Return to the Shadows (5 page)

“
Get out of the car!” Mark ordered. “Get
out now!”

I reached for the door handle without a
second thought and had one foot on the ground when I felt Mark pull
me back. The animal lunged at the car again and the next thing I
knew, we were airborne.

“
Get down!” He wedged me into the driver’s
seat next to him and we hit the ground with enough force to knock
us into the back seat. Blood pooled to my head and I was
disoriented for a minute before reality set in. The car was upside
down.

“
Mark! Are you okay?”

“
Are you?”

“
I think so.” But not for long , I thought
in horror as I watched the Retrievers approach.

“
Come on, we have to go now. They’re
coming for us.”

***

“How was the meet and greet?”

“Good. Informative.” I passed a basket of
rolls across the table to Ashley as I prepared to answer Mike’s
twenty questions about my first day on the job.

“Did you get your first assignment?”

“You have homework like me, Mama?”

“Not exactly,” I laughed. “I get paid money
to write for the magazine. It’s work, not school.”

“Did you go to school?”

“I did. I went to school for many, many
years.”

“Years?” Ashley was awed.

“It’s not as long as it sounds, dear,” Mike
was quick to reassure.

“What about you, Miss Ashley? How was your
day at school? Did you have lots of fun?”

“Yes, I made a friend today.”

“That’s great. What’s her name?”

“It’s a boy.”

“Oh.” I blinked in surprise. Mike tried to
hide a grin. “That’s great, honey. There is no reason why boys and
girls can’t be friends. So, what’s his name?”

“Earl.”

“Is Earl in your class?” I didn’t remember
any little boys named Earl being in Ashley’s class at school and
thought he might have been new.

“Earl isn’t in my class. He was on the
playground. He’s a big boy. He’s nice. He said he knows you.”

My silverware hit the plate with a clatter
and I glanced first to Mike, and next to my daughter. “Is Earl a
big boy like your cousin Tomas, or like your uncle Mike?”

“Big like Uncle Mike. Is Earl really your
friend?”

“What side of the fence was he on, Ashley?”
Mike cut in. “In the playground area with you, or outside by the
street?”

“Outside by the street.”

“What did your teacher say?”

“She didn’t see him.” Ashley continued to eat
her dinner, unconcerned.

“Ashley,” I said slowly. “Remember what we
talked about? I don’t want you talking to strangers.”

“It’s not safe, I know. But he’s your friend,
so it’s okay, right?”

“No. I don’t know anyone named Earl,” I told
her as gently as I could manage.

“He lied?” She looked upset at the
thought.

“Maybe not. Maybe he only thought he knew
me.”

“But he knew my name and everything!”

“A lot of people are named Ashley,
sweetheart. But you see? Even if people say they know me, or know
your name, they could be mistaken. And that’s not safe. You know
what I want you to do next time?”

“Get a grown-up?”

“That’s right. You’re a smart girl, you know
that?”

“Yep, can I go play now?”

“Yes.” I watched her run into the living room
and turn on the television. SpongeBob was on and Ashley grabbed a
puzzle and settled in front of the TV.

“What are the odds, Claire?”

“Not very. I’m calling her teacher to make
sure she didn’t see anything. Keep an eye on Ashley, will you?”

***

That night, I double-checked the doors and
windows, setting the security alarm earlier than usual.

Mike had insisted on staying another night
with us, and I had to admit, I did feel safer with him in the
house. For Ashley’s sake, of course. I poured the customary mugs of
evening coffee and found Mike sitting in front of the fireplace. He
turned to look at me as I entered the room.

“Is Ashley asleep?”

“Fast asleep,” I sighed.

“Good. I didn’t want to talk about what
happened today in front of her.”

“Neither did I. It’s a miracle she’s not
scared to death already. I know I am.”

“You might not always be able to shield her
from the truth,” he pointed out.

“You mean if this gets any worse?”

“Maybe.”

“Yes, I know.” I bit my lip and contemplated
the fire as I spoke. “Her teacher didn’t see anyone talking to her
on the play yard today.”

