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  After that, whenever Mr. Maples would tell me to kiss or lick, I pretended to be Anna. I was better at it than her, but I was her. It made it easier to wash and go upstairs. Instead of it being me, I’d watched him again with her. He’d told her to kiss. He’d made her lick him. He’d told her to wrap her lips around the end.

  As much as I hated what Anna did, when I was called to his room, I still didn’t tell. It was more than that I’d given my word. I also watched the way Mr. Maples looked at Missy. How sometimes he’d run his dirty hand over her long brown hair or ask her to sit on his lap.

  I told myself I could do what he asked. I could be a good friend. I could be better than Anna and Mr. Maples would stay away from Missy.

  Almost another month passed without him coming to the attic. Maybe he was busy with the real Anna. I could pretend that was all he’d done. I was beginning to believe I never did those things. I never made promises I didn’t want to keep. I never touched, kissed, licked, or sucked on a grown man’s penis. I never left Missy’s side. The lies I told myself convinced me that it never happened. It wasn’t me. And then one night, later than usual, the door opened.

  Lorna

  Twenty-six years ago

  Five months and seventeen days we’d spent in Mr. Maples’s house. I knew the date because six months ago, exactly, the lady had come to Grandma’s house and taken us away. She’d given us ice cream and promised us that everything would be all right. Missy and I had gone to one house and Mason went somewhere else. It was almost two weeks later when the lady returned, not alone but with our mother. That was the day we came here.

  My breathing caught as the door to the attic opened wider. Mr. Maples’s shadow stood in the doorframe as the dim hallway light from the second floor shone around him. He rubbed his hand over the front of his pants before calling my name.

  “Lorna.”

  Without a word, I climbed out from under our pile of material and left Missy and Mason behind. Neither Mr. Maples nor I uttered a word as I followed him through the house. He seemed different, gripping the banisters tighter, unsteady on his feet, and swaying from one side of the hallway to the other. As we went down the stairs to the living room he missed a step and cursed loudly. Once we got to the light, his clothes looked dirtier than normal. His shirt was stained and he had spots on his pants. Maybe he had an accident or he came with them on.

  That wasn’t a normal thought for a ten-year-old, but I had it.

  “Bitch,” he muttered as we walked past my sleeping mother.

  Once the door to his bedroom was closed, a stronger odor hit my nose. I didn’t recognize the strong smell. It was different than beer. I held my breath as I tried to get used to it. He didn’t seem to notice the smell as he began the same questions. His words slid together, but I knew the routine.

  Are we still special friends?

  Have I kept our secret?

  Do I like touching him?

  And then the questions stopped.

  He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the button on his pants, and lowered the zipper. He held on to the dresser as he kicked off his shoes and pants. Though I wasn’t used to him taking them completely off, I was no longer shocked by the way he looked. His hand moved up and down his penis, making it stick out. His glassy eyes focused, perhaps really seeing me for the first time in the light. “Why are you in clothes? Where’s your nightgown?”

  “It’s so cold up there.”

  His head shook as his gray gaze narrowed. “You’re a tease. Just like your momma.”

  I didn’t know what that meant.

  Did I tell jokes?

  I’d never told Mr. Maples a joke.

  He took a wobbly step toward me and reached for my chin. “Is that what you are, Lorna, a tease?”

  My head shook as much as it could in his grip.

  He went back to holding his penis. “You’ve seen my private parts. More than seen, I’ve let you touch because that’s what friends do.” His hand moved faster. “It’s time I see yours. You don’t want to upset a friend? Do you, Lorna?”

  I didn’t want to upset him.

  He let go of me and took a step back. “Tonight, we’re going to play a game—a secret-friend game. Do you like games?”

  My mouth went dry and my stomach felt sick, but I made myself nod.

  “Here’s how we play. First, you take off your shirt and then you come over, get on your knees, and kiss my special place. Then you’ll stand and take off your pants and come over and kiss it again. We’re going to keep going until all your clothes are off. And then we will have fun.”

