Linked Through Time (17 page)

“T.J.? Is that you? Grab me a fifteen millimeter will you?”

The voice, even decades later, sent a shock of recognition to my heart. Clearing my throat, I called out, “No. It’s not T.J.”

He crawled out from underneath the shell of an antique car, his face streaked with grease. A faded Ford hat covered most of his graying hair, but the coveralls could not hide the stoop in his aging body. Lines of worry creased his forehead and crow’s feet marked the corners of his eyes. His brown eyes still held a touch of the warmth I remembered, but his body had aged beyond recognition. Compared to Dave Slater, Travis looked like he’d been run over by a truck a few times since his teenage years.

Stepping into the dim lighting, I held out my hand. “Travis? Travis Kochevar? I’m – ”

“Holy Mary, Mother of God,” he whispered, backing away. Tools clattered to the floor, ricocheting from the concrete and hitting him in the shins.

“Wait, it’s not what you think,” I started. “My name is K–”

“Sarah,” he said, before I could finish. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” He turned as if to run from the garage, his eyes heavy with grief.

“Kate. My name is Kate,” I finished. “I need your help.”

Upon hearing my words, Travis paused and wiped his eyes as though to make them clear. Squinting into the light, he approached slowly, holding out his hand as though warding me off.

“I’m sorry, I – I – you look like someone I once knew.” The rest of my statement now seemed to register, and his brows arched to his hairline. “Why do you need help from me? How did you get here? Do I know you?” He babbled out the questions, still recovering from the shock of seeing me. 

“Look, what I came to tell you is really hard. Practically unbelievable. But if everything I know about you is true, then you’ll help me. You’ll help Sarah.”

At the mention of her name, Travis froze, his brilliant brown eyes, with the soft ring of gold, turning dark and hard. “Get out!” he yelled with such force, I felt the spittle hit my face from across the room.

I jumped back, knocking into a stack of toolboxes covered with a layer of dust and dirt. Shocked at the sudden change in his manner, I spoke softly, carefully. “Travis, I mean, Mr. Kochevar, I came to tell you something, something terrible. That summer, the summer of 1960, Sarah was killed. By Dave Slater. I know it and I’m going to try and prove it, and I came here to ask you to help me. I can’t tell you how I know, but if you’d only look at me, maybe you can guess. I’m her niece. Sarah’s niece.”

“Look, Kate. I don’t know what you’ve read or what you’ve heard, but Sarah killed herself. She jumped in the rapids one night after we went out on a date. She was an unhappy girl that no one could help.” He shuffled uneasily from foot to foot. “You’re foolish to mess around with these things. Crazy to bring up the past that’s dead and gone.” He winced at the word dead. “And don’t bother involving Dave Slater. He’s a powerful man,” he added, with a hint of bitterness.

“Exactly. And he’s gotten away with it all these years because everyone’s afraid of him!” My voice had gone up an octave. “I know about that night. I know about the painting on the garage and the fights with the city kids. I know how you felt about her. And I know that Dave wouldn’t let anyone have her. That night, he was there. At the rapids. He pushed her from the bridge and killed her over his jealousy of the two of you. I swear – I can’t tell you how, but I just
know
.” Pausing for breath, I noticed my body shaking, fighting for control after revealing the truth of Sarah’s death.

He’s written you off as crazy. Look at him. He’s going to throw you out and then tell Dave and ruin the whole thing!

Travis shook his head “no” and rubbed the top of his cap nervously.

“I know you loved her. She loved you, too.” My eyes pleaded with him to give me a chance to really explain. “I want to get even. I’m going to meet him at the rapids, make him confess. He has to pay for what he’s done.”

Travis sighed. I figured he would at least hear me out, but then he raised his head, his face lined with years of regret and pain. “You need to leave.”

He didn’t wait for my answer, didn’t bother to escort me to the door. He turned and left the garage through a side door, his faded Ford cap twisted in his grease stained hands.

I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach; a rush of air came from my mouth and my insides deflated, my hopes sinking heavily like an anchor in the sea. He had changed over the years; his heart had grown hard while his body had weakened. He would never help; bringing up Sarah’s death did nothing but cause him more pain.

Hurrying to the car, I tried not to notice the flutter of curtains at the front window – T.J. watching my departure. It did nothing to boost my spirits. Instead, I thought of Travis’s rejection. His apathy confused me but only fueled my determination. Maybe it had been too long. Everyone had moved on and wanted it to stay that way.

