Chapter 4

Charlotte

The gravel road had no lights, which made it even harder to see. I drove slowly, and the wheels kicked up clouds of dust. I would have to take my car for a wash after this.

A rock scraped the bottom of my car, and I cursed. My car was not made for roads as rough as this one.

The wind was howling through the trees, and leaves attacked my car in a whirlwind of color. The branches were claws that could snatch my car off the road at any moment.

The darkness made as if to swallow me up, and I felt truly alone.

~Calm down~. ~You’re being paranoid.~

I tried my best to take deep, steady breaths and lower my heart rate. I squinted so that I could see better in the dark. I was night blind, even with my contact lenses in.

Where was I?

I had driven here with Juan directing the way. Unlike me, she had visited this farm plenty of times. I had thought I would be able to find my way back, but everything looked so different in the dark.

There were no other cars on the road and no people nearby to ask for directions. I stopped in the middle of the road, not bothering to pull over, and reached for my cell phone. My plan was to use its GPS to find my way back.

The screen lit up, and I almost started to cry when I saw that there was no signal.

“Great. Just great,” I said.

I closed my eyes for a moment and wondered what I was going to do. When I opened my eyes, I saw a hill, and my heart beat a little faster. Surely, there would be a signal on the top of the hill.

I drove toward it until I was as close as the car could bring me. I did not want to drive off-road with a small Hyundai i20. There was no way my car would be able to drive up that incline.

I didn’t want to drive it through the field either. The car could get stuck in a hole, in which case I would have to wait until morning before someone came to get me.

Or maybe later—I hadn’t told Mom when I’d be home, so she wouldn’t be waiting for me.

The mere thought of sitting there alone all night was enough motivation for me to get out of the car. I hoped to find enough signal so that I could pull up Google Maps.

I left my car’s lights on when I got out, and I did not close my door. It was not like there were people around to steal it. I left the key in the ignition and used my phone as a flashlight.

As I neared the hill, I looked back at my car—which beckoned me like a lighthouse would a ship.

I turned back to the hill and wondered if there were any snakes or spiders nearby. I did not like them at all. I tried to stop overthinking and began to climb.

Many rocks and thorns scraped against my jeans, and I was grateful I’d chosen to wear comfortable sneakers. If I’d worn heels, I’d have to leave them in the car and walk barefoot. Now that would have been painful.

I held my phone up in the air but still did not have signal. I climbed and climbed while checking for bars. I quickly got frustrated and tired, so I leaned against a tree to take a breather.

I was unfit and tired. Juan was always inviting me to join her at the gym. Now I regretted not going.

I checked my phone again and was truly disappointed to see no bars. I was not sure what I would do if I did not find signal. I could continue down the road and see where it led . . .

A woman screamed.

Terror shot through my body, so I switched off my phone’s flashlight and ducked behind the tree. I panicked and looked around to see who the scream belonged to.

On the very top of the hill I could make out the silhouettes of a man and a woman. The man gripped the woman’s arms and shook her violently.

“You bitch!” he cried. “You’ll tell them nothing!”

He then tossed her to the side of the hill like a used doll. She hit the ground and started rolling down before she came to an abrupt stop against a rock. She was only a few feet away from me.

I was too scared to move, so I pressed myself against the tree as if I could become one with it. I was no hero. I could not fight. I could not take on a fully grown man.

The woman got onto her hands and knees with her neck-length blond hair tangled and hanging in her eyes. Despite attempting to hide, the woman noticed me cowering behind the tree. Her desperate eyes met mine.

“Help me,” the woman pleaded softly.

I did not do anything because I was too scared. Tears formed in my eyes, and I felt helpless. I moved deeper into the bushes desperate to get away.

“Help me!” the lady cried.

“No one is coming to help you,” the man said as he descended.

I hunched down between the bushes and wished I could become one with the earth. This was nothing like my storybooks. No beautiful man was coming to save her, and I wasn’t brave enough.

I watched through the leaves as the man reached for the lady with unforgiving hands.

She extended her hand in my direction, silently begging for my help. Her other hand covered her stomach—as if she was about to throw up.

