Amber Eyes (20 page)

Around 10 pm, we had a second dinner—it’s amazing how much food guys can eat. No scary campfire stories or songs followed that night. We were so tired that everyone went straight to bed and crashed in their clothes and even in their shoes.

Everybody except me. Despite my exhaustion, I struggled to keep myself awake while I feigned I’d fallen asleep—I even fake snored in Abe’s fashion. I waited for more than an hour until I was sure Daniel and Abe were deeply asleep. Only then did I dare crawl out of the tent. It was little after 11. Outside, the air felt warm and moist, and I wondered whether it might rain later. It seemed unlikely because the sky was cloudless and thousands, if not millions of stars twinkled above. I breathed in deeply. The aroma oozing from the trees seemed to be stronger at night.

I bit my lip when I realized I’d forgotten my sneakers. I hesitated, not sure if I should go back inside the tent. I decided not to do it because I might wake up the guys and wreck my plan.

“Justin?”

Omigod! I froze by the tent’s entrance, still on all fours. Somebody had heard me. I stood paralyzed not daring to move a finger. I shut my eyes, waiting for Edward or Jorge to poke my shoulder and ask me what on Earth I was doing out of the tent.

After an eternity, I decided nobody had actually called my name. It’d been my nerves. The only sounds were the crickets’ chirps, the hoots of some nocturnal birds, and the buzzing of the mosquito swarms, but no human voices. I was alone. Everybody else was dead inside the two tents.

One. Two. Three!

I sprinted toward the main trail, feeling the fresh grass under my bare feet, and I only stopped after I’d run a good distance down the trail. I’d made the first milestone. The trail’s mud felt even colder than the grass under my bare feet, but I didn’t care. My sunglasses were inside a pocket in my jeans—the night was already dark enough, no need to turn it darker by wearing them. I sighted in relief.

This time, I promised myself I wouldn’t get so carried away. I’d keep my imagination under control. I’d revisited last night events and had concluded that whatever I saw in Aaron’s home, it’d all been fragments of my over-active imagination. At least, that was what I was attempting to prove tonight by visiting the mansion again. Aaron, whom I was convinced was the gatekeeper’s grandson, would answer for his practical jokes tomorrow.

As I strode, I kept stepping in mud puddles—I would need to rinse my feet and ankles later. The crickets stopped chirping every time I walked near them, only to restart after I passed by. Several times, I checked if anybody was following me—nobody did.

Later, I passed by the fountain with the angels. Black water flowed once I approached the roundabout and stopped when I walked away. I’d promised not to freak out, but the sound of the water seemed to broadcast a warning I couldn’t decode.

Keep on, Alexandra, and stop imagining things.

Soon, I was walking on cobblestones rather than on dirty, which ached a bit. The fact encouraged me though. It meant I’d finally reached the mansion’s whereabouts. I strode faster until the woods abruptly ended in the enormous clearing around the manor—the grassland surrounding it looked like a black ocean, with gentle ripples moving right and left every time the wind caressed the tall grass.

“Okay, Alexandra,” I said aloud—I wanted to imbue as much courage as I could muster into myself. “There’s nothing there but an old, empty house, and you’ve imagined everything else.”

I waded into the grass, which was up to my waist. The ground felt…
Augh!
I dashed through the grass feeling slushy and slimy creatures under my feet—I yelped and jumped in the air every time I stepped on one of them.

I didn’t stop until I reached the porch. Its white marble was freezing, but I didn’t care as long as I no longer stepped on repulsive critters. I smiled. I’d just reached objective two.

In front of me, the only towering door seemed even more tilted than it’d been in the morning, so I rushed into the house. I hugged myself because the whole place felt chilly, which was odd because the night felt so warm outside. The chandelier lying crippled at the center of the hall was a colossal shadow of indistinguishable shape. As I progressed through the gloomy hall, the stench of dust and dampness seized my nostrils. The floor’s iciness crept up my legs and made me shiver. I walked to the large doors on my left. Last night, I thought they should open to a dining room. In my visit earlier today, I hadn’t had the opportunity to check whether I was right, but I had it now.