But living Sarah’s life had changed me inside. I couldn’t go on, knowing what she had suffered, and that Dave still walked free. Something had to be done.

I drove to the town’s quaint little post office, the next step of my plan taking shape. Removing Dave’s ring from my pocket, I snuck through the doors of the post office, holding the string of bells to keep from alerting the postmaster in back. I grabbed an envelope off the counter and a phone book that rested next to a row of ballpoint pens on chains. I flipped through the pages.

Finding the address was easy; it was what to put on the note that was hard. I didn’t have much time to think, I could hear the postmaster chatting away to one of the workers while making his way to the front. Slipping the ring inside the envelope, I ripped a piece of paper from behind the counter and swiped a stamp from an open drawer. 42 cents is worth clearing a dead girl’s name – the post office owes Sarah one,
I reasoned, trying to justify the stolen stamp.

Scribbling quickly, I went to sign my name and paused.
Almost blew it, genius.
I made sure to write Sarah’s initials clearly, leaving no doubt for Dave who the ring was from. I licked the envelope and dropped it into the slot for local mail just as the postmaster ambled to the desk.

“Can I help you?” he offered in a slow, casual manner.

“Nope. Just checking something.” I hurried away, hoping he wouldn’t remember my face. I couldn’t risk talk getting around and ruining my chance at surprising Dave. The element of surprise was all I had over him.

Racing across the road, I jumped into the car and threw it into gear. I checked the dashboard for the time. Noon. I was cutting it close. Everyone would be home from church soon.

             
Slouching low in my seat, I hurried through town, going over the words in my mind, my stomach churning at the plan that had been set in motion.

Meet me at our place. Friday
–
8 pm. S.C.

The ring would leave no doubt in his mind as to who the letter was from.

There was no turning back now.

Chapter Fourteen

Confessions of a Killer

The week passed fairly quickly. Gran couldn’t figure out why I constantly went outside when I had to use the bathroom, and I knew it frightened Dad that I was up at sunrise before everyone else. A couple of months of routine wouldn’t just go away in a few days.

I had used the meager change in my purse to make a few key purchases at the thrift shop in town and I had bumped into T.J. at the ice cream shop where I was treating Corey to a soft serve cone, but other than that, the week had been strangely quiet.

Friday morning came quickly, and I watched everyone else scarf down blueberry pancakes while I couldn’t eat a bite.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. Dad was taking Corey to the movies, and Gran and Grandpa had a church social to attend, so that left me alone Friday night, exactly what I wanted.

When the clock read 7:15p.m., I crept downstairs and peeked into the kitchen. The house was deserted, save for a lone fly buzzing through the kitchen in a lazy drone. The sun shone in muted rays of light through the window, a few gray clouds having moved in to muffle the brilliant summer sky. Checking my reflection once more in the mirror, chills swept down my spine and iced the blood in my veins.

Thanks to the thrift shop and its ability to sell just about anything found in the attic of the elderly, I’d found a knee-length plaid skirt, a white button-down blouse, and a blue ribbon to tie in my hair. The only thing missing – the blue sweater, but it was summer and hot… and I couldn’t bring myself to spend the last of my savings on even one more item I’d never wear again.

I slipped into my white Sketchers. I wasn’t so foolish as to think I should be climbing the rocks in dress shoes, and if I had to run, I needed shoes that would grip. I hoped Dave wouldn’t notice the tiny differences between Sarah and me. Although, he couldn’t tell in the past, so how would he be able to tell now?

Finally, I slipped my cell phone into an inside pocket I had stitched into the skirt, its battery charged and ready. Fortunately, I didn’t need a signal to run the video camera.

Taking one last look around the kitchen, I decided to leave a note on the table, just in case.

Dad,

Went to the rapids to hang out. Will be back soon. Hope you enjoyed the movie. Kate
             

PS
–
I love you and Corey, too.

If something happened to me, it wasn’t much of a good-bye, but then again, Dad had learned not to expect too much from me anyway.

Sticking the note underneath the napkin holder, I left the house and bounded down the steps. I had to get to the rapids before Dave.

As nervous as I was, I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw me. It was going to be –
priceless
.

* * * *

The rapids were in rare form, the brown water churning and roiling in massive waves. Every few minutes, the waves crashed into the rocky wall, dusting me with an icy shower. It had taken me a full ten minutes to climb the rocks and get brave enough to move close to the edge. The memories of the night I had fallen in clawed at the edge of my mind, making me anxious and jittery.

