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Sinister Sequel, Chapter 37--conclusion

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Published: Jun 28, 2016

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37 Born Again—conclusion

Cora, her face instantly incandescing, pulled in her gaze as quickly as she had sent it, cast her eyes desperately at Alex. “But that doesn’t mean that—Alex, please, you have to understand that”—

But Alex’s eyes fell to her lap. She understood perfectly. “No, Cora, don’t. Don’t apologize. You did what you had to do to survive. I...I told myself...no, don’t apologize.”

For one moment, as Cora’s eyes had locked on hers, Leslie felt herself incandescent as Cora’s face, triumph lighting her whole self. She still loves me. Her heart is still with me! Her eyes had flashed toward Alex even as Cora’s had—

That last day at the airport, sending Cora off to the West Coast, the feeling that nothing was beneath her feet, the world falling away from her as she watched Cora walk away, everything in life following Cora’s small delicate person toward their separation. The emptiness around her had matched the emptiness inside her, the hollowness in Leslie’s stomach, her chest, all of her as she had waved at her disappearing life. That’s where Alex is now, isn’t it? She’s watching Cora walk away from her like I watched her walk away from me.

You wanted this, Leslie. You wanted Cora to choose you over her. Be honest, Leslie, you hated her. Despite every lie you told them about it being okay, every lie you told yourself, you wanted this. So why does it feel horrible?

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Sandy, do you quite understand what you’re saying?”

Stuart’s tone of caution barely touched Sandy. Her discipline kept her on her knees at his side; everything else that was Sandy Peabody Morris wanted to throw herself at Bradley’s throat and tear his life out of him with her own hands. Even her discipline could not keep the image out her mind of Cora supine on a bed, that man crawling atop her, forcing himself on her, in her, Cora’s stricken face as—“Sandy, he is your brother. Your family.”

She tried to remember their life in Center City, two kids arguing over who got the bathroom, giggling as they opened Christmas presents, making faces at each other over dinner, Dad shushing them so he could hear the TV news going on in the next room, but none of that stayed, everything dissolving in the anguish she imagined on Cora’s face as that man took her.

“Cora Lee’s my family, Stuart. You are my family. M’lynn, Annabel, Zach, Olivia are my family. Leslie and Alex.” She could not even recognize Bradley. “This man is nothing to me.”

“Sandy, think very carefully.”

“Stuart, I have. He put Cora through hell. Send him there.” She did not see Stuart smile. She didn’t have to.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“But...”

“No, Cora. Don’t apologize.” Alex’s voice was hardly a murmur. “I...I’m not mad. You did what you had to do to survive, just like Nicole did. It’s just...”

“You love her, Alex. Just like I do.” Alex’s torment should have pleased Leslie, who still remembered their battle in the police barracks in the wake of Cora’s disappearance. Then again, that night, when all thought Cora was dead. We both wanted nothing but Cora back. We said we would settle it, but it’s not ours to settle. It’s Cora’s to settle, and I should be happy for me. But... “It’s not hard to love her, you know. Both of us do.”

“I love you both!” Cora cried out, bursting from her seat and swirling toward the curtained window of the Snoop Towers living room. “But I shouldn’t...can’t...” In her confusion, her eyes met Nicole’s.

<dl>   “No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.” Nicole’s voice, soft, subdued, struck Cora to the heart.

  “But it’s not service, Nicole, it’s love! I’ve loved Leslie since...that day at school, when ‘Ren showed me the essay she wrote, the Misfit People. And Alex...Nicole, I was alone out there, only Aunt Sandy, and Alex...she took us in, she was my friend, and...and then...”

  “And maybe I took advantage of you, Cora Lee.” Alex could look at her again, even as Cora fixed her stricken eyes upon her. “You’re right, you know. You were new, uncertain, naive. And you were so beautiful and frightened...‘Ren even teased me about it, you know. ‘Don’t go cradle-robbing Cora! She’s a babe in the woods!’ You needed someone, and I...” Alex’s eyes firmed. “I took advantage of you.”

  “No, Alex, you didn’t!” And Nicole realized what Alexandra was doing. She was lying. Lying for Cora’s sake. I did it for the Reverend, too, each time he came to me, even that last time to reprieve Cora. And I told myself I did love him, I made myself believe it, believe my own lies. Thou shalt not bear false witness. But it was for him. And for me, that what he did to me would hurt less. But Alexandra...her heart is in torment, it’s so clear. And she’s lying to Cora for her sake, to free her for Leslie. Sacrificing herself for one she loves. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for a friend. And it’s her life Alexandra is laying down, at least that part of it that belongs to Cora.

  “Cora, all you could talk about for weeks was how much you looked forward to seeing Leslie! I...think I knew then...and you knew too, Cora. You knew who still had your heart. You knew I wasn’t who you really wanted, and I think you knew I wasn’t completely honest with you.” She turned away, fled to the door, to any refuge where the sight of Cora—so lovely even in her suffering—could not rend her heart. “I can’t...” And in moments, she was at the very same kitchen table where she had already wept once for the loss of Cora, again weeping into her folded arms.

  “You’re so different from what I thought you would be.” Alex started up, and found Nicole Fairly’s hand on her shoulder, big hazel eyes full of compassion. “I thought people...like you...I thought you were all self-centered, uncaring. I was wrong. You...I know what you did, Miss Blessington. You sacrificed yourself for her. You sacrificed your heart for her. I can’t tell you how noble that is.”

