Dead Spots (5 page)

There was angry silence on the other side before Estelle finally replied, “You're always so stubborn. Never listening to me! You should stay on the interstate.”

“Mom, I need a little more peace than this traffic is going to give me.”

“Fine! Call me in an hour.”

“I will.”

“I'm just looking after you because I love you.”

“I know, I just…” Mackenzie braked as she came to the intersection where she needed to turn onto US-79. “I have about a nine-hour trip ahead of me. I need to keep my head together.”

“Yes you do, Mackenzie,” Estelle said briskly. “Be careful.”

Killing the call, Mackenzie stared through the fogged windshield at the falling rain. “This day cannot get any worse.”

As lightning crackled through the black clouds overhead and thunder roared, Mackenzie drove along the narrow highway into the thick woods.

 

CHAPTER 3

The battered Ford sped along US-79,but Mackenzie felt safer now that she wasn't in heavy traffic. For the last hour, she'd only seen a few other cars. The world streaming past her was filled with the lush green of the beautiful pine forests of East Texas. The road was a bit twisting at times, but she didn't mind so much. The storm was now far behind and the sun peeked out through the tops of the trees.

There was absolutely no cell service in the area, but her GPS still worked. Estelle would have a fit when she didn't call, but Mackenzie really didn't feel like talking to anyone anyway, especially her disapproving mother. For a while she had driven in silence, but it was too easy to torture herself with either fond memories of good times, or the terrible remembrances of the bad. Finally, she'd popped The Dixie Chicks into the CD player and sang along with gusto. It helped alleviate the tightness in her chest, but her head still throbbed. The anxiety attack was finally lessening its hold on her battered mind.

As Mackenzie guided her car along the winding two-lane highway, she felt a spark of excitement emerging from the darkness within her. The shadow of the last few months still lurked, but she could feel hope beginning to seep in. Maybe somehow she could find a way back to her old self. Tanner always said he loved her smile and her laugh. Maybe one day soon she could smile and laugh again. Before Tanner she'd had a fairly good life, and she could have one again. Though it would be hard living with Estelle at first, she could probably find her own place within a few weeks' time. With her bookkeeping experience, she could probably get a job fairly easily through her mother's connections.

Mackenzie was driving around a wide curve when she saw three deer languidly walking across the asphalt. With a gasp, she hit the brake while spinning the wheel. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a clearing next to the road and aimed for it. The car skidded through grass, gravel, and dirt before coming to a hard stop before a dilapidated café.

Heart pounding, Mackenzie stared at the deer standing a few feet from the car. The larger one with beautiful graceful horns scrutinized her with enormous brown eyes. It took a sharp step toward the car, slightly tilting its head. Mackenzie froze, uncertain of what was happening. The smaller one gave a sudden start and the three creatures dashed into the forest, vanishing into the green.

Mackenzie shifted into park, listening to her wildly beating heart. She wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time, but sat in silence instead. The Dixie Chicks continued to sing, but the music and words seemed far away. The adrenaline rush left her feeling shaky and her hands on the steering wheel were visibly trembling.

She'd been damn lucky.

Images of alternative outcomes filled her mind's eye. The car hitting the deer and one of them flying through the windshield to crush her. The car swerving into a tree and the engine block smashing into her. The car rolling into the trees and bursting into flames.

“A million ways to die,”
her mother's voice whispered in her mind.

But Mackenzie hadn't died. She was still alive. Shaken up and a little scared, but she was alive.

On impulse, she thrust the car door open and climbed out. The Dixie Chicks continued to sing and the car engine ticked and grumbled. The faded, battered sign for the café listed to one side a few feet away. The car could have hit the sign and ruined a tire or worse.

“Stop it,” she chastised herself.

Estelle's voice was always stronger when she was stressed.