“Not even walking by the playground?”

“No, nothing. But Ashley wouldn’t make
something like that up.”

“I don’t know, Claire, she goes to a good
school. They keep a good eye on those kids. What about an imaginary
friend? She’s the right age and she has certainly been through a
lot.”

“That’s true, but I doubt it in this case.
The timing is off. Something just…feels wrong here, Mike. Maybe if
last night…I don’t know. But something is not right. I can feel
it.” I was well aware that I was rambling and yet, couldn’t seem to
stop. “Who would want to hurt a little girl?” I shivered.

“Who would want to hurt your little
girl?”

“You think someone is really trying to get to
her?”

“I don’t know, Claire. Maybe someone is
trying to get to you through her.”

“I thought of all that, too, last night.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said
anything.”

“No, it’s okay. I guess we’ll know for sure
in a week, when those prints come back from the lab.

That is, if they get anything.”

“They will. Don’t worry.”

But that was easier said than done.

Chapter Three

The Dead Walk

As it turned out, we didn’t have to wait long
for answers.

“I’m looking for Claire Roberts.”

“May I ask who is calling?” I cradled the
phone between my ear and shoulder and carried the basket of towels
to the kitchen table.

“This is Officer Lance Jones, ma’am. I
responded to a nine-one-one call at your residence on the
fifteenth.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.” I shook lint from a
towel onto the floor and began folding the thick terry cloth into
fourths. “What can I do for you?”

“The results of the finger print analysis
made its way across my desk this morning. You’ll need to come into
the station, Ms. Roberts.”

“Come to the station?” I dropped the neatly
folded towel back onto the table and put a hand on the telephone.
“What for?”

“I need to discuss the lab results with you
and ask a few questions.”

“So, I need a lawyer?” Did I mention that I
don’t particularly trust the police?

“Nothing like that, Ms. Roberts. When can you
make it in to the station?”

I checked my watch, noting that I still had
another hour and a half before I was due to pick Ashley up from
school. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Fine. Check in at the front desk.”

“See you then.” I hung up and rushed to grab
my purse and shoes.

The drive to the police station took longer
than it normally would have after I took the wrong exit on the
highway. I wasted ten minutes doing an illegal U-turn and circling
back around. I guess you could say I was a little bit on edge. Then
again, who wouldn’t have been under the circumstances? I was about
to find out who had tried to get into my daughter’s bedroom
window.

As I threw the car into park and climbed the
steps to the station, I told myself to be grateful to the police
for finding the man. Or woman, as Jones would have put it.
Personally, I had never heard of a woman attempting to break into a
child’s bedroom in the middle of the night. An ex-husband or a
boyfriend? Sure, that I could see. But a woman? I shook my head and
thought about making a side bet with Officer Jones before quickly
scratching the idea. Considering he knew who had been in my yard
that night, the odds were decidedly stacked against me.

“Don’t bet the house,” I muttered before
pushing through the plate glass doors. Or in this case, don’t bet
the police station. I got the feeling I would lose.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Lance Jones.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes, he is expecting me.” Since when did you
need an appointment at the police station?

“Take a seat. I’ll let him know that you are
here, Ms...?”

“Roberts.”

The receptionist nodded and punched a button
on the intercom system.

Lance appeared about a minute later and
ushered me into an office near the back of the station.

“Good afternoon, Claire.”

“Good afternoon. You said the results came
back from the lab this morning?”

Officer Jones pulled a file from the sizable
stack that littered his desk, opened it, and slid the papers in
front of me.

“Do you recognize this man?”

I peered down at the grainy photograph he had
placed before me. It was a mug shot, and an older one at that.
There was something vaguely familiar about the man, but I couldn’t
seem to place him. I said as much to Officer Jones.

“Don’t you have a better picture of him? I
just can’t be certain….” I trailed off and raised my hands in an
apologetic shrug. “Sorry.”

He shuffled through the papers in the file
again and handed me a second image. “Do you recognize this
photograph?”

