I'd watched him do this every weekend for the last five years. And I knew from conversations with Julie that he always went to Whispering Pine State Park. And it suddenly occurred to me that if something had happened to Julie and Chase needed to dispose of evidence, the park would have been the perfect place. It had miles of forests and trails. And very remote.

  So I got in the car and followed.

  I saw him pull off, but I kept going, pulling into a different parking lot. I would have to rush to catch up with him, especially if he was on a bike. Good thing I kept in shape. Spin classes three times a week.

  Chase took off, and I didn't have a chance in hell of catching him. But I followed anyway. Huffing and puffing, trying to be quiet, I suddenly noticed his bike parked by a tree. He'd left the trail. I saw a footpath and decided to follow it.

  I walked for a long time and was beginning to lose hope when suddenly I heard Chase. He had climbing gear attached to a tree, and he was emerging from a small opening in the ground. I hid behind a tree and waited for what seemed like forever for him to leave. When I finally knew it was safe, I crept over. I used the flashlight on my phone to look down into what was a chasm. It appeared to lead to a cave system. It was the perfect place to bury a body. If Chase had hidden her, this would have been it, but I'm not a climber, and I don't have the gear. My flashlight wouldn't illuminate far enough for me to see the bottom, but I knew Julie was down there.

  I called Detective Santos and voiced my concerns.

  "You need to leave that poor man alone. He notified us that Julie came home and everything is fine."

  "You've seen her," I said.

  "I don't need to," she replied. "Dr. Sullivan said she's come home. That's all I need."

  She hung up.

  The next day, Chase called to say that dinner was cancelled. He said Julie wasn't feeling well. He also informed me that the girls wouldn't be coming over so much anymore. He said they all needed time together as a family to rebuild. I guessed Detective Santos had informed him of my concerns. There wasn't much more I could do.

  The call came in at 5 p.m. on a Friday. I was just finishing my shift when my phone rang.

  "Mrs. Flannigan," this is Officer Smith with Millbrook Falls police. We have Emma and Sophie Sullivan here at Riverside Park, and they're asking for you."

  My blood turned to ice.

  "Are they hurt?"

  "No, ma'am, but they're pretty upset. Their father dropped them off and there seems to be some confusion about pickup arrangements."

  I'm in my car before Officer Smith can finish explaining. Riverside Park is on the other side of town, a 15-minute drive that feels like an hour. When I arrive, I find both girls sitting on a picnic table surrounded by three police officers. The girls' faces are streaked with tears.

  "Sarah!"

  Sophie runs to me, and I catch her in a fierce hug.

  "What happened?" I ask quietly.

  Officer Smith pipes in, "Father dropped them off around three and said their mother would pick them up around four. No one showed."

  "He just left them here?" I replied.

  "It would appear so. They insisted their mother wasn't coming because she's been gone for weeks."

  I was confused but felt vindicated.

  "Where's Dr. Sullivan now?"

  "We called him, but he seems genuinely confused," she said. "He insisted he had made arrangements with his wife. Mrs. Flannigan, do you have any idea what's going on here?"

  I asked one of the other officers to keep the girls company while I filled Officer Smith in on everything I knew. I hoped she wasn't as big a fan of Chase Sullivan as Santos had been. She was patient and listened intently to everything I said.

  "The girls said they stay with you often. Do you mind if they return home with you until we clear this up?"

  I nodded. "Of course."

  I heard on the evening news that Chase had been taken into custody. Rumors were circulating that he'd had a psychotic break. I knew what that meant. He'd be taken to the psychiatric hospital for an examination. As the days followed, details emerged.

  Chase claimed to have killed Julie and then been haunted by someone who looked just like her. Poor Julie. I shivered as I remembered the hole. Chase claimed he went there to make sure Julie was dead and found her body gone. He claimed he saw a single running shoe, but when the police went back, they found Julie.

  Three weeks later, I get the assignment I'd been dreading.

  "Night shift, psychiatric ward," my supervisor tells me, "we need someone experienced with violent patients."

  I don't ask who the patient is; I already know. Chase Sullivan was committed to Millbrook Falls State Hospital after his psych eval.

  Emma and Sophie were now living with Julie's sister and her husband in Vermont. They're good people. They seemed to have a stable home and children of their own. I was confident the girls would be well looked after, but it makes me sad. I guess no one can save you from an ugly childhood if that's your lot in life. I hope I was at least some measure of comfort to them. Ellie misses them desperately, and it leaves a dull ache in my chest every time I see her look out the window.

  Now walking into the psych ward, I couldn't help but feel a weight on my chest. Chase was in room 314. According to his chart, he was experiencing hallucinations. The notes mentioned that he'd been difficult and refused his medications. When I reached his room, I found him staring at the wall. He'd lost weight, his hair was a mess, and his eyes looked hollow. I admit there's a part of me that's glad to see him here. I want him to suffer for what he did, not just to Julie, but for what he put the girls through.

  "Hello, Chase," I say. He turns toward me, and for a moment, his face lights up with something like relief.

