Page 28 of Dark Roads
Silence for a painful heartbeat. She might hate the idea of having to keep a secret, tired of dealing with my drama. There were other girls with less complicated lives.
“You serious?”
“I have to get away from Vaughn.”
“Stay with me.” She sounded upset, her voice husky. I wished I could pack my bags and go to her. I’d seen her basement suite when we FaceTimed, the fresh flowers on the table, a bed strewn with colorful pillows. They would smell like her coconut lotion.
“I have to get out of Cold Creek. I found photos on Vaughn’s computer. Of me, and other girls, naked, but I couldn’t see faces. He has hidden cameras—one might be at the diner.”
“Noway.” She hissed the words. “That’s disgusting.”
“I made an anonymous call, but I don’t have any proof. Vaughn threatened me, so you can’t tellanyone. Promise?” Cash was getting off the swing. They were coming inside.
“I promise, but Hailey—”
“I have to go. We can’t text about this. Jonny will get messages to you. You can trust him. I love you.” I ended the call before I realized what I’d said, and heat bloomed in my cheeks.
My cell buzzed in my hand. I looked down.
I love you too.
Five days later, I left Cash’s favorite red truck on his night table, gave him a soft kiss on his forehead as he slept, and moved sure-footed down the hall. This time Vaughn was on patrol—he worked one night shift a week. As a sergeant he didn’t have to do nights, but he said he wanted the other officers to get a break once in a while. I had a feeling it was for different, more personal reasons. He could check his hidden cameras without being seen, watch women through lit windows.
I was careful to avoid creaky spots on the floor, but I wasn’t too worried about Lana waking up. Tonight I was the one who had made her special cocktails, with a heavy hand. While she enjoyed her drink, I scooped out a bowl of ice cream for Cash,added some Benadryl, then poured chocolate sauce over the top. They would both sleep well.
The robbery had angered Vaughn. He’d questioned me so much that even Lana stepped in when I broke into tears. I wore drab clothes, rarely showered, and spoke as though in a daze. I spent all my time in my room sleeping, watching YouTube, or texting with Amber. We never talked again about my escape plan, but I felt the fear in her messages, asking if I was okay.
I confided in Lana that I was depressed about losing the last connection to my parents. I raged that someone would rob us. I bemoaned the fact that I’d asked them to wait before clearing out the house. Vaughn stopped questioning me and instead asked for an itemized list of stolen items for the insurance company. I delayed—said it made me too upset, I couldn’t remember everything, I was working on it, promise. They called a real estate agent and put the house up for sale. That night I skipped dinner and went to sleep at the same time as Cash. There was no more talk of me moving back into my room, but I heard loud whispers. They were fighting. Maybe Lana would be relieved that I was gone. She and Vaughn could get back to dancing in the kitchen.
It was time. I slipped my bag over my shoulders, walked straight out the front door, and texted Jonny like we’d planned.
I’m going to run away.
Don’t be crazy.
I hate Vaughn. He doesn’t let me do anything.
Come to the lake. We’ll talk, ok?
Text you later. Battery dying.
I shut off my phone. After I was reported missing, the cops would pull my records and see that my cell had stopped pinging when I was still in town. Jonny was camping at the lake with friends. He’d take selfies with them and post them on Facebook, so they were time-stamped, and he’d make sure hewas never alone. Later tonight, he’d message me asking if I was okay, and in the morning, when he hadn’t heard from me, he would call Lana. Then it would begin.
Everyone would think I’d left town because I wasn’t happy. Jonny, hopefully, wouldn’t get in trouble, but Vaughn would watch him closely. He’d expect me to get in touch with Jonny.
Amber was working at the diner, then she was also going out to the lake. People would see her there. If the police read our text exchanges, there was nothing that would make Vaughn suspicious that I’d told her about the photos. Just more proof that I was miserable.
I biked to the corner store, bought some chocolate bars, a can of Coke, and a bag of jerky so that I was on their surveillance camera. Then I pedaled down the side streets as though I were going to the bus station—in case any of the houses had CCTV—but then I turned onto the dark forest trails. I followed those until I reached Cooper’s farm, the last big piece of private property on the way to the highway. After that it was all owned by logging companies or the province.
I left the bike at the edge of the lower field and walked the rest of the way to the barn, climbing or crawling under fences, and trying not to startle the animals. One of the dogs began barking, and I whistled high and clear. Soon a wiggling body came out to bump against my leg, then two more. Relieved that they remembered me from my past visits, I dropped my sack and pulled out the smoked salmon I’d pilfered from Lana’s freezer. It was store-bought and probably farmed salmon, dyed red, but the dogs didn’t seem to care. They greedily inhaled their strips and begged for more. I stroked the soft fur around the neck of the mama dog and let her lick my fingers clean. Her teats were full and swayed below her belly. She was still nursing.
Two of the dogs drifted away from me and around thecorner, back to their beds on the farmhouse porch. I followed the mama dog through the side door into the barn, dimming the flashlight I was carrying to a soft glow so I could see where she was going. Her puppies were in one of the stalls. She flopped down as I fussed and cooed over the warm bodies. Six of them altogether.
I couldn’t take a nursing puppy from its mom. I sat on my heels, disappointed. The puppies bumbled over each other. In the corner, another dog was watching me. One blue eye, one brown, mouth parted in a smile. He looked young, with bright white teeth, and skinny. Maybe around forty pounds, the size of a border collie. He was shaggy, with unkempt black fur and tufted ears. His chest had a blaze of white and one of his back paws was dipped in white.
I didn’t recognize him. He must be new. Lots of Cooper’s dogs were dumped on the farm by people who didn’t want them anymore, or were strays who made their own way over from the First Nations reservation, drawn by the animals and the other dogs. Cooper was a mean old man in a lot of ways, but every animal on his farm was always well fed.
“Hi,” I whispered. “Want a treat?”