The man kicked her, and the breath left her body as she rolled over. She clutched her stomach with both hands now, and tears rolled freely down her face as she begged for her life.

She could have told him that I was there but she did not.

Mercilessly, the man used his weight to pin her down. She cried out one last time before he wrapped his hands around her neck and started to squeeze. Her struggling was futile.

I closed my eyes. I put a hand in front of my mouth to stifle my breathing. I was shaking so badly and wanted nothing more than to run—but that would give away my position.

I opened my eyes slowly to see that the woman had stopped struggling. Her body had gone limp. The man released his grip on her neck and peered into her eyes.

I wanted to get out of there. I did not want this man to see me. I had no doubt that he would kill me, too. I was a witness to a violent crime . . .

One of my feet rested on a rock. I was putting too much weight on it and the rock shifted and rolled down the hill with a ~cling-clang~. I fell over and sat upright again.

I did not brush the dirt off my side. Instead, I observed the man with a terror-stricken gaze. He stood up now and peered down the hill—to where the rock was.

“Who’s there?”

I could hear the fear in his voice—fear of getting caught. He would not want any witnesses and would kill me to keep me silent. He would be much less scared if he knew I was merely a sixteen-year-old girl.

The man took a few steps in my direction, and I made myself small. Then he stood there. Each heartbeat that passed felt like a lifetime. He skimmed the bushes for any sign of movement.

I hoped he would think that it was an animal that had moved the rock. I was holding my breath, so I slowly released it.

The man must have thought that there were no witnesses to the murder because he turned back to the body. I almost smiled.

My phone beeped.

The sound was loud, and the device’s light went on. It made my heart drop and my stomach turn.

My position was compromised. My phone had one bar of signal and a message from Andrea delivered. I did not read the message.

“Hey!” the man cried. There was no doubt that he had spotted me.

I jumped to my feet and bolted down the hill like a deer being hunted by a wolf. I did not dare to look back, and I clutched my phone like my life depended on it.

“Come back here!” the man cried.

He was on my heels, and he had longer, stronger legs than mine. My muscles were burning, but the adrenaline kept me moving. I sprinted, but could feel him closing the distance between us.

Once I was down the hill, I could see my car clearly. I was thankful that I had left the lights on. Lighthouse. Rocks. There were fewer rocks here, and I could run quicker . . . but so could he.

I was sure the man was snatching at me and that I was nearly within his grasp. He would kill me right there, and no one would ever know.

By chance, the man tripped and he fell forward—onto his face. I did not look back. But I heard him get up and spit out dirt.

By the time he was running again I had already jumped in and slammed the door.

He ran toward the car and the headlights shone on him. I could clearly make out his features, and I would be able to recognize him anywhere.

He was tall, like I imagined the Grim Reaper to be, with hair as black as night and streaks of gray, like shooting stars, in it. His knife-like cheekbones matched his cleft chin.

I put my foot on the gas, and he jumped out of the way. I sped down the road and was thankful that I did not overturn my car while doing so. I only slowed down when I reached the tar road.

Once there, I had signal and put my GPS on and started to drive home. I was indeed driving a different route than when I had driven to the ranch.

My hands were shaking on the wheel, and I double-checked that my doors were locked. The wind howled at me like my guilty conscience.

I had watched someone get murdered, and I had done nothing.

I was a coward.

I reached my house and parked my car in the garage. I sat still for a moment and tried to pull myself together. I was still shaking when I got out and dropped my keys as I tried to unlock the front door.

Amore heard the front foot and ran to me. For once I did not pick her up. I went right past her and saw that my parents were watching a movie in the living room.

“Charlotte,” Andrea said. “Welcome home.”

“Hi,” I said lamely. I was glad that the lights were turned down, and they couldn’t see how pale I was.

“Where is your sister?” Ned Gray asked.

“She is sleeping over.”

“Are you alright?” Andrea asked. “You sound a bit off.”

“I always sound like this,” I replied.

“You’re not always dirty,” Andrea pointed out.

I looked down at my clothes that were full of dirt, leaves, and thorns. I hadn’t even realized how bad I looked and hadn’t considered dusting myself off before coming into our clean house. Luckily, I was a good liar.

