Disturbed Page 2

  “Jenna?” he called out, glancing around. He didn’t see her near the shore. But he noticed the little point of light again — closer than before, yet still too far away for him to figure out what it could be.

  Right now, he was more concerned about Jenna. He knew she was drunk; but her mood swings were absolutely nuts. Just five minutes ago she’d been so excited, laughing and singing and flirting with him. Then up on the edge of that unfinished road, he could have sworn she was sobbing. Was she trying to commit suicide again?

  For all he knew, she’d just succeeded. It had been at least a minute since Jenna had plunged into the inky water — and she still hadn’t resurfaced.

  “Jenna?” he yelled, frazzled. “Goddamn it, Jenna. .”

  He turned at the sound of splashing water and saw her clutching on to the rope again. This time, there was nothing sexy about it. She was crying and gasping for air.

  “Are you okay?” Ray asked, swimming toward her.

  She didn’t answer him. She started to pull herself up the rope.

  “Jenna, what the hell is going on?” he called. “Why are you acting like this?”

  She didn’t even glance at him. A determined expression on her face, Jenna continued to shimmy up the rope. He was amazed at her strength and agility. He knew guys back in high school gym class — even a few of the jocks — who had trouble with the rope climb. Yet Jenna pulled herself up, passing the lower branches. He heard her sobbing the whole time.

  “What are you doing?” Ray called, heading toward the shore now. “For God’s sake, Jenna, you’re going too high!”

  She disappeared amid the top branches of the tree. But he could still hear her crying.

  Naked and shivering, Ray staggered onto the muddy bank. He spotted her again, standing on one of the high branches. Jenna was shivering, too. She still held on to the rope and braced herself against another limb. She hoisted up the thick, braided cord, and then took the slack and wrapped it around her neck.

  “Oh, Jesus, no,” Ray murmured, horrified. He raced to the tree and began climbing it. The branches and rough bark scratched his bare feet and scraped against his naked torso. But he pressed on, grabbing one limb and then another, struggling to reach her before she jumped. “NO!” he yelled with what little breath he had.

  She gazed down at him. The rope was twisted around her neck.

  “Please, Jenna,” he gasped, climbing to a higher branch. “Even if you’re kidding, cut it out. You’re giving me a heart attack here. I don’t want — I don’t want anything bad happening to you. Why are you doing this anyway?”

  Numbly, she stared back at him. “Why not?” she muttered. “Who would care?”

  “I would, I’d care!” he answered, pulling himself up to the same branch as her. She backed away — farther out on the limb. He didn’t want to scare her off, so he stayed close to the base of the tree. “Listen, if you’re doing this for some kind of attention, you don’t need to. You’ve always had my attention, Jenna. If — if I see you in a room, you’re all I see. I gotta tell you, I–I’m crazy about you.” He clung to the tree branch and let out a frightened laugh. “And I’d be really pissed if I lost you this early in the game. . ”

  Jenna cracked an uncertain little smile. “You like me?” she asked quietly.

  He nodded. “A lot — even when you’re acting weird, like now. In fact, it makes me like you even more. How screwed up is that?”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and managed to laugh. “Pretty screwed up. .”

  “We make a terrific pair,” he said. Despite the fact that she stood precariously on that limb with a rope wound around her neck, Ray couldn’t help looking at Jenna’s beautiful breasts, her long limbs, and that triangle of dark pubic hair.

  He noticed she was looking him up and down, as well. She started to unwrap the thick cord from around her neck.

  Then she suddenly lost her footing.

  Ray heard a branch snap. Jenna let out a shriek. Her arms flailing, she teetered to one side. The rope was still partially looped around her neck as she started to fall.

  Paralyzed, Ray watched her careen down toward the lake. Twigs cracked and broke as her body hit them on the way down. For a few moments, everything was a blur. Ray didn’t recall scrambling out on the limb and then diving into the lake to rescue her. He just remembered plunging into the water, then bobbing up to the surface and gasping for air.

  Jenna was only a few feet away, amid a whirlpool of leaves and twigs. She held her forehead and laughed while treading water. Somehow, the last loop of the rope had uncoiled during her fall. He noticed some blood on her elbow — and fresh scratch marks on her arms. But her neck and face were unmarred.