  Alex’s face subsided again. “I don’t feel noble. I just feel...”

  “I know that too, Miss Blessington.”

  “Alex.”

  “I’ve sacrificed too, Alex, and it doesn’t feel noble. It feels like being abandoned. Eloi, eloi, llema sabachthani. ‘Father, why have You abandoned me?’ That was the only way I could do it, Alex, sacrifice myself, by thinking of His sacrifice. I only had to give my body, He had to give His life. And you gave your happiness for Cora. It doesn’t feel noble, but it is.”

  Alex peeked out at a new friend. “I’ve never felt so alone.”

  Nicole took Alex’s hand. “You’re not alone, Alex.” And Nicole let herself feel. And from behind a lock of pink hair, Leslie saw. And knew what to do. No, Alex, you’re not alone. And I’ll make sure of that.

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  Riggs was in full, self-satisfied flower as he re-emerged into the Mistoffelees basement. “A work of art, Cat. An absolute friggin’ work of art. Quacks thinks it ought to go into the fuggin’ Louvre.” He threw himself down into the seat last occupied by the late unlamented Bradley Peabody, stretched himself contentedly. “The driver was still soma’d out, and the van was far enough off the road that nobody has reported it. Not that much traffic out there in any case this time of night, anyway. Anyhoo,” and Riggs grew more expansive as he told his tale, “I stuck Peab—stuck him in the back, made him put his prints on the pistol, then popped Daddy Fairly a couple more times in the coconut. Put him out where we left Oberhaus—we’d had his cuffs off and planted a key on him to make it look like he un-cuffed himself—and I ten-ringed him center mass a couple times. Put the gun in Oberhaus’s hand to get his prints, and to the whole world it’s gonna look like Peabody busted into the van with a pistol, popped Fairly, then Oberhaus freed Mommy and Son Fairly, chased down a fleeing Peabody, and in the struggle he popped Pea—him before he offed himself. With Markley and the von Fairly Family Singers all missing, it’ll look like Peabody forced the van off the road, avenged himself on Daddy, Oberhaus helped the others escape, and Markley swooped in to save Mommy and Sonny-boy. It’ll even work into your plan for ditching the McEllett girl if you play it right, Cat. Now tell me it wasn’t a fuggin’ work of art.” Finally he allowed himself to feel some pity for Sandy. “Sorry for the attitude, Sandy,” he said, trying to look sorry, “but, well”—

  “Don’t be, Marty,” said Sandy. “This way, Cora Lee is safe from him. She won’t ever have to worry about him coming for her again.” She deflected her gaze a degree. “Sooner or later it will hurt, but that’s nothing compared to Cora Lee’s safety. That comes before everything else. Now, all I need is to have Cora Lee home again, and it will all be over.” And as if her request had been heard all the way on Schaefer Street, her phone, on Stuart’s desk, chirped out a text tone. “I need to hurry! Cora can’t see me like this!” Sandy, even a plump little middle-aged aunt, could hurry under the influence of her favorite niece.

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  Ever the doting aunt, Sandy had wrapped up Cora in her arms while her niece wept through her story, from the abduction even to the wrenching talk with Leslie and Alex. Stuart found himself alone in his bed that night so Sandy could stay with Cora Lee in the downstairs guest bedroom in the huge old house, and Leslie, who had brought her and Alex and Nicole back, even through a media melee in front of the house, set up affairs in Cora’s apartment. Alex would have to settle for the sofa bed, while Nicole, the guest, got the bedroom to herself. That will last for a while, Leslie calculated as she turned down the bed for a still-shaken Nicole. “Good, I thought my stuff would fit on you. We’re close to the same size. It’s only a little baggy in places.”

  Nicole looked down at the oversized tee-shirt nightie draped on her robust frame. She had never worn anything like this, neon-green with a huge skull in the middle. She wasn’t sure whether she should flee or laugh. “Thank you, Miss...”

  “Just Leslie,” said Leslie busily as she re-stocked the dresser with her own cast-offs for Nicole. She actually did own some relatively conventional clothes—mostly orphan gifts from Aero or Penneys bought by various sisters and mothers and grandmothers—which would now actually get worn. And again, as it had been that awful day on the mountain, Leslie felt a power inside her she hadn’t before, as a stunned Nicole and heartbroken Alex had followed her lead like children. Me in charge. If that isn’t terrifying! She cast an eye toward the living room, where she had already helped Alex put sheets on the sofa-bed. “And any friend of Alex is a friend of mine, isn’t that right, Alex?” No response. “Bueller?”

  “She’s still in pain,” said Nicole, settling down on her knees at the side of the turned-down bed for prayers. “I’m praying for her. All of you have been so kind, and I don’t deserve it. You don’t understand what I did. But I’m going to repent. I’m going to make it all up.”

  Leslie glanced down at Nicole, then out to the quiet living room. “You’ve already started, Nicole. Now get your rest. You’re sleeping for two, you know. And with the production company on its way, your new boss Cora will have plenty for you to do.” Nicole had already folded her hands and subsided into prayer. “Good night, Nicole.”

  She found Alex lying disconsolate in the bed. No gloating, Leslie. She hurts like you did. “Nicole was right, Alex. It was noble. And she’s very concerned about you.”

