Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (32 page)

“This may seem odd, but can you get me a copy of the police report from when I fell down the stairs?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t you want to know when it happened?”

“It's in the case file. We reviewed it as a possible sign of abuse which would have been motive for you.”

“Danny never abused me.”

“Yeah, your psychiatrist agrees.”

“Really,” I said more coldly than I intended. I hadn't realized Gabriel had spoken with Dr. Livingston, though I should have. “What did he have to say about the incident?”

“It’s in the file.”

“You've read it.  Tell me.”

Gabriel look uncomfortable, but he didn't try to soften the blow. “He thinks it was a suicide attempt.”

“And why exactly would I want to kill myself?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t! I never have. There have been times I wouldn't have minded dying, but I’d never have taken my own life.”

Gabriel looked like he wanted to believe, but still needed to be convinced. “And like I told him, if I intended to kill myself, I would have come up with something much better than throwing myself down a few stupid stairs—I mean give me some credit. Besides if I was really suicidal don't you think all of this would have pushed over the edge by now?”

He shook his head, “Why do you still go to this doctor?”

“No one has ever asked me that. I've always been told I had to see him. First, I had to see him to be evaluated, then Danny encouraged me to keep going. Now, I guess, I go out of habit—my meds habit.”

“Which, by all of your accounts, don’t help.”

I shrugged. “Can’t tell. All the same noises and voices and incidents happen. But if these things were never in my head, then why would the medication make them stop? I already told Dr. Livingston I wanted to quit taking them, but he wasn't receptive to the idea."

“Hmmm, well, let’s just take one thing at a time. We'll deal with that after this.”

I smiled at the way Gabriel spoke like he was a piece of my life that wasn't going to disappear, then stifled a yawn.

“Tired?”

I nodded

“Do you want to go back to my house?”

I sighed. I really did want to. “No . . . I think I should stay here. The better connected I am with the house, the easier it'll be to figure things out.”

“Okay. I’ll sleep on the couch down here. If you hear or see anything weird, shout. I’ll be right there.”

I doubted the wisdom of this. The last thing I needed was to come downstairs to another massacre.

“What if something happens to you while I'm asleep?”

“I’ll be fine. I'm here to protect you, remember.”

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Ella, I will be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely. Go upstairs.”

“All right.”  I headed up, not liking the situation at all, but he left me little choice in the matter. I couldn't sleep a wink. I kept worrying about what I would find the next morning. Every couple of minutes I got up and crept downstairs to check that Gabriel wasn't dead, waking him up in the process.

“You're killing me, Ella. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t,” I whispered loudly. Even though we were the only people in the house, it seemed inappropriate to talk normally when we should be sleeping.

“Why are you whispering? I’m tired. I want to sleep. You have to stop coming down here.”

“I don’t know—I’ll try.”

“Not another time.”

“What if I come down here tomorrow and you're dead. How am I going to live with that?”

Gabriel looked at me, visibly trying to muster up patience. “You want to sleep with me?”

“No,” I said too quickly.

“Then go to bed. I won’t die. I promise.”

“There's no way you can keep that promise, but fine.” I went back to bed and didn’t check on him again.

I slept a little, but was up bright and early the next morning. Gabriel was not on the couch. A bad feeling crept into my stomach. I looked in the study and the hallway, calling his name timidly, not wanting to seem panicked if there was a practical explanation. I waited for a reply, anything.  The looming stillness and silence made my heart quicken.

I walked slowly towards the kitchen, fighting a serious case of déjà vu. My hands shook, my breathing shallow. Not again, I prayed to anything that would listen as I peeked around the corner into a blissfully empty kitchen. He wasn’t there. I breathed a sigh of relief. No dead bodies in the kitchen felt like Christmas morning.

“Holy shit!” I nearly shouted as I swung around to find a person in doorway.

“You’re up early,” Gabriel said lazily.

“Damn it. You have to stop scaring me. Why didn’t you answer?”

“How did I scare you? You knew I was here. My car’s in the driveway.” He seemed genuinely perplexed.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to explain the emotional roller coaster I had just been on. “I'm not used to having anyone else around. I was trying to find you, but couldn’t. I came into the kitchen and . . .” I trailed off glancing at the wall.

“Oh,” he nodded, finally understanding. “I was on the porch. I had a call from the station and I didn’t want to wake you,” he said apologetically.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, but I need to go in.”

Remembering about the dinner I had planned with Susan, I asked “Hey, do you have plans tomorrow night?”

“No.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner? Susan and Doug are coming and . . .” My stomach twisted; why was this so hard? “I’d like you to come too. You can get to know them, in a non-police environment.”

“Are you asking me out?” he teased.

“Well. Umm…” My cheeks burned. “I'm not really sure. It's just dinner—you and I have had dinner every night this week. I’m just making sure you were going to be here tomorrow.”

Gabriel seemed even more amused by my discomfort, but the chiming of the clock in the hallway brought him back. “I’d love to get to know your friends, and now I need to go.” He kissed my cheek before I could pull away or object.

“Okay . . . Have a good day,” I called after him.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he responded.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

“Do you always have to have the last word?”

“Don’t you need to get to work?”

“Yeah.” He waved as he walked out.

“Bye,” I said just before the door shut and laughed.

Chapter Twelve

I cleaned the house feeling more energized and hopeful than I had in a long while. Susan was right; Gabriel had made a difference. Not in the way she was implying, but in that he listened and didn't mock me. He admitted he couldn't and doesn't know everything. The day was quiet, with nothing strange happening except a few hang up calls—making for the lightest days of paranormal activity since Danny died. I didn’t know what caused the change, but I hoped it had something to do with us being on the right track.

Gabriel arrived back after work that evening, carrying dinner and a Scrabble box. I raised an eyebrow, but he only grinned.

“What's all this?” I asked following him into the kitchen.

“Dinner and entertainment. You said you like games, right?”

“Yeah, I used to—I haven't played anything in a while.” Playing games was so
normal,
I’d feel like a traitor. I didn’t deserve to be free of the oppressive grief and guilt before the case was solved: it was like I was being disloyal to Danny.

“It'll be fun. I'm a pretty mean scrabble player so you might have your hands full,” he said puffing out his chest a little. My laughter pushed all thoughts of disloyalty from my mind.

“You know I'm a writer, right? So I'll probably kick your ass.”

“Bring it on lady.”

Gabriel had a gift for not letting me dwell in my own thoughts. There was a way about him that didn't allow me to linger too much if I wanted to keep up. I could have been obsessing about abandoning Danny but I wasn't. I was laughing and enjoying my evening with Gabriel.

And he was nothing like Danny. Gabriel had a more serious nature. His playful side rarely surfaced. Danny was always playful with very few serious moments. Gabriel didn't push or manipulate, he listened, then gave me his opinion, trusting I would make the right decision. Danny constantly pushed and manipulated me—not in a bad way, but in a way always testing my boundaries making me try things out of my comfort zone.

Gabriel set up the game as I got plates for the warm sub sandwiches he’d brought. Briefly the notion that I was getting too comfortable having him around flitted into my thoughts again. What would I do when this was over and he was gone? I would be alone.

“Are you coming or are you going to stand in there biting your lip at the plates?” he asked, watching me from the kitchen table.

“Sorry, I was thinking.” I said, snapping myself out of it and joining him at the table. I handed him a plate and a beer.

“Do I want to know?” he asked seriously, his eyes trying to connect with mine though I managed to avoid contact.

“Probably not.”

“Ok,” he said and held out the bag for me to draw my tiles. I placed my tiles in order of point value, then studied them picking out several words I could use.