  “My God, are you okay?” he asked, wiping the water and snot from his nose.

  Nodding, she drifted toward him. “I can’t believe you dove in after me,” she murmured. “Do you know how high that was? You risked your life for me. . ”

  She put her arm around him, then kissed him.

  Ray was too numb to feel aroused. Exhausted, they clung to each other and made their way to the shore. He kept checking her arms for cuts and scratch marks. Jenna said she’d be okay. As they both emerged from the water, they paused to catch their breath. They gazed at each other.

  Her eyes seemed to focus on his torso. She gently touched his hip. “You nicked yourself, poor baby,” she whispered.

  Ray glanced down at a scrape mark along his right rib cage.

  “Should I kiss it and make it better?” she whispered.

  Before he could answer, she bowed down. He felt her warm breath against his cold, wet skin as she planted kisses along his rib cage. Ray shuddered gratefully. He was about to close his eyes.

  But he noticed that solitary light again — coming closer.

  “Wait, no. . wait, Jenna, no,” he whispered, pulling her up. “Someone’s coming. . ”

  She looked out toward the meadow — toward the beam of light. “What is that?”

  Ray urgently pulled her toward the base of the tree, where they’d left their clothes. “Let’s get dressed, c’mon. . ” He reached for his undershorts.

  “What is that?” she repeated. Then she called out, “Who’s there? Is somebody there?”

  Ray put on his boxers, then grabbed her bra and shook it at her. “Y’know, Jenna,” he whispered, “it might be a good idea to put some clothes on.”

  With a perturbed look, she took the bra and slipped it on.

  Ray swiped up her panties and handed them to her. He glanced toward that eerie, single spot of light again. Now he could see a person behind it. Someone with a flashlight was coming toward them. Ray quickly stepped into his jeans and threw on his shirt. To his utter frustration, Jenna was taking her sweet time getting dressed. She stood there in just her bra and panties, squinting at that lone figure with a flashlight.

  Ray tried to get a good look at the man, but the flashlight was blinding him. He heard the man’s feet shuffling as the light got closer and brighter. Ray shielded his eyes. “Who’s there? Can I — can I help you?”

  The light shined on Jenna. She sneered at the man behind it. “What the hell do you want?”

  Now Ray could see the lean, tall man in a police uniform. He was about thirty-five, with black hair and a thin, weather-lined face. His police cap was tucked under his arm. “Seattle Police,” he announced. “Are there any more of you out here? Or is it just you two kids?”

  Ray swallowed hard. “It’s just us. . ”

  “Is that your red Volkswagen in the lot?” he asked.

  Ray nodded. “Yes, that’s my car. I’m sorry. Were we making too much noise?”

  “It’s not a case of too much noise,” the cop said, directing the light at him again. “This park closes at ten p.m. So it’s a case of trespassing — and indecent exposure.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Jenna hissed, defiantly standing there in her bra and panties. “Don’t you have anything better to do? It’s not like we—�
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  Ray swiveled around. “Shut the hell up!” he said under his breath. “You want to get us arrested? Let me handle this. . ” He turned around and shrugged at the cop. “I’m sorry, it was my idea that we come here. If we’ve broken any laws, it’s my fault. I wasn’t thinking. . ”

  The cop switched off the flashlight. “I’ll let you folks finish dressing,” he said coolly, “and then I’d like to have a word with you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ray answered.

  The tall policeman wandered back a few paces. He took a pack of gum from his shirt pocket and unwrapped a stick.

  Ray grabbed his socks and shoes. “Get dressed, and don’t say a word,” he whispered to Jenna. “I know I’m sucking up. But why antagonize him? I don’t want to spend the night in jail or have an arrest record with indecent exposure listed on it. That would kiss off my plans to become a teacher. Please, just let me talk to him. Maybe he’ll let us go with a warning if I apologize and grovel enough.”

  Jenna stared at him for a moment; then she nodded. “You handle it.”

