Her Name

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Content Warning: This series includes violence, ritual harm, bullying, and psychological trauma involving teens. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Read carefully. In Antigua Falls, even stories have teeth.

In this episode: Tom and Ned discuss Antigua Falls over pie at an empty, well worn diner, but even there Tom can not shake his traumatic past.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Interlude

It took over an hour to get there, but Tom knew they couldn’t risk going anywhere near Antigua Falls. Wilkes was up to something. He had seen what looked like fear—gotcha—when he asked if he knew Allistair.

I know everyone in this town.

The sign appeared unceremoniously. It was painted plywood, nailed to a wooden light pole, one of the few sodium halogen bulbs that hadn’t been replaced with LED’s. In the orange glow, you could make out a cartoonishly drawn slice of pie, with the word painted in capital letters above the picture.

“Marketing’s not great, but in this case, that’s helpful,” said Tom as he turned into the sparse parking lot.

The restaurant stood alone just off the highway. There were no gas stations or fast food joints, which meant the place sat empty most nights. This was where Tom came to clear his head during hard investigations.

And to drink the dreams away.

He went to push that thought away, but stopped himself. It was the truth, and if he didn’t start listening to it, the investigation was at risk. Without the hard liquor, things were coming in flashes. He needed sleep, but more than that, he needed to understand what happened to Lyla.

“What do you think Wilkes is up to?” Ned asked.

Tom shifted the car into park and thought about it.

“I don’t know for sure. Hard to tell with a man like him how much of what he does is just to control the situation. Or keep bragging rights.”

“But you don’t think that’s what this is,” said Ned.

Tom watched a middle aged woman in an oversized orange shirt exit the front door. She carried a bulging trash bag, limping a little from what would one day be a bad hip. She disappeared around the corner. He never got to see his mom reach that age. When she died, she was almost thirty. Still beautiful. Still strong.

Hair down to there.

“Why do you think Miss Robinson came to us?” Tom asked and looked at Ned. “If Wilkes is such a trustworthy enforcer of the law, why would she come to OSBI direct?”

“He thinks she’s crazy,” said Ned.

Tom nodded, “Yes, he does. But think about what Constance asked us to do. She wanted us to kill her son.”

“She thinks that’s the only way to stop him.”

“Yes, and she doesn’t think Wilkes will do it.”

Ned was thinking about it. Tom liked that.

“You grow up in a small town, Ned?” Tom asked.

Ned shrugged. “It was average. Nothing like this,” he said glancing around the empty parking lot.

“There’s something funny that can happen in a place like Antigua Falls,” Tom said.

“How do you mean?”

The woman was back. She leaned down, put a hand on her knee to balance herself, and rubbed the cherry of a cigarette against the sidewalk.

“Let’s go in, and I’ll tell you.”

***
The place was empty aside from an elderly man in a corner booth. He was carefully spooning peas and mashed potatoes into his mouth. The waitress from outside emerged from the kitchen with a coffee pot. Tom hadn’t seen her working there before.

“Sit anywhere you like,” she said without looking at them.

Tom chose a booth on the opposite side of the restaurant. The window looked out to a desolate lot, barely lit up and hazy with fog. Beyond, the forest took over, black trees reaching toward a moonless sky. The seats were wonky from overuse, the red pleather torn and taped in various places to prevent the yellow tufts of foam from coming out.

“You come here often?” asked Ned.

“I used to,” Tom replied. “They have good pie, and they’re open all night.”

Ned looked up at the ceiling, and Tom followed his eyes there. The tiles were stained brown and black in spots that hinted at an old water leak.

“How did you find this place? It’s a little off the beaten path.”

Tom looked out the window again, deciding whether or not to tell the truth.

Do it. Do it so you can see.

“My mom worked here when I was a kid,” he said.

“What year?” asked Ned.

“You’re asking me that like I’m old,” Tom said, smiling in spite of himself. “It was the 80’s.”

“So you lived close by then?”

“Yup. We rented a place on some land a few miles from here. Moved to Antigua Falls in 1983.”

Ned looked surprised.

“You grew up there?”

“Nah, just under a year. Left in the middle of sixth grade.”

After I found her.

Dispatcher: Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?

Caller: My mom—

Dispatcher: Can you repeat that?

Caller: My mom is dead.

Dispatcher: Where are you? Do you know your address?

