where downtown was. A thin fog had descended, and he couldn’t see more than a couple blocks ahead.
Well, he had wanted activity and exercise, and now he was going to get a lot of that while trying to find the motel again. And he was growing hungrier with every step he took. As he looked around the streets, wondering where to go, he saw the figure a third time. It was then that his warning bells began to softly ring.
The figure was a couple blocks down from where he was, barely visible against the wall of fog. He or she walked in a casual manner, as if Neville wasn’t there. Except that this person seemed to be tracing his every footstep. The figure was too dark and shadowed to make out.
Neville quickened his pace considerably and sidetracked into an alleyway. He came out into a smaller and even more cramped street, more out of the way than the last one. Was he overreacting? Surely it was nobody who held any interest in Neville, and Neville was being a paranoid old clown for thinking otherwise. But then, Neville felt he was justified in being a paranoid old clown these days.
He walked down the street as quickly as he dared, nearly slipping twice. He pressed forward, but his attention was focused far more on what was behind him than what lay ahead. He was almost at the end of the street, and was only starting to reassure himself he wasn’t being chased, when the figure appeared around the corner, chilling Neville’s blood. The figure had picked up the pace.
Neville burst into a run, drawing from an adrenaline and energy he hadn’t known was in him. Down two more alleyways and another street, into an even stranger, sleazier neighbourhood. He jumped into a nearby thicket of bushes, and waited.
The figure soon appeared, and was heading straight for him. The figure kept coming, and coming. That was all Neville needed to see.
Something about the figure was familiar, but he dared not take the time to question it as he broke into another full-out run. Instinct guided him away from the dark, isolated outskirts and to the light of the city. If this figure would track him down everywhere he went, a crowd might be the only place he could lose his pursuer.
He made it downtown, right where he wanted to be with the cover of the evening traffic. Never had he been so happy to see a crowd in his entire life.
Refusing to look back, he dashed across the street, an angry driver honking behind him. Next thing he knew, he was inside a mall. He ran and shoved his way through crowds of people and up an escalator, finally stopping when he was drained of energy. He sat down in a chair in a food court on the second floor. A window overlooked the streets below.
He sat down, panting, ignoring the many strange looks he was getting from the people around him. There was no sign of the figure. He waited, expecting the figure to appear suddenly down below, but there was nothing. Only clusters of other people that kept walking by. He waited. Still no sign.
Okay, time to reorient himself. He stood up and walked toward the window, only to feel exhaustion and dehydration overcoming him. His vision blacked out, and he put his hand up against the window to stabilize himself. Vaguely, he heard someone asking if he was okay.
“I’m fine. I’m okay,” he panted. He waved his hand to indicate whoever it was to leave him alone.
He waited for his dizziness to pass before standing up straight again, his vision clearing. He got right back to work on figuring out what to do next. The area was starting to look familiar now. He couldn’t see the motel, but he thought he recognized the street leading towards it. Not far now, but he’d need to brave the outside to get there. He’d feel much safer the moment he was back in his motel room, but he was scared to leave the mall. There was another, more isolated stretch of street before he’d arrive at his destination.
Neville sped down the street, yet things still seemed to take too long. The motel finally arrived in sight, giving Neville the last boost of energy he needed to reach his destination.
Then the figure appeared, between him and the motel, straight down the sidewalk path he was on. Neville skidded, slipped, and crashed into the hard, icy ground. Pain shot through him and he could only moan, but the adrenaline kicked in and spurred him forward one more time. He scrambled to his feet and zigzagged across the street, around the figure. The figure seemed caught off guard, only for a moment, before coming after him again, closer than ever. Neville ran, the figure in the corner of his eye only spurring him forward harder than ever.
The motel doors came up to meet him. He tripped and fell a second time, smashing into the ice. He picked himself up and scrambled through the doors. He sped through the hallway, up the stairs, and through another hallway until he was at his door. He scrambled for his keys, and in an intense panic thought he’d lost them. But he found them, ripping them from his coat pocket and jamming them into the door. He turned the key, then the door, and fell through. He scrambled back up, slammed the door shut and locked it, and then collapsed on the floor in agony.
“Start again,” Antonio said. “Who was chasing you?”
Neville could barely get the words out because of how much his body hurt. And when he did, he could only get halfway before letting out frustrated groans of pain. All that running, and falling down on the ice twice, had taken its toll. He was pretty sure he hadn’t broken anything, but all his aches and bruises made it feel otherwise.