  “You have Cora back. I don’t think I ever really had her.”

  “She’ll still need you, Alex. She still cares about you. And the two of us are still mostly going to be on opposite coasts, so she’s going to be lonely. Sometimes, she’ll need you.”

  “You won’t be that long, Leslie. She’ll be back here often, or you’ll be out there, because who she needs is you. She needed you in that stupid home.” She tried to settle herself in her improvised bed. “And Marcus has some people in the agency who represent writers. You’ll be out there.” She fidgeted her pillow, looked back up to Leslie. “I might like that too, at least if we don’t fight over Cora.”

  Leslie nodded. “Good night, Alex. Keep an eye on Nicole.” She was sure she saw the vague beginning of a smile on Alex’s face as she turned out the light and left for home, only to be met at the door by Detective Janet, bringing news from the road to the county lockup. Leslie stayed, because she knew two friends who would need her. She felt strong.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Along a lonely stretch of road south of Sunny Hill, near Evergreen Lake, a late-night traveler home from second shift at the Eastar strip mine nearly struck a girl wavering, seemingly drunkenly, into the middle of the rustic old lane. A panic stop and swerve just missed the girl, her disheveled red hair and the oversized white tee shirt which was the only clothing on her body giving her a sleepwalker’s affect. Her eyes stayed unfocused as the man tried to get her to answer who she was, but the girl could only stare stupidly. Finally, he shook her by her arm. “Who are you, girl?”

  Finally her eyes focused enough to notice her rescuer. After a couple failed attempts, she got her mouth to work. “Kath’rine...Kath...Kath’rine Mc...Ellett. Jus’ ran ‘way. Got ‘way. Was...pris’ner. Pris’ner...John Markley. Got ‘way from ‘im. Did things to me. Got ‘way from ‘im.” She peered closely at his face. “Can you help me?” He was already dialing 911 on his phone.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  Sandy knew Cora would mourn her father. No matter what he had done to her, what he had arranged to have done to her, she would not let go her love for him. She wept at the news Detective Janet had brought to the first floor, just as Nicole did with the news she took to the second floor. Leslie had plied the stairs for hours, alternating between helping Mrs. Morris look after stricken Cora and helping Alex comfort a distraught Nicole. By the time she left the upstairs for the last time at a black 3 o’clock hour, Nicole had fallen asleep in Alex’s arms, and Cora, exhausted in every humanly possible way, slept on the Morris living-room sofa. She would wake in the morning to Leslie holding her hand. And Nicole will wake to Alex holding her. A very good start. Maybe sad for Mr. Peabody, but the only reason I’ll mourn you is for what your death did to Cora. Maybe sad for that Mr. Fairly, but only for Nicole’s bereavement. At least her mom and brother seem to be alive. Did they run, or did someone take them? We’ll help her. Especially Alex. Nicole is like Cora was, you know, Alex. A naive girl needing someone to guide her in a whole new world. You like that in her, like you did in Cora. If you help her like you did Cora, Nicole is in good hands. Good enough to make up for two fathers being dead and a family missing. Which thoughts finally put her to sleep in the Morris stuffed chair of state.

  She had woken up to morning in the Morris living room many times, especially in the youngest days of her romance with Cora. The big filmy-white curtain filtered the sunlight from the east, just over the mountaintops casting brilliant shadows on the hardwood floor of which Mrs. Morris was so proud. “Like old times,” said Sandy, nudging Leslie’s shoulder to rouse her fully awake. “The two of you all passed out. I think I’ve missed that.” Before Cora had had her upstairs apartment fitted out, she lived downstairs with Aunt Sandy and Uncle Stuart much as their own child. And Aunt Sandy liked them to stay where she could keep an eye on them. “At least she slept. Losing her father is hard on her, but maybe it’s for the best. He can’t harm her any more. That helps me deal with it.” Especially since she had herself ordered his death. And perhaps it was Aunt Sandy’s maternal drawl, perhaps not, but Cora’s sleepy brown eye flickered open when she spoke, to be met with a kissed cheek and a sweet good-morning-Cora-Lee by her favorite aunt.

  “I dreamt about him, Aunt Sandy,” she said, suppressing an instinct to rise and prepare for morning prayers as if she were still in the home. “He kept telling me that everything was for my own good.” She glanced up at Leslie as she stretched herself awake, her face pink. “And I taught myself to think of girls as dirty so easily. Were they right? Is something wrong with...” She withdrew her gaze from Leslie. “With me?”

  Sandy fairly pushed Cora upright on the sofa as she shooed Leslie upstairs to retrieve Alex and Nicole. “Cora Lee, my dad—your grandfather—always told me something. ‘God don’t make no junk.’ I was always a self-esteem case, you know, never able to be really trim and beautiful like the other girls, and I always hated myself for it, and Dad would never let me get away with it. ‘God don’t make no junk, Sandra Lynn, so I don’t want to hear it!’ It never really worked, but he meant well.” She took Cora’s hands in hers, pulled Cora toward her. “And God didn’t make no junk when He made you, Cora Lee. He didn’t make no junk when He made you as pretty as a picture, and He didn’t make no junk when He gave you that wonderful voice, and He didn’t make no junk when He made you gay. None of you is junk, Cora Lee.” As she spoke, footsteps rattled into the living room, Nicole with Alex and Leslie on either side as if they had escorted her down. Sandy, a smile still tickling her round pink face, turned toward the other girls. “And He didn’t make no junk when he made all you girls the same way. Even you, Miss Fairly. That family of yours and that preacher might have lied to you about it, but He didn’t make no junk when he made you like Cora and Alex. And partway like Leslie Erin.”

