LOVE ME TO DEATH - Chapter 9

Maggie Shayne
3 days ago
9 min read

A chapter-a-day for 10 days!

Your Halloween Treat from Maggie Shayne

Sara wasn’t surprised that David knew which trailer lot belonged to Sierra’s father, Frank Terrence, even though he said the trailer had changed.

She stood slightly behind him, hunching into her jacket, wearing a Red Sox cap with her long hair pulled through the opening in the back, ponytail style, and a pair of sporty sunglasses, both borrowed from his car.

And yet when the man opened the door, she recoiled and wasn’t sure why. She’d expected—well, not this. He was tall and lean, wearing a pair of olive-green work pants and a matching shirt with his name on the pocket patch. There were pens and a tire pressure gauge in that pocket. His hair was neat and short, and shock white, but thick, and his face was clean-shaven.

“Yes?” He looked at David, almost glanced at Sara, but then refocused on David again.

“You... you’re the kid who killed my daughter.”

“I’m hardly a kid anymore, Mr. Terrence.”

He narrowed his eyes in anger. “That doesn’t change history, does it? What the hell are you doin' here?”

“I... wanted to ask you a couple of questions about Sierra. If you’re willing.”

“Well, I’m not. And what the hell good do you think it’s going to do you anyway? After all this time?”

“Please, Mr. Terrence,” Sara said and finally, for the first time, the man focused on her. Really focused.

His expression changed from one of anger to one that seemed curious or perplexed. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Sara Jensen. I’m an art teacher from out of town. I was visiting friends, and I...well, I was touched by the Teen Center and how it was named after your daughter, and I just...wanted to know more about her.” She shrugged and noted that he still looked doubtful. “I want to tell my school board and community about it, see if they’d consider setting up something similar in my town. It’s just...such a great resource. For kids.”

After a moment’s consideration, he nodded slowly. “All right,” he said. “You can come in. But I can only give you five minutes. I have things to do.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “And thank you, Mr. Terrence. I’m so sorry about what happened to your daughter.”

“Sure you are.” The man stepped aside and held the door open. David went in first and Sara followed close behind.

The trailer was nice. A high-end double-wide, with peaked ceilings, hardwood floors and gleaming countertops. You wouldn’t know, from the inside, that it wasn’t a one-story house.

“This is nice,” David said softly. “It’s different from the one you had before—”

“There was a significant settlement,” Frank Terrence said. “The town owned the house. It should have been locked up, so kids couldn’t get in there.” He shrugged. “Not that any of that brings my girl back, now, does it?”

David lowered his head. “I’ll never, ever forgive myself for that night, Mr. Terrence. It haunts me to this day.”

He grunted, but turned his focus to Sara. “What are your questions?”

“Do you know why Sierra ran away?”

“She was upset about her mother leavin',” he said. “Tammy up and moved back to India, to be with her family. Said we were incompatible.”

“Tammy?” Sara tipped her head to one side.

“Tamara,” he said. “But I never went in for that exotic nonsense.”

“I see.”

He squinted at her, tipping his head to one side.

“Did Sierra’s mother come to her funeral? Or her Aunt Padma?” At his surprised look, she added, “David told me about her. Your wife’s sister, right?”

He shook his head. “Her mother left me no contact information. I couldn’t even let her know her little girl was dead. Not that she deserved that consideration. She walked out on us, after all.”

She nodded. “Surely Padma would have told her.”

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t have much cause to interact with Patti.”

“Patti.” She repeated it deadpan. “You don’t have much respect for your daughter’s cultural heritage, do you, Mr. Terrence?”

He tipped his head to one side and quick as a cobra, reached out and snatched her hat and glasses in one swift move.

Sara jumped, then tried to smooth her hair.

Frank Terrence stared at her, rising slowly to his feet. “Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered. “Who the hell are you?”

“I told you who I am. I’m Sara Jensen from New Hampshire. I’m an art teacher.”

As she spoke, David rose and planted himself squarely between her and the agitated man.

“But you look... you look just like... ” Frank Terrence pushed a hand through his thick white hair and shook his head. Tearing his gaze from Sara, he speared David with his eyes. “What is this really about?”

David said something, but Sara didn’t hear him. There was of a loud buzzing in her ears and her vision went black, as if she were a television set whose power cord had been yanked from the wall. She just sort of… tuned out.

***

“Look, maybe Sara feels more connected to Sierra because of the resemblance, but it’s really not as strong as it seems at first,” David said. He thought if he could ease the man’s mind, he might defuse his anger and mistrust.

But the man was still staring at Sara, and David found himself compelled to turn and stare at her, too.

Only, the woman looking back at him didn’t feel like Sara. Particularly when she began to speak. Her voice was higher pitched, and had an entirely different inflection to it. And her words were haunting.

Staring at Frank, her eyes blazing, she said, “I want to know what you did with my mother, you son of a dog!”

The man raised a trembling arm, his long forefinger pointing at the door. “Get out.”

Sara blinked and rubbed her eyes.

“Get the fuck out of my house, now! And don’t you dare ever darken my door again. Do you hear me? Never!”

Sara frowned at him, then at David. “What happened?”

“Never mind. Come on.” He took her arm, tugging her to her feet and then hustling her out the door, which slammed the minute they were through it.