Neville tried to start again, and had to stop.
“Take your time,” Antonio said.
Neville took five deep breaths, recollected his thoughts, and tried again.
“I was at a park near town. On my way back to the motel, I noticed someone following me. I don’t know who it was; I didn’t get a good look. Only that he…or she, or it, wouldn’t stop following me. I couldn’t shake the person. I ran back to the motel, and was followed the whole way. The last I saw of the person was near the motel, but then he disappeared once I made it inside.”
Neville found the guts to look outside the window, but the figure was still gone. He sat back down.
“As I said, I have no idea who was following me, or why. I can only assume it’s the same person who sent me those messages, but even that I can’t prove. Just a feeling, you know?”
An
tonio rubbed his chin. “What features could you make out? Surely you saw something?”
“Well, the figure wore a jacket, and… wait a minute.” Neville stroked his memories. There was something familiar. He’d noticed it before while being chased, but hadn’t had any time to think about it. Now he was thinking about it, but the more he thought about it, the more it eluded him.
“Well, I’m going to go talk to the receptionist downstairs,” Antonio announced. “She must’ve seen you come in. I’ll find out if she saw anything else. I’ll be back soon.”
Antonio left Neville to sit on the bed and ponder over what it was about the shadowy figure that seemed to strike a chord. Even though it chilled him, he conjured up an image of the figure in his mind’s eye. Try as he might, he could not make out the figure’s face, which seemed only to fade further and further away.
Antonio returned.
“I had a chat with the receptionist. She says she saw you come scrambling through ‘at warp speed’ – her words, not mine – but she saw nobody else outside the motel or anyone that appeared to be following you. She did comment that you got a lot of strange looks from the other people in the lobby.” Antonio bore the hint of a wry smile before his face turned stony and serious again. “I questioned a few other people in the lobby too, and I had a quick look outside the motel. I didn’t see anyone shifty, nor did anyone else.”
“I know what I saw. Someone was chasing me.” Neville’s heart sank. “But you think I’m delusional, don’t you?”
“Delusional or not, someone was responsible for sending you those letters we found from the post office. Something is going on here, one way or another.”
Neville shook his head. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he was going crazy.
“Would you like to be alone?” Antonio asked quietly.
“Yes please.”
“Okay.” He reached inside his coat pocket and left his contact card on the table. “For now, I would suggest you stay indoors. But give me a shout if you see this figure again, or if you think of anything else.”
The men shared their next few moments in silence before Antonio turned heel and left. He opened the door, stepped out, and shut it behind him.
At the very moment the door clicked shut, a lightbulb inside Neville’s head turned on. He knew now what it was that was familiar.
He jumped to his feet and ran across the floor to fling the door open. He called out to Antonio down the hallway.
“What is it?”
“That figure. There was something about him that was bugging me, but I couldn’t place it until now.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“Yes, it’s the jacket he wore! It’s the same jacket Thomas was wearing when we visited him!”
Antonio raised his eyebrows.
They returned to Neville’s room. Neville sat down on the end of the bed while Antonio sat down in a chair.
“So you’re saying that this figure was wearing your son’s jacket? Are you sure it’s the same?”
“It looked the same, that’s for sure. Do you remember how Thomas was wearing that ugly dark green jacket? The figure was also wearing a dark green jacket.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re the same. It could be two different jackets that look the same.”
“It could be, but it might not. Is it really a coincidence that the person who was following me was wearing a jacket that just happened to look the same as the one my son wore yesterday?”
Antonio rubbed his chin. “So you’re saying you think it was Thomas who was following you?”
“Unless someone else took Thomas’ jacket and wore it while he came after me, but I think it more likely it was Thomas himself.”
“Okay, but that leaves us with one big question. Why would Thomas stalk you? What would he be trying to accomplish by doing that?”
As they spoke, Neville was piecing together a theory in his head. It was an ugly and unpleasant theory that did nothing to comfort him.
“I think Thomas might be our mystery e-mail and letter sender,” Neville said. “And I think he was the one who stole the necklace from the safe. He knew I owned a computer, because he was the one who got it for me as a present. He also set me up with an e-mail account and showed me how to use it, so he knew about that too. I think he sent those messages because he wanted try and scare me out of the house. That way, he could come and steal the necklace when I wasn’t there. He knows I always stay at my house, so he needed me out of there so he could sneak in unnoticed.”
