Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (17 page)

The gates dared me to cross them. I walked through despite the trepidation I felt. Ending up here couldn't be a coincidence. There had to be a reason, so I didn’t let myself chicken out. The graveyard was not too large, but it was quite old. I wandered among the oldest tombstones looking at the dates reveling at the history, avoiding the present. They all seemed so long ago, but in the greater scheme of the world, it was barely a blink of the eye. I knew I would eventually come to the one grave that meant something to me. I walked even slower and studied the pictures encased in the tombstones even closer. When I found the sectioned off area that housed Danny’s family, the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. I went inside the low wrought iron fence. His modest tombstone looked humble amidst the statues that stood at other graves. Danny had never told me about the family plots or the distinguished past of his ancestors—I learned it all after his death—and I wondered just how well I actually knew him. Perhaps he hadn’t known much of his legacy himself, or perhaps he wanted to keep it private.

I knelt down on the grave and rested my forehead against the tombstone, letting all the emotion I’d held back for such a long time wash over me, resulting in machine gun bursts of tears. I missed him. I missed being happy, having fun. Missed the way he made me laugh and the way I felt when he looked at me. It wasn't fair.

I cried until I had no more tears, only dry sobs that jarred my body. Finally I pulled back from the tombstone. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I said aloud. “I’m so tired.”

I paced back and forth in a small room. My image did not look familiar in the mirror. I saw a girl in a white dress who looked calm and flawless like a magazine picture. It should have shown a girl who was tired, stressed and trapped.

I can’t do this, I thought to myself. Is Danny really a person who can love me forever?

It was a serious question. I wasn’t easy to be with. I was moody, difficult, and reserved—

My maid of honor, Karen, came back in to check on me. “Ella, you look lovely and everything is perfect out there.”

As if I cared about that. I had an emotional crisis brewing. “Right. Great. Can you go get Danny?”

“You can’t see him before the ceremony. It’s bad luck. You’ll see him in a few moments.”

“I want to see him now. Go!”

Karen left, shaking her head. She’d been my roommate through college and was used to the snappy moods that sometimes came over me. At the moment, I couldn’t think of a nice about her. She seemed to be gone for an extraordinary amount of time—but that’s what I got for sending a moron. I should have gone.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. I threw the door open so fast it slammed against the wall.

“Ella, I’m not supposed to see you!” Danny turned his head away.

“What? Who cares about that? That’s stupid—get in here.” I grabbed him by the arm, pulling him in the room. I had a slight stab of fear that he’d be mad at me, and was relieved he was smiling.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. Why are you marrying me?"

“I’m a glutton for punishment, I imagine.” He gave me a sly smile, knowing I was in no mood to put up with his teasing.

“I'm serious.”

“I know, almost tragically so.”

“You’re . . .  well,
wonderful
. And I'm, well,
me
. You shouldn’t marry me. You don’t want to marry me. I'm . . .”

“Amazing. Kind. Caring, smart, funny, surprising and very, very nervous.” He took my hands.

“I live most of my life in my head—that doesn’t lend itself to a very good partnership. I’ll make your life miserable. I love you too much to want to do that—and I snore.”

“I know you snore. What’s this really about, El? Are you worried I don’t love you?”

“No, I know you love me. I'm worried that, that . . .” I sighed and coached myself to spit it out. “I'm worried that you'll leave me. That everything will fall apart and I'll be alone.”

“I'll never leave you. You and me, we’re a team.”

I smiled, reassured. “That was lame! We’re a team,” I said mockingly and gave him a light kiss. Suddenly things didn't seem quite so serious. I realized I was marrying the person I loved more than anyone else in the world. “Let’s do this.”

“Well, now I don’t know. I hear you snore.”

“Ha ha ha. You're hilarious.”

“I'll see you in a bit, Mrs. Reynolds.”

I smiled and warmth filled my heart, pushing all doubts to a dim corner of my mind.

My eyes drifted around the cemetery. Studying the makeup of the landscape, I felt almost peaceful.  It had been a long time since I’d felt at peace anywhere. The sun rose higher, warming me, and things didn’t seem so bad, right here, at this moment. I brushed away dirt and leaves that had accumulated around the base of Danny’s headstone. Something sharp stabbed into my hand; I pulled back quickly, blood dripping from my fingers. Using the bottom of my nightgown, I wiped the blood from my hand and discovered a shard of glass protruding from one of my fingers and a slice across the other two. I carefully pulled out the glass and leaned towards the headstone for a closer look at the area I’d been clearing.

Still too obscured by debris to see anything, I pulled a small branch off a nearby tree and swept the area with it. Around his headstone broken glass was strewn as if someone had smashed several bottles. I swept it away as best I could, wondering who would’ve done something like that?

The small, more reasonable voice in my mind said it was probably kids, but the more dominant voice was telling me there was something very important that I was missing. At length I abandoned my efforts. I knew I should head back home and take care of my hand, but was hard to tear myself from this spot that I’d avoided for the past twelve months.