  Ray apologized profusely while the cop escorted them back to the parking lot. Lagging behind them, Jenna didn’t utter a syllable. The policeman let them go with a warning and a few cautionary tales about the different muggings, rapes, and murders that had occurred at the Arboretum after dark.

  An hour later, over pancakes at the Dog House — one of Seattle’s most popular late-hour roadhouse-style diners — Ray and Jenna discussed whether or not any of the cop’s horror stories were really true. Ray felt so elated to have survived the night’s adventures with just a few scratches. All his terror and all of Jenna’s craziness — he’d never felt more alive. And the pancakes he wolfed down were the best he’d ever had — even though they’d been served up by a haggard, geriatric waitress, and the place was a dive. Despite the dim lighting, he could detect a grimy layer of grease and smoke covering everything — from the blown-up sepia photos of old Seattle on the walls to the silver tops of the salt and pepper shakers on their table.

  Beneath that table, Jenna had slipped off one shoe, and her foot kept touching his. Her toes wiggled under the cuff of his jeans and worked their way up his shin. “You saved my life tonight,” she said, while nibbling on a piece of bacon. “You rescued me from myself, Ray. I don’t know why I do stuff like that, I really don’t.”

  He didn’t dare ask her if she’d truly intended to kill herself earlier. He didn’t want to spoil the moment. He smiled at her. “You know, the Chinese say that once you save someone’s life, you’re henceforth responsible for them.”

  “Henceforth, huh?” she asked, sipping her glass of milk through a straw. “Well, I kind of like that.” Beneath the table, she scrunched her toes, playfully tugging at the hair on his shin. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, henceforth.”

  “I kind of like that, too,” Ray said.

  He’d been infatuated with her up until then, but that was the night Ray told himself she was the one—even if she was slightly screwed up. Who wasn’t screwed up in one way or another? She made him feel important.

  They were married two years later, the summer after their graduation. It wasn’t always smooth sailing. Her demons emerged from time to time, but she never attempted suicide again.

  Then, five months ago, that thing happened at the high school, and it all went to hell. He watched Jenna, his family, his career — everything — unravel. He’d rescued her once, but couldn’t help her this time. Nor could he save his daughter, who had packed up and disappeared amid all the fighting and the misery.

  Ray didn’t see any way out — until just recently.

  He remembered what Jenna had told him that night about her suicide attempts: “I guess it seemed like the only way I could take control of things, and — I don’t know — get out. . ”

  Ray wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting inside the idling station wagon in the Arboretum parking lot. But the rain had stopped tapping on the car roof. He heard the wipers squeaking and the motor purring. He switched off the wipers. Beads of rain surrounded a clean, twin-fan pattern on the windshield. He had a clear view of Lake Washington Boulevard. There wasn’t any traffic at all.

  The dashboard clock read 1:04 A.M. Everything was supposed to have happened four minutes ago.

  The motor died.

  Ray stared at the red warning light on the gas gauge. He didn’t try to restart the engine. Instead, he took out his wallet and looked for his AAA card. In his rearview mirror, he spotted a car coming up the road. A black BMW slowed to a crawl by the parking lot entrance.

  Ray started shaking. He could hardly breathe — until the BMW picked up speed and continued down Lake Washington Boulevard. Then it disappeared around a curve in the road.

  He finally found the card. With a trembling hand, he punched in the numbers on his iPhone. The AAA operator answered, and Ray told her that he’d run out of gas. “I managed to roll into a parking lot by the Arboretum — off Lake Washington Boulevard,” he said nervously. His heart was racing. “I’ll need some assistance. Do you know how long it will be before you can get a tow out here — or someone with a container of gas?”

  Forty-five minutes, the operator said.

  “I’ll be here, waiting,” Ray said. “Thanks a lot.”

  After he clicked off, Ray shoved the phone in his jacket pocket. He was too anxious to just sit there at the wheel and wait. So he left the keys in the ignition, opened the door, and stepped out of the car. For a moment, he thought he might be sick, but he took a few deep breaths.