There was another ‘why’ coming, so Neville elaborated, “He may have wanted to sell it. You saw the neighbourhood and the house he lived in. It was poor. He and Angela are poor too. The necklace was a wedding present I got for my wife, a long time ago. She always wore it. Probably the most expensive I ever bought in my life, but that’s why I bought it for her. It was to show how much I loved her.
“After…” His voice cracked. “After she…passed…I didn’t have the heart to sell it. The money would’ve done Thomas and I a lot of good. Thomas even wanted me to sell it; he needed the money to care for Cecilia and help pay for her schooling. But I just couldn’t bring myself, so I put the necklace away in my safe. The irony is I hardly ever look at the thing these days. It’s too painful to look at. And yet, I just can’t get rid of it either.
“As for why Thomas may have been stalking me around town, I can’t quite say, but it must’ve been to keep an eye on me, or to keep trying to creep me out to follow up on the messages thing. He knew the name of the motel I’m staying at. We mentioned it to him.”
“And now you think your son stole the necklace so he could sell it? Would he have known how to break into your safe?” Antonio leaned forward. “Do you really think he would do something like that?”
“Yes to all of those. If anyone could’ve broken into the safe, it’s him. My safe is another thing he helped me install a few years back. He either memorized the combination, or had it written down somewhere. He darkened the moment we told him why we were here. And to tell the truth, Mister Mendez, my son and I haven’t always been on the best of terms with each other.”
Antonio sat back up. “I see. Well I guess we should go pay him a visit then. Even if he had the motives and the means to do this, it’s still only a theory that doesn’t guarantee anything.”
“That’s all the more reason to find out.” He leaned forward and cupped his chin between his hands. “I would hate to think that Thomas did do this. Really, I would. But even you pointed out that he seemed shifty. And notice how his reaction when we told him about the whole thing seemed rather muted?”
“Yes,” said Antonio. “I certainly did notice that.”
“Well, I guess we’d better get going.”
As the sun drew lower in the sky, they entered Brookton and reached Thomas’ house. Neville pounded on the door, too angry to be afraid any more. He’d had the whole car ride to stew on this, and had grown more and more convinced with time that his son was guilty, and needed to be busted for it.
Angela answered the door; a woman as small and frail as he husband was large and strong. She frowned slightly. “You’re not solicitors, are you?”
“Huh? No, of course not! Angela, it’s me, Neville. Remember me?”
“Oh. Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t recognize you,” Angela blurted out, clearly flustered. “Please forgive me. Thomas even mentioned you’d been here yesterday while I was at work.” She gave a forced, awkward laugh.
Then she noticed Antonio. Much like Thomas had done yesterday, her demeanour darkened and she seemed to grow uneasy, as if sensing this wasn’t going to be good.
“My name is Antonio Mendez and I work with the Clovertown police department. Is your husband home? We just need to ask him some questions.”
“He’s home. Is everything okay?”
“We just need to ask him some questions,” Antonio repeated.
“Can we come in?” Neville ask
ed. “It’s rather cold out here.”
“S-sure,” she stuttered.
She opened the door for them.
Thomas appeared from nowhere almost the very second they stepped inside. He did not appear surprised to see them this time, nor did he appear very happy. “Back again, I see?”
Neville was quick to note the tension in his son’s voice and the way he arched his shoulders.
“Okay. Hand it over.”
“Hand what over?” Thomas asked.
“Neville believes you have his wife’s gold necklace,” Antonio said calmly.
“In other words, that you stole it,” Neville said.
Thomas blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” Neville said. “The necklace she used to wear all the time.”
“I thought you had the necklace. You kept it in your safe.”
“That’s right. Until you stole it.”
Thomas went red. “Okay, you have some nerve here. We don’t hear from you for months on end. I don’t hear from you for months on end. And then, finally, when you do reappear, all you come here to do is accuse me of thievery!”
“I like to think that my accusation has some merit here.”
“Get out!” Thomas spat. “You’re not welcome here!”
Neville stood his ground. “I’m not leaving until I have that necklace.”
“I didn’t take the necklace! Why would I steal it?!” He was yelling now.
Angela and Cecilia both watched helplessly from the sidelines.