  “But”—

  “No ‘buts,’ Nicole Fairly, or I’ll take yours over my knee! You might be all big and grown up, but I’m not putting up with anyone who hates who they are!” She hoped the crooked smile on her face had mollified Nicole. She still looked utterly lost.

  “But Mrs. Morris, what I did to”—

  “Cora told me everything. You were just brainwashed into it, Nicole, and you’ll just have to get un-brainwashed! After all, you work for her now! And you have a little one coming who’s going to rely on you!”

  “I don’t know how to be a mother, Mrs. Morris. And I certainly don’t know how to be a personal assistant.”

  “Well, Cora Lee doesn’t know how to have a personal assistant, so you’ll both be learning at the same time. At least she won’t be driving herself crazy answering fan mail!” Several bags of which had already inundated Chez Morris. “As for being a mother, you learn as you go. I sure did with Cora Lee! In any case,” she said, rising with an energy which seemed to make even her plump frame levitate, “it’s a new day, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know. I’ll be back in a jiffy, and you three can”—

  “I can help, Mrs. Morris,” said Nicole, starting toward her hostess. “Please.”

  Sandy smiled, that maternal smile that was love as much as any words could be. “Well, Nicole, I’d say you’re already learning your job! Maybe you girls ought to follow her example!”

  Sandy had plenty of help in the kitchen that morning.

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  “You can go ahead and admit it now, Cat,” said Brynhild, lounging in the guest chair in Mistoffelees’s basement office. Both would have to go to their cover jobs soon, so Lynn Sedgwick was dressed for work at the Juvenile Services office. “I’m an artist.”

  “I must say that imprinting James Markley as her abductor was nicely played,” said Mistoffelees, the pink of complimentary courtesy. “Soma-OD treatment is a godsend, I’d say.” The Corporation had learned, quite by accident, that an overdose of soma left the subject very susceptible to the implantation of false memories, a circumstance of which Mistoffelees had already taken advantage once. A number of owners had asked about the practice, too. In the case of Katherine McEllett, she was at that very moment tearfully explaining to police detectives how Officer Markley—still a fugitive, along with Charlotte and Will Fairly, Junior—had held her captive in a remote Powhatan County cabin, drugging and repeatedly molesting her before her escape. The search was already very active, although Markley himself lay in the remote Training Center site being TSSDed by Lerch. Mrs. Fairly and Will were awaiting their turns to have their minds broken. He had a phone in his hand, which he turned over with a smile. “I’ll have to figure out how to return this to Cora.” The Fairlys had taken her phone, only to have Riggs and Beckert find it in the Reverend’s house.

  “Your Quaxo can probably plant it in the evidence stash that’s being gathered from Delacourt’s home,” said Beckert, fidgeting. “I’ve played you fair, Mistoffelees, done all you asked of me. I think I’ve earned my release.”

  “Well, except for that minor thing with trying to collect Miss Abbie and Miss Serenity...” Mistoffelees let the cautionary note hang in the air. “I tend to agree, Beckert. Riggs?”

  Riggs came forward, a styrofoam cup of liquid in his hand. “Just gave this little potion to Lexie Archer not a half-hour ago. The release formula. Tastes like shit, but it does the job. Drink up, dirtbag. But anyway, yeah, for the most part I agree with the Cat. You done good.”

  “Your health, Mistoffelees,” said Beckert, quaffing the drink just before the taste screwed his face into a grimace. “‘Til we meet again. Which I may say I hope is never.”

  “Bon voyage, Beckert,” said Mistoffelees, still the pink of courtesy, as Beckert made his exit out the secret door. “And good riddance,” he murmured as the door closed.

  “I still don’t like letting that dirtbag go,” said Riggs, a bit fidgety himself. His store was due to open in fifteen minutes, and he always liked to be there to unlock the doors himself. “I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, and now he can go underground again.”

  “Perhaps,” said Mistoffelees, and Riggs spun as he recognized a certain tone in his old friend’s voice.

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  The first word of Cora Peabody’s rescue sent the Bettina Bright production company into a frenzy of rushed move preparation. The crew had been unsure whether the movie could be shot with the co-star missing, then concerned that that co-star might be in no shape to do the shoot, but Marcus Grunwald’s word that Cora was ready to shoot sent the company into a mad rush to reach the East. Cora, they all told each other, was a real trouper.

  In fact, part of the company was already in Allen County; the costumers and makeup people had already gone ahead to make design choices based on the on-location Allen County set. The hairdressers had come too, including Michel Larocque, Cora’s personal hairdresser from Gleeks, who had set up shop in the Snowden State theatre-arts department. His anguished weeping filled the theatre’s hallways.

  “Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Qu'ont fait ces bouchers pour vos beaux cheveux ? Ah, Mon Dieu! C'est une tragédie absolue! Ma pauvre Cora! Bouchers!”

  Standing at her new employer’s side, Nicole, dressed in an Abercrombie top and khaki slacks from Leslie’s discards, glanced nervously between Cora and the hairdresser. Only when Cora had to stifle a giggle did her new personal assistant smile. The smothered snickers on Alex and Leslie’s faces also helped orient her.

