Whats left of the night, p.1
What's Left of the Night, page 1
What’s Left of the Night
Alex Gates
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Alex Gates
What’s Left of the Night
Copyright © 2019 by Alex Gates
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover designed by MiblArt.
Contents
WARNING!
Prologue
Tessa
Part One
Gibson
Savannah
Emely
Savannah
Gibson
Savannah
Gibson
Emely
Part Two
Savannah
Gibson
Savannah
Gibson
Savannah
Gibson
Bethany
Savannah
Gibson
Bethany
Savannah
Gibson
Matthew
Savannah
Matthew
Gibson
Savannah
Gibson
Part Three
Savannah
Gibson
What did you think?
There’s More
TEASER: Dead Awake
Also by Alex Gates
WARNING!
The disturbing story you are about to read is a sequel. If you are like me, and you have to read or watch a series in order, you can find A Mask of Silence, the first book, HERE.
* * *
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy.
Prologue
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” – Martin Luther King Jr.
* * *
“To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards of men.” – Abraham Lincoln
Tessa
December 22nd—Evening
* * *
Tessa shouldered the black garbage bag, carrying it across the kitchen. To hoist it, Tessa had to hunch over, straining her lower back. It stretched and sagged with weight. Juices seeped from a split at the bottom, dripping along the kitchen’s tile floor.
“Ricky,” she called to the busboy. He had long, greasy hair, and acne spotted his pale cheeks. Dark bags dragged down his eyelids—a teenager hellbent on staying up late to get high. “Can you get the door for me?”
The kid dropped a wet rag onto a stainless steel counter and hustled over to the back door leading into the alley. “You want me to take that for you?” he asked, nodding at the overstuffed, leaky trash bag.
Shaking her head, Tessa said, “No, thank you. I need the fresh air.” She winked at him—by fresh air, she meant a moment to step outside and smoke.
Tessa attended college at UCLA. For winter break, she’d returned to her God-forsaken hometown of Galt—a small town in the middle of nowhere, Northern California. Funds had diminished through the semester, and cigarettes and alcohol were expensive habits. To make an extra buck or two, she’d picked up shifts at the restaurant her parents owned. A small diner in the heart of the small town where the same old men ordered the same breakfast and flirted with the same waitresses.
Stepping into the alley, Tessa dropped the garbage bag onto the asphalt, allowing the heavy door to close behind her. The dumpster sat across the alley, but she needed a breath. A light rain pattered onto the ground, creating a false cold. Galt, residing in the valley of Northern California, wasn’t known for winters. Last year, Tessa and her family had celebrated Christmas outside, reveling in the sunshine by barbecuing bacon and sausage while drinking mimosas on a sixty-degree morning.
Reaching into her apron pocket, she retrieved a loose cigarette, along with a lighter. She leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant and inhaled the sharp smoke, allowing the heat to warm her lungs. Mentally, Tessa counted down the days she had left in Galt, to when she could see Manuel again.
The two weren’t yet exclusive, but Tessa didn’t like him that way. He played football for the university, and she felt no shame in admitting that’s why they hooked up. Shallow? Yes. But who cared? She was young, attractive, in college, and not looking for a husband.
From the darkness of the alley, someone coughed, a distinct sound above the tittering raindrops that appeared black under the single lightbulb above the restaurant’s door. Tessa froze. Was someone out there, standing in the rain, hiding in the shadows? Not naturally curious, Tessa dropped her cigarette and stamped it out with her foot. Orange embers scattered into the damp darkness.
Turning around, she gripped the door handle and pulled. It didn’t budge. How stupid was she? The door locked from the outside when closed. Normally, she would have placed the kickstand down. But under the oppressive weight of the bag, the deep craving for a cigarette, and the growing frustration of dealing with perverted small-town men in a gross, sticky, small-town diner, she had neglected to prop it open, leaving herself stranded in the back alley.
The cough sounded again, like a man clearing his throat before saying something important.
Tessa tried to rip open the door, then she slapped on it with her palms. “Ricky!” She pounded on the metal. “Ricky!”
Glancing behind her, she noticed a shadow darker than the rest—a shadow in the shape of a human. It stood beside the dumpster. A tall, sinister presence carrying weight and depth, seeming to stretch toward her like growing tendrils.
“Ricky!” Tessa beat on the door until it flew open. She tumbled inside the restaurant and into Ricky. “He’s out there. Someone’s out there. Do you see?” Pointing toward the dumpster, Tessa dared another glance at the shadowed form. She saw nothing but rain falling. “Someone was right there. I swear.”
Steadying her, Ricky said, “You needed that cigarette more than I thought. How many hours you work the past three days?”
