Melissa Foster - Chasing Amanda

Molly jumped when Cole put his hand on her shoulder. She pushed the pillow down over the wrapper and the necklace. “Good God, Cole,” she said, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said.

Café Miletto was quiet. There were four other tables with patrons, two young couples, one older couple, and a couple who appeared, from behind, to be middle aged. They sat in the corner with their backs to Molly and Cole. Molly reached for Cole’s hand across the table, trying to mend the widening abyss between them. Cole withdrew his hand.

Molly blinked back tears and gazed out the window, inadvertently listening to the couple that sat nearby. Their voices were hushed whispers. “I don’t know what to do. I think someone has been there,” the woman said. “Oh no, I’m sure not,” said the man. “It’s just been so long, you know?” she paused. “How long can I do this?”

“As long as you have to,” the man replied. “If you come out now, can you imagine the terror it would bring to the community, the distrust?”

Molly recognized the voices and chided herself for listening. At that point, she couldn’t help it, she was drawn into their conversation, listening for the sake of curiosity.

“You did what you felt like you had to do. People will be angry, maybe try to railroad you. Send you to jail even,” Newton whispered adamantly.

“Look what I’ve put the kid through.” Pastor Lett sounded beaten down.

Molly looked over, her heart speeding up.

“I’ve put that kid in a prison and for what? Somehow, what started to be about the kid, ended up really just about me. I’m so selfish.”

Molly was riveted by their conversation. Cole looked at his menu, unaware of her fixation. He reached across the table and grabbed Molly’s hand. The relief she felt was overshadowed by her curiosity. “And look what I’ve put you through,” Pastor Lett said. Molly suddenly felt like a voyeur. She pulled her hand away from Cole’s, who looked up, surprised. “What?” Cole asked.

Molly hid behind her menu. She tilted it sideways and looked into Cole’s eyes. “Shhh,” she whispered, motioning with a finger in front of her lips. She pointed behind him and mouthed, Don’t let them see you .

Cole angled his body to the side, crossing his legs and stretching. He recognized them instantly, spinning back and leaning over the table toward Molly. “Pastor Lett and Newton—so what?”

“Oh my God! So,” she whispered frantically, “they’re talking about something awful that Pastor Lett did, about a kid kept in a prison!” She lifted her finger to her lips again. “Damn it, Molly. Let it go,” he seethed. The waitress brought Pastor Lett her check. She reached for it and handed the check and a credit card back to the waitress. Cole and Molly sat in silence.

They stood to leave, and Molly quickly pulled her menu in front of her face again. Cole tried, but failed to mimic her speed—Newton’s eyes met his. Newton anxiously wrung his fingers, looking from Molly to Cole, then down at the ground, then at them again.

“Well, Molly, Cole,” Newton’s eyes shifted toward Pastor Lett, then back at Molly. “How are you?” he asked in a shaky voice.

Molly stretched a sleepy arm underneath her pillow, reassured by the feel of the necklace and candy wrapper. She wondered why they hadn’t brought her more information, more visions. She turned toward Cole, who was sleeping soundly, and snuggled next to him, but her mind was already too alert, making it impossible for her to sleep. She moved gently off the bed and padded downstairs, dogs in tow.

“Okay, guys,” she said quietly to the dogs, “but I warn you, it’s cold out there.” She opened the door and let them run out. Seconds later, Stealth was scratching to come back in. “What did I tell you?” she smirked and let Stealth back inside. Molly filled a glass with water and took it to the family room, where she curled up under a blanket and clicked on the television, catching the tail end of a local news clip about Tracey Porter. The reporter stated that they were looking to the community for answers. Molly fought the urge to call the police and recommend that they question Pastor Lett and Newton Carr.

Molly jumped when the phone rang. She answered it tentatively, “Hello?”

“Mom, it’s me,” Erik’s voice was wrought with purpose. Before Molly could ask, he said, “Don’t worry, everything’s fine. I just need to talk to you.” “Okay, okay, slow down. What is it?” “I saw that little girl on TV tonight—you know, Tracey.” “Yeah, me too,” Molly said, relieved that he was okay. “Mom, she’s alive. I know she’s alive. I can feel it. Can you feel it?” he asked, hopefully. “I do think she’s alive, Erik. I’m just stuck on where to find her.”

“Mom, every time I think of her, I see this guy. He’s big, like Dad,” he paused, and Molly knew he was pacing the floor, just as his father did when he was on the phone. “I don’t know who he is, but I know he’s big. Who could it be?”

“I don’t know, honey. I’m trying to figure that out, too.” She thought about telling him about Pastor Lett and Newton, then quickly reconsidered. She didn’t want to taint his feelings against them in case her suspicions were wrong. “I found her necklace, I think. It’s a gold chain—”

“With a heart—I know,” Erik said.

“How did you know? Did Dad tell you?”

Erik’s voice was hesitant, “No, Mom, I just knew .” He quickly grew angry. “I hate this. I really hate it. I can’t put it away or turn it off. Something just happens. It’s like seeing Hannah in the woods. Mom, how do you ever know what it all means?”

Molly heard the fear in his voice and wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him, engulf him with love and safety, and somehow protect him from the infiltration and pain of the Knowing. “I don’t,” she admitted, sadly. “I hate it too. I can only believe that we’re given this information to save her.” Molly paused. “Do you see anything else? Do you feel anything else?”

“Yeah, she’s scared sometimes, terrified. I know that. Sometimes I’m sitting in my classes, and this fear comes over me, and when I try to figure out what I’m afraid of, all I see is darkness.”

“Oh, Erik.”

“Sometimes I see candles, and once…once I saw that big man with his hands stretched up, like he was…I don’t know, reaching for something? It looked like he was reaching for the sky, but I know that sounds stupid.”

“I saw that too, Erik. Can you see anything else, like where she is?” Molly asked.

“Not really. Sometimes, I see an old creepy house, and sometimes I see just darkness, like she’s in a hole or something. I can just sort of feel that she’s there, but not really see her,” he paused. Molly could tell that he wanted to say more.

“What is it, Erik?”

“Once…once I saw Tracey outside.” His voice grew quieter, “I just don’t know where outside, and that’s killing me, but I saw her, and it was like I was seeing out of her eyes or something. It scared the shit out of me. I was in the woods, with one of my lab partners looking for samples, and suddenly it was like I was her. I can’t explain it. God! This is so frustrating!” Molly heard him swear under his breath, then return to the phone. “I saw woods, thickets—like the ones where Dad and I used to hunt?”

Erik became silent. Molly grasped the phone tight against her ear. Knowing that Erik would be powerless to walk away from the visions pained her.

“I don’t know what it means. I wish I could take it away. When you were little, I could blow on your scrapes and you thought I was magical, the pain would blow away with my breath, but, well, you know. I’m not magical. It kinda sucks. I’m powerless, and I’m so sorry.”