Silent Key

____________

  As soon as the lobby doors closed, I could practically hear a deep heavy clock begin to tick in my ears. I skipped stairs back up to our floor and when I entered our room I went directly to Reagan’s desk.

  Opening her Lisa Frank address book, I flipped to his name. There were three numbers to choose from. With an Eeny, meeney, miny, moe, I chose the first one and dialed. 

  After two rings, he answered. I didn't question why he was in his office on a Sunday. 

  "Dr. McGammon here."

  Doctor, I gagged, but kept my voice steady.

  "Dr. McGammon. Jacob. Hello."

  "Yes? Can I help you?"

  Here we go, I thought, and with one tug the curtains opened.

  "I think you might be able to,” I said, my voice sounding unfamiliar.

  "Foster?"

  I laughed. "Yes. It's Foster."

  For a moment, the professionalism remained. "This is a pleasant surprise, Miss Farraday. What can I help you with?"

  "I would like to meet and talk to you."

  The pause from his end was more pronounced. "Would you, now?"

  "I want to talk to you about … that night. Something happened to me the night of the wreck and I don’t know who else to talk to. I think that maybe you’re the only one who understands. Call it a hunch.”

  “Mm-hmm,” he mumbled. “Does this have anything to do with that night in the ravine last summer?”

  My heart momentarily stopped. Although I knew it was coming, this wasn’t a game I was familiar with playing.

  “Yes. Partially. But it’s more. Much more.” I paused, collecting myself, hoping he didn’t notice. “I also want to thank you for the pink flowers you sent to the hospital. I want to thank you, personally."

  The time that passed felt like hours.

  “Dr. McGammon?” I swallowed and forced more syrup from the tap. “Jacob?”

  "Yes. We can meet, Foster. When?"

  "What time is it now?"

  "It's 4:30."

  "Would 7:30 work?”

  “Yes. Where?”

  “Well,” I said, shoving my left hand in my pocket to control my shakes, “I was thinking about Highbridge Park. It’s pretty deserted.”

  "Highbridge," he said.

  "Yes. Do you know it?"

  I didn't hear him, but I knew he was smiling. "I know it.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

  “I will be there. I'll be driving my ..."

  "Your car," I interrupted. "Yes. I know your car."

  This time he audibly laughed. "Of course you do. Until then, Foster Farraday."

  "I'll be waiting," I said, then, "I'll be wearing pink."

  "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, you will." 

  As I put the phone back into the cradle, I expected a wave of fear to hit. But it never did. Perhaps I was already at the apex of my fear. Nevertheless, I grabbed my purse and walked confidently out the door.

  ____________

  As I pulled into Highbridge Park, evening was beginning to leave an orange glow on everything. A family of four leaving the park passed my car under the rusted entrance arch and waved. Out of habit, I smiled and waved back, then immediately felt ashamed.

  I parked my rental car near a round gazebo and, leaving the key in the ignition, stepped out onto the gravel. My pink heels faltered a bit, but I quickly regained my balance and straightened the rest of my clothes, a carefully chosen costume I had just purchased: tight faded jeans and a light pink sweater that hung slightly off of my shoulders. I was not wearing a bra.

  Looking around, I saw the tall metal railroad bridge to my right, peeking high above the treetops. It stretched 275 feet above the water below.

  As I reached the gazebo, a sign hanging on one of the wooden supports almost broke my stride. It read: "Share a Table Make a Friend.” Other words and letters in the wood, scratched by hand, announced various love connections, such as "Erin & Hal 8-19-13", and religious proclamations: "Rob Horn Praise the Lord! Ancient of Days ..."

   

  Sitting down at a splintered picnic table facing the overlook, I glanced around once more. Although I didn’t see anyone else, I knew I wasn’t alone.

  But what if I am, I thought. What if they don’t show? What am I going to do?

  In a burst of fear, I jumped to my feet and frantically looked around. From across the park, behind the bathrooms, a light flashed. It took me a moment to realize that it was a flashlight. It blinked on and off, on and off, until I raised a hand in its direction.

  No, not alone, I thought, and sat back on the bench.

  In the silence of the park, I let my eyes rest on two hawks circling above the river. They were backdropped by smokestacks from a nearby factory heaving purple haze into the air. The moment felt so peaceful and I almost forgot why I was there. That’s when I heard him.

  The wheels of his car crackled on the gravel as he passed under the park’s archway and I turned, maintaining calmness as I was told to. Taking a deep breath, I stood as he parked.

  That car, I thought, internally screaming at myself to not lose my cool. Maybe this was bad idea. Why did I agree to this?

