2020
Savannah Clark woke, not sure where she was. Something was sticking into her side and she rolled onto her back. Sunshine filtered down onto her from between two buildings. She licked her lips and tried to remember what she’d been doing the night before.
Nothing came to her. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and glanced around. She was in an alley between two buildings. There was a dumpster between her and the entrance to the alley. It looked like she’d staggered there to find someplace to collapse.
“Shit,” she mumbled.
She found her purse hidden behind the dumpster and was surprised to find her wallet, including credit cards and cash, intact.
“My lucky day.”
She stood and took a deep breath while holding onto the brick wall. Traffic noises came from the street.
Farther down the alley two other people slept. Both men, and again she found herself surprised she was still in good condition.
She brushed her hair back and walked out of the alley. Almost immediately she recognized her downtown surroundings and headed over to the closest Starbucks.
The clerk was a young girl, maybe eighteen, perky, with a giant smile. “What can I get started for you today?”
Savannah knew the girl was staring at her wrinkled clothes. She wore a tight blouse with no bra and a tiny skirt. Clearly she hadn’t been home to change. She pulled her coat tighter around her.
Fuck you, too.
“Just your dark. Whatever. Grande.”
“Grande Ethiopian coming right up! Can I add something to eat to go with that?”
Savannah shook her head and scattered enough coins on the counter to pay for the coffee.
She took her drink to a seat by the window, trying to ignore everyone she imagined was looking at her. She didn’t give a damn about them.
It was January 2. Four years to the day since Alannah had disappeared, and Savannah would mourn her lost sister any way she chose.
Part of her wished she smoked or took drugs. Anything to dull the pain of the horrible anniversary.
I miss you, Sis.
Over the past four years, Savannah had gained a lot of strength. She had been forced to rely on her own skills (such as they were) to survive. Alannah wasn’t there to help make any decisions.
She thought she was doing pretty good. She had moved back to her hometown of Aynsville, New York, and she held down a job as a sales clerk at a local bookstore, had a small apartment that she was happy with, and was able to provide for herself.
She rarely dated, but she had one weakness. Sometimes, she found herself overwhelmed with guilt over everything that had happened. After all, Jeremiah had seen her with the electrician, not Alannah. That had led to the disaster of four years earlier and to her losing her sister.
So, who were strangers to judge her on the bad days? They didn’t know the whole story, and she wasn’t inclined to share it with anyone.
She sipped her coffee, and when it was finished, she walked back to her apartment and slept the rest of the day.
* * *
Jeremiah Moore was about as far away from Aynsville as it was possible to get and still be in the continental United States. He lived in the outskirts of San Diego, in a dilapidated three-story house. The owners rented him a room and made sure he knew that was all he was entitled to. He had to tip-toe to go down the stairs to the front door, so that he didn’t disturb anybody else. There was to be no visitors, no cooking, no noise that could be heard from the floor below, and no bullshit.
That all suited Jeremiah fine, because the rent was half of any other place he’d seen when he came to town a year earlier.
Most of the people in the neighborhood seemed to be Mexican, and he was happy with that too. Less likely anybody would ever figure out who he was.
The one thing he did demand was access to the owners’ Internet connection. He had a small laptop that he’d found in a second-hand store for $100. All it was good for was surfing the Net. He had no interest in game-playing or watching videos, so he didn’t much care that it was as slow as a glacier.
Today he woke and realized it was four years since the disaster. Four years since he had lost Alannah.
As always, he felt that loss in his heart as deeply as he did on the day he’d ruined both their lives.
He’d long ago realized that everything that had happened was due to him misunderstanding things. Of course, now he knew he hadn’t seen Alannah that day. It must have been her twin sister.
Alannah had told him she had a twin, and although he’d never met her, it seemed obvious now that that was who he’d seen.
It’s the only thing that made the tiniest bit of sense. Alannah would never have betrayed him. Not in a million years. He hated himself for not seeing that earlier.
If he’d only realized that immediately. If he’d only talked to Alannah. If he’d only not terrified her into taking such an extreme action.
If only.
He had a small coffee maker in his room, the only thing he was allowed to use to “cook” anything. It only made two cups at a time, and the coffee was hot in a few minutes.
The laptop was ready for him when he sat down with his coffee. He signed in to his Gmail account and was surprised to see a Google Alert message.
After Jeremiah had lost Alannah, he set out on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, he soon ran out of ideas. It made him realize how little she had talked about her life before they met. He’d taken stock of what little he did know: She was born in a small town in New York state (but he didn’t know which one); she had a twin sister (but he didn’t know her name); her father was in prison for killing her mother; and that was it.
He had only a pathetic few clues to her background, but somehow he hoped he could use those bits to find her again. He’d set up Google Alerts to try to capture anything he could, but for four years, it seemed she had fallen off the grid completely.
Until now.
He tried not to get too excited. It might be nothing.
