Fingers in the Mist Read online

  “Did you have a bad dream?”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. “Someone was walking on the porch. I heard footsteps outside my window and I saw a shadow. When they walked off, I crawled out of bed and peeked outside. I saw them, Caity. They walked out back.”

  I walk over to the window and look out into the backyard, my eyes searching the ground between the house and the alfalfa fields. Aside from a bunch of trees and the barn in the distance, I don’t see a thing.

  “There’s no one out there.”

  “What if it’s the Redeemers?” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but whatever a Redeemer is, it terrifies him.

  “Have you been watching scary movies again?”

  Mitch and his best friend Beau have this crazy infatuation with horror movies, and I may be partly to blame. A couple summers ago, Dad and Judy left Mitch and Beau in my care and we had a zombie movie marathon. They were both scarred for weeks, and Judy never allowed me to babysit again.

  “They’re real, Cait. I promise.”

  “What are they?” The best thing for me to do in this situation is to hear him out. I know how he gets when he feels like no one is listening. We may only share one parent, but we both share that same personality trait.

  “You know. The Redeemers.” He says the last word very slow, like I’m hard of hearing. Re-deeeem-ers. He sighs in exasperation when I answer him with a blank stare.

  “Mind your manners and do what’s right,

  This will keep you safe at night.

  But if you give yourself to sin,

  You will let the Redeemers in.

  If God’s path is not your goal,

  Then the Redeemers will take your soul.”

  He stares at me when he’s finished as if I should now understand.

  “The Redeemers aren’t real, buddy. It’s just a story.”

  “Nu-uh. They’re real. They have to cleanse the town or we’ll all burn in hell. It’s God’s way.”

  “Who told you this?”

  He sighs in exasperation. “We talk about them in church all the time. The Redeemers do God’s work. They take the sinners so they won’t corrupt the innocent. They come to town, bringing with them a deep, dark fog, and over the course of seven long nights, seven sinners will be taken and their families cleansed.”

  How often has he heard this? The speech was burned into his innocent little mind. I have no idea how to respond to this. He’s eight. Eight! And he learned this in church? What is wrong with these people?

  “It’s not the Redeemers,” I say after a moment’s pause. “Come on. Let’s get you back in bed.”

  The sound of my dad’s buzz-saw-snoring greets us as we descend the stairs. Judy must wear earplugs when she sleeps. There’s no way anyone could possibly sleep next to that. I push Mitch’s bedroom door open and reach for the light switch, but he stops me.

  “Don’t turn on the light,” he whispers. “They’ll see us.”

  I pull back the covers and coax him inside. “Sleep tight, booger,” I say, kissing him on the forehead.

  “Stay here until I fall asleep. Please?”

  I don’t have the energy to argue, so I climb in next to him and grab one of his pillows. Yancy jumps onto the foot of the bed and curls up on my feet. I’m about to doze off when a board creaks outside Mitch’s window. A deep growl comes from Yancy, and I slowly roll my head to the side. The shadow of the tree in the front yard sways against the wind, lit from behind by the flickering lightning. The boards creak again, and Mitch tenses beside me.

  “Caity?” he whispers. “Are you awake?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you hear that?”

  “It’s probably just the wind,” I say, though I know it most certainly isn’t.

  “Wind doesn’t walk on porches.” He snuggles up next to me, pressing his face into my shoulder.

  A collective intake of breath comes from both of us as we see the outline of a figure move into view. It stops and turns, appearing to look at us through the curtains. Yancy starts to whine and an electric charge covers my skin, prickling and rolling across my body.

  I don’t know what comes over me, but I’m suddenly pissed off. After everything that happened today, I’m not going to sit here and let some idiot terrorize my little brother. I fly off the bed toward the window and throw back the curtains.

  The figure outside doesn’t appear surprised to see me. He or she wears a long, dark red cloak, much like the one I thought I saw on the mountain earlier tonight. I can’t see the face because of the draping of the hood.