“Why wouldn’t you steal it?! You have everything to gain from selling it and making a fortune off it! You even suggested selling it before! And if you sold it already and can’t give it back, the least you could do is admit what you did and cough it up now.”
Thomas began to shake. “You’re a fool!”
“And you’re a liar and a thief!” Neville jabbed him in the chest.
Thomas shoved him back with unexpected force. Neville stumbled back, crashed into a nearby chair, and fell over. Neville got back up, but Thomas shoved him again, harder. Neville fell down on his side, already sore from hitting it on the ice.
Antonio stepped in front of Thomas. “Stop it! That’s enough!”
Thomas looked ready to use force on Antonio too, and even tilted his arms backward. Antonio remained where he was, unflinching. After a moment of locking eyes and locking horns, Thomas stepped back and averted his gaze in apparent submission.
Antonio came over and helped Neville to his feet. “Are you okay?”
Neville cried out as brutal pain cut through him, and he soon had to sit down again on the floor. “Just give me a moment,” he said to Antonio. “I’ll be fine.” Though he was doubting that. With all the scrapes and brushes he was accumulating lately, he wondered if he’d ever be able to walk normal again.
Angela and Cecilia stood nearby, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
“Okay,” Antonio said to Thomas. “I am going to be taking you to the police station in Clovertown for questioning. I suggest you come peacefully.”
“Wait! You’re taking Daddy away? Why?!”
He ignored the little girl, and the silence felt heavier. As Antonio led Thomas out of the house, Neville limped behind them, not looking back at either Angela or Cecilia. There was no way he would ever be welcome here again.
Antonio ordered Thomas to sit in the back seat. Neville climbed in the passenger seat. Everyone did up their seatbelts as Antonio started the engine and drove them away from the house. Nobody said a word the entire ride. Just once, Neville glanced back at Thomas, and could see his son’s eyes burning with hate.
The harsh winds had died away again, and the winter setting had returned to its former serene beauty. The snowflakes came down; soft, gentle, and soothing. The cold still made its presence felt, but it wasn’t unreasonably biting.
A tug on his fishing line brought Neville back to reality. His hands clamped tighter around his line, spinning faster and faster on the handle. He sat up straighter, gripped the rod tighter, and endured in his struggle against the fish until at last it was his.
For all the struggle the fish had put up, it was not very large. Neville feared he might be losing his touch. Oh well. He’d gotten a good haul today already. The sky was darkening and the air was growing chillier. And his hands ached. Taking that as his cue to leave, he gathered his fishing gear and once again left the lake for another day.
He entered the house and got straight to work cooking and preparing the fish for supper. It was so nice to be back home. He’d only been gone a short time and already he’d missed this place dearly. He’d also gathered one good load of groceries from the store down in Clovertown, so it’d be a long time before he had to go back to the town. As of now, he never wanted to see that place again.
He’d gotten a call earlier that day. The abrupt, shrill ring of the phone had frightened him once again. Still, he found the courage to answer it, and discovered that it was the police station calling him. He’d been informed that the cops had grilled Thomas and found no proof that he was guilty, so they let him go. He had, of course, continued to deny having taken the necklace, and his anger and indignation at being accused seemed genuine (according to the police). The news had disheartened Neville, as the necklace was still missing, possibly forever now. He’d done another extensive search for it since coming back, both in and around the cabin, before finally giving up. Truly, it looked to be gone for good.
Neville once again took note of the coffee stains on the carpet he still needed to clean. Once again, he wasn’t in the mood, and put it off for another day.
Instead he stood at the sink, gutting one of the fish he’d caught today. He hummed an old tune to himself to help himself not think about it, though he knew that would be an impossible feat. As the innards slid down the drain, he looked out his window. He looked out at the skyline to see the sun settling down peacefully. Its magnificent rays shone on the figure, standing many yards away, staring at Neville through the window. Their eyes locked for a moment. The sun shone at the figure’s back, but the figure remained in darkness.
When Neville willed himself to break eye contact, he was running for the phone. Twice the receiver slipped through his sweaty fingers as he tried to grip it. He punched in the number of Antonio’s office.
Please answer! Please pick up!
“Constable Antonio Mendez speaking,” the voice on the other side answered.
“Antonio! It’s me, Neville! Come quick! The stalker’s back! He’s outside my house right now!”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yes! Right outside! And that jacket! He was wearing Thomas’ jacket!”