The café sat in the overgrown clearing, valiantly surviving despite the encroachment of the forest. The parking lot was cracked and overrun with wild grass. At one time, the café had probably been a regular stop for the many travelers on the old highway before the interstate had been built. The faded painted advertisements on the side of the building appeared to be from the forties or fifties. A very old gas pump was rusted and partially hidden by weeds. Though most of the paint had been eaten away by time, Mackenzie could make out that the place had been called
DOLLY'S CAFÉ
.

If Tanner had been on this trip, he would've wanted to explore the café. He loved being adventurous and always encouraged Mackenzie to follow suit. He'd even convinced her to attend a ghost hunt in an old theater in the Texas Hill Country. They hadn't seen anything paranormal, but Tanner had loved the experience. Maybe that was the big difference between them. Tanner would probably regard the café as something fun to explore while Mackenzie only saw the broken dreams of the owner and the cruelty of time.

Also, the café scared her.

It looked old and rickety. The newspaper and cardboard covering the windowpanes were peeling off the smudged glass. A few broken windows were boarded over. Yet, something about it called to her. Maybe she should take a peek inside just to confirm how ridiculous it was to be afraid.

Holding on to the car door, Mackenzie shifted her weight, ready to get into the car and continue on the long trip home. The Dixie Chicks started singing another song and the car's engine caught for a second, then continued rumbling under the hood. She'd need gas soon. Plus, she was starting to get hungry. Exploring an old, broken-down café to prove something to herself was a waste of time.

The breeze whispering through the pine tree branches and the gentle song of birds should've been comforting sounds, but they set her even more on edge. The retreating anxiety began to swell again. This was exactly the sort of situation Estelle had warned about. According to her mother, there was no point taking unnecessary risks, yet Tanner had thought life was all about risks. Mackenzie had played it safe and had lost everything. Tanner was the one with a new life and a baby on the way.

“Dammit!”

Mackenzie leaned into the car, turned off the engine, yanked the keys out of the ignition, shoved them into her jeans, and hoisted her purse onto one shoulder. Slamming the door shut, she stalked toward the café feeling defiant, foolish, and terrified all at the same time. It was stupid to think that exploring a café was some sort of bold return to life, but it felt important to do something she wouldn't regularly do without being persuaded. If she was really going to get on with her life, she had to be bold, fearless, and not allow herself to be tangled in her mother's paranoid web.

The door was warped in its frame and rotten boards hung from rusted nails. It looked like someone had already explored it. She trampled the wild grass and weeds growing under one of the big windows that was covered in old, yellow newspaper, and peered in around the ragged edges.

The café interior was dark except for a few beams of light coming through the broken roof. To her surprise, tables and chairs were still inside. A few were toppled over, but a table or two still had menus resting on their surfaces.

“Okay, I explored.”

The front door creaked on its old hinges when the wind caught it.

While she was staring at the entrance, her back seized as chills washed along her spine.

“This is where you get killed if you go inside, Mackenzie.”

Her mother's words in her mouth.

Tanner thought Mackenzie was silly whenever she spouted a million reasons not to do something. Mackenzie always argued she was pragmatic. Tanner insisted it was her mother's programming stuck in her head.

“Aw, hell.” She sighed. “Time to toughen up.”

Stretching out her hand, she gripped the door handle and pushed on it.

The door opened.

Cautiously, Mackenzie stepped inside, the floorboards protesting her weight, but holding. The rusted spring on the door had enough life that the door partially popped into place before catching on the floor. The sliver of sunlight creeping through the small gap was reassuring.

Timidly, she moved deeper into the murk of the café. It smelled of rotting wood and mold. There was a slight twinge of something dead, probably some poor animal. The café had several booths and the stuffing was torn out of the seats. Dead leaves and dirt covered every surface. A tree grew partway through one wall, tearing a hole in the roof. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, breaking apart the gloom.

Mackenzie cautiously approached the long lunch counter, rubbing her clammy hands on her jeans. The old stools were missing. Curious, she leaned over it. There were huge holes in the floor, and it was obvious animals had found shelter in the shelves.