Swallowing back a lump of fear, Tessa said, “I saw someone. I swear. I heard him.” Her hands trembled.
“Hey, Cassie,” Ricky called over the chefs’ clattering and cooking. “How much has Tessa worked since being back?”
Cassie, the head chef, appeared from a small office the size of a broom closet. She had red hair tied haphazardly back so strands dangled over her eyes. Freckles spotted her skin. “I keep telling her to go home, but she won’t listen. What happened, now?”
The lights from the kitchen and the familiar noises of the restaurant worked together to soothe Tessa’s nerves. She wondered if she had really seen anyone, heard anything. Or were the darkness and rain playing tricks on my exhausted mind?
Ricky spoke up when Tessa didn’t comment on Cassie’s question. “She said she saw someone outside. This is after she locked herself out there.” He chuckled. “When I opened the door, I saw nothing. I think she’s overworked herself and should probably go home.”
Raising an eyebrow at Tessa, Cassie said, “You have worked three straight fourteen-hour shifts.”
Tessa had worked nonstop since coming home for winter break. She needed the extra cash to help pay college expenses, including beer and smokes. But more than the money, she needed time away from her parents. As terrible as that sounded, they smothered her. Her mom constantly peppered about, like a dog that couldn’t get enough attention, asking question after question, whether it pertained to something of relevance or not. Her dad had stage-two breast cancer, and depression had gripped him with an unrelenting hold. Tessa understood his pain, and she suffered for him, but he forced his misery onto the household. If Tessa or her mom smiled or laughed in front of him, he’d have a conniption. What did they find so funny considering his looming, emasculating death?
With the past few days falling into perspective, Tessa realized she was not only physically exhausted, but emotionally. The incident outside could have been nothing more than rain and shadows and imagination. Maybe Ricky had a point. Maybe she should go home and get rest.
Nodding, Tessa said, “You’re right.”
Thirty minutes later, Tessa approached the front door to her parents’ house. They’d turned off the interior lights. Their car was missing from the driveway. Worry filled her thoughts. Had something happened to her dad? Did they have to rush to the emergency room? Fishing her phone from her purse, she called her mom.
“Tessa,” her mother answered, her voice cheery and warm.
“Hey. Everything okay? I just got home and no one’s here.” Tessa wedged her phone between her ear and shoulder as she unlocked the front door and stepped inside the house. After flipping the entryway switch, light flooded across the hall.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call. Your father surprised me with a Christmas dinner. He made the reservations for tonight. I forgot to tell you. We’re in Sacramento though, so if you need anything—”
“I’m twenty-four. I’ll be fine.” Flopping onto the couch, Tessa flipped on the television. “You guys have fun. I’ll probably be asleep when you get home, so see you tomorrow.”
“How was work?” her mom asked.
“Mom, enjoy your date. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Fine. Goodnight. I love you.
“Love you. Give dad hugs and kisses for me.”
Hanging up the phone, Tessa turned up the volume to the television. The movie Scream played. The plot centered on a masked person wielding a knife and murdering a ton of young adults for no apparent reason. Tessa quickly tired of the movie, drifting in and out of sleep until a sound barked through the emptiness and jolted her awake.
She sat up straight. In a panic, she scanned the room for the strange noise. When she realized it was the house phone, her breathing slowed. After a few seconds, the ringing ceased. Glancing at her cell phone, she noticed a missed call had come in a few minutes ago from her best friend, Emely. Did Emely also try the house line, knowing Tessa was at home?
Tessa called her back.
Emely answered in Emely form. “You’re such a bitch. You’ve been in town, what, four days now? And have we hung out? No. Have we talked? No. And you’ve tried to contact me how many times? Hm, let’s see. Fucking zero, you stupid whore. And don’t tell me you’re working, because I know damn well you only work to avoid your soul-sucking parents.”
“Hi. I missed you,” Tessa said. “Why’d you call the house line?”
“What’s a house line?” Emely asked.
“Shut up. I’m sorry I’ve been a terrible friend.”
“Terrible doesn’t come close to the right word, but I’ll accept the apology. Tell me because I’ve been dying to know, did you ever hook up with that one guy you sent me a picture of? Twenty-pack abs. Pecs I’d nurse from. What was his name?”
“I don’t know which guy you’re talking about,” Tessa said, lying back on the couch so her legs curled over the backrest and her head dangled from the seat to the floor. The room turned upside down.
“You little slut. How many are there then?”
“None,” Tessa said, grinning. “Three.” She giggled. “I went on one date with that Harley guy, but he was creepy. Remember? I told you about his dead tooth and the way his eyes never looked above my neck.”
“Oh, yeah. Is he the one who tried to put his tongue down your throat on the first date?”
