No Good Deed

SEVEN

Dinner was served. The mother-and-son duo joined her, Deanna's arms laden with plates of food that Cam would not have chosen to eat, but graciously accepted. The meal passed more-or-less uneventfully. Deanna and cam engaged in stilted conversation about the weather and the local minor-league team while James chewed broodingly.

Once she had downed a polite portion of her meal, Cam excused herself to a half-bath down an adjoining hall. The door clicked behind her, sealing her into the four-by-four pale yellow box. A plastic floral arrangement sat on the toilet back, tendrils of its ivy so caked in dust that she could sneeze just looking at it. She turned to sit, thought better of it, and slipped her phone from a pocket.

She started to text her dad, then hesitated. He probably wouldn't answer, and no matter how sensational the experience, he would most certainly chastise her for dining in the home of strangers. She pulled up an earlier chat with Karla instead and started to type. Have I got a story for you...

Almost immediately, Karla pinged back. She was almost always on her phone, so that was no surprise. Spill the tea, followed by tea-cup and frog emojis.

Long story short...You know the lost phone I found? Google Janna Rains.

Cam tapped her foot impatiently and cringed at the sticky tacking sound her shoe made against the cruddy tile. As much as she dreaded returning to the greasily plated kitchen table, she'd have to soon or she would run the risk of raising concern.

Cam's phone buzzed in her hand. Karla had responded with a series of exclamatory emojis: !!!!

I'm at her stepmom's house now. I'll explain later. If I'm not out in 15, send help." With a smirk, she clicked "send," pretended to wash her hands, and exited the bathroom. She was only half-joking with the send help bit.

A conspicuous quiet emanated from the walls of the truncated hallway. As the floorboards squeaked beneath her feet, she suddenly felt an overwhelming, side-splitting pang of guilt. What was her true motive for being here? Had she truly come out of a sense of altruistic duty, or had a force more cynical drawn her here, a voyeuristic whim? She suddenly and unexpectedly regretted her text to Karla. Her psych professor would be able to process the phenomenon more eloquently as a manifestation of guilt over her objectification of Janna – the murdered girl whose absence deprived this house of its joy – for Cam's own cheap entertainment. She should never have come here.

Her penitent epiphany came to an abrupt end as a bony hand wrapped around her left forearm with startling force. Before she could react, she was whipped around and found herself staring into James's gaunt face. His gaze was intense – uncomfortably so – but she didn't dare look away.

"I was just leaving," Cam explained, knowing full well she was in danger. Her brain scrambled for resolution, for some way to deescalate, for escape. Adrenaline coursed through her system. Where was Deanna?

"You're not leavin'," James stated matter-of-factly.