Read Dark Corners READY FOR PRC Online
Authors: Liz Schulte
Gabriel picked up our wedding photograph that was on an end table.
“I don’t think that’s a clue,” I said icily.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, immediately setting it back down. “There's just a crack in the glass.”
“There’s what?” I asked, coming over to him and snatching up the frame. Sure enough, a vertical crack marred the glass, nearly splitting us perfectly apart.
“Have you noticed it before?”
“No.”
“Could it have been like this for a while? Could you have knocked it over and never noticed?”
I wanted to be able to tell him that it was new, but I couldn’t say with certainty. This was the room where I did most of my drinking. I could have bumped into the table any number of nights. I didn’t stare at the picture every day; most days I avoided looking at it at all. I knew perfectly well what I’d lost. I didn’t need photographic evidence of it.
“I don’t know. It could've been like this. I don’t really think we need to do this room. I'm always in here. I would notice if anything was out of place.”
“That’s fine. You want to head up?”
I nodded, relieved.
Upstairs we searched my current bedroom and the two guest bedrooms and the nursery suite with no real leads. The nursery was creepy, but more due to the fact that it was filled with used toys from Danny’s childhood. It looked as though his seven-year-old self had just been called out of the room and was still coming back. It was a frozen moment, untouched by the movement of time. The master bedroom was all that was left. I hadn’t been in there since the last time I went with Gabriel. My shaky hand lingered on the door not really wanting to push it open. It was a gateway into my past and opening it would stir too many unwanted emotions.
“Are we going in? Ella?”
“Yeah,” I said and slowly turned the handle just as Gabriel reached over me and pushed the door open. On the surface, the room looked just as it had the night I heard the noise. I found it hard to breathe. The air seemed thick, heavy, and bitter.
“Did you open this again?”
I looked up at window he was pointing towards. “When would I have opened it? I’ve been with you.”
Gabriel relaxed demeanor melted away as he prowled around the room on high alert. My focus was a complete loss. Once again I became fixated on the unmade bed. Its allure pulled me in like an alcoholic to a bar leaving me feeling alone and empty. I tried to break away, but it was so hard. The loss and self-pity were intoxicating. Eventually, I managed to move to the closet. I walked past his clothes brushing my fingertips across the soft fabric of the familiar shirts until I came to something unfamiliar. I pulled the sleeve out pinched between my index finger and thumb looking at it closer. Was it possible I could have forgotten this shirt? I pulled the hanger from the rack to look at the whole thing. It certainly wasn’t a new shirt, but it was one I had never seen.
“Your favorite?”
“I’ve never seen it before.”
“It isn’t Danny’s?”
“I don’t think so.”
He stared at me. Neither of us moved. “May I have it?” he eventually asked.
I raised an eyebrow at him. What could he possibly want with it?
“Evidence.” he answered my unspoken question.
Of course.
I gave the shirt to him, but couldn’t get something out of my mind. Something was wrong with this shirt. Something didn’t fit. There was something I was missing.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, still not moving away.
“There is something not quite right about that shirt. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“I’ll take it to the lab, have it processed. . . . I’ll put it downstairs with the jar. You good?”
“I’m fine.” I tried to shrug it off. “Take it away.”
I continued to mill about the room, but I couldn’t see anything that may have been different. My senses were overloaded with memories, smells, and items that I have been avoiding. I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Danny’s pillow up to my face, inhaling deeply.
I was packing my suitcase, meticulously folding and organizing the clothes just the way I liked them. Danny was lying across the bed in the midst of all of my things, more of a hindrance than a help.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” I asked evenly.
“No. I should stay work on the house,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly sensing a trap.
“Hmph.”
“What?” he snapped, already annoyed with me.
“Right, well that makes sense. It'll give you more time with your girlfriend.”
“For Christ’s sake, Ella. Why are you doing this now?”
“What time would better suit you?”
“For the last God damn time, I’m not having an affair. When would I have time? We’re always together. Your paranoia is driving me crazy.” His frustration in my growing distrust was peaking, but I couldn’t help it that I felt something was wrong. Either Danny had changed or I had changed. He was so distant.
“Why won’t you come with me?”I asked stubbornly.
“I can get so much more done on the house if you aren’t here. The last thing we need to do is take a three-week break from remodeling. It'll go by faster than you think. I promise.”