“Yup.”
“He sounded cute. I mean, despite the dead tooth. But I like a guy with conviction.”
“Conviction?” Tessa asked.
“He liked your tits, and he made that known, and he never deviated from that. Conviction. I wish a dude would stare at my chest like that. I’d rip my damn shirt off for him.”
Tessa chuckled. The house phone rang again. The noise was intrusive and foreign in the silence fogging the home.
“What’s that?” Emely asked.
“The house phone. This is the second time in like, five minutes it’s rung. I didn’t even know that thing worked anymore.”
“Answer it.”
Chewing on her lower lip, Tessa debated picking it up. She rolled off the couch and ambled into the kitchen where it sat on the charger. The obnoxious sound quieted.
Tessa lifted the phone and held it in her hand, trying to figure out how to check missed calls. “I’ll answer if it rings—”
It rang again, as if punctuating the end of her sentence.
“Is that them?” Emely asked. “What’s the caller ID say?”
After waiting for the information to pop onto the screen, Tess said, “Unknown.”
“Telemarketers,” Emely said. “They’re relentless. Answer it in, like, this sexy voice. Tell them you want to suck their dick.”
“What? No. What’s wrong with you?”
“Just do it. You’ll freak them out. Here, answer the phone and say what I tell you to say.”
Feeling guilty about not contacting Emely sooner, Tessa caved to her best friend’s demand. She repeated after Emely. In an erotic voice, she said, “I’ve been waiting for you to call me.”
“Breathe like you just finished a marathon, but you’re not panting like a dog. You’re controlling your lack of oxygen,” Emely chimed.
Grinning, Tessa labored her breathing. On the other end of the line, the caller exhaled in ragged, harsh breaths.
“What’s he saying?” Emely asked. “Tell him, or her, you’re home alone.”
Dropping the house phone to her chest, Tessa said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she whispered. “It’s just someone breathing on the other end. It’s creepy.”
“Ask who it is,” Emely said.
Tessa raised the phone back to her ear. “Who is this?”
Ragged exhalations responded. Then the line clicked dead.
“Who is it?” Emely asked.
Placing the home phone back on the charger, Tessa said, “They hung up. I don’t know. Shit, Emely. I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little freaked out. I was watching that stupid movie, Scream, on TV, and some home intruder calls the house before breaking in and killing the girl.”
“Want me to come over and keep you safe? Oh, or better yet—want me to call Matthew and have him go over there and keep you safe? He doesn’t have a dead tooth and all that, but he still has some positive qualities.”
“Should I call the cops?” Tessa asked.
“And tell them what? Someone breathed really scary like in the phone. They’d laugh their fat, lazy asses off at you. Just lock the front door and wait for Matthew to arrive.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to mention Matthew.” Walking to the front door, Tessa peered out the window. A figure stood across the street, silhouetted against the night.
Dropping her cell phone to the ground, Tessa suppressed a scream with both hands. Scrambling, she lifted the phone from the floor and said, “There’s someone outside. Someone is outside.”
“What’re you talking about? You’re scaring me.”
“I’m not kidding. There’s someone standing outside.” She moved toward the window again, daring another glance, seeing a light rain falling, illuminated by the streetlights. Houses and trees rose from the darkness like unknown beasts. But she didn’t see the dark figure.
“Tessa,” Emely said.
“He’s gone. The person’s gone. What do I do?”
From the living room, the sound of glass shattering exploded through the halls. Tessa shrieked. She yelled into the phone, “He broke the window! Shit, he broke the window!”
“Don’t go outside!” Emely said. “Grab something you can use as a weapon. Can you get to the kitchen and grab a knife?”
Nodding, Tessa shuffled to the kitchen two doors down the hall. When she reached it, she sprinted to the knife rack and armed herself with the biggest one she could find, then she lunged for the counter where the house phone sat on the charger. Wedging her knife beneath her belt, she picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
When the dispatcher answered, Tessa said, “Someone is stalking me and trying to break into my house. Please send someone. Please.”
A woman with a calm, smug voice said, “Ma’am, I need you to slow down—“
“No, I need you to hurry up and send someone over.” Tessa slinked around the kitchen door, pressing her body against the wall. She shuffled down the hall to the living room.
“Ma’am, please remain calm.”
“Tessa,” Emely said in her other ear. “What’s happening?”
The dispatcher continued. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know,” Tessa said into both phones, unable to peek into the living room and see what waited for her. “I saw someone standing across the street and staring at me. I couldn’t make out any details, but I’m sure it was a man. Before that, someone called the house and just breathed really creepy into the phone.” Tessa cried as she spoke, her words broken and full of gasps. “I need to call my mom and let her know. She needs to come home.”