“Is it Thomas? Did you see his face?”
“I can’t tell. But it was the same jacket. Please, just come quick!”
An agonizing silence on the other end of the phone. Then Antonio replied, “I’ll be right there. In the meantime, keep your doors locked. And stay on the phone. I’ll put you on with another officer.”
The officer told Neville to stay on the line with her, even though there was pathetically little either of them could do until Antonio arrived. When Neville dared himself to look out the windows, the figure had disappeared. Everything around the house was quiet. Even the often windy mountain he lived on had gone still, leaving a dead calm. All it served to do was make his blood run even colder. The officer asked Neville the occasional question, but most of the conversation was silence, her main purpose to seemingly make sure nothing bad happened.
Eventually a sound came, growing louder. The knocking came on his door; it was Antonio, and two other police officers. Neville relayed this to the officer on the phone and politely hung up.
“Oh boy, am I happy to see you guys!” Neville said. Just for a moment, he could swear he saw a small smile from Antonio in return.
“Have you seen the figure at all since we spoke?”
Neville shook his head. “He vanished after I called you.?
??
The officers did a quick looksee around the perimeter of the cabin, but there was nobody in sight. No visible footprints in the snow either.
Back inside, Antonio asked, “Are you sure it was the same figure who chased you through Clovertown?”
“Yes! He was staring right at me through the window!”
“I see. Perhaps you’d like to come back downtown. Given the context of the messages, and everything else, we can’t be certain whether or not this person will try and hurt you. You’d be less at risk back in Clovertown.”
Before, Neville had agreed to the suggestion to retreat to safety. Things were as nerve-wracking as they’d always been. But he wasn’t gonna have it any more.
He shook his head. “And then what? I keep hiding out in motel rooms, always afraid to go outside? No, I’ve had enough of that. I’m staying here I am.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise,” Antonio said. “There’ll be nobody here to protect you if our special someone comes after you.”
“Not unless you stay here with me.”
Neville speared the last piece of fish on the plate with his fork and downed it in one bite. He eyed the coffee stains again and felt strangely self-conscious, even if the officers appeared not to notice.
“Want some?” he asked, feeling the need to say something.
Antonio looked for Neville to the fish, then shook his head. “No thank you. I’ve already eaten.”
The house creaked loudly as the howling wind assaulted it. Neville flinched as it did so.
“You all right?” Antonio asked.
“I guess so,” Neville said. “I keep expecting to look and see that horrible green fleece jacket wherever I turn.”
“Your son’s jacket, you mean?”
“Yes. Well technically, it used to belong to my wife, Clara. I bought it for her, but it was too large for her. It fit Thomas perfectly, so I gave it to him instead, and it’s been his ever since. Nowadays, I wish he’d get rid of it; ironic, considering I never could will myself to sell that necklace. And now it’s gone anyways. Maybe for the better.” For the better. Yeah, sure. It didn’t feel like it was for the better. Even though he’d always kept the necklace in his safe and never looked at it, he’d taken comfort knowing it was there. And now, the longer it was gone, the more he missed it.
“I appreciate this, you know,” he said, feeling the need to say something else. “All the help you’ve given me with this case, I mean.”
“It’s not a problem,” Antonio said. “This is what we do. We help people out.”
“What do you reckon this is really about? Whether it’s my son or not, this person has some motive, surely.” Neville threw up his arms.
“Everyone always has a motive for what they do. It’s all about discovering that motive and finding that person out.”
“I mean, what does he want from me? Why does he keep tormenting me?”
“I wish I could say.”
There was no point worrying about it until happened. In the meantime, Neville tried to go about his usual daily routine despite the officers around, but more and more, he just couldn’t concentrate on anything. A time bomb was ticking.
The plan was, they were waiting to see if the stranger was going to come back at all, as sort of a plan to use Neville as bait. But the plan did not seem to be working well. So far, there’d still been no sign whatever of the stranger, and Neville could sense the officers growing impatient.
The time bomb ticked down for hours and hours, still refusing to go off. At last, Antonio said, “I think we should take you back to the station.”
“But I don’t want to keep running and hiding!”
“You haven’t seen anyone else since you called us, have you? We haven’t seen anyone either. It’s been hours now. Either the person had long gone, or he or she is waiting until nightfall for some specific reason. Whatever the case, I feel mighty uneasy waiting here.”