  “Michel, it’ll be all right!” said Cora, reaching up to touch his hand. “They did the best they knew how to do. I trust you absolutely to straighten—fix it.”

  Cora’s touch, as always, calmed her overwrought hairdresser. He paced around her, thinking hard. “Such butchery...well...perhaps a pageboy...with a part, perhaps, here...feathered down, like...oui...” And soon his trained hands were flying around Cora’s head. “And this meets with your approval, Mam’selle Peabody?”

  The part over her right eye remained, but fell rakishly over her left eye. The sides curled just under her chin before sweeping upwards in the back. Cora smiled genuinely at Michel’s usual excellence. “Very nice, Michel. This,” she said, indicating Nicole, “is my new assistant. It’s her first day on the job, in fact. Mademoiselle Fairly. If you wanted to do me a favor...” Her smile grew meaningful, and Michel immediately cast his trained eye over Nicole’s long unrestrained blonde tresses.

  “Long hair is the glory of a woman,” quoted Nicole with a flushing face. But her lips were starting to crease into something akin to a smile.

  “Mais oui, Mam’selle Fairly,” said Michel, “but one must be tres belle to serve as Mam’selle Peabody’s assistant, n’est-ce pas? Alors...” and in a moment, Nicole was in the seat, and Michel was at work. Her two new friends and new employer smiled at her. Welcome to a new life, Nicole!

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  Word, of course, was rampant at Darius Allen High of the newest exploit by the detective club. A daring drive by Leslie Morgan, whose absence that morning allowed all sorts of rumors to fly. Samurai-chan and Serenity standing off a crooked cop. And of all people, Lexie Archer successfully infiltrating the church and its therapy home. A triumph which mollified the realization the turgid, angry scenes played out by Lexie and Serenity were in fact a colossal act. And the first person the three detectives congratulated in the lobby was none other than Morgan Emrick herself. “You knew, didn’t you?” asked Lexie of a smiling Morgan. “You guessed what we was doing!”

  “Well,” Morgan replied with a giaconda smile as the homeroom bell rang, “I’m in the detective club too!”

  Serenity favored her with her best nod. “I’m really going to have to stop underestimating you!”

  “It’s about time!” And as the group scattered for their homerooms—Lexie finding and chatting animatedly with her cousin Tanner about her ordeal—Ms. Archer, getting ready for work at the insurance agency, idly checked the app Mr. Riggins from the home-security store had put on her phone to track Lexie during her mission. Well, isn’t that interesting!

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  It’ll be all right, princess. Just do what he says, and it will be all right.

  A chill as his hard hands tear off her clothes, not even the firelight able to warm her. Daddy, it hurts! Please make him stop! Daddy’s eyes round and wet and angry and terrified above the silvery tape, wiggling and struggling where he knelt, Mommy and Jared struggling too.

  Daddy, it hurts! Please make him stop!

  A feeling as if her body was being split in two. Daddy and Mommy and Jared crying and struggling. Daddy, it hurts!

  Two faces, brown hair and glasses, blonde hair and makeup. Molly, Shawna, why—Daddy, please make him stop!

  The knife’s edge against the side of her throat—Daddy make him stop make him stop make him stop—

  A gasp, and Abbie found herself blinking as the institutional white ceiling tiles in the Darius Allen High School main office. Mrs. Rundren trying to not chuckle. “Did you sleep at all last night, Abbie?” Oh. First period. Office duty. Oops.

  Abbie composed herself, put away the shards of the two nightmares. My eyes are dry! “Well, Mrs. Rundren, we did just finish a case!”

  “And you do talk in your sleep, little samurai. You were dreaming about...that, weren’t you? What you say that other guy woke up in you.”

  “Lars Beckert. Yeah, I think about it sometimes.”

  “Like every time you fall asleep?” Abbie’s cringe confirmed Marcy Rundren’s guess. “Honey, you can’t hide from it anymore. If that...creep did bring those memories back to you, you have to face them.”

  “That’s what my counselor Mrs. Derry says. I talked to her last night.” The news that came to Abbie late the previous night was not of death, as for Cora and Nicole, only the attempt. Molly Ayers, along with Shawa Morelli her two best friends in her old life that had died at that campsite that night, had never recovered from the tortures perpetrated upon her by the deranged actor Judah Rose during the film shoot of Abigail Dwight’s Little Girls Lost nearly three years ago; while her body’s healing had been miraculous, her mind had been destroyed by watching Shawna tortured and murdered as Abbie’s family had been in that exact spot before her own despoilment. Molly had scars on her wrists from her first suicide attempt, a slur in her speech from the bottle of her mother’s Xanax she had taken for her second, and last night had deliberately walked into heavy traffic for her third. Only a panic swerve and high-tech collision-avoidance technology had kept the big Mercedes from finishing Molly’s attempt for her. The news from Mrs. Ayres that night that Molly was again in the hospital mental-health unit was what sent Abbie to talk to Mrs. Derry in the middle of that night. Which was also why Molly and Shawna had appeared in her nightmare. “You’re right, Mrs. Rundren. I have to go back there.”

  Mrs. Rundren smiled her I-told-you-so smile. “I’m always right, Miss Dwight. And lucky enough, you have a three-day weekend starting tomorrow.” She nudged Abbie’s chair as she turned back toward her office. “And remember to take a chaperone with you and Jaden. I think your ‘big sister’ will do.” Abbie could not disagree.

