Part Thirteen

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We had finished putting away the dishes and food from the night earlier, as it had been about an hour since the two of them left.
Man, that was something. I thought the dinner might of been a bit awkward, but I didn't think it would turn into that. A dog pounding on dog match. But I still couldn't quite shake the way Jake treated me. It seemed he had so much anger towards me. Mad at me for some odd reason. Surely he couldn't still be mad at me for turning him down. After all, that happened more than four years ago. Or maybe, since I have returned all the feelings he once had for me have resurfaced and stirred around inside him again, and maybe those angry feelings are making a come back. Just because I'm back now. It's bringing all of that anger out once again. Yeah, maybe that's it. It has to be.

We were now in the kitchen, as my dad was putting away the pasta and sauce into separate bowls, and I was washing off the plates, and then placing them in the washer for dishes.

"Jayc, what was all of that about?" Dad asked my as he broke the silence and waited for my answer. But I didn't answer right away, mostly because I didn't know myself what all of that was about.

"I-I don't know. Jake just seemed, different tonight. And, I was just hurt that he said all those things. Angry more like, and I just wanted to get back at him, that's why I said all those things," I finished as I continued to do my job.

"Do you really believe that though? Do you think, maybe, he is the one threatening you? I mean, hearing what he was saying about you, it sounded like it could be him," my father asked me as he finally found a container big enough for the sauce. And I thought about that question myself, truthfully, before answering him. I mean, I mostly just said all those things earlier to get back at Jake. To get him angry instead of myself. However, even though I said those things, I hadn't actually given it a truthful thought, that maybe it could be him.

"I don't know. Maybe? It's just, Jake's voice and the callers voice don't match. But yet again, the caller could easily be using some type of device that changes his voice. But it, it didn't sound like it. It didn't sound like a robot voice or anything. It sounded real." And it certainly did, considering I heard it when I was locked in that basement, and even then, that couldn't have been a device. Wouldn't I have heard it when the person was talking into it? Hear their real voice, and then the fake voice? I don't know, maybe not.

"Well, if it was a fake voice then, it could be anyone," Dad stated the obvious which I had already thought thousands of times. But he was right. And that made me nervous.

*RIIING!*

  Our home phone line bursted into rings as they sounded louder this time. I was about to pick it up, before my father put away the containers in the fridge and went over towards it. He picked it up as he clicked the green button and put the phone towards his ear. "Hello?" he answered and then paused as I could hear the soft mumbling of the person on the other end. And the voice sounded familiar. "Yes. Oh, hi," my dad spoke, and then waited and listened a bit more. The person on the other end did a lot of talking, as he informed my father about a lot of things that I couldn't quite make out. "You did? Oh, that's great! Do you want us to come down to the station?" he asked another question, as he then gave it away that it was Detective Holden, most likely giving us an update. And that's when it hit me.
The phone call. My captor. He called me the other day at the station, and I gave Detective Holden my phone right after to trace it. Did he trace it? Did they find where the call came from? Did they get him?

  I was perched right beside my dad, waiting for him to get off the phone as I waited some more for his response. His explanation as to what Detective Holden said. And within seconds, he clicked the phone off and hung it back on the line.

"Well? What did he say?" I asked in an anxious tone as I tried to get the words out faster.

"They traced the call. The one you got from that guy. They want us to come down to the station." Yes! They found him! They must know who he is now! And before he even finished I ran to the door and grabbed my jacket and shoes and flew to our car outside.

The whole ten minute car ride there I was anxious to get out. I just wanted to know who it was. Where he was. Where he was calling. Which phone he was on. But the biggest reason of all was one I just mentioned. I wanted to know who he was. Who this mystery man was who had been taunting me, threatening me, who took me and tried to kill me. Who hated me so much to want me dead. Who was this guy?

As we pulled up to the station, it wasn't as busy as it had been the other day, considering there were barely any cars parked on the front street. We quickly found a spot, and then walked rather fast inside. More on my part, considering I was dying to know what the cops found out. That same old smell rushed to me as I opened the door, and before we could even sit down, Detective Holden was there at the front desk, talking to another officer who sat behind it. He turned as soon as he heard the door slam shut.

"Oh, Jaycee. You guys can come right in," he told me and my father as we then followed him towards the same old interview room. As we got in, he quickly shut the door as he then made his way towards us. "So," he began to speak before I interrupted him.

"Did you trace the call? Did you find him?" I asked impatiently as I looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

"Well, that's the thing," he began to speak, and right off with that start, I knew this would not end well. Not the way I wanted, but I still had hope, or at least some. "We did trace the call—"

"Then what's the problem?" my dad interrupted him this time, as he had the same unsettling and anxious face as his own daughter.

"Well, the problem is the call led us back to a house that belongs to a sixty-two year old women," Detective Holden informed us, which made me utterly confused. What? What did that mean? How is that possible? Did he somehow trace it back to her?

"Well, does anyone live there with her? Maybe she has a son or something? Or a daughter or grandchild living with her?" I asked, trying to come up with another explanation. But Detective Holden only shook his head.