“But that guy, or whoever or whatever he is, is still out here,” Neville said. “I just want this to be over.”
“So do I, but there’s no need to go about this foolishly. I think we’re better off if we leave this place.”
Neville had to resign himself to the fact that Antonio was probably right, again. Still, he hated giving up like this. It felt like he was letting the enemy win, even if his enemy had probably already been winning the whole time.
Neville dedicated some time to packing up his bags once again. It looked like he’d be spending yet another night in that miserable hotel. Once that was done, they all piled into the police car. Antonio sat in the passenger seat while one of the other officers got in the driver’s side. Neville and the third man sat in the back. The guy in front turned the key. The engine chugged and groaned, and then nothing. He turned it again, and again, but it inspired nothing other than loud complaints from the engine.
“Great!” he muttered.
The officers spent a good ten to fifteen minutes trying to fix the engine, but it had inexplicably died. Neville groaned inwardly. No way he was gonna be walking down the mountainside carrying his heavy bag the whole way.
Failing in their attempts to get the engine going again, the officers went into the house to call the station so they could have another car come get them. It’d be far too long a walk down the mountain otherwise. But they had no luck with the phone either, which seemed to have lost connection.
“You don’t have any electrical problems or anything, do you?” Antonio asked.
“No, I shouldn’t. Remember, I used that same phone to call you guys earlier today.”
“Okay, don’t worry about it. I think I brought my cell phone with me.” Antonio fumbled around in his coat, pulling out a slick and stylish cell phone. It was another ‘new’ piece of technology that seemed like everyone in the world had grown accustomed to, except for Neville.
Antonio dialed the number and pressed the phone to his ear. Even from the distance where Neville stood, he could hear the sound of the dial tone failing.
“What? Come on.” Antonio dialed again and again, only to produce the same result each time. He snapped the phone shut and slid it back into his furry coat pocket. “We’re not getting any reception up here.”
A tingling formed at the tip of Neville’s neck, trickling all the way down his spine and down the backs of his legs.
“It looks like we’re walking then,” Antonio said, peering down the side of the mountain and at the lights of Clovertown lingering far below. He looked back at Neville’s cabin, which seemed to have grown ten times larger and more foreboding. “I really don’t like this. We have to get out of here and now.”
They found flashlights in the trunk of the car. Those, mercifully, still worked. Down the mountainside the four of them walked. Neville had chosen to leave his bag in the car. He was content enough to retrieve it later. He didn’t care about it right now.
Leaving all non-essential gear behind, the four of them took off on the path down the mountainside. The howling wind had since died away and now it was silent, all save for the sound of their bootprints on the snow. The sky grew darker with every minute. Twice a small animal ran by. When they got further down the winding trail, the silence was broken by hooting owls. Neville was pretty sure he preferred the silence.
“Where is the next house?” one of the nameless officers asked over the sound of the owls, as the sky continued to darken. “We should see if we can use their phone.”
“That’s assuming their phone didn’t die out too,” Antonio all but whispered.
“I can’t quite recall fully, but I think the next house is close.” As Neville said it, he thought he could make out the faint outline of a house in the distance. Good thing too. It felt like they’d walked forever and a day already, but the town was still a long way off. The lights from the town were no longer visible behind the trees. Neville had to agree with Antonio; the sooner they escaped here and made it to shelter, the better.
“There. I think that’
s it over there,” Neville said, pointing.
They came up to the house. It looked like the most deserted thing on the face of the planet.
“Do you know the people who lived here?” Antonio asked.
“In a manner of speaking.” It was an elderly couple. Neville knew them to the extent he knew everyone else who shared his mountainside; not very well.
“I don’t know if they’re home right now,” he said to Antonio. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure if they still live here.”
One of the officers went to the door to knock. Neville looked around at the dark outlines of the trees. The owls could be heard closer than ever. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there. With his heightened nerves, the wretched things made him more jittery than ever.
Lower down in the trees, he saw the outline of… something. He squinted, then backed up many paces, behind the police officers.
“What is it?” asked one of the officers.
“There! Right there! I saw him!”
The officers shone their lights toward the now-deserted treeline.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! I’m sure! It was the same jacket! I’d recognize that jacket anywhere!”
The two other officers looked around, shining their lights everywhere and calling out to whoever was there, before Antonio shushed them. They fell quiet, shining their lights around at a slower pace. Everyone waited, and listened. The owls had gone quiet.