“You said you’d never leave,” I said in a quiet voice and lightly brushed my undamaged hand over his engraved name. 

As I walked back to the house, the few cars on the road, slowed as they passed, the drivers turning back for a second look. The state I was in dawned on me. I still wore pajamas, the bottom of which was stained with blood. My messy hair and naturally pale skin probably left me looking like a zombie walking out of the cemetery. A sharp burst of laughter erupted from me which probably only heightened my appearance of insanity. I quickened my pace back to my house, but when it came into view, I remembered why I’d runaway in the first place.  My feet slowed again, to the shuffle of a person walking down death row. I couldn’t move faster and I was no longer worried about what people thought when they saw me. I stood at my front door much sooner than I would have liked and I wished with all my heart I could just leave and stay gone.  Instead I walked through the door, still ajar from my departure that morning.

I took a quick look around the house. Nothing was out of place; everything appeared to be as I had left it. Holding my hand under the faucet’s cold stream made my cuts burn slightly while my mind relived the day before. If I was truly determined to find Danny’s killer I needed to be more focused in my efforts—and more open minded. No one believed it could have been a ghost except for me—and I’d keep researching that possibility—but considering recent events, I had to consider that idea that the murderer might have been a person?  But who?  And why?  My mind flashed to those who knew us best.  Susan? Doug? Perhaps both of them? Why did they suddenly come back into my life? Why did they never find the courage to stand with me when I needed them most? Detective Troy? It was awfully convenient that he’d moved from Chicago and then this town had its first horrific homicide in years. The creepy neighbor, Mr. Sexton? He was scary and deranged enough, and he certainly had the opportunity. But what would be his motivation be? Or could it have been an avid fan? Or Grant perhaps? Sure I’d never met him before, but he seemed to know a lot about me.

The peroxide sizzled as I poured it on the gash across my fingers.  The water continued to run in the sink, filling the room with white noise, making it easier to think. I continued to rack my mind for possible suspects when I heard a loud bang from the hallway. I turned off the water straining to hear, my heart quickening as the morning's threat replayed in my head. Why didn't I call the cops when I got back? I continued to admonish myself for my own stupidity, until I heard a familiar, yet somewhat panicky, voice in the hall.

“Ella? Ella, are you here?”

I stepped into the hall, but Gabriel was not there. Now I was completely baffled. Who in the hell was calling me? I crept down the hallway preparing myself for anything, but focusing on the front door, which was standing completely open. The floor board creaked underneath my step making me jump. I reached for the door to close it as someone grabbed my shoulders from behind.

I screamed, thrashing against my attacker.

“Christ, not again—Ella, it's me. Calm down. It’s okay…”Gabriel turned me to him pinning my arms to my sides “What happened? Are you hurt?”

I was so relieved to see him that I started shaking. Tension melted out of my body replacing itself with irritation. “You scared me half to death!  Never sneak up on someone like that. What if I had my baseball bat?”

“Are you all right?" he asked, his words clipped with impatience.

“I’m fine.  You just scared the hell out of me,” I said, hitting him one more time for good measure.

“Scared y
ou
? I've called you about fourteen times this morning, but you didn’t answer. When I got here and I knocked,
you
still didn’t answer. I didn't know what to expect, but, well, you can imagine what I thought. Then you show up like that,” he said through gritted teeth as he pointed at me.

“Like what?”

“What do you mean ‘like what’?  You’re dressed for a Halloween ball—death white, covered in blood . . .” He shook his head. “What in the hell happened?”

 “So much, but also nothing immediate to worry about.” His face visibly relaxed as I spoke. “The blood is from my hand. I cut it on some glass; it's not a big deal. I was in the bathroom rinsing the cut when I heard you shout.” I looked at my hand.  It was welling with fresh blood. A drop splattered at my feet and I began to feel faint. “I'm sorry I have this thing about blood now...” Gabriel steadied me as I began sway. “Let’s go back. You can tell me the rest.” He took my elbow and led me back to the bathroom.

I sat on the closed toilet while Gabriel soaked a cotton swab in peroxide. He softly pressed the swab to each finger, blowing gently to ease the sting.

“Go on with your story,” he said between breaths.

“Well, after you left last night, in somewhat of a huff I might add—”

“Narration is unnecessary.”

 “Whatever. I went to bed. All night I heard noises and craziness in the house. I got up to look around, but never found anything. Eventually I got sick of it and took cold medication so I could fall asleep. Then this morning someone called me. He asked if I was thinking about him and said something about how he liked watching me sleep. It was creepy and I sort of freaked out. I called you, but you didn’t answer so I left.”

“He said he liked watching you sleep?” Gabriel did not look amused.

“Yes. And he had this hideous laugh.” It gave me the chills just thinking about it.

“Are you sure it was a man?”

I thought about his question and honestly couldn't be sure. The voice was too low and raspy to say anything for certain. I shook my head. “No, it just seems more like a guy thing to do.”

“Did you recognize the voice at all?”