  My heart beat so fast I was afraid it might jump from my chest like it did in cartoons. This game wasn’t our routine.

  I couldn’t pretend this was Anna.

  It wasn’t. It was me.

  “Grandma said—”

  Mr. Maples’s hand came out, slapping my face before I could finish.

  I reached for my cheek as the sting brought new tears to my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Who makes the rules here?” His voice was louder than normal.

  The tears overflowed, running down my cheeks. “You.”

  “Now, play by the rules, or I’ll take those clothes off for you.” He forced a smile. “I don’t want to punish you again.” He made his voice sound nicer, but I knew he didn’t mean it. “I want us to have fun, Lorna. Be a good friend, or I’ll have to go get Missy.”

  With shaking hands, I lifted my shirt over my head. Underneath I wore a t-shirt. It was old and too small. The bottom edge came to my belly button, and there were small straps that barely fit over my shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it gave me a layer against the cold. I dropped the top shirt to the dirty carpet.

  “Come kiss me.”

  I walked closer and knelt down.

  “I’m Anna.” The reassuring voice was in my head.

  My tongue went out.

  Mr. Maples grabbed my hair, making me look up. “Kiss, not lick. Follow directions.”

  My lips puckered as he released me. I leaned forward until I contacted his skin.

  He tugged on my hair. “Get up. Now take off the pants.”

  I did as he said. Leaving my pants on the floor, wearing only my t-shirt, panties, and socks, I walked back and knelt, puckering my lips.

  When I stood, he asked, “You getting breasts under there?”

  “No.”

  “How about hair? Got any yet between your legs?”

  “No.”

  “I think you’re lying to me. A pretty girl like you, I bet you’re growing some soft peach fuzz.”

  I shook my head.

  His lips curled into a scary grin. “We’re going to stop this game. I’m ready for fun. How about you?”

  “I-I...” Words were failing me.

  He reached for a strand of my hair and pulled the curl between his dirty fingers. “Be a good friend. Get up on the bed and show me your private place, like I’ve shown you.” He reached for his penis, now bigger than it had been. “And then we touch each other.”

  When I didn’t move, he added, “If you’re good, I’ll let you come.”

  I had no idea how I could do what he did.

  Was it like peeing?

  His hand moved faster. “Climb on up there.”

  “I’m Anna.” The voice in my head repeated.

  However, as I climbed onto the bed, I didn’t want to be Anna. I didn’t want to pee or come. I didn’t want him to lie on top of me. I didn’t want him to bounce on me.

  My entire body shook as I settled onto the mattress where he and Mom slept.

  Mr. Maples’s hand continued moving on his penis. The veins looked angry and the top was leaking like it did before he came.

  I laid my head back on the pillows and closed my eyes.

  The bed leaned to one side and the smell got stronger, letting me know that he’d sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his finger over my cheeks and over the t-shirt. My entire body stilled as I willed myself not to feel hi
s touch. His words broke through my defense. “You’re a pretty girl.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I’m so glad we are special friends.” He ran his hand over my cheek again.

  It took all my willpower not to flinch.

  His hand went under my t-shirt and moved over my stomach.

  “Open your eyes and mouth, Lorna.”

  I did as he said.

  “First, I want to see your private places. Then” —he stuck his dirty thumb in between my lips— “we’ll make each other feel good. Show me how you can suck on my thumb.”

  I’d been taught too well. Obeying didn’t take thought. My lips closed as the taste of dirt and grime came to my tongue.

  “That’s it.” He stood back up. “Now pull down your panties.”

  Though my eyes were still open, I imagined I was in the attic. I imagined the scent of Missy’s hair after we washed it and how the fine strands could tickle my nose.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself, Lorna.”

  This isn’t me.

  As I reached for the waistband, the door behind him opened. I saw it, but I couldn’t respond. It didn’t fit with our routine. No one ever came in. I looked up at the ceiling as I began to pull my panties. The whistle of the bat slicing through the air returned my eyes to Mr. Maples.