The gruelling wait came to an end when the figure reappeared and seemed to come flying at Neville. He screamed, pivoted on his heel, and ran in the opposite direction, into the trees. He heard shouts, and the sound of someone running after him. Whether it was the figure, one of the officers, or both, he dared not look back or slow down.
The terrain abruptly shifted downward. He skidded, tripped, and stumbled forward. He was falling; tumbling downward while his world spun into chaos, and then blackness…
Faraway, he heard someone calling out his name. The person called again. He opened his mouth to answer back, but the words were lost in a moan. The voice called out his name twice more, but it was fading.
He opened his eyes, but he could not see. His heart leapt into his throat. Was he blind? Against the blackness, he could see the thin outline of his gloved hand. He was not blind. It was only that the night was pitch black now.
His head throbbed. His muscles were agonizingly stiff, made worse by the miserable, unrelenting cold he now despised.
All he could think about was that he might die out here. Lost and alone; missed by no-one. They’d find his frozen corpse the next day, half-buried in the snow. Maybe he should lie back down, and give in to the darkness. A part of him longed for everything to be over. A part of him had always longed for it.
Or his pursuer might catch up to him before he could freeze. They could be only a few feet apart, and Neville would never know until it was too late. Fear shot through him and his thoughts of suicide were gone. He had to make it through this. He had to live. Against all the pains in his body, he rose to his feet.
He rubbed his sore head. The last thing he remembered was losing control of his legs and plummeting down the side of the mountain, around and around. He must’ve hit his head and passed out. He could be miles away now from where he’d started. He walked around blindly, slowly, using his outstretched hands to feel for what unseen branches or other objects might be in his way. After a few minutes, he got a feeling of the elevation. If he could climb the hill in the blinding dark, he might be able to bring himself closer to where he’d been before. It was his best chance at finding one of the officers.
No. Climbing the hill in such blinding darkness would be foolhardy at best. He could see so little, he should stay where the ground was relatively flat.
He listened, but he could no longer hear his name being called. He looked and listened in every direction. Nothing. He had no idea of where he was or where to go, so he picked a direction and went with it. He moved slowly. The figure could be anywhere. Even right behind him. But if so, it couldn’t be helped. His only chance was to keep moving.
He found a spot where the slope evened out, away from the trees. He was back on the road. He felt a tad more confident now. With the momentary reprieve from the trees, he could even see further ahead, and the blinding darkness was no longer so blinding. He tried to call out, but his vocal chords seemed to have long given up on him.
The road followed on the same elevation in both directions for a distance, then sloped. If he followed the road upward, it might lead him closer to where the house and barn were. It could be his best chance at getting closer to the officers, but even that couldn’t be said with much certainty. They could be anywhere now. And so could the figure out there, watching him…
His best chance was to go the opposite direction, down the mountain in the direction of Clovertown. He could find the police station and hole up there, hopefully reuniting with Antonio and the other officers. Assuming nothing bad had happened to them…
He soldiered on down the path. Clovertown was still invisible behind the immense stretch of trees. Further down, and the trees opened out into a clearing to the left. Strangely curious, he stopped to take a look. A drab barn rested at the end of the clearing, as deserted-looking as the house before it. The barn might’ve held animals at one time, but Neville guessed they were long gone now. It was as if all life on the mountainside had been sucked dry. Everything here in the twilight haze looked dull, repellent, and dead.
At that moment, he knew. Before he looked, he knew. He turned his head, and the figure was there in the trees, opposite the clearing. For a moment, everything seemed to fall into slow motion. Just him and the figure was all there was. The figure came towards him. His adrenaline kicked in once more, and then he was running.
He sped across the clearing to the barn, his panicked mind able only to see the barn and process it as shelter. The barn came up to meet him and he sped through the doorway. He wheeled around and used all the strength in his arms to push the doors shut, and he threw the wooden latch down to seal them shut. He turned around and pressed his back to the doors. His panting was the only noise/sound in the world.
More waiting followed. It seemed like it was all his life had become now. He waited for the figure to come banging or pushing on the frail doors behind him. He waited for something, anything to happen.
Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? Was all this taking place inside his mind? They were questions he might never have the answers to. Questions he didn’t want the answers to.
