Shadows
By Kathryn E. Dover
I’m running up the steps. I want to look back, but I’m afraid I’ll fall. I’m afraid he’ll catch me. I finally reach the top and rush to my secret hiding place…is it my closet? I don’t know. Everything is fuzzy. The door closes quietly, and I press my ear against it, trying to relax, my heart pounding. But something isn’t right here. There’s something strange. I turn around to the face of—
The Shadow.
Rebecca donned her sunglasses and stepped out into the pool area. It wasn’t like they would disguise her much. And the sun was nearly invisible on the horizon, leaving behind a train of pastels.
She knew she wasn’t supposed to be here.
She was looking for a shadow, and no—not like Peter Pan. She was looking for a serial killer who called himself, albeit circuitously, the “Shadow.”
Rebecca wasn’t brave. Being here filled her with a rush of both excitement and fear. She’d never done anything like this before. Never gone anywhere without telling someone. Yet she felt that she had to do this.
Last night’s dinner conversation replayed in her head. Her father, a police detective with unfortunately the most experience with serial killers, expressed his frustration over not being able to find a policewoman willing to go undercover and smoke out the “Shadow.” He felt that too much time was passing, despite Rebecca reminding him that it had just been declared a serial killer case that day. His interviews with hotel staff and guests had proved futile, though he was still investigating the hotel itself, which remained open for some reason obscured to Rebecca. She thought maybe it was because the police wanted to use it as a trap, but her father didn’t affirm or deny.
“One thing we do know: the Shadow is predictable. All the victims are the same age, same general appearance, brunette, and were found at the same hotel,” he pointed out. “And they all hung out at the pool.”
“How do you know that?” she asked. That seems like an odd detail to be able to nail down.
“From interviewing witnesses. All the victims brought swimsuits and other things.” He paused. “I think that narrows it down quite a lot, actually. It’s not exactly a fancy resort. If you could see the pool, you’d know what I mean.”
Indeed she did. The smell of…well, swimming pool, met her as soon as she opened the door. Murky green water stared up at her, with pieces of trash and debris floating by. How anyone could consider this a slice of the ocean was beyond her. Some children splashed in the shallow end of the pool. Parents, completely oblivious to the obnoxious noise, sat on lounge chairs, staring up at the sky.
“If we could get someone in there, I think we could catch him,” her father continued.
“Dad,” she started slowly, “I could do it.”
Rebecca fit the general description that her father had just described. After all, it was pretty vague. Brown hair. Early twenties. Well, close.
He must have been able to tell from her expression that she was serious.
“Absolutely out of the question. Don’t even say things like that.”
Rebecca knew there was no sense in arguing with him, yet she could tell how distraught he was over not being able to crack the case. He hadn’t slept much, and he looked older, somehow. The expression he carried with him was one of determination, agitation—one she had seen only once before…
“Dad, what’s the matter?”
I know something is wrong. I can feel it. He’s never come home this late before.
He sits slumped over in his chair at the table, clearly exhausted. He doesn’t answer me.
“Go back to sleep, Rebecca. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
He stands up from his chair and walks off towards his room, avoiding eye contact with me.
Something is definitely wrong.
I compulsively push his chair under the table without really thinking about it and notice that left his keys and wallet lying on the table. I pick them up. Underneath is a small corner of yellow paper, like it was torn off of a legal pad:
“Long live the KING.”
…when her aunt, her father’s sister, had been found murdered by a serial killer who called himself “the King,” known for five seemingly disconnected murders of young women who were found strangled in their homes. He had never been caught.
The case dragged on for months, years, until fading into the background, closed as far as everyone was concerned. Everyone, except Rebecca’s father.
Likely, the killer had died or been arrested for some other crime, as the killings stopped with Rebecca’s aunt. She was the last one.
Rebecca could tell that the Shadow killings were giving her father déjà vu.
So far, the Shadow only had three victims, just enough to classify the deaths as the work of a serial killer. Yet how many more would there be before this killer stopped?
Rebecca was not brave, or stupid—well, maybe. She’d never had such crazy thoughts in her life. But Rebecca really believed she could trap the Shadow. She had rehearsed a dozen scenarios over and over in her head, all of which worked out in her favor. There was no time to lose.
She sat down on one of the lounge chairs farthest from the pool. Rebecca hadn’t even thought to bring a swimsuit, or any beachwear, for that matter. Just a few necessities stuffed in an overnight bag, now lying in the hotel room she had just registered for. She hadn’t really planned to stay overnight, had she? Her father’s shift ended at eight, and even though he was always late, it wouldn’t take him long to figure out she was gone. Besides, it wasn’t like she would get any sleep, knowing the Shadow was nearby. What was I thinking?