I managed to turn the somehow jammed knob and the door squealed like a bag full of cats as I opened it. Behind it stood a gloomy room with a solid table large enough for 12 people, around which tall chairs gathered, and a regal, albeit broken, cupboard—Dracula’s dining room. Cobwebs hung everywhere, and the ever-present smell of dust and decay almost slapped me in the face.

It was then when I heard the voices. Not one voice, not two people, but a small crowd discussing. I left the dining room back into the main hall. Light glowed behind the broken window at the top of the grand staircase. I darted up the stairway, avoiding the slushy runner—it reminded me of all the bugs hidden in the grass. Once on the landing, I stood on tiptoes and looked through the broken glass.

Omigod, police cars!

Two police cars were parked outside, casting brilliant, red and blue flashing lights. My heartbeat skyrocketed and all my muscles tensed. The cops had me. I bit my lip so hard it hurt. They’ve just surrounded the house and within seconds, they’d be calling in a megaphone, ‘Alexandra, come out with your hands up. You are accused of Yago’s murder. You have the right to remain silent, etc…’ I’d been a fool thinking I’d be safe in Abbeville. Somerset cops should have communicated with Abbeville’s and sent them my picture and fingerprints.

I jumped away from the window. My chest felt tight. I couldn’t breathe. Images of jail for life, or even of the electric chair, sailed through my mind in a hurried succession of scenes.

My first idea was to bolt downstairs and try to reach the door before they did. The police had parked on the deck by a swimming pool behind the house and not at the front, which gave me a slight chance of escaping. I sprinted downstairs but stopped in my tracks halfway down. A cop and some other person strode toward the staircase—they’d just trapped me. I backed off upstaris wondering whether I could hide in one of the bedrooms and slip away while the police searched the empty rooms. Mom’s bedroom stood to my left and grandma’s to my—

Wait a minute! What did I just think?
Mom’s and grandma’s bedrooms?
The idea was outrageous. My Mom had never lived in this house, nor had my grandma. Nevertheless, the thought had popped in my mind out of the blue like it was something I knew because it’d been that way. I shook my head. The two people downstairs—the cop and a woman, I could see them clearer now—had stopped at the foot of the stairs and seemed to be arguing, not noticing me. The police cars parked behind the house were still there, but nobody had called my name on the megaphone yet. What were they waiting for? I approached the window and glanced outside.

Down on the deck by the swimming pool, about 15 to 20 people gathered close to an ambulance. In the middle of that small crowd, three paramedics dressed in white attended to a man on the floor. Four cops where there too. One of them stood a step behind the paramedics, peeking over their shoulders. The other three were keeping the crowd away from the prostrate man.

I double checked. Yes, a man lied on the deck with his limbs sprawled at impossible angles. I sighed in relief. The police were not after me. They’d come because of the man down there. I was still safe. I pressed my chest with a closed fist and grimaced. It hurt but now my heartbeat was decelerating.

One of the paramedics talked to the cop behind them. “Sheriff, sir, there’s nothing we can do. This man’s dead. He fractured his skull when he crashed on the terrace.”

Crashed on the terrace? I pricked up my ears, wondering what had happened. Had the man fallen out of the window, or down from the roof?

Jeez!
I thought
. If the troll finds me here, I’ll be dead.

Indeed, if he found me inside the mansion, he might believe I had something to do with this accident. If he lost his job as a result, he would raid the camp and slaughter the guys.

Note to self:
Stop being dramatic.

Down by the swimming pool, the sheriff nodded and went to talk with another cop. I couldn’t hear their conversation anymore.

A thousand questions rushed into my mind: What was going on down there? Where had all that people come from? Edward’s father was the sheriff—was he the man in charge? Aaron and the troll, where were they? Funny thing, everything by the pool looked brand-new. The swimming pool’s water was clean. The deck’s huge china vases held hundreds of flowers. The chairs and the umbrella still had their plastic covers. If the rest of the house was falling apart, it made no sense to keep the swimming pool and its terrace so well maintained.

Or… was I imagining all this, like last night’s visions?

Shit, not again.

In that moment, I smelled her: a strong lavender scent pervading the air. I turned. The cop and the woman had climbed the stairs and had sat a few steps under the landing. He held a small booklet in his hands. The woman might well be the one I’d seen the last night. I couldn’t be sure because her back was toward me, but she wore the same nightgown.

