The Dead Man’s Letter
“Ariana’s not here,” she said. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “But where is she?”
“Mr. Tyson picked her up about an hour ago. Said you weren’t feeling well.”
That was strange. Darren never did anything to fulfill our daughter’s needs. He always said that was my responsibility. I feigned a cough, reaching for a tissue in my purse. “Yes, I do have a slight cold. I just didn’t realize he was picking her up for me.”
A little boy tugged at the teacher’s sleeve. “We’ll see you Monday then. Feel better.” She waved and turned to the boy, who was whining that another boy hit him.
I waved back, pulling my cell phone out of my bag while racing to my car. I dialed my husband’s phone. It just went straight to voicemail.
I continued in vain all evening, my mind swimming with all sorts of possibilities as my stomach twisted inside out. Would Darren really hurt our little girl?
Around eleven, as I was anxiously staring out the window, Darren pulled up in his police cruiser and stumbled to the front door alone. “Hey Babe,” he said casually as he entered.
“Uh, hi,” I said. I looked to see if Ariana had come trailing behind him, but he slammed the front door and headed for the kitchen. I heard him open the fridge and grab a beer, forcing its top off by hitting it on the counter.
“Where’s my dinner?” he called.
I hadn’t made any after all. I hadn’t done much of anything except imagine what my husband was doing with my little girl.
Darren emerged looking as if he would kill me. “Where is it?!” he screamed. As I stared at him blankly, unsure of what to answer to save myself from his wrath, the first beating of the night began.
***
After three torturous days of doing whatever Darren demanded, I finally had the courage to ask of Ariana’s whereabouts.
“See? You always think of her before me,” Darren said. He pulled on his uniform, adjusting his gun in its holster. Taking a swig of his morning beer, he spat on a rag to shine his shoes.
“You know that’s not true!” I insisted, but he just sneered at me.
“While you’re in here asking me silly things, you should be getting my breakfast ready. That’s how I know you care more about her than me.”
He ate his fried eggs and grits while reading the paper, laughing at the comics, snapping his fingers when he wanted more coffee.
I stood at his attention, wondering if I should ask him again.
He pushed his plate away when he’d had enough, stretching and grabbing his keys. “It seems to me,” he said as he pulled on his jacket, “that everyone else in the world is more important to you than I am. Especially her.” He refused to even say our daughter’s name. “Until you can show that I’m your biggest priority, she will stay with my parents.”
With that, he slammed the door. He pulled quickly out of the driveway, nearly sideswiping an oncoming biker, and took off with his lights flashing.
I cried for awhile, but then I knew I had to get to work as well. If I didn’t, Darren would somehow find out and the consequences would be unthinkable.
***
An agonizing week later, there was a power outage at work. They sent us all home an hour early, and for once, I was able to check the mail before Darren got to it. I hadn’t heard from Ariana or Darren’s parents all week, and I prayed they would at least help her to write me a letter or send a drawing or something. Anything.
I sifted through bills, my heart sinking with each typed address. Finally, I saw an envelope that was handwritten, and my spirits soared. I shoved the other mail back in the box and ran back to my car. I ripped open the letter, anxious to see crayon or scribbles or anything from Ariana.
Instead, in neat block printing, there was a short two paragraphs. I looked to the bottom and did not recognize the sender’s name. I scanned the envelope again and was surprised at both the name and the return address. The letter was intended for an Amanda Stevens, which was my maiden name. I hadn’t used that name in five long years. The return address was from a Joseph Weebs, and a stamp below said it was sent from a federal penitentiary.
Confused, I searched my memory for someone with that name. It was sort of familiar, strangely, but I couldn’t put a face with it. Deeply disappointed but also a bit curious, I began to read:
Dear Amanda,
How you doin, girl? Been so long that we talked. I hope your good. Do you remember me from South Lakes High? By the time you read this, I’m gonna be gone. You must heard by now about me. I didn’t mean no harm, but peoples never been nice to me. You remember right? You know that guy John Dwyer who messed with me all those years? All them, his whole group - well, they all gone now. I just couldn’t let it go. He was the last one and now I got caught. Anyway the only one ever – and I mean EVER – nice to me was YOU. No matter what, you was nice to me. Member that time we ran into each other in that field near the tree and you talked to me like I was a real person? You don’t know but at the time I was ready to off myself and cause of you I didn’t.