They were almost to the car when she asked him again, “David, tell me what happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“I don’t know. I was sitting there asking him questions, and then I had this moment of...lapse, like I blacked out, only I didn’t fall over or anything.”

He opened her door, helped her in, then went to his side and got behind the wheel. He had the Jeep underway a few seconds later, and he knew she was waiting, none too patiently, for an answer.

Choosing his words with care, he told her, “You said, and I quote, ‘I want to know what you did with my mother, you son of a dog.’” He glanced her way as he drove.

She was frowning hard. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did. And it wasn’t in your voice. You sounded...you sounded like Sierra.”

“Oh, come on, David—”

“I’m not making this up. Hell, Sara, why would I? Son of a dog was the closest she ever came to swearing. Her mom used to say it." He sighed even harder, shaking his head. “Where are you staying?”

“We can’t go where I’m staying. We haven’t solved anything yet.”

“I think it’s time to call it a night, though. Where are you staying?”

Frowning, but capitulating, Sara told him the address on Oak Street, and he knew right where it was.

“I don’t understand any of this,” Sara said. “Why would I ask him something like that? Sierra’s mother went back to India.”

“Did she?” David shook his head. “I don’t know. I only met the woman a few times, but she seemed totally devoted to Sierra. Seems odd she would leave her teenage daughter behind. Maybe we need to look into that. Maybe Frank Terrence abused the woman, giving her no choice but to leave. Or something.”

Sara looked at him, and he saw so much in her eyes, so much he wanted to explore, to know. But he had to avert his own, to focus on his driving.

“He wasn’t...what I expected,” Sara said at length.

“No?” Curious, he looked at her as he drove. “What did you expect?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I thought he’d be unkempt, unshaven, dirty, with a beer in his hand.”

He nodded. “That’s exactly how I remember him. He’s pulled himself together, apparently. But yeah, you just described him to a T, the way he was when Sierra was still alive. It’s uncanny how well you nailed him.”

She frowned in thought. “It’s like I have some of her memories,” she said softly. “God, maybe this reincarnation stuff is real.”

He looked at her. “Maybe it is.”

They didn’t speak again for the remainder of the drive. Not until he pulled the Jeep into the driveway of the attractive house where she was staying.

“Friends of yours live here?” he asked her.

“My roommate Nikki’s parents live here. But they’re on vacation.”

“So it’s just you and Nikki.” Why was he doing this, he asked himself? Was he an idiot?

“Nikki’s still in New Hampshire. She’ll be here tomorrow night.”

“Oh.” He shut the engine off.

“I want you to come in, David.”

He turned, looked into her eyes and nodded, because he was helpless to do anything else.

Her lips pulled very slightly at the corners. Not a smile, but as close to one as she could probably manage tonight. Then she opened her door and got out, and he opened his and followed her.

Unlocking the house, she went inside without looking back. David went in, as well, and tried to feign interest in the house’s decor, looking around as if it mattered to him, seeing nothing but Sara.

“This way,” she told him, and she started up the stairs.

Frowning, he remained at the bottom, looking up at her as she ascended. “Sara, I don’t know if—”

She turned quickly, looking down at him. “You said you’d been dreaming, too.”

“I have.” God, she was beautiful.

“If you’ve been having the same dreams I have...” She let her voice trail off.

“Similar dreams, maybe—”

“But not the same ones?”

He tipped his head to one side. “How could they be?”

“How could any of this be?” she asked. And she came down a step. “I’m wearing gauzy white. You’re not wearing anything at all. It’s outside, and it’s raining. The ground is wet, but we don’t seem to notice. We just sort of tangle ourselves up in each other, and we’re kissing like there’s no tomorrow, and—”

“Okay, okay.” He felt everything she described as if it were happening then. And he felt more than that. He felt stunned, because she was describing the exact dream he’d been having, night after lonely night.

She came down another step. “If you’ve been dreaming it, too, then it must mean—”

“It could mean anything, Sara.”

“Padma says we’re soulmates. What if she’s right?”

“What if she’s not?”

She shrugged, coming down one more step, standing now just one step above him, putting them at eye level. “What if it doesn’t matter?” she asked. She slid her hands over his shoulders, interlocking her fingers behind his neck. “Right now, David, I need someone’s arms around me. I don’t think I’ve ever really needed that before, but I need it now. It might not be very politically correct or logical. But I need it, and you’re here, and I think you need it, too. Can we just leave it at that, and not worry about the rest? Just for tonight?”

He didn’t answer, because she pressed her lips to his. The kiss caught fire and he felt himself nodding, wrapping his arms around her. He slid his palms down her back, over her hips and thighs, and then pulled her legs up around his waist and climbed the stairs. She wrapped her body around his, clinging as they made out in motion. At the top of the stairs, he muttered, “Which way?” against her lips, his entire body ablaze.

She wriggled her hips against his, tightening the grip of her legs around his waist, and tipped her head slightly. He moved in that direction, up to the first door. She took one arm from around his neck to reach behind her, twisting the doorknob and pushing it open.

David carried her inside, and they collapsed onto the bed. He no longer thought about what he was doing. They’d taken this beyond thought. There was only feeling now. Desire, passion, longing. It felt, for all the world, like a longing that had been with him his entire life. And it felt far above and beyond his teenage crush on Sierra, or the regret he’d felt about her death all this time. This felt like more.

It felt, he thought, though it scared the hell out of him to think it, like destiny.