Melissa Foster - Chasing Amanda

She pumped her arms and ran through the tunnel as fast as she could, her hair lifted from her shoulders with each thump of her feet. Her skin tingled with the feel of the outside air, replacing the stale tunnel atmosphere even before she could see the sunlight. She climbed out of the tunnel and burst into the bramble, spinning around and suddenly realizing she was alone—truly alone. Mummy was not there. She was frightened, shaking, and turned back toward the entrance to the tunnel. “Mummy?” she frantically called out. “Mummy, where are you?” Her questions were met with silence. She peered down the slim tunnel entrance. A force pulled her body away from the tunnel, placing her in front of an almost imperceptible hole in the bramble. She crawled through the hole and into the open forest. She walked at a brisk pace, stepping over vines and branches, around holes, and kicking her way through piles of leaves. Suddenly, she lifted her gaze from the ground, and there were hoards of people, the air filled with voices, conversations, shouting. The crowd was pointing at the sky. Tracey lifted her eyes, shielding them from the glare of the sun. She moved closer to the crowd, squinting to see what held their attention. Then she heard her familiar, comforting voice, “Tracey!” Tracey spun around, her heart pounding with excitement. She ran, fast and hard, into the safety of her open arms, without ever being seen by the people in the outside world. “Mummy!”

Eighteen

Molly drove toward the police station, fully intent on giving the police the necklace she had found, hoping they would search the woods again—more carefully this time—and that this might prove that she wasn’t involved in the disappearance of Tracey Porter. She ran through her encounter with Officer Brown and their troubling conversation. Suspect? Please! She slowed at the last turn before the station and realized that by turning in the necklace, she might solidify Officer Brown’s inclination that she was a suspect; he might turn this evidence on her. Molly was in a quandary, and she didn’t like it one bit. Somehow she knew the necklace belonged to Tracey. Her thoughts were interrupted by her cell phone. She pulled the van over to the shoulder and dug through her pack to find it. “Hello?” she said, hurriedly. “Hey, baby,” Cole said flirtatiously. “Hey!” she smiled, surprised by his playful manner. “Are you feeling better? More awake now?” he asked. “Thank goodness, yes. You have no idea!” “That good, huh? What are you up to?” She was so excited, she didn’t know where to start. “Well, you won’t believe this,” she said, and told him everything.

“You what ?” he asked angrily.

She bit her lip, unnerved by his wrath. She continued hurriedly, “Anyway, I, uh…I got the necklace.” She reached down and felt the necklace, safely coiled in her pocket.

“This is unbelievable, Molly, really, just…unbelievable.” He paused. “You think Erik has these visions, too?” he asked with a mixture of concern and disbelief.

“Yes, maybe, I don’t know,” she sighed heavily, thinking about the pain Erik might be in for—the agonizing feeling of not knowing when he’s innocently dreaming and when he’s being given a sign, a message. “Cole, please don’t mention it to him. I’m not sure he wants people to know.”

“I’m his father, Molly.”

Molly heard the hurt in his voice. “Yes, and you’re my husband, and how many years did it take for me to admit to you that I had visions?” she paused. “And you still don’t really believe me,” she said, sadly.

“I won’t say anything,” he conceded, guiltily, “but damn it, Molly, I don’t want him to be as…cra—” he caught himself, then quickly said, “as…wrapped up in things as you get.”

The slip up did not go over Molly’s head. She swallowed her pride and said, “I know, but there’s nothing you can do. Either he will or he won’t get wrapped up in things. You can’t control what he thinks or how he feels when it happens. I’m telling you, Cole, this…Knowing...it takes over. There’s no escaping it.”

“So you say,” Cole mumbled.

“What?” Molly was getting angry. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I guess I don’t really understand it all. Nothing, nothing takes my focus away from whatever I might be doing—”

“Exactly!” she said, not giving him time to finish. “That’s what I mean. You focus on what is going on in your life. I focus on what is going on in mine. Unfortunately, I can’t change that what’s going on in mine is sometimes presented as a vision. It infiltrates my brain. I can’t turn it off. No matter what else I’m thinking about, it’s always there.’”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” he paused, and Molly waited, knowing it was hard for him, too, “I never know when you’re going to focus on this stuff, and it takes you away from everything else, including me.”

Molly sighed. She knew exactly what he meant, and he was right.

“It sounds awful, like I’m a selfish bastard, I know, but, Mol, I worry about you going off into the woods at night, getting hurt, falling prey to weird forces, and things I can’t see. I never know what’s going to happen to you.” He paused, and Molly held the phone tightly against her ear, listening to him breathe. “And goddamn it, Molly, how is our marriage ever going to survive this shit? We barely survived Amanda! Am I supposed to just sit back and watch? Wait? So what? One day I’ll get a phone call from….from Officer whatever-his-name-is, saying, ‘Guess what? She was right. She found the murderer—only this time he got her.’” Molly could imagine him running his hand through his hair, pacing as he spoke. She could hear it in the beat of his words.

Molly answered with the only words she had to offer, “I know, and I’m sorry.” She could not promise not to follow her hunches—or the visions—any more than she could promise not to call Erik every week. She’d spent years being helpless against the visions. She’d failed Amanda, and she’d be damned if she was going to make the same mistake twice. Amanda’s sweet face appeared in Molly’s mind, just as it had in the newspaper when they’d found her body; her blonde hair cropped just below her chin, tilted up toward the camera in a gentle pose. Molly was driven to help and empowered by the drive. She just hadn’t realized it might someday become a choice between helping a child and saving her marriage. “I love you, Cole,” she said, hoping he could understand.

“Well,” she heard the surrender in his voice, “I chose you, so now I’m stuck, I suppose.”

Molly was hurt, Stuck? She bit back a retort and asked, hesitantly, “So what do I do with the necklace?” “What do you mean? Give it to the police, of course. Let them deal with it.” “Oh no…I can’t. If I give it to the police, then they’ll really think I’m a suspect.” “You could be arrested for obstructing justice or something.” “I know, but what if they take me in, make me a scapegoat. I don’t know, Cole. Do you really think I need to give it to them?” “Molly!” he said, frustrated. “You’re going to do whatever you’re going to do anyway. Why bother asking me?”

Molly didn’t have an answer. In the tense silence, Cole pressed his point home. “What if you keep it, and that necklace is the one clue that could have broken the case? You’d feel awful if she wasn’t found because you were too selfish to turn it in.”

“Selfish? Selfish! Is that what you think?” she screamed into the phone.

“Who are you doing this for, Molly? For Tracey? For Amanda? Or are you doing this for you, so you can fix whatever warped part of your mind thinks you killed Amanda?”