"No. She lives alone. We asked neighbours as well. They say she has always lived alone with her two cats. Her husband passed away ten years ago, and since then there has been no one else around. No other man or women," he informed us both, as I tried to let that sink in and try to understand.

"But, but how is that possible? I heard him! He was on the phone! The same guy who threatened me before! Maybe he broke into her house and made that call? Maybe he does know her and he was just visiting and asked to use her phone?" I tried to explain some of my reasonings, trying to come up with possible scenarios. But it seemed he didn't buy them, or consider them. And there was a long pause, like there was something he wanted to say or ask, but didn't want to upset or hurt me. And that's exactly what that question did. At least a bit

"Jaycee, is it possible, that, maybe you just imagined that phone call?" Holden asked as he raised his eyebrows up, looking as if he was afraid of my answer. Wait, what? What was he asking? That I was crazy now and only imagined that call? That maybe I imagined the whole threatening calls from before? Well, technically they didn't happen the way I told him, but I was indeed getting threatening calls before I was taken. Does he think I'm crazy or something? That I'm going insane?

"Wait, what are you saying?"

"Well, maybe this little old lady was only a concerned citizen, concerned about you and called to see if you were alright. She said she didn't remember calling you, but she has been diagnosed with dementia some of her neighbours informed me. Maybe she called you and forgot. Maybe she called you to say she was happy you were safe and back in town. Maybe she called to say she was sorry. About what happened to you. And maybe you were so scared and frightened that that person would call you and threaten you again now that you were back, that you just imagined it all," he finally finished, which I didn't interrupt because I wanted to hear his theory again.

  "Excuse me? Are you saying my daughter made all of this up?" my dad interrupted him in place of me, as I could tell he believed his theory was just as delusional as I thought.
But was that possible? Did I only imagine it? No! No I couldn't have! I know what I heard! It was him! I heard him! No I am not crazy and I did not imagine it! It was him!

  "No! I didn't just imagine it! It sounded so real—"

  "Exactly. It sounded so real—"

  "That's because it was real! I didn't imagine it! How dare you think I did! I am not crazy! I am not hallucinating! I know what I heard! He called me and he threatened me again! He said he was going to kill me now that I am back!" I tried to convince him, but it seemed Detective Holden wouldn't buy it, and believed his theory more than my truth.

  "Jaycee, it just doesn't add up. The call wasn't traced back to a burner phone, it was a little old ladies house in which she lives with no one el—"

  "Bullshit!" I yelled as I stood up from my seat, grabbed my phone in which was sitting on the table and walked out the door with my father following behind me. And just like that, we walked smoothly out of the police station without Detective Holden or anyone else stopping us.

  Just breathe. Just. Breathe. Calm down Jayc. That stupid detective doesn't know what he's talking about. If you turn up dead now, your father can blame it all on him. Hopefully it won't come to that point, but if it does he will then know he was at fault. You know what you heard, so don't let that dumb detective tell you otherwise.

  I continued to take deep breaths in the car, as my father kept quiet for most of the ride.

  "I can't believe that detective. Having the nerve to tell you you just imagined it all? And what, that's it now? They're not going to investigate further?" he put in his two sense as he followed it with a question at the end.

  "Well, they have to keep investigating. After all, someone did call in and confessed to killing me. And there is another girl laying in my grave. They need to find out what happened to her, and who she is," I explained to him, in which he began to nod his head as I could tell he had forgotten a slight bit of that part. Which I thought was an odd, or rather strange part to forget. At least for me.

  The car stopped as we got into our garage, and from there I shut the door to the car and wandered into the house, heading to my bedroom which my father didn't stop me. I guess he was done talking for one night. Usually once we got home from the police station, we would have a discussion about what we just talked about with the police, but most things my father learned with Detective Holden were new no doubt, and he would want to talk about it once we got home. But this night, I think we were just both too tired to speak about it. It was a topic to talk about tomorrow perhaps. But not tonight.

  As I got to my bedroom, I threw my jacket on my bed as it made a soft swooping noise as it landed. And, almost right on cue, a tiny slip of paper fell out of the pocket as it was thrown in mid air. The piece of crumpled, weathered, and folded paper made its way down to my floor as it fluttered and swayed. I bent down to pick it up and unfolded it carefully, not wanting it to rip. What's this? I couldn't figure it out, not until I opened it. And right there in the centre of the tiny piece of ripped paper, there was a seven digit code written onto it. No, not a code. A phone number. Tara's phone number. The one she gave me the last day I spent with her. The day I decided to return home, and started my long journey.

  I stared at it long and hard for a few moments, remembering the times we had. The good times, which was always. And I remembered how easy things were when I was with her, back in Jackville. How easy life was. How uncomplicated. How peaceful almost. How unbothered I was. How everything was almost perfect. And I missed those times, very, very much.

And without another thought, I found myself grabbing my cell phone from my pocket and dialling the number written, forgetting all together what time it was. I didn't think I would ever call her. I don't think she ever thought I would call her. We both went our own ways, and I guess we both decided it would be best. But now, something is different. I want to hear her again. Talk to her. After all, she is the only one who knows what truly happened to me. Perhaps she will know what I should do. What I should do to try and convince the police that I did not imagine that call. Get them to believe I am not crazy. Just maybe.