It may have just been in my imagination, but it seemed like his eyes never quite met mine. “Right, so you don’t want me here?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said defensively before he shut his eyes and mentally collected himself. “I'm trying to make a life for us. You have to be reasonable.” His voice was much softer now. He sat up on the bed and took my hand, pulling me away from the suitcase. “I want to get this finished. Be able to have a normal life again. The stress of it all is wearing us both down.”
I nodded, tears starting to stream down my cheeks. Why was I being so difficult? I hated this place and what it was doing to our marriage. There was too much stress on us and I wasn’t being fair to Danny.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I said. He lay his head against my body, hugging me. “I’m sorry,” I said over and over again.
“Are you all right?”
“What?” I asked, snapping back from my memories.
“I've said your name four times; you just keep saying you’re sorry.”
“Oh. Sorry.…”
“I think that part’s covered,” he said wryly. “What are you sorry for?” He seemed genuinely concerned … or maybe just curious. Sometimes it was hard to tell.
“I was remembering.”
“Remembering what?”
“The last time I was here with Danny. I was hell bent on picking a fight. He wouldn’t come with me on the book tour, so I accused him of terrible things.”
“Why wouldn’t he go?’
“He wanted to work on the house.”
Gabriel lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. “To each his own, I guess. Why did you go? You could have waited until the house was done, then gone together.”
“I had to go. It was planned.”
“Do you want to get out this room?” Gabriel smiled. “Don’t worry, that’s planned too.”
I rolled my eyes, but let Gabriel usher me out. I wished walking out of the room washed away all of the thoughts now swimming through my head, but it made no difference. The floodgate was open. I was just glad to be done. Today had been stressful bordering on horrible. I headed for the stairs.
“Wait, one more place, Ella.”
“What?”
“The attic.”
I rubbed my hands over my face and eyes, searching for the resolve to do one more room, but sadly came up empty. “I can’t do it.”
Gabriel sized me up for a moment. “Sure you can.”
I scowled at him, but did not move.
“Ella, you are perfectly capable of doing this. I know it sucks, but you have to.”
“I don’t
have
to do anything.” I said, crossing my arms over my chest feeling rather bratty.
“Get upstairs!” he said, laughing. “One room, then we’re done. Let’s go.”
“Fine,” I grumbled as I started back towards the door.
“Get a move on,” he said behind me. “We still have to go by the police station. The quicker we do this, the quicker we can get out of here.”
“You mean
you
can get out of here.”
“You can too. You can stay at my place again,” he said it nonchalantly, though the words hung heavily between us.
I tried to open the attic door, but as I had suspected, it was locked. Before I could verbalize as much, the sound of loud voices came from downstairs.
“Stay here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said following him. “Have you never seen a scary movie? We’re much more likely to die separated than together.”
He rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. “Stay behind me and stay quiet.”
We crept downstairs. The closer we came, the louder the noise was. Finally, I recognized what we were hearing: my stereo. At the bottom of the stairs, I indicated to Gabriel to go to the family room. Once we were in the family room, he motioned for me to stay put while he went through the rest of the floor. I stayed in the room with the music blaring, not wanting to give away that we’d come down. Soon Gabriel came back, shaking his head and frowning. I turned off the stereo and looked back at him.
“This stuff happens all the time,” I said with a shrug.
Bang, bang, bang.
Jumping, we both turned toward the front door that was rocking in its hinges. I went to the door and cracked it open, my foot braced against it out of habit. A furious Mr. Sexton greeted me.
“Turn down the music!” he screamed, the smell of whiskey thick on his breath.
“It’s off. It was off before you even got over here.” I tried to close the door, but he stuck out a hand, stopping me.
“Don’t sass me, you little bitch.”
“Go to hell.”
Gabriel stepped up behind me and opened the door wide. “Do we have problem here?”
Mr. Sexton scuttled backward, muttering, as soon as he saw Gabriel.
“Would you mind if I had a little chat with Mr. Sexton, Ella?” He didn’t look back at me or wait for an answer before he walked out onto the porch.
“Knock yourself out,” I said needlessly.
Gabriel pulled the front door shut behind him, letting the screen snap shut. I couldn’t hear even tidbits of their conversation. I peeked out the window. Gabriel looked angry and was pointing at Mr. Sexton, stepping closer and closer to him as he did. I couldn’t read their lips, but it definitely appeared that Gabriel was threatening him. It was hard to imagine Gabriel being threatening, but he seemed to be doing a good job of it.
Good, I hoped the bastard was scared enough to leave me alone. Sexton started to walk away and I made a quick dash to the living room, so Gabriel wouldn’t catch me spying. I tried to appear nonchalant when he came back into the house, but have feeling I failed miserably.