The pastor that’s been talkin to me told me I should do a nice deed before I go. So I decided to write and give you a gift. Before I did away with John I found a bunch of cash at his place. I mean, a ton of loot. Don’t know where he got it but I took it. Probably more than a million bucks. I never counted but it was more then I ever seen. I buried it with him near the tree we talked at that day. I put my South Lakes class ring on a branch there so you will know where to dig. I hope you do good with the money and it helps you. God bless!
Your friend,
Joseph Weebs
I hid the letter in the lining under the floor mat below my seat. Darren hopefully wouldn’t look there. Noting the time had passed quickly, I hurried inside to start dinner.
For the next several days, I made Darren’s meals, laughed at his stupid jokes, spread my legs for him when he demanded and tried to avoid any trouble. All the while, I formed a plan that would finally allow me to escape from that bastard and go get my daughter.
***
I often imagined the death of my husband. It did not provide the same joy as caring for my daughter, but the fantasies of how I could kill him somewhat kept me going. Yet, he was a cop, and killing him surely meant life in prison without parole, and of course it meant losing my Ariana. So, all this time, I was trapped with semi-satisfying fantasies while I remained his punching bag.
He controlled everything, including the money. I paid dearly the one time I tried to stash some away, so I never tried again. I thought I’d hidden it pretty well in a box in the shed, but he found it a few days later and put me in the hospital. That was one of the many times I had to quit my job; the bruises and fractures were too hard to constantly explain. For five long years, I’d been a victim to him. After Ariana was born, things had gotten much worse. And now he was keeping her from me, which was the worst situation of all.
I hid my car in the garage down the block from the office building where Amanda Stevens worked. I gathered my bag and locked the car, hurrying toward the lot where she parked. I saw many other cars lined up, glistening in the morning light, but luckily, no one was lingering about. I casually walked over to Amanda’s car and produced a hanger from my bag. I carefully jimmied the lock open, slipping into the backseat. I waited several seconds before peeking through the window. No one was coming, so I was safely tucked away to wait for her. It had taken me some time to find the right Amanda Stevens from the letter, but now I was here and there was no turning back.
For the past week, I had spent my lunch hour hunched over my computer, trying to find information. I’d looked up the name Joseph Weebs, and I discovered he’d been executed a month ago in Austin for murdering five people. His victims had all attended South Lakes High School with him, including John Dwyer, who was the last one he killed. He’d just turned 30 before his death, so he likely graduated twelve years earlier. I realized then why his name had been somewhat familiar. He’s been a regularly mentioned in the news before his execution, and although I’d probably heard his name a dozen times, it never had any meaning for me. Now, his name meant everything.
Next, I had used the Drivers License website to track down every Amanda Stevens in the Metro Detroit region. I was surprised to see myself listed, even though my name had not been Stevens for years. There were three around the right age, so I focused on them. They were each very different looking. One had long, curly red hair and was a bit chubby. Another had short, spiky blonde hair and looked somewhat masculine. The third had straight brown hair and petite features. I had to find the right woman. Only one Amanda Stevens could make sense out of Joseph’s letter, and it certainly wasn’t me.
Two days ago, I’d taken the afternoon off from work. I had asked my boss to cover for me if my husband called. He had looked at my quizzically for awhile, but then he promised to say I was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. I had driven over to South Lakes High and obtained a copy of the yearbooks for 1998, 1999 and 2000 from their library. I found Joseph’s picture in the 1999 edition, and two pages later, I found a picture for Amanda Stevens. Although her hair in her license photo was short and blonde, in the yearbook picture, it was jet black. It was definitely the same face though, so I was confident I’d determine the right Amanda Stevens.
I was able to find where she worked and her license plate number online. After waiting for my boss to go into his morning sales meeting, I had ducked out and headed over to find Amanda’s car. Now, here I was, sitting low in her backseat, waiting for her to emerge for lunch.
Several people exited the office building at once, drifting off to separate cars. My heart started to beat faster as each passed by. I ducked down in my narrow space, my hand on the gun I’d taken from Darren’s stash. My palms were sweating so profusely, it took considerable effort not to drop the gun into my lap and shoot myself in the foot.