  Lightning flashes, glinting off the whites of their gold-brown eyes. My heart begins to thud in my chest, and Mitch lets out a blood-curdling scream.

  The figure turns to run, and I’m out of Mitch’s room, barreling toward the front door. My father and Judy stumble past me as they rush to Mitch, but I don’t have time to speak to them. I have to stop the person in the robe before they can get away again.

  Chapter Three

  During one of my group sessions in rehab, my counselor told me that the biggest threat to my personal health and well-being wasn’t the drugs; it was me. The drugs could only have as much control over my life as I allowed. He said this because I isolated myself from others. I sat quietly in group sessions, and followed directions without arguing. He took this as a sign that when I was released, I would go right back to using. If I’d told him why I really used drugs, he would have locked me in the crazyhouse. He also called me defiant and reckless. I guess he was right on that count.

  “What the hell were you thinking, chasing after them?” I don’t know why my dad’s making such a big deal out of this. We’re in the middle of nowhere. I highly doubt murderous farmers and livestock roam the country roads of Highland Falls after dark.

  “Because I wanna know who the pervert is that gets off on staring at little boys through their window. I’d think you might be a little more interested in the safety of your son.” I know I’m pushing it, talking back like this, but anger-laced adrenaline still courses through my veins.

  “Don’t start this, Caitlyn,” Judy warns. “You agreed that you wouldn’t cause us any trouble—”

  “I wasn’t trying to cause trouble. I was trying to protect my brother—your son. Besides, I don’t see what the big deal is. I obviously scared them off.” When I’d run out the front door, the figure vanished around the corner at the end of our driveway. I couldn’t run fast enough to catch them. Note to self: running barefoot on gravel is painful.

  “I’m going to have a look around.” Dad grabs a jacket from the coat rack, and slides his feet into his boots. His pajama bottoms poof out at the top, making him look like the ringmaster of a circus.

  “Alone? Let me come with you.” I want to find this creep and let him have it.

  “No, you go back to bed. I’ll be fine.” He shuts the door before I can argue, and I stand there until I hear the engine of his truck fire up.

  I go back to my room, listening as Mitch talks Judy into sleeping in his bed with him. I pull back the curtains and watch the headlights of my father’s truck as they tease the edges of our property. I know that him driving around out there is futile. He won’t find anyone. Whoever it was is long gone, leaving nothing but the memory of their eyes engrained in my mind.

  ***

  The next morning I fake a migraine to avoid helping Judy and Dad set up for the Harvest Festival. Evidently, any hope I’d had of the rain flooding the town square to prevent me from making an appearance at the country bumpkin ho-down was thwarted by my ever-present bad luck. The flooding was isolated to outside of town. According to my father, the river washed out the bridge—the only way to get into or out of Highland Falls—therefore ruining my chances of running away and hitching a ride to anywhere but here. Not that I would actually do that, but having the option was comforting. Now I’m definitely stuck in this isolated shit hole.

  I gaze out t
he window at acres of farmland pressed up against forests, rivers, and the surrounding mountains. This place is a punch bowl, and no one knows it’s here. There’s only one way in and one way out. I feel suffocated just thinking about it.

  The occasional barn and several farmhouses appear in the distance. Almost every resident of Highland Falls owns a farm. Those who don’t either work on someone else’s farm, or for the electric company, the feed store, the diner, or the school. The store has all the basics, and outside mail gets delivered twice a week, thanks to Mr. Parsons who drives an hour to the next town and picks up any letters and packages. Highland Falls is so insignificant, even UPS refuses to bother with it. Why did my dad leave his banking job to take over the family farm eight years ago? Why would anyone choose to live here? Sure, the air is fresh, the water clean and crime nonexistent, but it’s boring as hell. I so don’t belong here.

