Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (28 page)

“What happened to her?”

“Nothing, she's still living in Chicago. Happily remarried.”

“Why are you here if your family’s there?”

“I'm happy here. And I think I can make a difference here in a way I never could there—besides, all of my family isn't in Chicago.  My grandparents live here.”

“I don’t know if I knew Danny was having an affair,” I blurted out.

“We don’t have to talk about this.”

“I want to,” I assured him. “I accused him several times in the last few months, but he said I was crazy . . . paranoid.”

“That's a pretty classic cheater’s response.”

“I know . . . but he was right.  That was the problem. I'm a little crazy and paranoid at the best of times, but especially since we moved here. At that point I was having trouble distinguishing what was real from what lives in my mind. I heard noises he couldn’t hear. I lost things I just had in my hands. Things I thought I had bought were constantly missing. How was I supposed to know what was real? That's when I started seeing Dr. Livingston.”

“Did he help?”

“No. I visited him every week, but things only got worse. He wanted me to take psychiatric medications, but I refused. Until Danny died—then I started taking all of them.”

“Did they help?”

“No.”

“Ella, maybe you don't need them. Maybe none of it was in your head. I've been in the house. I've heard the noises. Things have disappeared. So far if you're crazy, I am too.”

“Do you think he was lying about not hearing the noises? About the missing things?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel said carefully.

“Why would he do that?”

Gabriel's armed tightened around me. “I just know that I've experienced everything you have. Did you have any problems before you came here?”

“Not really, but to be fair, I've always had an overactive imagination. It just never caused this many problems before.”

“I believe you,” he said softly into the back of my hair and my eyes welled with a fresh round of tears.

We stayed like that, talking, until I drifted to sleep. I felt safe with Gabriel in the same way I used to feel safe with Danny. It scared me.

Chapter Eleven

When I woke the next morning Gabriel and I were still holding hands which made me worry that I was getting too close to him and not protecting myself from further injury. I didn’t take my hand from his though—the security he offered was more addictive than any drug I could have taken. I stole a glance at the clock. It was nearly 6:30.

Contemplating what I would do with my day after Gabriel left for work—the  prospect of going back to the house and uncovering more heartbreaking knowledge about my husband—filled my mind like a black cloud.

I’d lived in that house for over a year completely alone and oblivious to what was around me. The emotional minefields I navigated every day without knowing they existed now seemed as threatening as the ghost that haunted me. With an end in sight and a reason to get better, so much more was at stake. I had to push through to freedom—I had to. 

It was after seven when I finally couldn't stay still any longer. Climbing quietly out of bed was impossible. The quieter I tried to be, the louder I got. Gabriel looked at me through one eye, then stretched.

“What time is it?”

“Seven.”

“I have to go to work.”

Instead of getting up, however, he pulled me back towards himself, capturing me in a bear hug. I squirmed out of his arms and to his credit he didn’t try to stop me. Once I was safely on my feet, he sluggishly followed. I grabbed my overnight bag and dashed to the bathroom to avoid any awkward moments. What was I doing here? Heat rose to my cheeks while I dressed. I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I was still very married to my husband’s ghost.

Despite my trepidation, the morning went smoothly. Gabriel showered and I made breakfast. If we ate quickly, he’d have time to drop me off at the house on his way to work. He came down the stairs humming a cheerful melody with a little skip in his step.

“So what are your plans for today? Are you going to hang around here?” he asked brightly, identifying himself as a dreaded morning person.

“No, I need to keep moving forward. I want to go back to the house and continue searching.”

“Alone?”

“I stayed there alone for a year. If whatever it is wanted to kill me, it’s had ample opportunity.”

“I think you should wait.”

“I need to keep at it or I'll give up. There are things I need to work through on my own. Right now I'm motivated and that’s a huge step for me—I can’t stop.” It would be a lie to say Gabriel didn't look disappointed, but he rallied fairly well. “You understand, right? I have your number. I'll call if I have any problems or anything strange happens.” I promised.

He looked at me and nodded slowly.  “I’m not sure this is the best course of action, but I understand what you’re saying. Promise, if anything scares you even remotely you'll leave, not try to find out what it is. If something is in the house, the closer we come to solving the case, the more dangerous it is to be there.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” I replied with a wink and a smile, but only received a long stare and a shake of his head in response.