I waited for what seemed like an eternity for Amanda to get to her car. After awhile, I peeked out and saw the lot had cleared. Still no Amanda. Maybe she was eating lunch inside today.
I sat there, my legs cramping under me, giving myself pep talks. I pictured Ariana’s sweet, innocent face contorted with tears as she wondered where I was. That was all I needed to continue. I’d do whatever it took to save us.
After an eternity, a swarm of cars returned to the lot at once, and workers satisfied from their lunches headed back to their offices. I realized I may be waiting for several hours more, so I stretched out my legs, trying my best not to fall asleep.
“Hey, what the hell?” someone said, and I looked up to see Amanda glaring at me from the front seat.
In an instant, I was up, my gun pointed squarely in her face.
“Drive,” I said.
Her lips started to form a protest, but instead, she put her key in the ignition and backed out of her spot.
***
“Park right here,” I said. It had only taken twenty minutes in light traffic to arrive at South Lakes High School.
Amanda pulled into a lot across from the school, and I noticed in the rearview mirror a puzzled look on her face as she realized where we were.
“All I need from you is some information. If you provide that to me, you won’t be hurt.”
“Okay,” she said, still staring across the street at her alma mater. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about Joseph Weebs.”
“That’s what this is about? Some loser from high school turned psycho who killed the guys who bullied him?”
“Yes. He told me you had some important conversation with him near some tree in some field. Where was that?”
Amanda turned around to look at me, her eyes wide. “I have no idea! That was years ago. I haven’t a clue what he was talking about.”
“Well, until you can remember, you and I are going to spending some time together.”
***
“I’m not sure if this is the right place, but it’s the only one I can think of.”
“Okay, then let’s go.”
I followed Amanda down a woodsy path as she struggled to hold the shovels and water we’d picked up on the way. I held the gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. We finally arrived at a clearing that was bordered by trees with a few picnic tables scattered about. She looked around, started toward one tree, stopped, and then turned toward another.
“I don’t know if I remember,” she said finally after performing an odd dance of indecision. “It’s been too long.”
“Well, what’s your best guess?”
“I’m just not sure. I just brought you here because this is where we all hung out. This used to be the place to go to get away, to fool around and drink and all that. This must be where he’s talking about.”
Suddenly, I remembered the class ring. The sun was low in the sky now, and soon it would be too dark to see such a small item. “He said something about putting his class ring near the tree he talked to you at. We’ve got to find it. That’s the only way you’ll make it out of here alive.”
We went from one tree to the next, but no gold ring. The sky was striated an orange hue through a purple haze, which meant nighttime was fast approaching. My hopes were diminishing along with the daylight. I heard some rustling behind me as I kept the gun on Amanda, and as I turned, a squirrel darted out, nearly scaring me to death. I scanned the area, noting we’d already been to at least three-quarters of the trees. I had no idea where we were supposed to dig, and we couldn’t exactly dig in front of every tree. We’d be there forever.
“Wait!” Amanda called, bending over. “Give me the flashlight! I think I found something over here!”
I tossed it to her, and she got down on her knees and started brushing aside some dirt. “Here it is!”
She held up something gold. A ring. Shining the flashlight on it, I could make out a small ruby surrounded by words. Although they were faded from years of wear, they clearly spelled out the name of Joseph’s school.
“I can’t believe we found it,” I said, more to myself than to her. “This is the spot then.”
“So, can we go now? You found what you were looking for.” Amanda started walking toward where we entered, but I cocked my gun at her.
“Oh no. This is just the beginning.” I picked up a shovel and threw it to her feet. “Start digging.”
***
Hours later, Amanda leaned against the dirt wall she’d formed by excavating several feet of earth around the ring. Her face was streaked with sweat and exhaustion. I threw her a bottle of water.
“There’s nothing here,” she called. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to find.”
“You’ll know when you reach it,” I said. “Get going again. The sooner you find it, the sooner you can leave.”
She continued digging, grunting with each pull as she tossed dirt behind her. She’d already made a wide hole around where the ring was found. I figured she’d need at least another foot or two. Bodies were usually buried six feet under.
The night sounds were unnerving. Twigs cracked and fell off into piles of leaves as animals scurried about, chasing each other through the brush. A howl in the distance made me jump, and I prayed that we found what we came here for before anything found us.