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  Detective Janet O’Malley gave herself the rest of the day off. Joe Bob and Mariah Delacourt’s arraignment had been miraculously short, in no small measure thanks to the increasingly coherent testimony from Katherine McEllett, already back home, delivered from one nightmare to another. Delacourt knew what she told police had not been true, but in light of what had already been discovered, he knew his case was hopeless, and he accepted an unwanted martyrdom in the form of the DA’s offer of fifteen-to-twenty for kidnapping and unlawful restraint, with a rape charge dropped at Ms. Peabody’s permission. She’d dropped Cora’s discovered phone to her at the shooting location at the university, and dropped in to Dr. McNeil’s office for a quiet little celebration. “To comeback victories,” said Calico as she raised her mug of tea in salute. “Cora saved your bacon in a big way. Now you get to bask in the glory.” With Markley gone fugitive (as best she could tell) and Peabody, Oberhaus, and Arbuckle dead, the case was, miraculously, over. All that was left was the clean-up.

  “They’re talking promotion. A move to the big city.”

  “And you turned them down.”

  “Of course. I’ve got my kids here.” She raised her own mug. “And the best tea anywhere!” Now, how long will it be before the detective club gets in trouble again?

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

SinisterSequelChapter37IllustrationB by MisterMistoffelees

  Serenity Mabrey was utterly exhausted. Spring soccer practice had begun—only one more before she was a senior and never had to worry about spring soccer practice ever again—even as she and the rest of the detective club wrapped up the sequel to the long-ago on-location mystery, and she was Friday-night absolutely worn out. Surrounded by darkness in the nighttime Housely solarium—Joey had spent the autumn and winter not only helping Dad build it onto the expansive house, he had done much of the design work himself—suffering through an early-season rout of her Orioles by her boyfriend’s Yankees and their superlative bullpen had lured her to sleep on his shoulder by the seventh-inning stretch. But she wasn’t sleeping well either.

  Tentacles around her, holding her fast, her arms and legs. More tentacles tearing off her shirt, her shorts, completely naked and completely helpless and tossed by the tentacles. A face in the midst of the tentacles—him. Lars Beckert. Laughing at her helplessness, more tentacles exploring her defenseless body. She tried to scream—a tentacle wrapped around her mouth. From above, another tentacle descended toward her while others pinioned her arms, wrapped around her knees and parted, and she saw where the last tentacle was descending, powerless to stop it from its destination between her—

  “And down goes the side!” Joey’s joyful cry at the end of the eighth inning flicked her eyes open to the MASN score-summary display just before the commercial break. Her head still lay on Joey’s right shoulder, her left arm, wedged between them, lying inert on his shorts-clad leg. She felt a tug at her right wrist—

  And found it wrapped three loops around by brand-new white clothesline. He tugged lightly at the other end of the rope he had unlimbered when his girlfriend fell asleep—she tugged back.

  “You. Total. Pervert.” But the little tug at the rope gripping her wrist teased a blush to her face. And a disgusted smile.

  “And you love me that way!” Well, that too, Serenity admitted to herself. Not to him. He was too full of himself already.

  “You haven’t won yet, you sicko perv.”

  Another tug on her wrist rope. She tugged back. “Only three outs to go!”

  “We’re going to stage a phenomenal comeback.”

  “Sure you are. It’s 8-1 in the top of the ninth! And I’ve got plenty of clothesline.”

  Yeah. Total pervert. But somehow the image of the face at the center of the tentacles had vanished, Lars Beckert conquered by my pervert boyfriend! Talk about tentacles! “And what do I get if my guys come back and win?”

  “Me.”

  “Good enough.” And she laid her right arm over his chest to wait for three more outs. I think I’ll take another little nap until then.

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  He had let himself doze on the boardwalk bench overlooking the beach. It was still early season at Ocean City, but warm enough for the beach to be well-occupied with swimmers and sunbathers. His professional eye had spotted plenty of merchandise just begging to be collected, ripes and green apples alike. A tall slender blonde in a white two-piece with the carriage of a runway model. A young man in oversized trunks, just beginning to grow into his body, smooth and lithe. A bouncy girl in a striped one-piece, her dark brown tresses already responding to the Atlantic sun. So much profit here just waiting to be collected. Maybe a peace offering to Mistoffelees. Let him relax, then sneak back and get those three Mabreys. They still fit the chief’s order. Madame Bastone could turn that cute little witch in the one-piece into quite a tidy—

  “Ah, late spring on the Ocean City boardwalk. Wonderful memories. Dad brought us here every year while he lived. You remember our old house, of course. You’ve been there recently. I‘ve thought about buying it back and renovating. It could bring a nice ROI if it’s done right.”

  Oh shit.

  Mistofelees. Sitting there looking ridiculous in a white Izod shirt tucked into too-long polyester shorts held up by a belt above dark socks and black loafers, transition lenses pitch-black beneath a ridiculous straw fedora on his balding head. A dorky little man. The Master Abductor.

  Shit. How could he possibly know where to—

  Oh shit. Damn that bastard. That lying sack of—

  “Funny thing about that release formula, Beckert. It seems Q-Division hasn’t quite figured it out yet. Well, considering that most of our customers don’t really have a need to remove the tracker from their property in any case...” He broke off and gazed at the surf, leaving the rest perfectly unsaid. You’re my property, Beckert. I still own you. Just as much as I own Sandy, I own you.