She imagined some rabid animal biting her and jerked away.

Her mother's fears in her mind.

A noise from beyond the swinging door that opened into the kitchen startled her. She almost yelped but caught herself. Lowering the heavy tote bag to her side and clutching the straps so she could use it as a weapon, she started to retreat to the front door.

Again, there was a noise. This time it almost sounded like someone opening a refrigerator.

This is where the serial killer will get me,
she thought.

Again, her mother's words in her mind.

When had her mother's voice taken up residence in her head? Or had it always been there and she hadn't noticed how much until now? Or had her fears merely taken on her mother's voice?

More noises from within the kitchen sent her heart racing. Creeping forward, Mackenzie mustered up her courage. It was just some poor animal looking for food and she was freaking out. Pushing the door open with one foot, she lifted the tote over her head.

Startlingly clean, the kitchen was devoid of the devastation of the rest of the café. A man in a suit and tie stood behind one counter holding a butter knife. He looked as startled as she felt. Probably in his late thirties, he was very handsome with dark wavy hair and vivid blue eyes. He instantly made her think of old-time movie stars like Rock Hudson and Cary Grant, or their modern equivalents like George Clooney and Clive Owen.

“Uh, hi,” she managed to say.

“Is the front door open?” the man asked abruptly, dropping the utensil. “Did you shut the door behind you?” In an explosion of movement, he propelled himself over the counter and rushed toward her.

Frightened, Mackenzie swung the tote purse, striking his face.

He yelped. “What are you doing? You can't let the door close!” He shoved past her and ran across the café toward the entrance.

“I left it open in case…” Mackenzie's voice faltered.

The café was no longer a derelict building. The booths were in pristine condition and the tables and chairs were arranged neatly. The lunch counter was bordered by stainless steel stools and napkin dispensers sat at intervals on its gleaming surface. A jukebox now sat where the tree had broken through the wall and the café was illuminated by lamps hanging from a restored ceiling.

Skidding into the door with a loud thump, the man let out a wail of despair. “It's too late,” he rasped. “It's too late. It's closed.”

“I left it open,” Mackenzie protested weakly, staring in awe at the restored café. “I don't understand. What happened? I mean … this place was wrecked. I saw it! But now…” She was going insane. That had to be it. She hadn't been having an anxiety attack at the cemetery, but a psychotic break. “This is impossible!”

The man swiveled about and gazed at her wearily. “The door shut and now it's too late for both of us.”

“What do you mean?” Mackenzie's knees started to wobble and she reached out to the counter to steady herself.

“The door shut and now we're both trapped.” The man rubbed his face with his hands, frustration in his actions and voice.

“Trapped? In the café?”

“No, darling,” the man answered sadly. “In the dead spot.”

 

CHAPTER 4

The jukebox abruptly sprang to life with Roy Orbison singing about a pretty woman. Mackenzie gasped, stumbled, and fell against a stool bolted to the floor next to the lunch counter.

Kicking his foot back, the man angrily struck the front door. The whack echoed through the room. Fumbling with her tote, Mackenzie scrounged at the bottom of it in a blind panic, not even certain what she was looking for. The stool beneath her was shiny red vinyl and chrome. It felt solid, but it had not existed just a few short minutes before. Mackenzie was certain of that fact.

The world no longer made sense. She had entered a ruined building, but now it was a quaint little café complete with the smells of cooking food.

“This isn't possible,” she muttered.

Slowly turning around, the handsome man regarded her with sadness in his eyes. “I'm sorry, but it is. We're both trapped here now. The dead spot caught you.”

“You're not making sense!” Short frantic shallow breaths left her feeling woozy. “You have to let me go!”

Sliding his fingers through his dark hair, the man gave her a frustrated look. “You need to calm down, lady. I'm not holding you here.” He opened the door and left it ajar. “See. It's not locked. It just doesn't open to the real world anymore.”