Shivering, I perched on the ledge, watching the line of poplar and birch for Dave to emerge. Inside the skirt pocket, my cell phone lay open, ready for me to push the record button for the video camera.

Where was he? It was well past eight o’clock and the sky had gone from a muted gray to a menacing, slate color as more and more clouds moved in over the area. Thoughts of a possible storm made me uneasy.
What if a simple strike of lightning sent me back?
I tried distracting myself by practicing what I would say to Dave. Don’t let him bully you. Stay in charge of the situation. Be confident.

After a while, I stood to stretch and ease the ache from sitting for so long. He’s not going to show
.
Disappointment flooded my emotions, swallowing up the small sense of relief I felt from not having to go through with the plan. I had wanted to prove it, at least to myself, that what I had been through was real, that there
had
been a purpose.

Howling winds darted through the rapids’ channel, echoing their ghostly calls at my back. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I don’t know what else I can do,” I muttered, feeling like a failure, like I was leaving Sarah’s soul in eternal turmoil.

Pushing through the ring of trees, I made my way back to the gravel lot, anxious to get to the farm before anyone could see me in these clothes. Gran would probably have a heart attack if she saw me looking just like Sarah.

Like a limb come to life, a hand swept out from amidst the dense trees, stopping me in my tracks. Powerful fingers clamped over my mouth before I had a chance to scream. I was pulled roughly aside and up against a body twice as wide as Dad’s. Immediately, I tried lashing out, first going for the shins and then the groin, but my assailant had me pinned so tight I could barely move. Rocketing my head back, I connected with the assailant’s face, sending stars blinking random patterns in front of my eyes. A low growl was my only reward; the attacker’s grip never loosened.

A raspy voice snarled into my ear. “Do you think this is some kind of joke? Do you think for one second I would believe you were
her
? That she’d come back to life?” A laugh, low and threatening rumbled from behind me. “You fight just like her. Too bad you’re as stupid as her, too.”

All reason fled from my mind. All my plans, every practiced speech, vanished from memory as I struggled to draw breaths through the massive hands that covered my mouth and nose.
Dave. Dave was here. How long? Was he watching me? Planning an attack?
I squirmed in his arms, to no avail. Baring my teeth, I bit down on the flesh of his palm, trapping the tender skin between his thumb and finger with tenacity. Swearing, he released his grip, pushing me to the ground with force and ripping his hand from my teeth.

Rubbing his hand, Dave stepped on the hem of my skirt, towering over my sprawled body. “Where did you get it? How did you know about the ring?” He loomed over me smug in his polo and designer jeans, his ice blue eyes glaring down at me with disdain.

Feigning dignity, I pushed his foot aside and stood to brush my skirt free of pine needles. Drawing myself up to full height, I answered with equal coldness in my tone. “I know lots of things. Things more important than a stupid ring.”

Dave seemed to flinch at my dismissal of his mother’s ring. “Yeah, well, that ring was my mother’s. It should have been returned to me a long time ago.” He paused, going over what I said. “You should know better than to try and play games with adults. If I were your father, I’d teach you a lesson.”

I could read the threat behind his words. “My Dad is more of a man that you’ll ever be.
My
Dad would never hit a girl. Or threaten a girl. Or
kill
a girl.” There. The words were out of my mouth and hanging in the air as big and obvious as an old man’s toupee.

Dave’s eyes narrowed. “You better watch what you’re saying. Little towns like this don’t like a know-it-all city girl coming in and stirring things up. Maybe you forgot – I’m mayor of this town, and the people adore me, revere me. You and your
dad
should just finish off your vacation here and go on back home.”

His cocky attitude sent fire coursing through my veins. He’s fooling himself if he thinks I’ll roll over and take his macho bull like Sarah. I know what happened. I just need him to say it!

“You deserve to pay for what you did. You treated Sarah like garbage, using her like your own personal punching bag. And all these years you’ve fooled my grandparents into thinking you were such a great guy. But, I know, and my dad knows. He’s known since he was eight years old who you really are.” Edging back into the outstretched limbs, I fought for control, aching to run. But I couldn’t leave without hearing a confession first.

Dave’s expression faltered for just a second, his face contorting with the effort to control the rage I knew that lay hidden just beneath the surface.

Taking a few steps toward the rapids, I pushed once more, dredging up the past in all its tainted, horrific glory. “I know about the fair. How you tried assaulting her, right there on the ground, just because she talked to another boy. I know about the bruises and the guilt, how you used your dead mother to keep bringing her back, to make excuses for your sick behavior. And I know about that night. At the rapids. I know how you waited for her, tracking her like prey, waiting for the moment to push her to her death because you couldn’t stand seeing her with anyone else; couldn’t handle the fact that she wanted to leave you behind.” I was gasping now, throwing out the evidence as though I were talking about Sarah, when I was really talking about me.