“I guess we should leave if I need to drop you off.”

We chatted very little on the way to my house. Before I could get out of the car, Gabriel extracted another promise that I would call him if anything out of the ordinary happened. As I walked up the creaky porch steps, I considered whether he meant “anything out of the ordinary” for this house or for
any
house.

That will have to be determined on a case-by-case basis, I thought as I unlocked the door. I walked inside with confidence, putting on a show for Gabriel who was still watching me from the car.

I took a deep breath as I closed the door behind me. Now that I was standing in the house alone, I was less certain that this is what I wanted to do today. I looked around. The foyer was dark and spacious, leading directly into the large hallway that would take me to the kitchen once I was past the ornate staircase. The hallway was always dark, no matter how many lamps I put in it. The old polished wood floors and molding loomed in front of me, welcoming me back into the darkness.

Wanting to delay my investigation as long as possible, I collected the mail and sorted it on the entrance table while I listened to my messages: one from my agent and a couple from Susan wanting to get together again. I knew she was feeling guilty about the scene in front of the police station and shirking her self-imposed “Ella duty.” Since Gabriel had been around more, I hadn't needed her help. I hadn’t even had any recent evenings at the bar that allowed her to be disapproving of my life choices. How was I supposed to explain to her that I wanted to move away from the past and seeing her was just a bitter reminder of all that I had lost? I couldn’t wait to be out of this house and out of this town, to be somewhere I could legitimately start over.

I hadn't thought about if or how Gabriel fit into the picture of my new life that had begun to develop over the last couple of days. Strictly speaking, if I wanted to make a clean start, he didn't fit, period.  I had a nagging feeling, however, that life would never be that easy for me.

I made a conscious effort not to lose myself in memories or thoughts again and to stay focused. I wanted to begin in the attic and didn’t let not knowing how to open the door stop me. I decided to try Gabriel’s method and grabbed a hairpin on my way up so I could pick the lock. I knelt in front of the door to get down to work, but the handle turned freely in my hand.

A shiver ran up my spine when, with just a little push, the door opened wide, displaying a dark, crowded room. I craned my neck to see further into the attic.

The entire room was covered with enough dust that I was nearly positive that even Danny’s grandparents hadn’t gone up here much. I walked slowly into the gloom, choking on the heavy stale air that surrounded me. Antique furniture and trunks—all swathed in undisturbed blankets of dust—filled the large room like a tomb that had been locked for centuries. I looked around slowly and meticulously, but saw absolutely no sign that anyone had been up here.

There also was no place where anyone could readily hide. I fumbled along the wall looking for the light switch. The bulb flickered to life and then with a pop immediately went out.

Great.

Rather than waste time replacing the bulb that was older than me, I worked by the tiny stream of light seeping through the window covered with decades of grime. I spent most of the morning searching through everything, discovering what had been so precious to keep tucked away up here for all of those years.

A lot of old pictures, letters, and documents were mixed in among the odds and end pieces of furniture and stuffed in drawers, hat boxes, and between the pages in books. Nothing could be taken at face value. I put all I found to one side, intending to go through it later as useful research for my book—preferably downstairs where I could breathe. An armoire that could have been from the Civil War begged for attention. I dusted it best I could, but even shrouded and gray, it was a beautiful piece of furniture, craved and crafted with an amazing attention to detail. It should have never been stored away in an attic. Despite the years of neglect, the door opened smoothly and easily. Agitated dust billowed with the force of the door opening. As the grit cleared from my eyes and lungs, I saw in front of me—as if it was waiting to be discovered—the pink argyle sock, dead center on the middle shelf.

How had it gotten through a locked door, a dust covered room, and a closed armoire with absolutely no trace of disturbance? In the short time I was up here, I’d stirred so much dust and left so many footprints, my every step could be traced

I heard a faint knock. At first I thought it was coming from the armoire, but moving closer to the door I realized it sounded like it was coming from downstairs. Once at the base of the stairs, I could tell it came from the front door. I ran down the stairs, calling that I was coming, because I assumed it was Gabriel and I didn't want him to worry.