Page 72 of The Whisper Place
Kate
I lay in a box staring at a canopy of tree branches and slivers of flawless blue. I’d spent so many days on Charlie’s farm looking up, absorbing the colors, the shape of the clouds, the brilliance of each sunrise and sunset. I’d never taken a single one for granted. I was so grateful now that I’d taken the time to breathe deep, to commune with the unique and perfect beauty of the sky over the rolling fields of Iowa—Charlie’s sky—because this might be the last time I saw it.
Two faces sneered over me. I didn’t look at either of them. I focused on the blue until I’d memorized it and then closed my eyes.
At Ted’s instruction, Theo had dragged me into the makeshift coffin and tied my legs so both my hands and feet were bound. Then he had Theo remove my gag. Now they were waiting for me to lose it, for the tears and panic and begging. They didn’t understand I had none of that left in me. And even if I did, I would die before giving them the satisfaction of a singleplease.
Charlie’s sky. Bonfires and beers. Laughter and childhood stories. Hot cinnamon rolls dripping with icing. Blake’s voice belting out, “Every now and then I get a little bit lonely.” I hadn’t been,not with them. I’d done exactly what Mom had wanted for me. I’d built a brand-new life that had nothing to do with the man standing over me, and it had been beautiful. It had been everything I wanted. Even if it was all a memory that would die with me today, I had no regrets.
A heavy foot stepped into the box next to my hip and I felt breath on my face. I didn’t open my eyes. Sunsets. All the pinks and oranges swirled together. They felt like you could walk right into them.
Something hit me on the cheek and I flinched, as whatever it was rolled off and clattered on the bottom of the box.
“That’s an audio recording device. A little something I picked up for you.” Although Ted’s voice was low, a current of ugly excitement ran through it. He was proud of this. He’d been waiting for this moment. “It’s on now. I’ve already set everything in motion. You see, I thought you might want to say good-bye to your mother while you still have the air to do it. I hear people who don’t escape their graves can become, well, let’s just say you might want to do it sooner than later.” The pressure of the foot disappeared from the box and Ted’s voice receded. “And don’t worry. I’ll be sure she gets your message.”
There was a pause while he waited for that to sink in. I could feel his hunger, his anticipation. He wanted to feed on my fear.
I blinked my eyes open and waited for them to adjust. The sky, those tiny shots of blue between the trees, hovered above me like dragonflies. Each one a beacon, irrefutable, no matter what happened beneath them. They would always be there, long after he was dead. What was a whale to the whole of the sky?
“I’m glad I got a chance to tell you this.”
The heads froze, waiting. I smiled.
“Blake doesn’t use brown sugar. She mixes white sugar with molasses, which is the same thing except it’s cheaper and better quality. I can’t believe we never did that, Mom. So for a standard chocolate chip cookie recipe, she uses half white and half brown sugar, which translates to—” I turned to my side, curling into a fetal position around the small recorder, and ran through the rest of the recipe, the measurements, the tricks and conversions.
“Shut it,” Ted ordered, his voice burning with anger.
I described the vanilla. Water leaked out of my eyes, dripping onto the plywood, but my voice never wavered. The lid scraped over the box and I felt the darkness return, a time-out room shrunk down to barely more than the size of my body. I curled in tighter and kept talking. The trick for grinding oats into flour. The quick salted caramel hack.
Clods of dirt thumped onto the top of the box. It was just the mixer jumping, the front door opening and shutting with the never-ending flow of customers. Ted and Theo talked in low, muffled voices, but no, no—it was the students lingering over their coffees, talking about their weekend plans. I was in the kitchen. I was sitting by the bonfire outside Charlie’s house. I was walking into the sunset, becoming part of those oranges and brilliant, blinding pinks.
The dirt kept falling, the thuds growing duller and softer as the box became covered. The layer of earth separating me from the world above grew thicker, heavier. The box cracked and groaned, the air inside became hot and stifling. I leaned closer to the recorder, the tiny red light blinking like a submersible on the bottom of the ocean. My voice dropped low, humming strangely in the darkness, but it didn’t break. It came out of me like an animal that knew onlyone thing: if I was going to die here today, I would have the last goddamn word.
“I know you won’t play this for my mother. Because I’m not going to scream for you. I won’t beg. You lose again, Ted. You’ll always be a loser. You think you’re God’s messenger, that you’ve swallowed me up after I tried to get away, but guess what? This will eat you from the inside for the rest of your life because you know it’s true.
“You. Are. Nothing.”
With my chin, I pressed on the recorder until the tiny red light went out and there was only darkness left. It wouldn’t be long now.
I curled up tighter and whispered in time to the dirt falling on my grave.
Eat the whale.
Eat the whale.
Eat the whale.
Max
Even in the middle of the day, the woods didn’t let in much light. The trees were dense and towering, the canopy blocking most of the sun. When Jonah and I found Andrea Kramer’s body, I’d assumed searching would’ve been easier in the daytime, that there were probably trails to follow if you could see them.
I was wrong.
Jonah, Valerie, and I walked single file, working our way through underbrush and over the rocks, roots, and fallen trees on the forest floor. It was slow going, and every step we took felt like it could be in the wrong direction. We’d called the police while we still had service, but we didn’t even know whether Kate or Theo came in here. Kate could’ve stolen a third car and left. Or Theo could’ve taken her somewhere completely different.
“They’re here.” Jonah answered the question I didn’t ask.
“How do you know? Can you sense someone?”
