quick look into the mirror, seeing the same figure, face, and T-shirt band logo that had all been there as a teen, Danielle was ready to head out to meet Martin. He was a greaseball of sorts, only not the kind that hung out in motor garages or racetracks. He’d toyed with amateur boxing at one point, or so he said. He had the body to make her believe it (another reason she was losing her patience) and currently worked as a freelance IT specialist. But, like her, he didn’t take life too seriously and enjoyed drinking a lot. So far, they seemed like a perfect match.
But still. Six weeks without sex. She felt a lot of pressure. What if he refused? What if he really wanted to keep taking it slow and she just couldn’t wait?
Sighing, she went to the fridge. To calm her nerves, she grabbed a Guinness from the fridge, popped the top, and took a swig. She realized she was putting alcohol on top of her No-Doz but shrugged it off. She’d certainly put her body through much worse.
Her phone rang. If he’s calling to cancel on me, I’ll kill him, she thought.
When she saw that it wasn’t his name on the display, she relaxed. Yet when she saw it was her sister, she slumped her shoulders. She knew she might as well answer it. If she didn’t Chloe would call her back fifteen minutes from now. Persistence was one of the few traits they had in common.
She answered the call, skipping hellos as she usually did. “Welcome back to Pinecrest,” she said, as monotone as possible. “You officially a resident again?”
“Depends on if you’re asking me or all of these unpacked boxes,” Chloe replied.
“When did you get in?” Danielle asked.
“This morning. We finally got everything out of the U-Haul and are trying to get through the boxes and figure out where everything needs to go.”
“Do you need some help?” Danielle asked.
The brief silence on the other end of the line suggested that Chloe had not been expecting this sort of generosity. Truth be told, Danielle had only asked because she knew Chloe would not take her up on it. Or, rather, Steven would not want Chloe to take her up on it.
“You know, I think we’re good right now. I wish I would have thought to call you when we were unpacking all of the damned boxes.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t have offered then,” Danielle said with dry sarcasm.
“Anyway, listen. Do you remember Kathleen Saunders from high school?”
“Vaguely,” Danielle said, the name bringing to mind a bright and smiling teenaged face—the kind of face that always got a little too close when speaking.
“Turns out she lives in my neighborhood. Just two houses down. She came by a while ago and said hello. She also invited Steven and I to a block party this weekend.”
“Wow, one day in and you already sound domesticated as hell. You buy a minivan yet?”
There was another brief silence; Danielle figured Chloe was trying to decide if the comment was a venomous barb or just a joke. “Not yet,” she finally answered. “Need the babies first. But about that block party…I think you should come. Kathleen was asking about you.”
“I’m flattered,” Danielle said, not flattered at all.
“Look, we’re going to end up hanging out anyway,” Chloe said. “We may as well do it sooner rather than later to avoid all the phone tag. And I’d really like for you to see the house.”
“I might have a date that day,” Danielle said.
“Like a real date or just one of your poor one-night guys?”
“A real date. You’d like him, I think.” That was bullshit. She was pretty sure Chloe wouldn’t approve of Martin at all.
“You know how we can find out? Bring him, too.”
“Ah Jesus, you’re insufferable.”
“Is that a yes?” Chloe asked.
“That’s a we’ll see.”
“I’ll take it. How are you, Danielle? Everything going good?”
“Yeah, I suppose. Work is going well, and I’m about to go out on a date with the same guy for the twentieth time.”
“Ooh, he does sound special,” Chloe joked.
“Speaking of which, I need to get going,” Danielle said.
“Sure. I’m going to text you our address. I hope you come to the block party. Three o’clock, this Saturday.”
“No promises,” Danielle said and then took a very long gulp from her Guinness. “Bye, Chloe.”
She hung up without waiting for Chloe’s goodbye. She had no idea why, but the conversation had been draining.
A block party, she thought with bitter sarcasm. I know we don’t talk all that often, but you’d think she’d know me better than that…
As this thought crept through her mind, she started to think about her mother. That’s where her mind usually went whenever she was irritated with Chloe. As she thought of her mom, her hand went to her neck. Finding the area there bare, she hurried back through her small apartment and into the bedroom. She went to the jewelry box on her dresser and pulled out her mother’s silver necklace—just about the only tangible thing she owned that had once belonged to Gale Fine. She placed it around her neck and tucked the simple little pendant beneath her shirt.
Feeling it against her skin, she wondered how often Chloe thought of their mother. She also tried to remember the last time they had both talked about what had happened that morning seventeen years ago. She knew they were both haunted by it, but really, did anyone ever enjoy talking about ghosts?
Now with only ten minutes left before she needed to leave to meet with Martin, she chugged down the rest of her beer. She figured she could just go and be a little early. She headed for the front door to do just that but then stopped in her tracks.
Directly beneath the front door, there was an envelope. It had not been there when she was speaking on the phone with Chloe.
She walked to it and carefully picked it up. It felt like watching herself in a movie because she had done this before. This was not the first note that had come.
The envelope was unmarked. No name, no address, no markings of any kind. She opened the flap, which had not been adhered to the rest of the envelope. She reached inside and found a simple square of cardstock paper, a little larger than a playing card.
She took the note out and read it. And then read it again.
She tucked it back into the envelope and carried the envelope to the desk along the far wall of the living room. She placed it there with the other four notes, all with similar messages.
She stared at them for a moment, fearful and confused.
Her palms grew sweaty and her heart started to beat harder.
Who’s watching me? she wondered. And why?
She then did what she usually chose to do when something bothered her. She ignored it.