An idea struck my mind. Could it be I was seeing the events that happened yesterday after she pushed him, a sort of Technicolor, monumental flash back? Maybe not even yesterday. Edward said a man had fallen down a window about 10 years ago, and Jorge said ghosts recreated the scene everything night. Could I truly be witnessing a ghostly recreation of events? Were all these people dead and these were their ghosts?

The police officer and the woman talked in whispers—I could barely make out what they were saying—and they hadn’t notice I stood behind them. I moved closer.

He was dropping his words one by one as if he talked to a child. “So, are you telling me you pushed him out the window? Am I getting it right?”

The woman nodded. “It was an accident.”

“This is very serious stuff, Laura,” the officer said. “First, you told me he jumped out the window because he was drunk, and now you’re telling me that you pushed him, but that it was an accident. What exactly happened?”

“He was drunk!”

“Listen to me,” the officer’s tone was sharp. He tapped the marble step with his foot. “I’ve already recorded in my notes that he jumped. If I record something different, it’ll mean you’re contradicting your own declarations and will trigger a full investigation. Did he, or didn’t he, jump by himself because he was drunk?”

She sighed. “I pushed him. At first, I told you he jumped because that’s what I’d told my father and mother-in-law, and the servants. But I want you to know the truth. We quarreled and he slapped me in the face. I got so angry I pushed him. Of course, I was not planning to kill him, but he staggered backwards. He really was drunk, so maybe that’s why he lost his balance. He crashed against the window and fell out. I didn’t intend to kill him. I only pushed him.” She shrugged.

The officer got to his feet and passed an anxious hand through his hair. He snorted and gazed towards where I stood—I ducked, concealing myself in the shadows.

“I pushed him, Edward, but it was an accident,” she whined. “Are you going to put me in jail because of an accident? Would you dare arrest me?” She raised her chin.

“Jesus, I should!” he exclaimed. “Don’t you understand how difficult your position is? Even if it was an accident, you’d need to prove it before a jury and you’d be the only witness.”

She raised her chin again, defying him. “Would you arrest me, Edward? Don’t you love me enough to protect me?”

The officer rubbed the back of his neck. He started down the stairs but stopped and then climbed up.

“Let’s get this clear.” He raised his finger like a school’s principal. He articulated every word. “I-don’t-love-you. Not at all.”

She held her gaze. “It seemed the opposite four years ago, Eddy.”

He raised his finger even more. “Don’t call me nicknames! That’s for cons and their buddies. I made a mistake back then: you were that mistake. I could have lost my marriage and my son. I’m glad it’s over now.”

She pouted. “But… what about us?”

“There’s no us! Besides—” He drew a breath to say something more, but then he released it and said nothing.

She pouted. “Besides…?”

“Besides nothing! Even if I still love you, as you wish to believe, I had to do my duty. Duty comes first, self goes second. I have to file my report to the sheriff.”

She got to her feet and gently pulled him toward her. “You will never arrest me, Edward. I can’t go to jail. You can’t deprive your little daughter of her mother, can you? Who would take care of her? Your wife?”

He backed off. His nostrils flared. He raised a finger again. “Don’t try to blackmail me.”

I shivered. His tone was as dark as our surroundings. She sat down again on one of the steps, extended her arms, and presented him with her wrists. “Then arrest me, Edward, if you dare.”

He tugged at her arm pulling her to her feet.

“Hey, you’re hurting me!”

“Listen to me, Laura.” His face was red. “I’ll report what I’ve already written down—that your husband jumped because he was drunk. Everything else you’ve just said seems to me a delusion caused by shock.”

“Let me go, Edward! You’ll bruise me!”

“No, first you listen to me carefully. You’ll leave Abbeville as soon as the crowd at the funeral clears, taking Alexandra with you. Understood?”

Alexandra? He’d mentioned my name. Of course, he couldn’t be talking about me. In America, there was probably a million Lauras with daughters named Alexandra. If all this was a real-life flash of something that happened 10 years ago, most likely it had nothing to do with me. So the names were only a coincidence. However, I couldn’t help feeling uneasy deep inside because the dates seemed to work out.