Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (19 page)

“I can’t read anymore of this.” My hands were shaking too much to hold the pages. They fluttered to the ground. My eyes filled with tears.  I felt the need to shower again or vomit—to do something, anything . . . . I had to purge this from my memory. Gabriel had been watching me while I read the story.

“You didn’t write this?”

I was flabbergasted that he thought I could write something like this about Danny, my family. I couldn’t speak. I could only shake my head. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I pulled my knees up, tucking myself into a ball on the couch.

Detective Troy seemed to briefly struggle with what he was going to believe about the situation before him. Finally, he came to a decision. “We have to call the police.”

“Fine,” I managed to squeak out. I had nothing to hide.  This monstrosity wasn’t mine. “I didn’t write
that
.”

“I believe you. That’s why we're calling the police.”

“You are the police,” I said weakly, not wanting anyone else to read this horrible account.

“They probably won’t find anything, but we need forensics out here to fingerprint and see what else they can find. This,” he motioned at the mess of papers on the floor, “needs to go into evidence.”

“I don’t want a lot of strangers in my house.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see that you have much of a choice. Do you want us to catch the killer?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’ll cooperate.”  His statement had a hint of a question in it.

I nodded. Detective Troy called police department. He explained the necessary information to the responding officers and told them about the events of the night before and the story on my computer. He managed the chaos and worked closely with the investigators, as this was an extension of Danny’s case.

It was late afternoon by the time they left. They took my computer, the house was just short of a natural disaster, and my head was throbbing. I felt tiny and insecure. Gabriel had made the process as painless as possible for me, but I could feel the toll it was taking. As the last of the cops left, he came back into the house.

“I have to go to the station to file some paperwork. I'll come back. Is there someone who can come over to stay with you?”

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not and that’s all right.” Concern lined his face. “I'll leave a black and white outside. If anything scares you at all, no matter how small, get them. They'll check it out for you. Stay in here, near the front window where you can be seen. I'll be back in an hour, tops.”

I didn't respond. I had no right to expect him to stay, but it almost felt like he was abandoning me by leaving.

Gabriel forced me to look in his eyes. “You're stronger than this, Ella. If you have any problems call me.”

“I’ll be here.”

As Gabriel closed the door my heart sank. I knew I had told him I would be fine, but after no more than five minutes, I also knew I would go crazy if I kept sitting in front of this window.   I went to the police car parked on the street in front of my house. The officer rolled down his window.

“May I help you, ma’am?”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Detective Troy said you are to stay.”

“Detective Troy can kiss my ass. I don’t want to stay and I'm not under arrest. Will you take me to O’Malley’s?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Don’t be an asshole. Please.”

“We have our instructions.”

“If you don’t help me I’ll walk.” They exchanged a look. I could see that they were finally considering it. “I know you wouldn’t want that, especially since there's a killer after me. You can radio Detective Troy and let him know where I'll be if he needs me for anything.”

They exchanged another look. The officer on the driver's side shrugged to the one I was speaking with. The one nearest to me glanced back at me and radioed Detective Troy.  He got no reply.

“It’s best if you stay here,” he said to me.

“I’ll call his cell. Come into the house with me.” They both followed me in to make the call. Detective Troy answered on the first ring.

“Troy.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing, but I'm starting to lose it. I need to get out. Can you tell the gorillas in front,” I gave the police officers a sweet smile, “to take me to O’Malley’s? They can leave me there. I'll be safer there anyway.”

“That’s not really their job. They aren’t a taxi service.”

“Fine, I’ll call a cab.”

He sighed. “Let me talk to them.”

I handed the phone over. The officer listened and didn’t make much of a response to anything said, until the end of the call.

“I understand, Sir.”  He hung up the phone and looked at me. “We’ll drive you to O’Malley’s.”

“Thank you.”

I sat in the back seat. “So this is what a criminal feels like?” I joked.

“No, ma’am. You don’t have handcuffs on.”

“My mistake,” I mumbled. These guys didn’t have much of a sense of humor. The one who kept calling me ma'am had a strong military vibe, and the other just seemed quiet and annoyed.

“How long have you known Detective Troy?” the quiet one asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“He investigated my husband’s death.”

“Are the two of you close?”

Not sure what he was getting at, I decided less information was best. “Not really. We just ran into each other a week or so ago.” I couldn't tell if he believed me or not, but at least he stopped asking questions.