  The phone rang a few times, four I counted exactly, until I heard her finally pick up.

  "Hello?" she answered, but not at all like she had been sleeping or was tired, odd since it was almost twelve o'clock at night. Midnight.

  "Tara. It's Al.....Jaycee," I corrected myself as I answered her hello. I was taken aback for a moment, remembering and almost falling back into old habits as I almost told her it was Alex calling. That was after all the name she called me by for three years. Everyone called me that.

  "Jaycee. Hi. H-how are you? Did you make it back alright?" she asked me as she sounded stunned. Shocked that I actually called her. Something we both thought wouldn't happen.

"Hi. Yeah, yeah I'm back home now. And to be honest, I don't how I am now," I told her and then waited for her questioned response.

"How do you mean?" she asked me, and she waited a few moments until I spoke again. I inhaled and then exhaled before going on.

"Why didn't you tell me everyone thought I was dead?" I asked in a hurt voice almost, as I knew she couldn't lie. I knew that she knew everyone thought I died, considering she saw the news apparently. If I was on the news it wasn't like they wouldn't have said that they supposedly found my body years ago. The news reporters wouldn't have made it sound like I was still alive, and only missing. They wouldn't do that, because to everyone in Dalyville, Jaycee Thompson was already dead.

She stayed silent on the other end for awhile, as I could only hear her light breathing.

"I.....I just didn't want you to know. Not from me. I-I thought that if I told you they supposedly found your body, that you would definitely not want to go back. I don't know, I guess I just thought that you would want to stay away, and let everyone think you were dead. I thought you might have thought it would have been easier to stay away from home, if everyone thought you were dead. That wasn't fair. Not fair to your friends, your family, or the town," she explained to me, and as I took all of it into consideration, it seemed to all make sense. She was only worried that I wouldn't have returned if I knew that the town believed I was truly gone.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I just thought it would have been better for you to find out once you got back."

"It's-it's alright. I get it," I spoke back to her, making sure she understood that I wasn't angry. Just confused.

"Is that why you called? Or is there something else?" she asked as her voice seemed shaky and raspy. Perhaps she thought something else had happened, and she was right about that.

"Well, I don't know exactly why I called you. I guess I just wanted to hear you again. Talk like we used to. But to answer your question, yes, something else has happened." There was a long pause on her end as she waited for me to go on, but I was waiting for her response instead.

"What is it?" she finally spoke as I guess she could tell I was waiting for her.

"He's-he's back Tara. The guy I told you about before. The man, the reason I left in the first place. The man that took me away and tried to kill me," I explained to her as I nervously waited for response. She knew who this guy was all too well.

"What? Wait, what do you mean back? Is he harassing you again?" she asked with concern in her voice, and worry as well.

"Yeah. He called me the other day. I tried to get the police to trace it but they only traced it back to an old ladies house. He did something. I know he did. He somehow jacked that women's phone. Or broke into her house to make the call. I don't know. But I got a feeling he did something like that. I wouldn't put it past him," I explained my theory, and she only stayed silent on the other end. "But the police don't believe me. They think I just imagined it. I don't know what to do. How do I convince them to keep looking into it?" I asked her waiting for her response, and hoping she would come up with an answer for me. An idea to get the police to join my side.

"Have you tried thinking or coming up with who this guy could be? Maybe if you find out yourself, you can go to the police and tell them. Explain your theory. I mean, they should still be looking for him, after all, he did kidnap you and tried to kill you. Surely they wouldn't stop searching for him he's still a risk to the town and others—"

"No. I didn't tell them the truth. I only told them that I ran away because some guy was threatening me. And that's who they're looking for," I stopped her sentence short and I told her what I had claimed to everyone. She stayed silent for another moment, most likely thinking about how I could work the situation into my favour.

"You can still try and find this sick freak, and then explain to the police that that man is the one who was harassing you, or you could then tell the police the truth."

"But no one will believe me."

"Why do you say that?"

"I just.....I feel like everyone is going to judge me. I feel like everyone is going to think I was dumb for running away after I escaped. Think I should have returned home and helped the police find him and lock him up. I don't want people thinking it's my fault, and that I let a dangerous guy wander around town for four years. Not help him get locked up. I feel like people are going to be angry with me for letting a murderer walk around town with other innocent people. I don't know, I just feel like no one will believe me," I spoke my concerns to her, as she quickly spoke up after.

"Hey. I believe you. I know you Jaycee. You are a good person. You are kind, and sweet, and smart. And I know you are none of those things. It wasn't your fault. You weren't trying to do any of those things. You were only scared for your well being and frightened to return because of him. I am on your side. And don't you forget that. I am here for you," she spoke in a much calm and soothing voice as she informed me of her beliefs and thoughts. And that helped. Very much.

"Thanks, Tara. But, I have no clue who he could be. I mean, there are a few people it could be, but it seems every person I suspect comes up no good, or something about them changes my mind," I explained to her, and one of the long pauses came over our conversation again.

"Well, is there anyone who

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