Dark Corner Part 8

Kyle had learned patience in his long life, but for once, he could not wait. He could not wait until later tonight, when he would, finally, meet his father.

David could not remember ever having such an enjoyable first date.

He'd picked Nia up at seven, and they had driven to Southaven, twenty minutes north of Mason's Corner. They had dinner at a Southwestern-style restaurant, then visited the multiplex cinema to see a movie.

After the film a typical summer action flick full of explosions and one-liners they stopped by a cafe for dessert.

"We had peach cobbler at lunch, and now we're eating cheesecake," Nia said. She giggled, dangling her fork. "Are you trying to put some weight on me, or what?"

"You are a little skinny."

She threw a napkin at him. "Hey, you said I was in great shape"

"I was only trying to make a good first impression." He laughed, then grew serious. "I wouldn't change one thing about you"

She gave him the full effect of her lovely eyes.

It had been that kind of evening-filled with meaningful gazes and flirtatious, yet profound, compliments. Only once in his life had David been similarly at ease with a woman, and that had been two years ago, with his ex-girlfriend, whom he'd thought he would marry. When they broke up, he'd been shattered. She had been his first genuine, mature love. He'd doubted that he'd ever meet a woman like her again. Lightning never struck twice.

But now, he had met Nia.

He was a practical guy. He wrote goals in a journal, and executed them. He never attempted anything of importance without thinking it through from beginning to end. He liked an orderly-even predictable life, in which he could main tain control at all times. When he had come to Mason's Corner, the possibility of meeting a woman had never crossed his thoughts.

But now, Nia.

Although he had known her for only a day, he could not deny the sense of rightness that he felt in her company. Was it love at first sight? He hesitated to slap a cliched label like that on it. But it was something special, something worth growing and exploring.

Nia was watching him. He had the feeling that she knew exactly what he was thinking, and instead of making him nervous, he felt warm, accepted.

"I want to tell you why I left Houston and came back home," Nia said.

He put down his fork. "Okay. If you feel comfortable sharing that with me "

"I do," she said firmly, as though reaffirming it to herself. "In Houston, I was stalked."

He listened. She would share the story at her own pace.

"This happened after my knee injury forced me to stop running track," she said. "I was teaching at a high school. One of my colleagues, Mr. Morgan, a math teacher, asked me out on a date. He was a good-looking guy, in his thirties, never married, and he seemed really nice, intelligent, and thoughtful. So I went out with him.

"Talk about the date from h.e.l.l. The minute he picked me up, he started talking about all of our colleagues. He had strong, negative views of everyone. Mr. So-and-So is a h.o.m.os.e.xual, he'd say, and we should keep him away from the boys in his cla.s.s. Ms. This-or-That is a b.i.t.c.h and always has been, and I can't wait until she leaves. He went on and on like that throughout dinner. He was a totally different person in private than he was at school.

"Our plan was to catch a movie after dinner, but I already had a headache from listening to his nasty att.i.tude. I told him I had to get in early to grade some papers, and asked him to drop me off. He drove me back to my place, and he made a couple comments about how I was rude for ending our date early. I let it pa.s.s. I only wanted to get away from him. But I could've given him a piece of my mind, because if anyone had been rude, it was him.

"The hara.s.sment started the following week. He asked me when we could get together again, and I said I was busy. 'Then when is your schedule open?' he said. I told him I didn't know, hoping he'd get the hint. He didn't.

"He started to leave vulgar notes in my mailbox. Stuff like, 'Baby, can I have a private tutoring session with you?' and 'You're too d.a.m.n s.e.xy to be teaching here, you're gonna make me lose my mind.' He never signed these notes, but I knew it was him. No one else had any reason to write them. The messages got cruder and more frequent. I complained to the princ.i.p.al, and she said she was going to talk to Mr. Morgan. She took my complaint seriously, which was something I'd worried about. I thought my complaint might be laughed off. But apparently, this wasn't the first time that this guy had done something like this. He'd been forced to leave his last teaching position because of the same kind of thing.

"But the princ.i.p.al must not have been all that frightening to Mr. Morgan, because he stepped up his hara.s.sment. He called my place at all hours of the night, never saying anything, just breathing hard on the phone. He'd leave a rose under the windshield wiper of my car. And he started showing up at the gym where I worked out. He'd find a spot where he could watch me run around the track, and he would stare at me the entire time.

"I finally confronted him and told him that I wanted him to leave me alone, or I was going to call the police. He laughed it off and acted like I was the one tripping. 'I only want to spend time with you, get to know you better,' he said. 'I'm a good man, and I want to prove it to you.' He wasn't worried about my threat to go to the cops. Maybe he didn't believe me, maybe he didn't care. I don't know what he was thinking, really.

"This hara.s.sment went on for weeks. Then, one night I came home and found that someone had been in my apartment. Clothes were all over the place, but my lingerie was missing. I knew who'd done it, though I had no idea how he got into my place. He had a sick, cunning mind.