She scanned the crowd gathered by the pool, but she didn’t know what she was looking for. No one knew what the Shadow looked like, whether he was a man or a woman, or anything about him. It could be anyone.
The creepy note that the Shadow left as his calling card, and his nom de plume, echoed through her mind.
All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither
Deep roots are not reached by the frost
From the ashes a fire shall be woken
A light from the SHADOWS shall spring
Renewed shall be the BLADE that was broken
The crownless again shall be KING
The word “shadows” was underlined in every note, as was the last word, “king,” of the Tolkien poem, hence the name “The Shadow” for the killer. And the weapon of choice, the “blade.”
She’d had nightmares ever since her father told her.
#
I lean my head against the door frame, straining to listen. Light streams from under the door into the otherwise dark hallway. I watch the shadows dancing in the light.
“…you’ve done your part. Let the police handle it from here.”
“It’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. You can’t keep blaming yourself.”
“If I hadn’t…”
The reply is inaudible, and I press harder, listening silently and watching the shadows.
“…you told her that? Why?”
“She deserves to know what really happened. I’m not going to lie to her.”
“But she’s too young.”
I strain harder; I must hear. The voices are barely above a whisper.
“…and what if she tells someone?”
Dad scoffs, and I can practically see him rubbing his forehead in the unique way that he does when he’s frustrated.
“I told her not to say anything.”
Uncle Jim gets more emphatic, his voice thankfully rising.
“And you think she won’t? I’m telling you, she’s too young. She doesn’t understand the…the importance of keeping things quiet.”
The shadows come closer, leaving only a thin stream of light between them, as if facing for a duel.
“I trust Rebecca completely.”
One shadow backs away, giving more light. The voices get fainter.
“Ok, Jack. I guess you know what you’re doing. But I wouldn’t have told her how Annie died…”
Rebecca shook away the memories. She was supposed to be watching for the Shadow.
She looked up to see a woman staring straight at her. Not behind her, not at anyone else—just her. She wore a blue shirt and blue jeans, in contrast—much like Rebecca—to the beachy scene around her. Her hair was dark and pulled up in a ponytail. She wore thick glasses, but Rebecca could see her dark eyes. She was young, yet old somehow, too.
Her pursed lips said, You don’t belong here.
Rebecca gasped and looked away. She’d often suspected that the Shadow was a woman, ever since her father told her about the case. She didn’t really know why, except that no one else had considered the possibility. If there was one thing her father had taught her, it was that answers weren’t always obvious. They were always something you had never considered before. Like the Shadow being a woman.
And now Rebecca had spotted her.
When she looked back, the woman was gone. Her shadow, which had been cast over the pool, the ripples pulling it this way and that, was gone with her. Both disappeared quietly…
In the woman’s place was a young man, coming Rebecca’s way, his eyes set directly on her.
It was him: it was the Shadow.
Rebecca stood up. It wasn’t like her to be paranoid, was it? This place is giving me the creeps.
The sun was setting, and the area was growing rapidly darker. The pool smell made her nauseous.
This was such a bad idea, she thought. I’m getting out of here.
She turned to go back inside. All she needed to do was go up to her room and retrieve her overnight bag. Then get out of here.
She squeezed her emerald necklace as she walked towards the door. It wasn’t a real emerald, but squeezing the sides of the gem was like a fidget for her. The sides, not the top. The top triggered a “Life Alert”-like button that was hooked to her father’s phone and could give her exact location. One of the lab technicians her father knew had made the necklace for a case but claimed that it was terribly wrong: it looked strange and conspicuous, he said, and only had a ninety-five percent reliability rate—that five percent could mean somebody’s life. Though Rebecca and her father thought it looked fine, and her father said ninety-five percent seemed good to him…they didn’t tell the technician that. He was so ashamed of his work that he was going to throw it away, but Rebecca’s father retrieved it. He placed a fake emerald stone over the button and gave it to Rebecca, so he’d “always get to her if she was in trouble.”
It had kind of creeped her out when he gave it to her, but now, it was oddly comforting.
“If I had only gotten there in time…”
“You didn’t know where she was—the phone cut off before she told you. That’s what you said, isn’t it? Or is there something you’re not telling me?”
I watch the shadows, but I’m not sure I want to anymore. Yet I can’t move from this spot.
“No—it’s just…there should have been some other way.”
Rebecca reached the door in two steps, not even noticing the man holding it open for her until she was halfway inside.