  From where he stood, Ray could see that old pathway between some bushes at the edge of the lot — the trail Jenna and he had ventured down so long ago. He couldn’t believe it was twenty years. Where the hell had the time gone? He’d brought his young son, Todd, to this park a few months back, and discovered they’d chopped down that tree with the rope. And the Dog House, where Jenna and he had eaten those delicious pancakes, had closed back in 1994.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ray noticed a pinpoint of light in a field south of the parking lot. A chill raced through him as he watched the light get closer — and brighter. He knew this time, it wasn’t a cop.

  Ray started shaking again.

  At a brisk, businesslike clip, the man approached the edge of the parking lot. He switched off his flashlight. Ray could see him now — about six feet tall and swarthy. He wore a hooded clear rain slicker over dark clothes. Surgical gloves covered his hands. He paused for only a moment at the lot’s edge before he started toward Ray with a determined look on his face.

  Ray backed up toward the car. “Hey, listen,” he said, barely able to get the words out. “I–I don’t know what you’re planning exactly, but please. .”

  Unresponsive, the man kept coming toward him. He reached for something in the pocket of his slicker.

  Shaking his head, Ray backed into his car. “Just — just stop for a second. Please, wait—”

  The man pulled out a short piece of metal pipe and slammed it down on Ray’s head.

  Ray let out a feeble, garbled cry. He fell against the side of the station wagon and then crumpled to the wet pavement. Dazed, he lay there while the man frisked him. Ray tried to push him away, but he couldn’t lift his hands.

  The stranger took Ray’s wallet and iPhone and then pocketed them. He grabbed Ray by the wrists and started pulling him across the lot toward the opening in the bushes. Ray was dragged down the same pathway he’d ventured with Jenna on that warm night twenty years before. He remembered Jenna’s beautiful smile when she said, “No one else is around. . ”

  Ray tried to struggle as the man hauled him into the shadowy brush, but he couldn’t move. When he tried to talk, no words came out — just muted moans. It was as if he were having a nightmare, and couldn’t wake himself up. He couldn’t even scream.

  His vision was blurred, but he could still see the man, hovering over him with a gun in his hand.

  “No. . no. . no. .” Ray managed to whisper.


  “Shut the fuck up,” the man grumbled. He pointed the gun down at Ray.

  No one else was around.

  No one else heard the three gunshots.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Erin. . sweetie, eat your waffle,” Jeff Dennehy told his six-year-old daughter.

  There were four curved-hardback chairs around the circular, pine table with a lazy Susan in the middle of it. On top of the lazy Susan was a hand-painted vase with a bouquet of pipe-cleaner-and-tissue daisies. The creator of that slightly tacky centerpiece was seated beside Jeff. The cute, solemn-faced blond girl gazed over her shoulder at the TV and a commercial for toilet paper — something with cartoon bears. They’d been watching the Today show on the small TV at the end of the kitchen counter.

  “C’mon, Erin,” Jeff said over his coffee cup. “Molly made the waffles from scratch, and you haven’t even put a dent in them.”

  With a sigh, Erin turned toward her plate, curled her lip at it, and pressed down on the waffle with the underside of her fork. “It’s mushy,” she murmured. “I want waffles from a toaster.”

  Dressed in a T-shirt, sweatpants, and slippers, Molly had her strawberry-blond hair swept back in a ponytail. She leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee. She thought maybe if her stepdaughter hadn’t drowned the waffle in a quart of maple syrup, it wouldn’t be so mushy. But Molly bit her lip, set down her coffee cup, and retreated to the refrigerator. She opened the freezer in search of some Eggos, anything to put an end to the father — daughter standoff. She didn’t need the aggravation this morning.

  “You know, peanut,” Jeff was saying patiently. “Fresh waffles are better than ones from the toaster. Good waffles aren’t supposed to have the consistency of old drywall.”

  Of course, Jeff wouldn’t touch a waffle — fresh, toasted, or otherwise — if his life depended on it. He was having his usual bran flakes to help maintain his lean, muscular build. Molly’s husband was a bit vain — and had good reason to be. Dressed for work in his black Hugo Boss suit, crisp white shirt, and a striped tie, he looked very handsome. He was forty-four, with a light olive complexion, brown eyes, and black hair that was just starting to cede to gray.