  As soon as I see my dad’s truck pull out of the drive, I hop in the shower. I have every intention of doing a whole lot of nothing today. As soon as I’ve finished and gone to the kitchen for food, there’s a knock at the front door. Whoever it is can’t be here to see me. It’s probably one of Judy’s church friends. The knocking comes again, and then I hear the door creak open. Seriously? Why does no one lock their doors around here?

  “Caity-bug? Where you at?”

  My heart flips in my chest when I hear Jeb’s voice. I look down at the ensemble I’d chosen and wince. The boy shorts and cami (sans bra) I put on weren’t exactly meant for public display. I want nothing more than to run out and give him a huge hug, but I can’t let him see me like this. Before I can plan my escape route, he steps around the corner and I feel my face turn fifty shades of crimson.

  “Do you always just walk into people’s houses?” I wrap my arms around my chest and take a step around him before darting up the stairs.

  A slight smile teases his lips as I move past. “Do you always run around the house in your underwear?”

  I run into my room and grab the first sweatshirt I find, then throw on a pair of old jean shorts before going back downstairs. I find Jeb sitting at the kitchen table, munching on an apple, his feet propped up on a chair.

  “Judy would so kick your ass if she saw you with your dirty boots propped up on her perfectly clean chair,” I say, swatting at his feet.

  “Aww, you covered your boobies, Caity-bug.”

  “Shut it,” I say, pulling him to his feet and wrapping my arms around his neck. “Did you grow since I last saw you?”

  “Four inches in two years,” he says proudly. “I thought I was destined to be a runt forever. Now I’m almost as tall as Trevor.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Your dad sent us down to grab a few bales of hay for decoration, and Judy needed this box of apples for something.”

  “Us?” I sit at the table, grabbing an apple from the box at Jeb’s feet.

  “Trevor’s outside,” Jeb says sheepishly.

  I roll my eyes in annoyance. “So, what, he plans to avoid me for the rest of our lives?”

  “Nah, he’s just a stubborn little shit. He’ll come around. He might not show it right now, but he was so happy to hear you were coming to live here, he almost peed on my floor when I told him.”

  I can’t help but smile. Maybe there is some hope. “I was sure he would never forgive me.”

  “You hurt him real bad. You girls suck,” he says, punching me in the arm.

  “Is he back with Monique?”

  “Naw. They got back together for a little bit after you left that summer, but they broke up a couple months later. She’s too mean. Always telling him what to do.”

  He had that part right. Monique Carter is mean, bitchy, and very controlling. We hated each other the moment we met eight years ago. The daughter of the town pastor, she always had a holier-than-thou attitude that didn’t resonate well with me. That and the fact that she is bossy as hell, and I don’t do well with people who demand things of me.

  “How’s Chastity?” I can’t help but notice the pained look that crosses his face when I mention her name.

  “All right, I guess. We don’t talk much. Or at all.” He picks at an imaginary spot on his faded Wranglers. “You haven’t talked to her?”

  “Not since she called me a drugged up, selfish bitch and told me to never call her again. That was about six months ago.” The words Chas yelled at me through the phone still sting, even though I know everything she said to me was true.

  “She had the baby,” Jeb says, a pained edge to his voice. “I seen him a few times at church. He’s real cute.”

  “She had a boy?” I wonder if she was disappointed. When she first found out she was pregnant she said it better be a girl because she had no idea what to do with a boy.

  I reach over and grab Jeb’s hand. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I caused that fight between you two. I never should have taken her to that party, or encouraged her to hook up—”

  Jeb holds up a hand to silence me. “Everything happens for a reason.”

  “Maybe you should try talking to her. Maybe … ” my voice trails off when I realize he’s not listening. I know I shouldn’t push him. I just hate the way our little group has split. Chastity, Jeb, Trevor, and I were inseparable the last eight years. Now it seems there’s no amount of superglue that could ever bond us back together.

  The heavy clomping of boots on the front porch pulls me out of my thoughts. There’s a soft knock at the door, and then it pops open.

  “I could use some help with these hay bales.” Trevor looks annoyed, but Jeb doesn’t budge.

