The light swings in my direction until it passes across my face, then returning to me, blinding me.
“Town police!” I call out, shutting my eyes.
The light on my face disappears. I open my eyes, unable to see much of anything from the overload to my retinas; I squint and drop low.
“Identify yourself!” I yell.
I hear something, feet adjusting in wet grass, think maybe I see a figure moving. The flashlight beam has disappeared, nothing but spotty darkness. I break into a run, the gun at my side, my eyes still off-kilter after the blinding light, dodging tombstones as best I can. As I race farther south, some faint light off the side street helps me navigate.
The figure up ahead, in a full-out sprint.
“Stop! Town police!”
I pick up my pace, feeling like I’m closing the gap, a faint mist hitting my face, but it’s not far from the street, and then the woods, plenty of places to hide. I’m running full-speed, but I’m running out of time.
I fire a round into the earth, the gunshot’s echo piercing, and the sloshing sound of feet running on wet grass suddenly stops.
“Don’t move! Town police!”
I shuffle forward, both hands on the gun trained ahead of me, though I can’t really make out the figure yet. “Hands out where I can see them!” I order, as if I could possibly see them.
As I get closer and my eyes readjust, I make him. He has turned to face me. His arms are extended upward.
A mousy face, hair jutting out from beneath a baseball cap flipped backward.
“Who are you?” I ask, but I think I know the answer.
“Who are you?” he says.
“Detective Murphy, STPD. Tell me who you are, and don’t move!”
“Aiden Willis.”
I shuffle toward him, closing the gap, less than ten yards away. The wind picks a lousy time to kick back up, carrying mist and some stray leaves.
“You in the habit of running from cops, Aiden?”
“I didn’t know you were a cop.”
“I announced myself.” Moving closer still. Gun still held high. Adrenaline still pumping.
“So? How do I know it’s true?”
A fair point, I guess. This time of night, in a cemetery.
“Where’s that flashlight?” I ask.
“In my hand.”
“Shine it under your chin,” I say. “And move slowly, Aiden. Don’t make a cop with a gun nervous.”
He complies. The light goes on, and there he is, illuminated by a haunting, ghost-story-around-the-campfire light under his face, those raccoon eyes that constantly flitter about.
“What are you doing here, Aiden?” Moving closer, under five yards now.
“What are you doin’ here?”
“Hey, pal, you wanna stop asking me the same question I ask you?”
“I work here.”
True enough, that. Isaac told me he did maintenance here.
“You’re working at midnight, are you?”
“It rained. We got an open site for burial tomorrow. Sometimes the rain messes it up. I’m just checkin’.”
“Who’s getting buried?”
“How should I know?”
I feel my adrenaline decelerating. “You scared the shit out of me,” I say.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
What’s with this guy repeating everything I say? But I have no basis to detain him, and now that my heart has stopped racing, and the wind’s finding its way under my shirt and licking my sweat-covered face and neck—I’m reminded how freaking cold it is out here.
“I remember you now,” he mumbles, or at least that’s what I think he said.
“What?”
Did he say he remembers me?
He double-blinks. “Can I go now?”
I let out a breath. “Yeah.”
The light goes off under Aiden’s face.
Bathing him in darkness again.
59
LET ME OUT
Bam-bam-bam
Let me out
Bam-bam-bam
I can’t see can’t breathe
Darkness, then penetrating light from above, a shadow blocking it
A face coming into focus, backlit by blinding yellow
A boy, long hair, a hand
Don’t touch me, please don’t touch— I lurch forward in bed, sucking in air, my heartbeat rattling.
The same nightmare, but different.
Closed in, dark, let me out, suffocating— But a boy. This time, a boy.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to re-create it, to make out a face, but it’s like trying to grasp vapor in your hand. You can’t pull back a dream from the netherworld of the subconscious.
It comes when it wants to, and it vanishes at will.
I climb out from under the covers, wipe thick sweat off my forehead, splash cold water on my face in the bathroom. A quarter to five. Slept for four hours.
I throw on a shirt and shorts, lace up my New Balance shoes, and hit the pavement for ten miles.
The Hamptons, at their most charming at sunrise, the tranquil bays and deserted beaches and open roads, the smell of recent rain. I run over sand and grass and asphalt, working out the kinks, exorcising the night demons.
Later, I’m in my car, heading toward the school, my thrilling assignment. I dial information on my cell phone and get the number for the church.