  "Sarah! Thank God," he said, "you've got to help me. Julie, she's here. She won't leave me alone." He broke down in tears like a little child. I checked his restraints. Loose enough for comfort, tight enough for safety. I updated his chart.

  "Medication will help with the hallucinations."

  "They're not hallucinations," his voice rises and drops to a whisper as he glances around.

  "You saw her, too. I know you did. She looks like Julie, but she isn't. She's here now. She's always here." I follow his gaze to the corner, expecting to see an empty chair, but my breath catches. She is there. She sits perfectly still. She turns to look at me, and I see her face clearly for the first time. She's Julie, but she's not. There's something about her presence that makes me want to run, but I can't move.

  "You see her," Chase cries. "Oh, thank God, you see her too?"

  The woman, if you can call her that, put a finger to her lips and whispered, "Shhhh." Then she faded away until there was nothing but an empty chair.

  Chase was hysterical. I had to inject him with a sedative. As soon as I got home, I took a cold shower. I wondered if I was beginning to have my own mental break. I gave my notice the very next day. I decided it was time to move on. I was going to start my own practice doing family counseling. Perhaps I could do some good before someone got hurt. But I promised to stay until they found a replacement.

  Two weeks later, they brought me in a new hire for the night shift. She appeared in the break room during shift change.

  "This is Karma," my supervisor says.

  I almost told her we'd already met. It was Julie's eerie doppelganger.

  "Tell me about patient 314," she said.

  She even sounded like Julie. I gave her the clinical rundown.

  "Violent ideation, possible PTSD, severe depression, psychotic break." But as I talk, I'm studying her face, and there's something in her expression that suggests she already knows all of this.

  "He killed his wife," she says. It's not a question.

  I nodded.

  "He's been requesting special privileges," I tell her. "Better food, access to newspapers, phone calls. He's convinced he can manipulate his way out of here."

  I don't know why I'm telling her all of this, but before I know it, the words flew out of my mouth.

  "Can he?" She asks.

  "Maybe," I admit. "He's smart and charming, well respected. He can afford good lawyers. The system doesn't always work."

  "Let's see, shall we?"

  I followed her to room 314. She places her hand flat against the observation window, and I see Chase collapse to his knees. Tears began streaming down his face. It was no less than he deserved. Julie tried to leave. All she'd wanted was a better life for her and her girls, and he'd killed her for it. He deserved to suffer, but it was still hard to watch.

  "What are you?" I whisper.

  She studies me and smiles.

  "You know who I am," she said. I look back at Chase, who's now curled into a fetal position.

  "And what happens to him?" I ask.

  "He has a debt," she said.

  I nodded.

  "He's all yours." I went to my office and cleaned out my desk. I was no longer needed here.

  A week later, Chase Sullivan's death made local headlines: "Local doctor dies in psychiatric facility.”

  They said it was suicide, but I knew better. Karma had exacted justice, and his debt was now paid.

  Ring Around The Rosie

  KATHRYN COTTAM

  Ring Around The Rosie

  KATHRYN COTTAM

  A piece of grass tickled Zoe’s nose.

  She opened her eyes.

  She lay on the ground, cheek flat against the dirt. She sat, looked around. She was on a grassy median between two roads. Tall apartments — the kind built in the fifties that had mom-and-pop shops on the first level — lined each side.

  But there were no cars.

  Not in the parking spots.

  Or being driven on the road.

  And it was silent. No trucks, cars, planes, voices, birds. Nothing.

  Zoe got to her feet, confused. How the hell had she gotten here?

  She frowned, remembering. She had been on her way to rehearsal and⁠—

  Zoe paused …

  Because she didn’t remember what had happened after that. She’d said goodbye to her roommate Brad, and left the apartment at four. Caught the 4.17 train at the station, same as she did every Friday.

  And now she was here.

  Not a train in sight.

  Had she been drugged and kidnapped? But how? No one had approached her on the train. She’d been staring out the window, reading graffiti on the tunnel walls when⁠—

  Nothing.

  She woke up here.

  She didn’t even recall nodding off.

  Maybe she’d hit her head?

  She ran her hands over her skull. Not a bump or a bruise to be found. And she didn’t feel as though she’d been knocked unconscious. That had happened once when dancing. Her partner had miscalculated and she'd taken a kick to the head. Three months to get over the concussion.

  No, her head was fine.

  Oh, God.

  What if she was dead?

  She pinched her arm, it hurt. She crouched down, dug her fingers into the soil, yanking out strands of grass and pebbles. She lifted it to her nose. Smelled like dirt. She tossed it back on the ground.

  Studied the dirt beneath her fingernails.

  That would be a weird thing to notice if she were dead, wouldn’t it?

  She stood again. Her bag was gone. In it was her tutu, tights, pointes, make-up, apple juice and protein bars. She checked her coat pockets. Keys to the apartment. Her phone and charger. A scrunchie. Some coins.

  Why the hell would she still have her phone if she was dead?

  Zoe flicked it open. No signal. She pulled up messages. Nothing she hadn’t already read.

  She opened Google.

  Not connected to the internet.

  “No shit.”

  Zoe pocketed her phone, wondering what to do next. She needed an action plan.