Caller: Yes. 24 Pine Street.

Dispatcher: 24 Pine Street? Is that a house?

Caller: Yes.

Dispatcher: Can you see your mom breathing?

Caller: No.

Dispatcher: Stay on the phone with me. What is your name?

Caller: Thomas.

Dispatcher: Thomas. Thank you. Are you alone in the house?

Caller: Yes.

Dispatcher: How old are you Thomas?

Caller: Eleven.

Dispatcher: Okay Thomas, I’m going to have you check to see if your mom has a pulse. Can you do that for me?

Caller: Yes, but I don’t want to touch her.

Dispatcher: I need you to touch her. Can you do that?

Caller: There’s a lot of—

Dispatcher: What is that Thomas?

Caller: There’s a lot of blood.

The waitress appeared with two menus. Her name tag was lopsided. A piece of masking tape with the name CHERRY had been placed over whatever name was inscribed on the plastic pin. She was out of breath.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll take a coffee,” said Ned.

Tom didn’t look at him when he ordered his beer. There was no point in justifying it. He needed it to keep the shakes at bay. The waitress turned around without a smile. From the looks of things she was running the joint.

“You think she’s back there making pies?” Ned asked him.

“Might be. Business looks bad.”

“Different than when your mom worked here?”

Tom looked around. Everything was falling apart.

“Whole world’s been different for a long time.”

“Is she still in Oklahoma?”

Cherry appeared with a coffee mug and a plastic cup.

“Be right back with your drinks darlings.”

Tom waited for her to walk away.

“Yeah, unfortunately. Laid to rest in a state cemetery in 1984.”

Ned raised an eyebrow. “I’m so sorry Tom.”

“Don’t be.”

Cherry came back with a coffee pot and a bottle of Coors. She breathed heavy as she walked.

“Anything to eat?” she asked, and readied a pen to take down the order.

“Two slices of key lime, please,” said Tom.

She put the pen back behind her ear, turned, and hobbled towards the kitchen. Tom opened the Coors and let the foam bubble over the sides before he poured the yellow liquid into a large plastic cup. The word “Cola,” was fading on the front.

“Cherry?” he said

She turned around.

“Can I get another beer?”

***
They were halfway done with their slices of pie when they got down to business. Another two customers had come in, both seated on the other side of the restaurant, which was just fine with Tom. He didn’t need Cherry or anyone else listening in on what he had to say.

“I didn’t want to move to The Falls. That’s what we called it out here. It was a proper little town to be sure, lined with houses, schools, and shops. But when my parents told me we were going, I started to have dreams about it. Nightmares.”

Ned sipped his coffee, and Tom took a drink of beer. It felt warm in his throat, and he wished he could hold it there forever. Catch the truth in the suds, wait for the pain to subside.

“You ever heard of Lizzie Borden?” he asked.

Ned looked puzzled.

“The one from the rhyme?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure if kids your age ever heard that in school.”

“You say that like I’m a kid,” said Ned.

“To me you are. You ever read about her town?”

Ned shook his head.

“Fall River, Massachusetts. Sounds quaint doesn’t it? Did you know that Fall River is one of the most dangerous cities in the entire country?”

Ned waited, so Tom continued.

“Wild isn’t it? A population of 94,000, and a gorgeous name like that, and yet,” he held up his finger, “it’s a rotten place to live.”

Tom took a bite of pie, and looked at Ned to see if he was getting it.

“Did you know that Ted Bundy and the Green River Killer grew up in the same area? I mean, what are the chances?”

“They didn’t live in a small town,” said Ned.

“True. And I guess the same could be said of Fall River.”

“Yeah, but Tacoma? Seattle? Those are big cities. Lots of crime happens in big cities.”

Tom was losing him. He took another sip of beer.

“What’s the population of Antigua Falls?” he asked.

“A few thousand, I’d guess,” said Ned.

“Four thousand, give or take. What are the chances that multiple serial killers grew up here?”

Ned shook his head, thinking it through.

“You know where the name Red Creek came from?”

He searched Ned’s face. A worry line formed across his brow.

“Lyla Hill was not the first body to turn up in those woods. Not even the first to show up in the Thirteen Pines clearing.”

“Who else?” asked Ned.

Tom didn’t want to say it. He felt a shiver go up his spine.

Tell the truth so you can see.

“Her name was Jessica Wilson.”

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