Her shovel finally hit something solid. My stomach lurched as I rushed over. I shined the light and peered down as she continued tapping against something hard. She dropped the shovel, using her hands to clear off the dirt from what looked like a metal box. “I think this is it!” she said, and she tried to pry the box loose. I stood on the edge of the hole, trying to see what she’d found.
Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me and turned. Before I knew it, I felt hands grab my ankles. I plunged headfirst into the hole.
***
I tried to open my eyes, but they were unusually heavy. My leg was turned in an unnatural position under me. My chest heaved as panic set in. I reached for the gun in my pocket, but it was empty.
Amanda shone the flashlight on me. She’s already climbed out of the hole. “You didn’t really think I was going to give you all that money, did you?”
“Huh?” I tried to steady my breathing, but it came out in quick, short gasps.
“Do you really think you’re the only Amanda Stevens who got Joseph’s letter?”
I had no answer. It had never occurred to me that he’d sent more than one.
“I got the letter too. And I’m sure others did. But, fortunately for me, I knew the exact spot Joseph was talking about.”
Amanda disappeared then, and I tried to prop myself up. My arms screamed in pain, and I fell back down. Suddenly, I saw her face reappear above me. She was shining the light on something dark.
“I already got the money yesterday. Bet you didn’t know that, did you?” She waved a duffel bag above me. “I hid it in a pile of leaves over there,” she said, pointing behind her. “It took me a day to make arrangements. I knew it would be safer there than at home. I just didn’t expect to come back here this way.”
She looked at me for a long while, her face lined with regret. “I’m sorry, but this is how it’s going to have to be. I’m usually a very nice person.”
The light went dark, and I heard her footsteps as she retreated. After awhile, everything was still.
***
I must have passed out at some point, because the next thing I knew, a loud popping sound jarred me back into consciousness. Another popping sound rang out, and I realized it was a gunshot. I waited, unable to do anything else, when above me, I saw the most terrifying sight of all.
Darren’s face leered at me as he swung the black duffel at his side.
“Did you really think I didn’t know what was going on? Do you really think I’m that stupid?” His face was the picture of satisfaction.
I tried to speak, but shock held my voice hostage.
He disappeared for a moment, and then when he reappeared, he wasn’t alone. Suddenly, there was a body next to me. Amanda’s body. She moaned, the blood from the wound in her chest pouring out all over me. I tried to move away, but I was too weak.
“You two deserve each other,” Darren said. He shoveled a pile of dirt onto us. “I wasn’t enough for you. But, maybe she’ll be able to satisfy you.”
As my husband tossed dirt on top of me, I prayed for my heart to stop. “Just a little bit more,” he grunted as he struggled to fill the grave.
I heard loud noises then, but they were muffled by the dirt surrounding my ears. My heart pounded in my chest as I strained to hear.
Suddenly, I felt weight on top of me. Hands were digging, clearing the dirt from my head.
“Is she alive too?” a voice asked. It sounded like it came from a woman. I must be hallucinating.
I gurgled, trying to answer, but the gibberish I uttered was unclear even to me.
The hands were quick as they dug, and finally they found my wrists. I was pulled to a sitting position in the mound of dirt, wincing with a pain I’d only experienced by Darren’s fists. The woman continued digging next to me, freeing Amanda’s head and feeling her throat.
“I think she’s gone,” she said. I turned to see the woman I had kidnapped. Her face was contorted in an expression I’d never forget, and her chest was still. “No breath sounds.”
The woman pulled at me again until somehow I was standing on my one good leg. The other hung there like dead meat. She hopped out of the grave, then got on her belly and pulled me until I was halfway out.
“Okay then. You should be able to do the rest yourself.”
I heard movement to my right and looked just as the woman was bashing something with a shovel. Darren cried out, but after a few more thuds, he went still.
In the light, I could briefly see the woman had long red hair. She bent and unzipped the duffel bag, reaching in and tossing something at me. It was a small bundle of cash.
“I think that’s fair, don’t you?” she asked. She pointed to where Darren’s body remained motionless. “I helped you with your problem. And now you’ve helped me with mine.”
The woman picked up the bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and disappeared into the darkness.
It was fair, I realized, as I crawled past my husband’s corpse. Now my daughter and I would have a chance to have a real life, thanks to Joseph Weebs and the third Amanda Stevens.
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