“Thank you,” she said hurriedly.
“Hello.”
Rebecca paused. She hadn’t expected that response. She looked up for the first time.
It was him: the man watching her only moments ago, coming towards her, near the pool.
The man grinned, revealing a missing front tooth, quite unusual for his young age. His bright blue eyes bared into her, as if he could see straight through her, his light brown hair damp from the pool and sticking up. He never blinked.
Rebecca smiled to hide her nervousness, then rushed towards the elevator, nearly bumping into the night manager who had checked her in only minutes ago, minutes that seemed like hours.
She had arrived around seven-ish, best she could recall—she hadn’t checked—after finally getting up enough nerve to come. The manager, a tall, middle-aged man, greeted her with a smile. He seemed so pleasant—not at all what Rebecca expected to find here.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry,” she said, removing her sunglasses.
“No problem. Is everything all right?”
She smiled. From the moment she first saw him, he had a fatherly air about him. She remembered the pleasant conversation they had when she checked in. She remembered being worried that he would be irritated with her because she had interrupted him right in the middle of something…at least, that’s how it looked. His wallet laid on the counter, its contents spread out before her, as if he was looking for something. Rebecca couldn’t help but notice the old photo of a young woman positioned right in front of her. When he caught her looking at it, Rebecca quickly and politely asked, “Is that your wife?”
“Yes. She was.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She seemed to be doing everything wrong, yet his friendly tone didn’t change.
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” He picked up the photo and stared at it thoughtfully, then put it back down.
“She was beautiful,” Rebecca said.
“Thank you.”
Jack, his name tag said, the same name as Rebecca’s father. His dark brown eyes matched the color of his hair, though fading to gray.
“Yes. I’ve just had something come up and need to leave right away.”
He frowned, only for a moment, then smiled again.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Come again sometime soon.”
“Thank you. I will.” Whatever prompted me to say that? I’m never coming back here.
They parted. The manager went back to his desk; Rebecca went to the elevator. She pushed the button at least three times, rapidly, until her breathing got back to normal. Then she finally dared to look behind her. The man who had held the door was gone.
Rebecca waited for the elevator, out of habit, it seemed. She felt such an urge to run, to move, not to stand still and wait. Her room was on the second floor. Why not take the stairs and get out of here?
She glanced towards the door marked “Stairs” opposite the elevator, with the stick figure of a man walking up a jagged line, just in time to see the door swing close, its thud echoing in the empty lobby and in Rebecca’s mind. No one else had been in the hotel when she and her mysterious door holder had entered. It must be him.
Unless…
Unless it was the woman from the pool, whose movements would most likely be silent and mysterious, inconspicuous, if she was indeed the Shadow… The thought of being trapped in a stairway with either one of them made Rebecca cringe.
Nope—not taking the stairs.
After what seemed like hours but was only seconds, the elevator dinged, and the door opened. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw no one was on it and pushed the number “2.” The silent ride up one flight was oddly comforting, and Rebecca felt herself relax.
This is silly, Rebecca thought. I’m totally overreacting. The Shadow is probably hiding, not out in the open.
The elevator dinged again, depositing her at the end of the hall opposite her room, number 213. She walked down the hallway, relaxed for the first time since she’d arrived.
She was leaving.
Just then, the hall lights flickered, then went out, leaving Rebecca in total darkness, save only the waning sunlight coming in the window at the other end of the hall. She rushed towards it, her heart racing. Darkness. Shadows.
A light from the SHADOWS shall spring
She was almost at the end of the hall, when the lights flickered again, then turned on as if nothing had happened. Rebecca stopped, catching her breath, and almost laughed out loud. How silly she had acted!
She removed her room key from her purse and swiped it in front of the door. Nothing happened. The light was still red. She tried the door. No luck.
She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see him, the man from the pool, unlocking the door to the room beside hers. His blue eyes looked up at her, and he smiled.
“Hello.”
Then he opened his door and went inside.
Rebecca frantically tried the key again, but her hands shook so much that she dropped it. She picked it up and tried again. 213. 13. Now I’m really getting superstitious.
Relief flowed through her as the door light turned green, and she went inside, slamming the door behind her.
She leaned against the door, breathing heavily. It was him. He had to be the Shadow. Not even the woman had followed her up to her floor.
Had she?
Still, the best thing to do was leave and confess what she had done to her father. Tell him her findings. Let the police handle it from here.