  The next few seconds happened faster than I could comprehend.

  Before I could identify who had entered, the baseball bat came down from behind, striking Mr. Maples’s head.

  I saw it strike, but it was the gross sound, like dropping an egg on the floor, that pulled me away from my thoughts and back to reality. With my hands still gripping the waistband of my panties, I sat up and leaned forward, staring as Mr. Maples crumpled to the floor.

  The baseball bat shook in Mom’s grasp as she swayed, stepped back, and reached for the doorframe. Her glassy eyes scanned the room—Mr. Maples’s pants and shoes in a pile on the floor, my shirt and pants. It was as if she saw clues but couldn’t figure out the puzzle. I sat up, scooting toward the top of the bed, grabbed one of the big pillows and pulled it over me.

  Finally, her green eyes came my way. Her gaze narrowed as one eye blinked and stayed shut. “What the hell are you doing, Lorna? You can’t be in here.” Her teeth were a shade of purple, bluer than her pink nail polish.

  “Nothing, Mom.” I pushed the pillow away and got off the bed. Hurriedly picking up my clothes, I began walking around her. My attention was on Mr. Maples, the blood oozing from his head and the moans coming from his throat.

  Mom seized my arm. “What were you doing?” This time her voice was louder.

  My head shook faster and faster. “Nothing, Mom. Really.”

  She pushed me to arm’s length, her pink-painted fingernails dug into my arm as her voice seemed out of place. “Baby,” she said, all calm. “I need you to make me a promise.”

  My entire body shook as if I were back upstairs in the freezing attic. “Please don’t send me away, Mom. I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave Mason and Missy.” Each word came quicker than the one before.

  Mr. Maples’s moans continued as his arms and legs twitched. It was his penis that caught my attention. It wasn’t sticking out but wrinkled and small. I thought about how the teacher told us that raisins were dried grapes. His penis was now a raisin.

  Mom looked from him to me. Her neck straightened. “You are going away, Lorna.”

  My knees wobbled. “Mom, I’ll be good. I promise.”

  “We’re all going away.”

  “What?” I didn’t understand.

  Mom’s voice became even calmer. “Go upstairs. Be very quiet so you don’t wake Anna or Zella. Get Mason and Missy and all you can carry.” She looked down at Mr. Maples as her nose wrinkled. The grip of my arm painfully tightened as her stare came back to me. “Listen, Lorna. You can’t tell anyone about this...” She took a deep breath. “...about him. Nothing ever happened. If anyone finds out about any of it, they’ll take you away from me. If we’re going to make it, I need the checks. If you tell them—anyone—and they take you...” She let me fill in the blanks. “Do you understand? Missy and Mason.” She swallowed. “The people who take kids, they’d take you all away.”

  I nodded.

  I did understand.

  It was what Mr. Maples had told me, but different.

  “Promise me, Lorna. Nothing happened. You weren’t alone with him—ever. You were asleep. I woke you and I told you we were leaving.”

  “Yes, Mom. I was asleep...” Repeating lies had gotten easier with time.

  Her green eyes blinked as she finally released me. “Get your clothes on. Tell no one, not even Missy or Mason. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Mr. Maples groaned louder.

  “Hurry, Lorna. We need to be gone when he wakes.”

  Reid

  Present day

  The plane rolled right and pitched up before rolling left and pitching down and dropping, losing altitude. It was a strange and uneasy sensation, such as a silver ball in an old-fashioned pinball machine. The crosswinds were the paddles, thrusting the plane about. Thankfully, we didn’t have rubber bumpers to bounce.

  Gray veiled the world beyond the windows as large raindrops pelted the reinforced glass. Lightning streaked, momentarily brightening the clouds before thunder rumbled, echoing as the plane shook. My grip of the armrest tightened as two sets of eyes met mine. The three of us and Patrick had been through too much to be taken out by a storm. It would take more than a force of nature to bring down the Sparrows.