  But as he opened the door and stepped out, the image of Reagan’s bruises flashed behind my eyes and I stood firmly, eyes locked on him.

  "Good evening, Foster Farraday."

  "Dr. McGammon," I said. “Jacob.”

  His eyes scanned me from head to toe and I felt sickeningly triumphant.

  "Well that’s a different look for you," he said, walking under the roof of the gazebo.

  “Actually, it’s not. I guess you just haven’t seen me off campus that much.”

  “I guess not.” McGammon moved in but stood at a fair distance, putting his hands in his pockets.

  “And you are …” I said, looking him up and down. “… underdressed.”

  He wore blue jeans and a Mountain Dew t-shirt that clung to his chest, a fact that I hated myself for noticing. Slightly used tennis shoes completed the look. It was the first time I had ever seen him dressed down.

  "I wasn’t aware this was a date,” he smiled, the side of his lip curling up, “or that we had a dress code.”

  “It’s not and there’s not. I just needed to talk to you.”

  Unmoving, he kept his eyes on mine. “So you said. Shall we sit?”

  I moved back to the bench and slowly sat, watching him.

  This is like a game of chess, I thought.

  To my surprise, McGammon sat a few feet away but turned to face me, straddling the bench. He scanned my face for a moment before speaking.

  “Why are we here, Foster?”

  I opened my mouth but at first nothing came out.

  Don’t screw this up, I begged myself. McGammon smiled again.

  “Since the night I first saw you—that night in the ravine—I have been terrified of you. But I didn’t really know why.”

  “You thought I killed someone, Foster,” he chided. “I suppose that would make anyone uneasy.”

  “No,” I said, hating his joviality. “Even when I knew better, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Then I saw you at the brass ensemble concert and was … overcome.”

  “Overcome with …?”

  “I didn’t know. But the more time that passed, the more I saw you, I felt this heat growing in me. I didn’t understand it. But it was unforgiving.”

  Suddenly the mood changed. McGammon’s smile was gone. “It was not my intention to run you off the road, Foster.”

  “Then what was it?” My voice cracked and I gulped.

  “A game. Simply a game. But more of a test.”

  “Did I pass?”

  The smile returned. “I’m not sure yet.”

  The sun was beginning to set behind the hills. I could practically feel two pairs of eyes staring at the back of my head from across the park.

  Don’t let him lead the conversation, Tatum had said, sipping her soda in the diner. Take control.


  “Do you prefer Reagan over me?”

  McGammon’s face faltered a bit and his right eye squinted. “I think Reagan is a sweet girl.”

  “One you can mold.” There was no backing down at this point. “But I’m smarter than she is. I know who you are and yet, here I am.”

  McGammon ran his hands down the legs of his jeans and took in a breath. “What is it that you want, Foster?”

  “I want to be the next girl in the ravine.”

  To my surprise, McGammon threw his head back and burst out laughing. “Well, that was direct. But, assuming that you now know I didn’t kill anyone that night, I think I understand.” He stared at his knees for a few moments before looking up. “This is certainly new.”

  “For me, too.”

  “Are you setting me up?”

  “I … no …”

  “Because if you are,” he continued, scooting closer to me. “I can do more damage than you can imagine.”

  “I’m not,” I said, my limbs frozen.

  By the time I finished speaking he was next to me, his breath in my ear. “For your sake, Miss Farraday, I hope not.”

  I stared ahead, smelling his cologne and feeling him breathe slowly on my left cheek. “So now what?”

  “This is between you and me. You don’t speak of our … adventures … and I will leave Reagan alone.”

  “What?” I turned to look him directly in the face. His nose was inches away.

  “You aren’t as clever as you think you are. I am very aware of part of the reason you are doing this.”

  “What do you …”

  “Stop, Foster,” he said, putting a fingertip to my lips. “Naiveté doesn’t become you.” Finally he leaned back enough so I could breathe normally. “So, yes. Now what?”

  “I want to walk the railroad bridge.”

  “Oh, do you now?” The wolf-like smirk was back.

  “I’ve wanted to do it since high school. I think it would be a fun way to start this adventure.”

  “Took the words right out of my mouth. You and I,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand, “are more alike than you know.”

  As I placed my hand in his and pulled myself to a standing position, I glanced over my shoulder at the bathroom facilities.

  “What is it?” McGammon asked, looking past me to what caught my attention.

  “Nothing. I just … I wanted to make sure we’re alone. I have a reputation to maintain and this is all new to me.”

  “Yes, well,” he said, letting go of my hand and walking out of the gazebo, “we all have to maintain our professionalism, don’t we?”