  “I was just catching up with my old friend, Cait. You remember her, don’t you? The girl you’ve been in love with since we were kids?”

  Heat fills my face and I want to punch Jeb in the throat. Trevor just looks at him unflinchingly. “I need help. Now.”

  Jeb stands and grabs the box of apples off the floor. “I’ve been summoned. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think I’m coming,” I say as I follow him to the door. “Harvest festivals are not my thing.”

  “You don’t have a choice. I expect to see you there in all your citified glory.” Jeb gives me a wink and then walks out the door, leaving me alone with Trevor.

  Trevor starts to close the door, but I stop it with my toe. He looks at me briefly before diverting his eyes to the wooden slats of the porch.

  “How’s Mason?” I ask.

  “He’s okay. He didn’t sleep much. I heard him walking around in his room most of the night, mumbling. Mom’s home with him now.”

  I place a hand on his shoulder and he pulls away. “Any idea what happened to him?”

  “Nope.” He shakes his head and his hair falls into his eyes. “Look, I gotta go. Your dad’s waiting.”

  I watch him retreat down the steps. “Hey. I’ll see you tonight?” The words are hopeful on my lips, more of a question than a statement.

  “See ya.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but at least it’s better than him telling me to go to hell.

  I close the door and walk into the kitchen to rummage through the fridge. I grab a couple slices of bread and some mayo and make myself a sandwich with the left-over pot roast. I gaze out the kitchen window to the barn where Trevor and Jeb lug bales of hay into the back of Jeb’s old, beat-up Ford. Trevor has removed his T-shirt, and a sheen of sweat covers his tanned skin. He’s always been in good shape, but like Jeb, he’s really filled out since I last saw him. His thick muscles bulge as he lifts the bales of hay and tosses them up to Jeb. I feel like I should go out there and offer them something to drink. Would that be too obvious? Before I can make up my mind, the two of them hop into the truck and drive off, leaving me alone with a sandwich I no longer feel like eating.

  I eat half of it and toss the other half to Yancy who carries it into the mudroom for a private feast. I flop onto the sofa and flip on the television. There’s no cable
TV out in the boonies, but at least my dad was smart enough to have a satellite dish installed. Maybe this will help me feel a little more connected to my old life.

  After an hour of mind-numbing reality television, I find myself nodding off. I’m about to go back upstairs when there’s another knock at the door. I’m tempted to ignore it, but that didn’t do me a lot of good last time. I walk over and open the door and my jaw drops.

  “I heard someone let your skanky ass into town. I thought for sure they’d throw you out the minute you got here.” Chas’s big, dark sunglasses hide her eyes, and I can’t tell whether she’s messing with me or if she’s still mad about the fight we had over the phone a few months ago.

  Mad or not, the bitch looks good for having just had a baby less than six months ago. She wears a pair of cutoff jean shorts, showing off her tanned, modelesque legs and a white tee that perfectly accentuates her flat stomach and perfect boobs. It’s like having a baby made her even hotter than she was before. The bottom third of her long, golden hair is tipped in shades of pink and purple—a look only she could rock.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” She holds out her arms and I immediately pull her into a hug. At five-nine, she has a couple of inches on me, so she has to bend down a bit. We cling to one another as though our lives depend on it.

  “I was so afraid you’d still be mad at me.” My voice catches as I whisper this into her hair. If there is one person I need in this town, it’s Chas.

  “Who says I’m not?” she says as she pulls away from me. “Maybe I’m only being nice because your mom bit it.”

  If anyone else had said this, I would be pissed, but not Chas. This is how we are with one another—direct and to the point.

  I notice a stroller sitting on the porch behind her. A tiny wail erupts from inside it and she turns around to remove a tiny, fussy little boy. Tears immediately fill my eyes as Chas places a kiss on his forehead. I’d promised her I would be there when she gave birth. I’d promised I would always stand by her, and then, because of my stupid romantic ideals, I’d let her down.