It was a full color print of the man in the
mug shot. The image was a close up head shot that showcased every
roughhewn detail of the man’s facial features in garish detail.
Wheat-colored hair, pale skin, eyes closed.

“Oh my God!” I jumped out of my seat and
pointed at the photograph as though I were attempting to ward off
evil.

“Something wrong, Claire?”

“Is something wrong?” I parroted in
disbelief. “Is something wrong? Are you serious?” I demanded
incredulously.

“Do you recognize him now?”

“Please tell me that the man in that
photograph is sleeping. Tell me that you did not just hand me a
picture of a dead man.”

“I apologize if you find this upsetting
somehow.”

“Somehow?” I snorted.

“At the present time, these are the only two
images that I have in Mr. Atkins’ file.”

“Who?”

“Earl T. Atkins.”

“The corpse?”

“Yes, Ms. Roberts, the corpse.”

“No. I’m sorry, but the name isn’t familiar
to me. Neither is the…picture.” I forced myself to take a seat at
the desk and folded my hands in front of my lap. “Why are you
asking me about this man? I came here to find out who was sneaking
around my property.”

“And I have just told you. The fingerprints
that were taken from your window have been identified as Earl T.
Atkins.”

“Well I’m sorry, but I have never seen that
man before in my life. And I hate to break this to you, but I don’t
suppose he will be bothering my family again anytime soon. Now, if
you will excuse me, I have to get my daughter from school.”

“We aren’t finished here, Ms. Roberts.”

“Excuse me, officer, but that man is dead,” I
spoke slowly.

“Yes, that man is dead.”

“Well I don’t see how—” I broke off as the
meaning of his statement finally hit home. “You think I killed
him.”

“Earl T. Atkins died last year, Ms. Roberts.
What I want to know is how a dead man managed to walk through your
property last week and then vanish without a trace.”

***

“How was school, peanut?” I asked Ashley an
hour later. I gave myself a pat on the back for somehow managing to
keep a light tone of voice and a steady hand while going through
her backpack.

There were two perforated ABC 123 homework
sheets that her teacher had torn from a workbook.

“That’s my homework!” she chirped.

“I see that. Do you know what you have to
do?”

“Yep. It’s matching. I’m good at that. Mrs.
Harris said so.”

“I know you are.” I sighed. “Today it’s
matching, tomorrow it’s Stanford.”

“Your school?”

“My school.” I grinned. “You remembered that
story?” It was difficult to keep the surprise from my voice. I had
only mentioned my alma mater once before to Ashley and that had
been more than eight months ago. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
My daughter had a fantastic memory. Her ability to recall both
events and conversations was becoming somewhat legendary in our
family. My mother frequently consulted Ashley on a number of
important matters. Where she put her car keys, for instance. Or
what was written on the disappearing grocery list. Their newest
game, television remote finding, had begun over last Christmas
break.

Megan had suggested having I.Q. tests
administered, but I was reluctant to do so…not so soon at least.
The past year had been hard enough on her. I wanted to give her the
chance to have a real childhood.

The chance to be a normal kid. To run and
play and watch cartoons, and take hour long bubble baths.

From what I could discern, normalcy had been
a rare commodity throughout most of Ashley’s young life.

But for the most part, her past remained a
mystery. Strangely enough, she couldn’t seem to remember much of
it. It was as though her early years were a slate that had long
since been wiped clean. She had told me that her parents were dead,
killed by the “bad men,” and that a woman had been caring for
her.

But she claimed not to know the caretaker’s
name, what the woman had looked like, or even where they had lived.
My best guess was that she had come from Haelport, where I’d found
her on the streets. After all, how far could a child her age get on
foot? Especially in Terlain, where the dangers to children left
unattended were multiplied tenfold. At any rate, for a child who
had a photographic memory, she couldn’t remember a lot. I had
suspected from day one that she was simply too scared to say where
she had come from or how she had gotten her bruises. In the early
days, she had been quiet and withdrawn. Now she was blossoming. So
maybe it was better if she did eventually forget her past.