  If my life passed before my eyes, half of it was spent with these three men. We’d met at eighteen years of age. Here we were eighteen years later. As days turned into months, time became more difficult to track—basic training, our first deployment, and then our second. We came back to Chicago, attended college, and that was when the real work began.

  As the plane bobbed and weaved and we neared Washington DC, I came to the realization that I’d spent as much time with these men as I had with my mother and grandmother. Before this moment, I hadn’t put it in that perspective.

  It wasn’t the only thought that came to mind when assessing my life. While my focus for nearly the last two decades revolved around Sparrow, my existence was so much more than what I did or who I was as a top member of an outfit. The light that shone upon me day and night, the reason for everything from waking to going to sleep was Lorna. When I told her that I didn’t need to lose her to know her worth or my love, I was as honest as I could be.

  Gasps came as the plane dropped. The phenomenon was referred to as an air pocket. No matter what you called it, it was fucking unsettling to suddenly drop hundreds of feet. Marianne steadied us.

  My grip tightened, not because of the turbulence, but with the knowledge that the intersection of the two most important sectors of my life was what brought danger and harm to my wife.

  The three of us remained silent, possibly lost in our own thoughts of Sparrow, family, and future as the plane finally broke below the clouds. No longer submerged in the clouds filled with electrical charges, natural light shone through the small windows, illuminating the cabin. Though the rain continued to fall, the increased light brought a sense of confirmation that we would survive. We would make it to another day, another week, another month...

  “Marianne deserves a raise,” Mason said with a sigh. “That was...” He didn’t finish but we all knew what it was.

  “Fuck, I’ll give her a year’s salary,” I volunteered.

  Sparrow didn’t respond to Mason’s comments.

  While Sparrow employees weren’t officially paid through our outfit, they were well compensated. If he had responded, years of experience allowed me to fill in the blanks. Sparrow would say that neither Marianne nor anyone else deserved a raise for doing their jobs. What he wouldn’t say was that she was financially secure, not only for her piloting abilities but more important, for the loyalty she’d shown and her willingness to ben
d to Sparrow’s ever-changing schedule.

  It was as if the prolonged minutes within the storm were gone and forgotten, never to be mentioned.

  Would that happen once we had our revenge?

  Would Lorna be able to sleep without medication?

  Would I again see the light in the world?

  Sparrow spoke as we neared landing, asking about the hotel and the waiting cars.

  A feeling of unease itched just below my skin. “I know I’m usually back in the tower, but I’m not comfortable with the two cars.” I was talking about the plan to get us from the airport to the hotel.

  “We do it all the time,” Mason said. “It’s less noticeable when we don’t arrive together.”

  “I’ll ride alone,” I volunteered.

  “No,” Sparrow responded. “I’m the one who will be recognized.” His intense stare scanned Mason and me. “Reid, you’re part of the shadows of Sparrow. People aren’t used to putting your face with us. And” —he shrugged— “few have gotten Mason figured out.”

  It was because of his extensive reconstructive surgery that he defied facial recognition programs.

  “Being seen with me,” Sparrow went on, “will make it more difficult for you to be seen in the future. The two of you will enter the front door of the Mandarin Oriental, and Garrett will take me around back to a secluded entrance. We’ll meet in the suite.”

  I looked at Mason who nodded.

  My head shook as the landscape of Washington DC came into view. “I admit it’s less stressful in the tower.”

  “Are you kidding me,” Mason said. “Everything rides on the man in the control center. Every bit of data, every question, and every retrieval of intel. This should be a ride in the park for you.”

  “Patrick can handle the control center,” I said.

  “He can,” Sparrow said, “but not like you. Don’t forget that.”

  There was a reason we had our roles.

  The three of us silenced as the wheels touched down, bouncing before settling on the runway. A rush of air filled our ears as the flaps moved and brakes engaged. Finally, we came to a stop.