Clicking on the email alert, he found himself looking at a news story published a few days earlier.
LOCAL KILLER DENIED PAROLE
Brian James Clark, 60, formerly of Aynsville, was denied parole yesterday at Otalay Prison. Clark pleaded guilty twelve years ago for brutally murdering his wife, Marianne Clark (nee Burnside). He has never shown remorse for the murder and Judge Judith Mikerson called the proceeding a formality after testimony showed Clark had no regrets.
Nobody from Clark’s family attended the proceeding. He is eligible for parole again in 2025.
Jeremiah read the story three times, trying not to get his hopes too high, but it seemed possible that this was Alannah’s dad.
He checked and found that Otalay Prison was in New Jersey, about 100 miles from Aynsville.
Is that where you are, Alannah?
For once he felt real hope. The next clicks on his computer were to book a flight to New York.
* * *
The prison required approval for visitors considered as dangerous as Brian Clark. Jeremiah had to wait two weeks for the approval, and in that time he mostly sat in a motel on a little-traveled highway nearby.
Fortunately, nobody really cared if he saw Clark or not. He’d had no visitors other than his lawyer, and the approval slid through.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Clark looked more like eighty than sixty. His face was wrinkled and his eyes sunken, looking like beads glistening from a pillow of yellowish flesh.
Jeremiah tried to smile. “I’m a friend of your daughter.”
“Daughter? What’s that got to do with me? Haven’t seen anyone in a decade. Couldn’t give a rat’s ass, neither.”
“I read your trial transcript.”
Clark stared at him and moved his mouth around as if trying to stop himself from drooling. Jeremiah wondered how he could ever manage to look after himself if he ever was paroled. He was pathetic.
There was a thick plane of glass between them, and they each spoke through a phone. Clark leaned back and shut his eyes.
Jeremiah continued. “I can understand why you killed your wife. She stepped out on you—”
“Did more than that. Treated me like a fool. It wasn’t just once or twice, she did it like every week, out fucking some new guy and just giving me the shaft.”
Jeremiah nodded, not believing a single word he was about to say. “I feel for you. We’re not far from the same age and we could be friends if circumstances were different. Women just don’t understand.”
“What’d you say your name was?”
“Jeremiah. Jeremiah Moore.”
“What’d you say you want?”
“I’m looking for your daughter. I hoped you could help me find her.”
“What’s she done now? Doesn’t surprise me if she’s got trouble.”
Jeremiah was confused.
“Why’s that? I thought Alannah would have been a model daughter to you.”
“Alannah?” Clark stared at the glass pane and ran a finger down it, as if he was trying to judge its strength. “Who the hell is Alannah?”
Jeez, thought Jeremiah. Is this guy an idiot?
“One of your daughters. You have twin girls, right?”
“Don’t know what you’re smoking, boy, but I only had one girl. Savannah. No twins, no other girl, just her. An only child. Bad seed from the beginning, that one, caused enough trouble for two, but there is only the one of her.”
Jeremiah stared at the old man, not understanding.
“You’re sure?” He didn’t know what else to say.
Brian Clark started to laugh, a long loud laugh, as he leaned back in his chair.
“Boy, I may have a few challenges with my life, but I think I’d know if I had a second daughter, don’t you?”
“Do you know where Savannah is now?”
“Nope.”
“You all grew up in Aynsville?”
“Yeah. Who knows, maybe she’s there. I don’t give a rat’s ass where she is.”
* * *
Aynsville was only a two-hour drive from the prison, but it seemed to take a million years to get there. Jeremiah had no clue what to think.
The town was bigger than he expected, about 20,000 people. He drove along the main street downtown, where there were a few dozen shops. It looked like the main street of any other town in America. There were the same people: the teenagers standing near a pizza joint, staring at him as he drove by; the old man with a walker, stopped to take a drag on his cigarette; the mom with three small kids trailing after her while she carried two bags of groceries home; the dozens of other forgettable faces that littered the landscape.
And then he saw Alannah.
She was walking in his direction, not paying much attention to anything. He had stopped for a red light and was waiting for it to change.
He saw her and his stomach lurched.
It’s you, he wanted to cry, but no words left his mouth. He was frozen with shock at finally finding the woman he loved.
She looked exactly the same as he remembered her. Beautiful face, slim, and right then he knew once more that he loved her more than he could ever say. She was his life. Nothing else had mattered to him and nothing ever would.
I found you.
He rolled down the driver’s window and stared at her long after the light turned green. Suddenly, the car behind him honked loudly and then magic happened: Alannah turned to see what the noise was all about and they locked eyes.
He smiled and started to call out to her, but she had a faster reaction than he did.
She covered her mouth with a hand and froze for a moment then turned and ran away.
Jeremiah was stunned at first but realized she probably still blamed him.
He gave the car some gas, but she’d turned around a corner. He got there and turned as fast as he could.
The ghost who was his soul mate was gone.