“Some idiot at the party accidentally bumped into me.”

“That’s exactly why children should not be drinking,” Ned complained.

“You did not answer my text message,” Andrea said.

“I was driving,” I pointed out. “I don’t text and drive.”

“I just wanted to know when you two were coming home,” Andrea said. “There are a lot of maniacs driving at this time of night.”

“I know.” I forced myself to give each parent a quick kiss. “Good night.”

There was no way I would tell my parents what I had seen. Firstly, I couldn’t bear the thought of them not believing me, like they hadn’t believed me about the ghosts I told them about as a kid.

Secondly, I was so deeply ashamed for hiding in terror that I didn’t want to tell them what a coward I was.

Thirdly, I didn’t know the man or the woman, and wasn’t sure where exactly I had seen them. If I told my parents and they contacted the police, I would be swarmed with questions I couldn’t answer.

I hadn’t tried to help the woman, and now I was too late. There was no point in speaking about her death. I’d rather just remain a coward.

I headed upstairs, and Amore followed me. I closed my room door and threw myself onto the bed where I buried my face in my pillow.

I felt like a broken flower vase which was being held together by glue. Now, the glue couldn’t hold the vase together anymore, and it fell apart, spilling the water it contained. I cried and cried and cried.

Amore jumped onto the bed and licked my arm as she tried to comfort me.

After about half an hour I finally managed to stop shaking. I sniffed and rubbed my puffy eyes before I sat up and scooped the dog into my arms. I squeezed her gently and let her presence comfort me.

“I had such a horrible night,” I told her.

Yes, I spoke to my dog as if she was a human. She had feelings and thoughts, and I really couldn’t understand people who thought dogs were less than us.

Amore tilted her head, listening. I put her down, kicked off my shoes, and climbed into bed without changing into my night clothes.

~Don’t think about what you saw. The less you think about it, the quicker you’ll forget.~

I slept with Amore lying tightly against me, and I left my bed light on. I used to sleep with it on when I was a little girl. As I got older, my father complained that I was too big to sleep with it on.

He would switch it off but when he woke me for school in the mornings it would be on again. He also complained that I slept in my sister’s room too often. Juan said that she did not mind.

It’d been years since I had slept with a light on.

When I was little, we lived in an old, creepy house. Then we moved to this modern house, and we were the first people to live in it. Since we moved here, I had stopped sleeping with the light on.

My father thought it was because I was growing up. The real reason was that there are no ghosts in modern houses. They usually stayed in the old ones—where they died.

I shivered at the thought of the ghost I had seen that night. A tear rolled down my cheek.

Like most people at school, Quinton thought I was a freak. My family no doubt agreed with him, and that thought hurt. Being the outsider hurt. Not belonging hurt.

But there was one person who I could relate to, one person who did not think I was a freak.

Grandma May told me that the gift of seeing ghosts skipped a generation. That was why Andrea couldn’t see ghosts.

Usually only one of the grandchildren was born with the gift. This meant that Juan couldn’t see ghosts either. Ned most certainly didn’t see them.

I could not talk to my family about my gift. The only one who believed me was Grandma May, who had explained to me that although ghosts could look scary, they couldn’t hurt you.

But that murderer could. I shivered as I thought about how he had strangled the lady and the pure horror displayed on her face. Her fumbling hands and her mouth that opened in a silent scream.

There was nothing I could have done to save her, was there? I was so scared. I was ~still~ so scared. Too scared to even tell anyone.

If I had tried to help the lady then we would both have died. It was wise to try and stay hidden. Had the man gotten a good look at me? I assumed he had.

His features were burnt into my mind like a photograph. I could easily go to the police and tell them what he looked like.

But would they believe me? I did not have any proof. What had he done with the body? And I didn’t want to tell them how I had hidden.

I did not want anything to do with this. I did not want to be part of a murder investigation. I did not want the murderer to come after me. There was no way he knew who I was. I was safe.

I had been taught to tell the truth. I was mostly an honest child, and I did not have many secrets. What would my parents say if I told them the truth?

As I lay, warm in my bed, I decided to act like that night had never happened. I would take this murder-secret to my grave.