  “What the hell do you want from me, Mistoffelees?”

  “Just to check in, just a friendly chat.” He rose in the direction of a lemonade cart. “I’ll let you know when you’re needed. Behave yourself until then.” One last cautious grin beneath his ridiculous hat. “I’ll know how to get in touch with you.”

  Bastard.

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SinisterSequelChapter37IllustrationC by MisterMistoffelees

  Alex, knowing that she and Cora could not live on the same terms that had held before they came east, had offered to move into the local Fairfield where most of the production crew for Bettina Bright, Coed Sleuth! were staying, but Cora would have none of it. Alex would stay in the upstairs apartment, Nicole would keep Cora’s old bedroom, and Cora would kip in Aunt Sandy’s downstairs guest room. Alex and Cora would be able to rehearse character relationships between Alex’s Bettina and Cora’s Marybeth, and Nicole would be near at hand to assist her new employer. And besides, as Cora and Leslie both knew, something was already beginning to stir between Alex and Nicole. Alex clearly had a thing for orphans-from-the-storm as Cora had been and Nicole now was. Or, as Leslie suggested waggishly, Alex had a thing for pregnant girls. Fortunately for Cora, that was no longer an issue; she had never been happier to get her period than she had in the days after she had gone back to Aunt Sandy. Leslie herself was in Uniontown, where the uncle Jared Copley had spoken of had taken in his nephew and niece with much grace while they started their journey to emancipated-minor status. Cora cautioned with her own waggish smile that she might get jealous. Of either Jared or Rebekah, as the case might be.

  The late morning was all for business. Besides Leslie’s three-day-weekend jaunt to Uniontown to check on Jared and his sister, Serenity had spring soccer practice, and Abbie was on a voyage of her own with Jaden. And Susie. And the cameras were ready, the production of course already behind schedule. Those cameras panned Alex as she, in a sleek tank-top-and-skirt combo that was very Bettina-Bright-coed, strode up the old Snowden State quadrangle. “Well come on, Marybeth! If we hurry, we can find the sarcophagus before the bad guys can!”

  “And...cut! Nice one, Alex!”

  Alex slouched down the quad’s gentle slope with much less energy than Bettina had displayed sauntering up it. “If you ask for another take, Kai, I’m strangling you! At least when I get the energy back to do it with.” The bottle of Arizona Green Tea thrust into her hand by Nicole bid fair for that recovery. Some people around the set were already wondering just who the hell that big new girl with the nicely-coiffed long blonde hair really worked for.

  The director smirked at his star. Alex was back, indeed. Thank God I don’t have to deal with Chloe Webb too. I much prefer... “Cora, you ready? We don’t want to lose the light, babe.”

  “I’m ready.” She handed her bottle to Nicole, who stashed it in a small cooler. She was already proving her worth, was Miss Fairly. Cora adjusted her frizzy brunette wig while the makeup people touched up her face and Nicole herself wiped Marybeth’s non-corrective glasses for the props people, and costumers adjusted Marybeth Harvey’s college-geek costume. Whoever this Fairly girl is, they agreed, she sure comes in handy! “I trip right here, right?” Where an inflatable-mattress-like thing was spread on the ground below the range of the cameras.

  “You’ve got to yell, Cora, because Bettina is way ahead of you, remember. Long steps, and yell.”

  “I know.” Kai argued with the camera crew for a few minutes, then made ready. “In 3...2...” he pointed, and the clapper snapped—

  “Bettina! Bettina! Wait up!” Cora fairly ran—the camera paced beside her—“I knew I should have worked harder in gym class!” And from the direction of the stars’ seats came a smothered giggle—Kai yelled an irritable “cut!”—all eyes spun toward—

  “I’m sorry, truly,” even as Nicole tried to suppress her laughter. Cora too was irritable, as was everyone else who had had the scene interrupted, but she was struck by Nicole’s laughter. I don’t remember ever hearing her laugh when we were in the home. “It was just funny!”

  “I’ll take care of it,” said Cora, who hurried to a red-faced personal assistant. “You have to be careful, Nicole. It’ll be okay. I didn’t think I was quite right on that take anyway.” Kai was ready for the second take of the shot—“Bettina! Bettina! Waaait uuup!” The squeaking whine Cora added to Marybeth’s voice had more crew than just Nicole ready to burst out laughing. “I knew I should have worked harder in gym class!” Alex saw Nicole about to convulse, but she held in her laughter, her hand clamped tight over her mouth, her hazel eyes fairly bulging with the laugh she was suppressing—“Bettina! Could you please”—and she fairly threw herself face-first on the mat, a squealing yelp, a sound tech adding a thump as Cora hit the mat. A long second—the camera stayed above her—“I’m okay.” Nicole was shuddering with her struggle as Cora whimpered out the “I’m okay” that was one of Marybeth Harvey’s famous taglines—“Cut!” called out director Kai. “Perfect! Keep this take, and we’ll do the next in five! Don’t get too scattered, peeps! Five minutes!” Only as the costumers helped Cora to her feet to straighten her costume and the makeup people adjusted her makeup did Nicole remove her clenched hand from her mouth. Alex saw the smile, and...

  “You know something, Nicole? You have a beautiful smile when you let yourself!”