In my wildest dreams, while I had planned this confrontation and plotted my every move, there were times I envisioned an ending where Dave, when faced with the truth, would crumple to the ground and cry out for forgiveness. We’d simply drive to town and Dave would turn himself in, begging to be sentenced like the criminal he was.

But I knew better than that. So that’s why I was ready the moment he lunged, growling and snarling like a wounded animal.

Darting to the side, I dove from the shelter of the trees and scrambled across the grass to the first of many jagged boulders that made up the rocky wall and contained the rolling rapids.

My pulse jumped, clogging my throat and making it difficult to breathe. I waited for that extra surge of adrenaline to kick in, the magical rush of speed and power I would need to beat Dave across the rocks, but fear was more crippling than helpful; the closer I got to the rapids, the shakier my hands gripped the rocks and the more my feet stumbled and tripped.

Dave burst from the trees, like a hawk, his eyes searching me out. His large, agile body scaled the wall with ease; I could hear him closing the gap between us with minimal effort.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did I meet him here of all places? I do not want to go for another swim!

A pile of dried driftwood sat in what looked like an attempt at a bonfire ring, its bleached, pale color standing out against the dark rock. I leapt over the obstacle, crash landing in an awkward heap as my right foot landed in a fracture between the two rocks and the other a little higher on the shelf I had intended to reach.

Dave was on me in an instant, pulling me up by the hair, disregarding the fact that my ankle was twisted and jammed in the crevice. I felt it swelling in response as fire coursed through my foot and up my thigh the moment I put any pressure on it. A sudden blast to my face followed by a flash of white light knocked me to my knees, just inches from the swirling, choppy waters. Swells of the brown, white-capped rapids sent droplets of water showering my cheeks, an icy relief to the jarring, teeth rattling pounding from Dave’s fist.

Amazed, I couldn’t believe I was still coherent; that I’d survived the punch of a grown man. The familiar metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, and I coughed and spat the bright red fluid into the water. The water swallowed up the red, sending it under the merciless waves never to be seen again. The thought jolted me from my temporary paralysis, the smell of river water permeating my nostrils, causing my stomach to churn and coil. I was not going under again. I crawled backwards, trying to distance myself from the water, but Dave’s massive legs straddled my kneeling form, blocking my retreat.

“I told you to leave things alone. It’s been four decades. No one, not even your grandparents, wants to hear about Sarah any more.”

I spat another mouthful of blood onto the rocks, leaving a red stringy splotch in the shape of a mottled heart. “I… disagree,” I managed to gasp out, my tongue pushing against my teeth to make sure they were still there. “Sarah wants them to know. She wants revenge.” My body tensed, waiting for Dave to strike. Instead, he just laughed, the same chilling laugh that haunted my dreams, making me feel like he knew something I didn’t.

“She got what she deserved. Stupid tramp. You think you know everything?” He snorted and moved to squat down in front of me. “You’re just like her. Trying to be too big for your britches and look where it gets you. Too bad history has a bad habit of repeating itself.”

The pain from my ankle had dwindled down to a nagging, dull throb. My heart fluttered, the fury at Dave’s insolence restoring some of the anger that fueled my initial escape. I was nervous, but there wasn’t any more time. Rocking back on my heels, I shot forward, throwing my arms around his tree trunk calves and pulling with all of my might. Caught off-guard, he fell back, the weight of his body taking the two of us down, dangerously close to the edge. Water rose up and seeped into Dave’s shirt, turning the blue, almost black. Rolling away from him, I hobbled to a stand, taking off for the safety of the underbelly of the bridge.

Dave lay still for a moment, stunned by the impact of his head meeting the unforgiving rock. A trickle of blood trailed down from his temple, cutting a jagged path across his cheek and dropping to stain the sleeve of his polo. Enraged, he staggered to his feet. “Sarah! I’m going to kill you! Sarah!”

Confused, I stopped mid-stride.
He’s crossed over. There’s no stopping now until one of you is dead.
Remembering the crazed look the night we wrestled under the bridge, his eyes devoid of any emotion, I knew I had just pushed him to the brink, and then a little further. Whether he thought I was Sarah or not, he was coming for me. And I knew the result would be worse than a couple of punches.