"I was scared to death then. I called the police. They talked to him and warned him to stay away from me, and they gave me advice on how to handle the situation. I hoped they'd thrown a scare into him. They hadn't. He only got worse. He called more frequently, he followed me to and from work, and tailed me when I ran errands. There was no escape from him. He promised me that I would be his, no matter how long it took.

"I was a nervous wreck. I was afraid to leave the house, pick up the phone-to do anything. Mr. Morgan was everywhere, like he had cloned himself a dozen times. I called the police again, and I got a restraining order. Instead of cooling him off, it drove him over the edge.

"When I was alone in the teacher's lounge one afternoon, he a.s.saulted me. I've always been a fitness nut, trying out new sports, and when I was in college I'd started learning tae kwon do and had gotten as far as a blue belt. The training came in handy, and it probably helped, too, that Mr. Morgan isn't that much bigger than I am. He's about five-nine and pretty lean, and I'm five-seven. Anyway, we tangled in there, and I busted his lip. It might've gone further if a couple other teachers hadn't walked into the room. Mr. Morgan ran out, and I called the cops again.

"Now, you'd think that after I had kicked his b.u.t.t, he'd leave me alone, right? Nope. First of all, the cops didn't find him at home. They couldn't find him anywhere. That night, I stayed at a friend's house, 'cause I was afraid to go to my place alone. She lived with her boyfriend, so there were three of us there, and she had a rottweiler, too. I thought I would be safe, if only for that night.

"Late, around one in the morning, Mr. Morgan broke into the house. He had a gun this time. He shot my friend's dog, then he pistol-whipped my friend's fiance. I heard all of this happening while I was in the guest bedroom, and let me tell you, never in my life have I been so scared. I pushed the dresser against the door and hid in the closet. Mr. Morgan tried to break down the door, and he kept chanting 'Going to get my baby, Nia; she belongs to me. Nia's all mine, all mine, all mine.' He had gone crazy. I was convinced that he would break in and blow me away. I was praying just as much as he was chanting.

"The police got there before Mr. Morgan could get me. He gave himself up peacefully. He was sentenced to two years in prison for a.s.sault and other charges"

"Only two years?" David said. "That guy was going to kill you!"

She smiled bitterly. "He could get paroled sooner, for good behavior."

"That's crazy," he said. "d.a.m.n, I'm so sorry you had to go through something like that"

"I had to leave Houston," she said. "I used to love the city, but it held too many painful memories for me. Even though Mr. Morgan was in prison, I imagined that I saw his face everywhere I went. I had nightmares-and still do sometimes-about him escaping and coming to finish me off. Mama asked me to come back home. It didn't take much convincing on her part. I was ready to live in a place where I felt safe"

"And this Morgan guy is still in jail, right?"

"He's been locked up for a little over a year. But like I said, he could get out early. I'm praying that whenever he's released, he won't come after me. I hope he forgets about me"

"You think he could find you here?"

Her eyes were haunted. "Definitely. He's slick, smart. He could track me down. Some women who've been stalked have actually needed to change their names and move far away, to where no one knows them like they're in a witness protection program. But I never want to do that. I can't leave behind everything I know and love."

He reached across the table and took her hands in his. Her skin was cool, her palms moist, and he realized how much reliving her terror had shaken her.

"I picked up tae kwon do again, after I moved back home," she said. "I take cla.s.ses at a dojo in Memphis. I've got a black belt now. I've bought a gun, too. And I know how to use it. If Mr. Morgan comes again, I'll be ready for him."

"You've got another weapon, too," he said.

"What's that?"

"Me. I'm not letting anything happen to you. You've got a bodyguard, girl."

She smiled, squeezed his hands. "You're so sweet. How did I ever meet such a nice guy at the park in little, boring Mason's Corner?"

The words came out of him before he could think about the meaning of what he was saying.

"Maybe it was destiny."

Andre pulled up in his car at ten minutes past nine o'clock.

Junior had been sitting on the rickety front steps of the trailer. He had been fidgeting, restlessly counting the stars in the clear night sky. He never liked to show up late for a job. Andre was supposed to pick him up at a quarter to nine, and as the minutes ticked away, Junior grew more agitated. The bald-headed, rich man in the Lexus was offering them good money for a few hours' work, and they were going to blow it by showing up late. What if the guy hired someone else? They'd miss out on all that money.

At times like this, Junior felt an aching need for his own pickup truck. With his own ride, he'd never arrive late to work, anywhere.

When Andre arrived in his battered white Chevy, Junior raced to the car.

"Man, we're late!" Junior hustled inside. "We was s'posed to be up there at nine. It's ten minutes after!"

"Chill out, cuz," Andre said. A toothpick dangled from his lips. From the pungent smell inside the car, Junior could tell that Andre had been smoking, and not cigarettes, either. Andre had that lazy look in his eyes that let Junior know his cousin was as high as a kite.