But how would she explain her hunch to her father? How would she describe her suspect? Average height, average weight, young, but what age? Light brown hair…average, except missing one tooth. And why did she think he was the Shadow? Because he is weird and missing a tooth? Come on, Rebecca. You’re a better detective than that, than to base everything on his strangeness and your fears.
So maybe he wasn’t the Shadow. Maybe she just needed to get out of here before she started accusing everyone based on her faulty intuition.
She wasn’t like that.
“Dad, what are you doing home early?”
I came to see what was up as soon as I heard the door click open. I thought Mom was home from grocery shopping, but she wasn’t. Dad hardly ever comes home anymore. I know something is wrong.
A lot has been wrong lately.
“I’m just taking some time off is all.” He doesn’t meet my gaze. He must have learned something, something important to the case if he’s taking a break. Something he’s afraid to tell me. Afraid will give me more nightmares. Because I’m not satisfied with his answer.
“Do they have any ideas—any clues—yet? Any suspects?” I’ve been hesitant to bring it up, but I have to know. I need something, some hope that this is going to be resolved.
“No.” He pauses for a minute, as if considering his answer. “Not what you think.”
Upon entering the room, Rebecca glanced at her phone. Nothing. Except for a message from her mother:
“Hey, I haven’t heard from you. How are you? I’m sorry about graduation. I’ll make it up to you <3”
Rebecca swiped it away, placed her phone back in her pocket, and sighed.
“…I don’t believe you.”
The voices jolt me awake, but then, I’ve always been a light sleeper. I creep out in the hall and listen. I’ve learned a lot this way.
“…if you’ll just listen—”
“I don’t want your explanations. I don’t want to be a part of this anymore.”
Mom’s words echo in my mind, in the silence of the hall.
“It will all die down eventually.”
“No. That’s not what I mean.”
Everything falls silent. I hear cicadas outside.
I’m tired of overhearing what I don’t want to know, what I already know is true…
Leaning against the door, Rebecca could see the entire room. Turning a sharp right would put her in the bathroom. A large window encompassed almost the entire wall opposite her, with an AC unit in front of it. Two burgundy curtains hung on each side, complementing the tan walls. A bed took up the remaining space in the room, with a small table, or nightstand, between the head of the bed and the window. It wasn’t fancy—to be sure—but it wasn’t the worst hotel Rebecca had stayed at either.
She entered the bathroom, grabbing her overnight bag off the counter, when a phone rang. The familiar music jolted her so much that she dropped the bag, its contents spilling everywhere, and nearly screamed. Finally, she realized what it was and retrieved her phone from her pocket. Dad.
“Hello,” she tried to hide how out-of-breath she sounded, but it was no use.
“Where are you?” A pause. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” She paused, debating over whether or not to tell him what she had done over the phone. Best get it over with.
“Where are you?” he repeated.
“Um, the hotel?”
“What hotel?”
“The Shadow’s.” She tried to sound casual because she didn’t want to worry him. It didn’t work.
“Rebecca, you didn’t? I told you—oh, never mind, as long as you’re okay. But you get home right now, you hear?”
“Yes. I’m leaving now.”
“Would you like me to pick you up?”
The idea sounded great, and with the same spontaneity that had gotten her into this, she answered, “Yes.”
“Okay. Be there soon.” He hung up without a goodbye. She knew that meant he was mad but trying to control it. Her father had always been good in a crisis. He sounded calm, but Rebecca could feel the fear and agitation boiling under the surface. Or maybe he was just processing what had happened, recalling the same fear and emotions he had felt all those years ago.
She bent down and began to repack her bag, scolding herself for her foolish idea. What did she think she was going to do? Figure out the Shadow’s identity through ESP? Then what? Even if she found him, what could she do?
All of a sudden the poignant reality hit her: she didn’t have a plan. She had not come with a plan. With her father’s experience, she should have been smarter than that.
A soft thud in the bedroom caught her attention. She gasped, then put her hand over her mouth. Here I go again. Paranoid. She stood up. It was nothing. You’re losing it. Rebecca forced herself to walk into the bedroom.
The last rays of the sun beamed through the open window, landing on the bed. Nothing looked out of place.
The street noises drifted up through the window, and a blast of cold air met her as she walked closer. She shivered. Stepping closer, she almost tripped over the hotel room’s Bible laying on the floor. Must have fallen off the nightstand. Probably the wind blew it.
Rebecca bent and picked it up, placing it back on the nightstand. Then she closed the window. The cold air chilled her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. It shouldn’t be this cold in August.
She sighed heavily. She wasn’t one to let herself get this spooked. There was something about this Shadow…
Yes, it was definitely time to get out of here. Time to grab her purse and overnight bag and leave this place forever.