The rest of the ride was quiet. When we arrived, the officer let me out of the car.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, gentleman. Have a good evening.”

“Ma’am.” He nodded to me.

I gave them a tight farewell smile and headed inside. It was the same as ever. Joe was behind the bar and he waved at me as I walked to my booth. In a matter of moments he had my vodka to me, and I was relaxing in my dark corner. I watched the people come and go, visiting with one another. Surprisingly I felt less melancholy than the last time I was here. My mind naturally started to drift back over the events of day and that horrible story, but I shoved all such thoughts to the side. I had suffered enough for one day and besides, I needed to remain calm and functioning. I would wait patiently and not think about anything at all.

Unable to maintain idleness for too long, however, I took the safer route of contemplating my suspects again, and a new one popped into my mind: Dr. Livingston.

Maybe he was a sadist who toyed with his patients and their families, even to the point of torturing and killing them. Perhaps he distorted the minds of his clients during the day and snuck into houses at night to do tricks that would prey on his clients’ mental health—it was a great way to keep up his clientele.  And he knew I was writing again. He could’ve broken in and changed my document . . . .

“Is this seat taken?” Gabriel asked with a tired smile, sitting down before I could answer. “How are you holding up?”

 “I’ve been better.”

“I imagine.” He scanned the dark little bar for possible threats out of what appeared to be more habit than paranoia. “So . . . come here often?”

I laughed. “Please don't tell me you use that line on anyone.”

“I can't swear that was the first time,” he said with a grin. “What were you thinking about?”

“Just who’s doing this to me.”

“Did you make any determinations?”

“No one stands out anymore than the rest. I was just running over possible suspects in my mind and they're all fairly ridiculous.”

“I can check them out if you like.”

“I don't know.  I'm sure you’ve already considered most of the people who knew Danny and me. It isn't like we had a ton of friends here. It would probably be a waste of time.” I shook my head in frustration. “Did you have a nice time at the office?”

“Not really—look, do you want to stay here or do you want to go somewhere else?”

My ears perked up as his tight, guarded tone. “Go where? I'm not going home yet.”

“I wasn’t planning on taking you home. We could get dinner then maybe a movie. A night away from that house and from everything else might make you feel better.”

He was completely right. I did need to get away, even if it was just a temporary reprieve. What did I have to lose? “Take me wherever you want. I'm completely at your disposal.”

A slow smile spread over his face making my lips twitch upwards in return. “I was hoping you’d say that. I made reservations.” He gave me his hand to help me out of the booth.

“That was rather presumptuous of you, after all that happened today. . . . A couple of weeks ago, after today's brand of fun, I would have medicated myself into a stupor and hid in bed.”

“I made that reservation yesterday.”

Trying to hide the nervousness that engulfed me when I realized this was more than likely a date, I walked out of the bar without waiting for him. Had he asked me out I would have said no, but somehow he managed to get me on a date without ever uttering a word about it. Gabriel was much smoother than I’d given him credit for. He caught up, falling in step with me.

“Where are you going?”

“What?”

“I’m parked in the other direction.”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

I nodded and we walked to his car side by side.

We went to a small restaurant that looked fairly shabby from the outside and for a moment I doubted the need for reservations. Inside, however, we could barely squeeze into the room.

“I think I've heard of this place. I was supposed to come here with Danny when I got back from my book tour to celebrate.” As soon as I said it I realized my mistake. I shouldn’t have mentioned Danny.

Christ, I couldn’t do this
.
I couldn't start dating, not yet. Maybe not ever. Heat rose to my cheeks. What was I doing on a date?  It was absurd.

“It’s the best Italian in Montgomery.” Gabriel turned his attention to the hostess. “Reservation for Troy.”

She checked her book then led us to a small corner table with a cliché drippy red candle in the center of a checkered table cloth.

“What’s good here?”

“Everything.”

I looked at the menu for a while, narrowing down my selection, though my mind kept wandering back to the house.

“Why would the person or whatever it is kill Danny and not me? If it wants the house then why not kill us both?”

“No, we’re not talking about that tonight. Tonight we’re two normal people—no murders, no ghosts of any kind.”

“Right.” That left me with nothing to talk about. "So what did happen at the office, you never really said.”

“That either. Normal, remember?”

“I'm not sure I know how to do normal.”

“You'll find a way,” he said with a smile.

“I’m sure I could,” I said slowly, “but this is the only thing on my mind.”