  “Find someone and ask them where you are. Then figure out how the hell you got here and how to get back.”

  She needed to find the police. Not that they’d be much help, probably thinking she was drugged or drunk. But at the very least, they might be able to tell her where she was. Or give her a map. A lift somewhere. Assuming they had a vehicle.

  But in addition to the lack of cars, the streets were empty, without a single pedestrian.

  She raised both hands to cup her mouth and yelled: “Hello?”

  The word echoed between the tall buildings.

  She cleared her throat. Took a deeper breath: “Anyone here?”

  Still no reply.

  Zoe looked up at the sky.

  It was bright out. But there didn’t seem to be a sun. The light seemed somehow artificial. She couldn’t get a sense of whether it was morning or afternoon. That was weird, right?

  She walked to the edge of the median and stared at the road. She felt strangely reluctant to leave. Whoever had brought Zoe here must have had a reason for leaving her here. Were they coming back to collect her? Was she supposed to stay?

  “Get a grip, Zoe. If they wanted you to follow instructions, they should have left some.” Or not have kidnapped her in the first place.

  She stepped forward, foot hovering over the pavement.

  Then pulled back.

  What if the street was booby-trapped? She crouched down and found a small pebble. Tossed it onto the road. It bounced, rolled away.

  “You need to stop watching so many horror movies.” Zoe didn’t care that she was talking to herself. It made her feel less alone.

  She looked both ways despite the lack of traffic. Some habits were hard to break. And then she stepped onto the pavement.

  The world did not come to a fiery end.

  In fact, nothing happened at all.

  So she walked across the street to the sidewalk.

  The new view revealed no new information. She walked up to the nearest building and peered in through the glass window. An empty barbershop. She walked along to the next one. A shoe shop. But the shoes in the window had to be at least thirty years old and were covered in dust.

  She tried the door handle. A silver bell attached to the door rang, startling her as it opened. She stepped inside to a musty smell.

  “Hello? Anybody here?”

  She walked around, inspecting the shop, but found nothing of interest. Maybe it was a Sunday and all the stores were closed? Then why was this one unlocked?

  She stepped outside and tried the barbershop door. It opened as well.

  A movie set might account for the lack of people. But then where was the crew?

  Maybe she should check out the opposite direction. Zoe turned, walking away from the apartments and shops.The street soon became more suburb-like with single family residences lining each side. But the yards were all overgrown. And the homes seemed abandoned.

  She spotted a road sign at the bottom of the hill and walked down to it.

  The further she got from downtown, the more exhausted she felt, totally wiped by the time she reached the sign. Not in her body. But in her mind. She yawned, fatigue settling into her bones.

  Welcome to Eldritch Hollow - America’s Playground

  Eldritch Hollow?

  Zoe had never heard of the place.

  She pulled out her phone to look it up. Then remembered she had no signal.

  She was about to put it away, when she caught the time.

  4:17

  That couldn’t be right.

  That was when she had caught the train. And she remembered doing that. Squeezing past the other passengers and taking her seat midway down the car.

  So how come it was the same time now?

  Unless it wasn't.

  She watched the time, counting. One minute. Two minutes. Three. But her phone didn’t change.

  And yet her phone was still operational.

  Okay, so maybe she was dead. Maybe the train had crashed. And she’d been killed, alongside everyone else. But then why was she the only one here?

  “Think, Zoe, think.”

  She tapped her phone against her thigh. Then she looked at it.

  “If I was dead, why would I have my phone on me? I’m pretty sure we don’t get to take it with us. Unless everyone was wrong about that?”

  She looked around.

  “Anyone care to weigh in?”

  No answer.

  She sighed, not knowing what to do. Zoe supposed she could continue walking out of town. But it seemed dangerous when she had no idea when it would get dark. Last thing she wanted to do was be stuck outside when night came. Especially when she had no idea where she was.

  So she turned around, retracing her steps, arriving back at the barber shop. If all else failed she could spend the night there. The chairs looked somewhat comfortable.

  She was about to enter when she spotted a woman exit a shop at the end of the block.

  Zoe froze, staring.

  The woman started walking away from her.

  Zoe ran into the street, waved her hands. “Hey!”

  The woman glanced back.

  “Thank God.” Relief poured over Zoe. If someone else could see her then she couldn’t be dead, could she?

  But the woman turned away, ignoring her as she disappeared into a building.

  Zoe ran after her. No way was she letting her get away without answering some questions. Like what the hell was this place and how did she get here?

  She arrived at the spot where she saw the woman disappear and found a narrow alley cut in between two buildings.

  Zoe ran down it, squeezing past empty cardboard boxes and a large rolling garbage bin before emerging onto another street. It was similar to the one she had just been on, with apartments lining the road. But there was no sign of the woman.

  Had she gone into one of the shops?

  Zoe knew she had seen the woman. She was absolutely not a figment of her imagination. She looked up and down the road. Where had she gone?

  And then she heard someone sneeze.

  The sound came from close by.

  “Hello?” Zoe stepped back into the alley.

  She spotted one of the cardboard boxes move. Someone was hiding in it. Or it might be a rat. She wasn’t sure which option she preferred.

 

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