Rebecca turned, only to find herself facing the one they call The Shadow.
He—or was it she? Rebecca couldn’t tell—was dressed completely in black, a black ski mask hiding his face, in adherence with his shadowy nomenclature. The last rays of the sun glistened off the shiny blade of the knife he held in his right hand.
He stood still for a moment, as did she, as if each was measuring up his opponent. Or maybe she stood there in shock, unable to move.
This was it: she was facing The Shadow.
Slowly he began to advance towards her, deliberately, as if not in any hurry. Instantly, Rebecca’s hand went to the green gem around her neck. Her fidget. The gem she squeezed so hard whenever she was nervous. Only now she squeezed the top. So hard that she could feel the sharp facets of the faux emerald cutting into her hand.
She didn’t scream. She couldn’t. Rebecca had never been one to scream when she was in trouble. The Shadow seemed to know that. He didn’t speak, didn’t seem worried that she would cry out.
He was closer now, and she felt more helpless than she ever had in her entire life. She did the only natural thing to do when someone is coming at you with a knife: take a step back. Back into a corner, where there’s nowhere else to go.
Only instead of hitting the wall, Rebecca bumped into the nightstand. The corner of it rammed into her thigh. It would likely leave a bruise. Strange, the things you think of, when you’re facing death.
By instinct, she reached her other hand, the one not squeezing the necklace, behind her to rub her leg. Instead, she felt the wooden surface of the nightstand. The Bible she had placed back there. And then something cold, like glass.
A lamp.
He was only one step away from her now. He stopped, knowing that he needn’t go any further. He could reach her easily. She still didn’t scream.
The necklace wasn’t working. Her father wasn’t there. There was nowhere else to go.
Her only chance: thrust the glass lamp at his skull.
She threw it before she even realized it. Rebecca wasn’t brave. But some deep, hidden instinct kicked in. She was just as surprised as the Shadow.
He fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
This wasn’t in any of her possible scenarios.
Tiny drops of blood pooled on Rebecca’s hand where the glass had cut her, in sharp contrast to the growing darkness around her, the paleness of her sweaty palms. She felt sure that her other hand held matching cuts from the necklace she’d been clutching so hard.
She did it. She caught the Shadow.
Rebecca let out the breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. It was all over. Now all she needed to do was call her father.
But before she could move, the figure stirred. He shook his head and began to stand up. Rebecca should have run, but she didn’t. She should have grabbed the knife, but she didn’t. Moreso than the first time, she stood in shock. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. She was out of lamps. There was nothing she could do as the Shadow grabbed his knife off the floor and stood up, facing her again. She squeezed the necklace harder and harder, but no one could get here in time…
Then a crash made them both jump. Suddenly there were policemen everywhere, shouting, but Rebecca couldn’t understand what they were saying. The Shadow, equally shocked, dropped his knife. He tried to walk away but suddenly grabbed his head where the lamp had hit him. Then he collapsed on the floor.
Her father was there, his arms around her, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. She couldn’t feel. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Until suddenly she realized what had happened. She finally released her grip on the necklace. Two policemen attempted to lift The Shadow off the floor, to arrest him, to end it all forever.
“Wait,” Rebecca said. The first word she had spoken since she’d hung up with her father. She stepped forward. “Who is he?”
She didn’t even see the hand that pulled off the mask, so focused as she was on the unknown face. But the minute the mask was off, she gasped.
“Do you know him?” someone asked.
Not the woman from the pool nor the strange man, but Jack, the nice, fatherly night manager, stared back at her.
Where had he been coming from when she bumped into him? The pool? Had he been there, and she hadn’t noticed him? Perhaps we only see what we want to see.
“Do you?” the voice repeated.
“No.”
#
Her car pulls out of the driveway, and I wonder why I didn’t see this coming.
I wonder about a lot of things. I wonder why they haven’t found Annie’s killer. I wonder why I keep having the same nightmare over and over every night. I wonder why everything is going wrong.
I’m tired of feeling helpless. I’m tired of hearing “There’s nothing we can do,” “It has to be this way,” “We can’t be together anymore.”
There has to be something I can do. It doesn’t have to be this way. Somehow, someway, I have to find Annie’s killer—then everything will be okay again.
“Come inside, Rebecca. It’s too cold to stay out there.” Dad calls me. “There’s nothing we can do.”
That’s not what he said right after Annie died. I hardly recognize him anymore. He is a shadow of his former self.
“Yes,” I mutter under my breath. “There is.”