"You been smokin'," Junior said. "We got to be ready to work, Andre"

Swiveling the steering wheel with one hand, Andre made a dismissive motion. "You worry too much, cuz. It's cool."

"That man's gonna be mad that we late," Junior said. Andre cruised, slowly, and Junior gritted his teeth. With the pa.s.sing of each minute, he could feel dollar bills slipping out of his fingers.

"What I wanna know is," Andre said, "what this cat gonna have us diggin' up? I told you they say the Mason crib is haunted."

"I don't know," Junior said. He had avoided thinking about the scary tales of the Mason place, preferring to focus on the money he was going to earn.

"I been asking around 'bout that cat," Andre said. "I heard he was from France; that's why he got that funny accent"

"Oh," Junior said. He didn't know exactly where France was, only that it was far away and that he'd never go there. Not unless they had some good-paying jobs he could do that would be worth the trip.

"It just don't make any d.a.m.n sense. A n.i.g.g.a from France living in that big-a.s.sed, haunted crib, and now he want us to do some digging-at night. I got a bad feeling about it, cuz"

"We gotta go, Andre. That's a lot of money-"

"I know, you wanna make some money. I need the money too, that's the only reason I'm going with you. My girl's been on my case 'bout working a job"

They drove up the steep country road that led to the Mason house. Junior hadn't been up here in ... well, he couldn't remember the last time. No one lived up this way, so there was no reason for him to ever swing through this part of town.

The mansion came into view. It sat far back from the road, up on a peak. Soft lights gleamed through the windows.

A tall, wrought-iron gate restricted access to the long dirt lane that led to the house. Andre parked in front of the entrance.

They got out of the car. Towering trees, cloaked in darkness, flanked the fence. A cool breeze whistled through the branches.

Other than the wind, the night was silent, as though they stood on a hill at the top of the world.

Andre approached the gate. "d.a.m.n, this place is creepy as h.e.l.l."

Junior ignored Andre. He peered through the fence bars, looking for the black Frenchman. "We too late. I bet he left us and got someone else. We ain't gonna make any money."

"Stop tripping." Andre banged the gate with his fist. It creaked open on rusty hinges. "Come on"

Junior followed Andre inside. Across the lawn, a moving shadow appeared.

"Gentlemen!" It was the Frenchman. He shined a flashlight in their direction. "Only the two of you have come?"

"Yeah," Andre said. "We didn't bring n.o.body else."

"We apologize for being late, mister," Junior said.

"That is acceptable," the man said. "My name is Mamu- walde."

"Mamma-what?" Andre said.

"Simply call me Mamu," he said, as if annoyed.

Mamu, Junior thought. Figured he'd have a crazy name like that.

The fella had changed into a new suit, too, Junior noticed. This one was navy blue, just as sharp as the other one. The guy probably had a closetful of nice clothes.

Mamu gave them a once-over. "I earnestly hope that you are prepared to work, gentlemen, and to work hard. We have a great deal of labor ahead of us tonight."

"Diggin' for what?" Andre said.

Mamu only smiled. "We are behind schedule. Follow me, please."

Andre mumbled something under his breath, but he followed. Junior followed his cousin.

They walked toward the mansion, but as they got closer, Mamu cut a path along the side. Junior realized that they weren't going inside the house. They were going somewhere else on the property.

But the house held his attention as they walked past it. He looked at the soft light that flickered in the windows, but blinds prevented him from seeing through the gla.s.s and figuring out what was going on inside.

He thought he saw a dark face peering at him through a dimly lit window on the second floor. But when he blinked, the face was gone if it was ever there to begin with.

A chill rattled down his spine. He wasn't going to pay any more attention to the house. He kept his attention on the ground.

They walked along the side of the mansion, then across the huge backyard, and finally entered the woods that bordered the lawn. Mamu led the way with the flashlight, but it was so dark out there that when Junior turned away from the light, he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face.

He quickly turned back to the spray of light cast by Mamu's flashlight. The darkness gave him the creeps. Shoot, this whole place creeped him out.

No wonder folks said the place was haunted.

They had trudged through the woods for several minutes when they reached a clearing near a huge tree. At the edge of the meadow, a gigantic, kudzu-covered hill rose high into the sky. It looked like the side of a mountain.

"I didn't know they had all this back here," Andre said to Junior.

"Me, neither."

Mamu turned on another light. It was one of those big circular lights that stood on a stand.

Equipment was spread out on the gra.s.s. Junior saw shovels, sledgehammers, a gas lamp, a hammer drill, a yellow canister that had the word "gunpowder" written on the side, several empty buckets, a heap of blankets piled on what looked like a stretcher, and more stuff he couldn't name.

"This is our work site," Mamu said. He tossed a shovel to each of them, and gave each of them a pair of gloves, too.

Mamu walked to the vine-covered hill. He pointed.