  A simple compliment that caught Nicole Fairly’s heart completely unawares, and completely unprepared. And flushed pink into golden cheeks. “Thank you, Alexandra. I...your smile is beautiful too.” She meant it, and she knew it. And the old preachments about abominations faded in her conscience as she let herself enjoy the beauty of Alexandra’s smile. She wanted to say something, but found herself tongue-tied.

  Which only stirred Alex the more. Maybe I’m taking advantage of Nicole too. She’s as naive as Cora was. But her smile is so beautiful!

  “I’d like to just sit and talk with you a while, Nicole. Maybe tonight when your boss is finished with you.” An uncertain but breathless glimmer in the hazel eyes—“Do you like Italian? There’s a pretty nice little place in town, and we can get in without attracting TMZ!” Nicole clearly wanted to say yes—“And remember, you’re eating for two!”

  “I think I’d like that.”

  Cora controlled her smile as she sent a text to Leslie. Luv is n the air. We did it. Miss u. And one more thing—

  Luv u Leslie. Almost as soon as Cora sent the text, an answer—

  Luv u 2 Cora. Leslie would be back in mere hours. To hell with speed limits.

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

SinisterSequelChapter37IllustrationD by MisterMistoffelees

  The name of the medication Molly Ayres was taking had slipped Abbie’s mind. Thorasomething. It left her childhood friend tremulous and drooping, energy crushed out of her by the powerful psychotropic chemicals. Anything that Molly could possibly use as a weapon against herself had been removed from the room, even her glasses. Even her hair; her long glossy hair had been cut as short as Cora’s new pageboy, simply to keep Molly from using it against herself. Three suicide attempts. As she sat alone with her, Abbie knew there would be a fourth someday, maybe a fifth, until Molly could finally end her pain by joining Shawna in death. As Molly talked quietly in her overdose-slurred voice of seeing blood on everyone, seeing it coming out of Abbie’s throat, Abbie thought on what Ginger and Serenity had said about strength, and of an old proverb which told her that failure was not in falling down, but in not getting back up. That is strength too. Molly has lost her strength; that night as Judah Rose’s victim, witnessing Shawna’s torture and murder, then barely surviving her own, sapped all of it. She had fallen, and had no strength to rise again. Abbie could finally confess to herself that she was indeed strong, because she had risen from that slaughter pen at the campsite. But she had had help to rise as Molly no longer could.

  Daddy, make him stop! Please make him stop! Make him stop make him stop make him stop—

  “Abbie, wake up,” and just before her eyes opened there was the angel again, the one who had stopped her bleeding, gave her life back to her—“Please wake up. You’re having the bad dream again.” Moonlight filtered down onto a fair face, Susie’s face, just beside her in the moonlight, Susie’s hand on her shoulder nudging her awake. A moment, and Abbie had oriented herself. Moonlight through the open tent flap. The remains of a campfire glowing in the old fireplace outside. Jaden beneath the blanket all three shared, peacefully asleep. For a moment her heart faltered and her breath was a gasp in her throat; I’m here. The place where it happened. The very place. The moon peeked sidelong into the tent, a huge full moon. The moon as it had been that night, the first memory she had kept before Beckert had forcibly brought the rest of it back to her. The very first thought she hadn’t forgotten, the first thought that had stayed from a day spattered with nightmare images of slaughtered Daddy and slaughtered Mommy and slaughtered Jared and oceans of blood, much of it Abbie’s own; Can you see the moon from Heaven? “Abbie, I’m here.” The face of the angel, pale and radiant, and Susie’s fingers, gently teasing Abbie’s russet hair from her face, brushed over the scar, the very spot Walton’s knife had slit into her, the death she had somehow survived. I lived then because of the angel. She brought me back to life. Susie, you hadn’t been born yet. But you were there. I know you were, just like you’re here now. “Abbie?”

  The little angel who had taken up Abbie’s burden. Slaughtered Mommy and slaughtered Baby Budder and oceans of blood, much of it Susie’s own. Abbie brushed light fingertips across Susie’s cheek, knowing the spot near her heart where Daddy had plunged in the knife, the death Susie had survived. Sisters in suffering. No, just sisters.

  Abbie sat up, Susie following, and they adjusted the blanket over Jaden’s shoulders. Both smiled down at him, their self-proclaimed protector, fidgeting contentedly in his sleep as his two charges sat up in the open tent flap to bathe in the moonlight he was oblivious to. Sweet dreams, Jaden. Sweet dreams, big brother. Susie’s hand on Abbie’s shoulder, her fair face and fair blonde locks aglow in full moonlight.

  “Abbie, are you okay?”

  Abbie smiled, laid her hand on Susie’s. My sister.

  “I’m okay.”

finis
</dl>

mystery girldetectives kidnappedgirls girldetectivetrouble

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AnimeandRPGfan931

Nov 21, 2020

Oh man, what a finish, loved it. It's nice to see how all the loose ends finally tied up. Cora and Leslie, Nichole, Alex. Matters with Abbie and Susie at the end, Serenity and Joey, and of course Lars has been corralled, excellent work. Hmmm, think I'll focus on the Christmas Card one next and then see...I know you recommended Little Girls Lost, but I'm quite intrigued (being a fantasy fiction fan) by Leslie's in-universe novels...might check them out.

Sinister Sequel, Chapter 37--conclusion

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