The barn was dark, all save for the skylight at the far end. The moon had come out from behind a cloud, casting a lone ray of light down into the desolate structure. It shone like a beacon amidst the gloom on all sides around it.
He turned his gaze, and the figure was there, standing still and silent in the shadows. Neville could not see the eyes, but knew he was being watched all the same. He screamed again, but the figure did not move. He ran backwards until he slammed against the wall and fell down. Only then did the figure move forward. He tried to will his body back up, to keep running, but he couldn’t. It was over. All the days of constant running and his injuries had finally caught up with him.
“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” He finally found his voice, and expended his final piece of energy right there with it. He wheezed, and could do nothing more save to wait for his impending demise. The figure did not relent. It came to him, closer, closer. He pressed himself against the wall, unable to look away.
It came to him, stepped into the moonlight, and stood above him. At last he could see her. It was Clara, his wife. The gold necklace rested around her neck. He spoke her name, fearfully, but she shushed him.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, and all at once he believed her, all the pain and fear gone. She reached a hand toward his face, to catch the tear that dropped from his face. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” Everything about her soothed him. But it was her eyes that truly caught him. He looked
into her eyes. Her soft, gentle eyes.
The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Antonio knocked on the house door. He had no idea why. Not only had he confirmed that the former residents of the house no longer dwelled here, but he’d even entered the house and searched through it many times in his search for clues. It was an instinctive reaction to knock when he came to the front door of someone else’s house, he supposed.
It was the sixth day he’d been out searching now. Each day had become more hopeless and uneventful than the last, and no progress had been made between the day the officers had started to now. With zero leads, Antonio didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to motive the others to keep looking for Neville. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to motive himself.
The first person they’d gone to, of course, was Thomas. He’d denied any knowledge or involvement in the events of a few days ago. He seemed legitimately surprised to hear what had happened, and was especially upset to learn of his father disappearing without a trace. Inexplicably, Thomas’ fleece jacket had been found, returned to the closet in his house. Despite it, Antonio concluded that Thomas was guilty of nothing, and reassured the young man they’d let him know when they turned up with anything. If they turned up with anything, but Antonio chose not to word it like that.
Well, here he was now, alone, on the mountainside at the same place in front of the same house where it had all happened. You wouldn’t recognize it was the same place, though. It looked completely different in the daytime, to the point that Antonio was even wondering if it was the same place and same house. But he’d followed the footprints from Neville’s cabin all the way down here; multiple times. Provided his senses weren’t playing tricks on him, and that the path of footprints hadn’t changed, it was indeed the same place.
He shivered and wrapped his arms around his chest. Focus, Antonio. You have a job to do. Well he was focusing now, but he’d long exhausted anything new he could think of to try, and was left to rehash and repeat the same tired actions. He kept following Neville’s footprints, walking back and forth and creating more and more footprints of his own. He felt like he was disturbing a crime scene, but he was failing to think of what else to do other than wander around and hope something came to him.
He followed Neville’s footprints away from the house and into the dense trees. The footprints led up to a sudden downward slope, and stopped, presumably marking the spot where Neville had lost balance and slipped down the slope. Antonio carefully manoeuvred down the slope, following his own recently-carved set of footprints. He had discovered Neville’s footprints again at the bottom of the slope where the elderly man must’ve gotten back up and kept walking. Antonio followed Neville’s trail further down the mountainside, until it veered off into a clearing next to the road. The trail took him further on to an ugly barn with its paint half-peeled off the walls.
And that was where the footprints ended. It was easy to guess that Neville had gone inside, but whatever had happened next was an enigma. Antonio stepped inside the barn for the umpteenth time, dashed of the hope that he’d notice something he hadn’t before.
Only this time, he did notice something he hadn’t before. He saw a flash of gold, half-buried in the hay. He hurried to dig it up. It was a necklace. The idea came to him that this might be the golden necklace Neville had talked on about. Yes, yes, it had to be.
He studied it. While he had no affinity for jewelry, even he could readily admit it was a lovely piece—diamonds clustered thickly on the gold.
He gripped it until his fingers hurt. What felt like it should be an invaluable clue only frustrated and discouraged him further. He was more confused than ever.
He felt guilty about leaving so soon, but he’d had enough for one day. In spite of his resolve breaking down ever further, he firmly told himself to try again tomorrow, not quite ready to give up yet.
But the next day, as well as the day after, would prove fruitless, and Neville was never heard from again.