The Darkness of Shadows (7 page)

“Your selfless dysfunction almost got you killed. I’m not going through that again.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“I know.”

She sat. I followed her lead.

“We need some ground rules.” I still wasn’t sure about bringing her into my insanity. “You can opt out at anytime.”

“Duly noted, but it won’t happen.” She leaned forward. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

I laid out my intricate machinations.

“Impressive,” she said.

“Yeah, it worked so well.”

“We just need to rethink a few things.”

I wanted to pace, but limping and pacing don’t go together. Our salad lay neglected on the counter.

“Um … dinner …”

“You need to eat something,” Val said.

“You go ahead.”

She scrunched her nose, pursed her lips, and acquiesced. Nothing affected Val’s appetite—she could eat anything, anytime, under any circumstances, and she never, ever gained weight. Yeah, I know. She took a plate from the cabinet and set about creating her dinner.

“You sure you don’t want any?”

I went for a soda. “Positive.” The fridge was covered with photographs—Val had a ton of friends.

I heard her chair scrape the tiles as she went back for seconds. After a while I turned back to find her staring at me. I went to the table and nodded at her empty plate. She nodded back and I took it to the sink and started cleanup. She joined me and put the leftovers away. We stood, not knowing what to say to each other.

“If you decide to help me, it’ll change you, change us,” I said. “We could end up in prison or dead.”

“You think I’m going to let you have all the fun?” Her eyes were bright, face determined. “Where do we start?”

“W
e need something shiny to get his attention,” I said.

“Like what?’ Val said.

“The pages.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My father mentioned some pages. Seemed pretty important to him. His parents had something to do with them.”

“Where’re your grandparents?”

“Don’t know.”

“We need to figure out a way to—”

“Send my father on vacation.”

“Right. Vacation. What?”

“You can leave anytime, no questions asked.”

“Whatever. Where do you think your dad might be lurking?”

“We haven’t exchanged Christmas cards recently, so your guess is as good as mine,” I said.

My cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Natalie, it’s Tara Edwards. Sorry to be calling so late. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, ma’am. What’s up?”

“I have some sad news to share.”

My heart leaped. “Okay.”

“Your grandparents passed recently.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, which ones?”

“Oh, the Gannons. Their lawyer contacted me and was very apologetic that he hadn’t notified you sooner. Things have been tied up in the courts. I attribute it to the quagmire known as our legal system. They left you a house and a tidy inheritance. He also sent along some things they wanted you to have.”

Did she just say something about an inheritance?

Her voice was extra perky. “Well, it looks like you have a lovely little house and a nice piece of property off the beaten path in East Caldwell.”

I blinked a bunch of times, trying to process what she said. I had someplace to go. I could give Mrs. Guerrero some peace.
On today’s Afterschool Special, A Home for Natalie.

“Are you still there?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. Sorry. Is there anything funky I should know about? Back taxes? Is it condemned? Anything like that?”

“No, free and clear. Bob and I took a ride the other day. It’s a great little place. I need you to sign some things and I have the keys too. This is a fresh start for you! Now, when can we meet?” Her perkiness was starting to wear on me.

“I—”

“I can stop by tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“Um, that would be great.”

“Sounds terrific!”

She hung up. Good thing—if we’d stayed on the phone any longer I think I would have reached through the line and slapped the perky right off her face.

Val’s eyebrows were arched high with questions.

“That was my lawyer,” I said. “Seems I’m a homeowner.”

Tara and Bob Edwards stopped by Mrs. Guerrero’s with a folder full of paperwork and a cardboard box that had seen better days.

Mrs. Guerrero was out running errands, Val was in the family room finishing up a conference call, and I was sitting in the guestroom debating which to open first: the box or the local phone directory.

The box won out.

I flipped the lid off. An envelope was waiting. I slipped my finger under the flap and opened the yellowed page.

It was a woman’s handwriting.

Dearest Natalie,

We are your grandparents, Beth and John Gannon.

Our fear of your parents keeps us away. William and Karen have become much too powerful for us to deal with. The only way we can help you is by taking the last pages of William’s journal.

William’s greed has stripped him of his sanity, driving him further from our family, friends, and his roots. His ideas go against our beliefs, but his power has surpassed our abilities.

We hoped Karen would make a difference in his life. Sadly, she turned out to be a capable accomplice.

It may not seem like it, but you are stronger than your parents. Your gifts will help you keep those you love safe as well as yourself.

Love,

Grandma and Grandpa

My gifts? Let’s see, I’m a colossal wiseass that can bake like a demon. Yeah, the other Nobel Laureates were waiting to welcome me with open arms.

I put the letter back into the envelope and picked up the phone book.

“What’s that?” Val said from the doorway.

“In the before-time, people used these to look up phone numbers and addresses.”

“Who’re you looking for?”

I huffed and closed the directory. “Karl Chapman. I want to know if he still works at the phone company.”

“Looking for a friends and family discount?”

I rolled my eyes. “When my father called, it came up as private caller. I know the exact date and time. I wanted to know if Karl might check it out.”

“You watch too much TV.”

I sucked at crime. “Guess you’re right.”

“So are you,” she said. “Let me call him—he owes me a favor. And you didn’t answer my question.” She pointed to the envelope.

“Letter from my grandparents.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Did I want to talk about the fact that my grandparents left me to a man they knew was dangerously insane because they were too afraid to stand up to him? Hmm.

“Someday.”

We took a ride to my grandparents’ place. It was a small, one-story brick house, hidden by a few trees and overgrown hydrangea bushes.

Val pulled into the driveway and parked by the side door. I tapped my fingers on the console. My nerves were jangled. I wasn’t sure what to expect.

“You sure you’re up to this?” Val said.

“No, but I have to do it sometime.”

“You could just sell it and not bother.” She put her hand on top of mine, stopping the movement. “It was a rental property, right? So just dump it. Nat—”

“Let’s check it out.”

Val was peering into windows when I got to the side porch. I pulled the keys from my pocket and inserted one into the lock. She gave me a gentle nudge over the sill, then we were in the kitchen. It felt strange being in my grandparents’ house, even though it wasn’t their home. I never knew them and they sure as hell didn’t know me.

Val looked around. “What do you think?”

I shrugged. “Nice.”

“It’s cute. Perfect size for you, for now.”

I didn’t say anything.

“We can do a lot of cool things. The house seems to be in good shape. What’s wrong?”

“They never tried to see me.”
His power has surpassed our abilities.
“They left the house and the money to me out of guilt.”

“Is it someday?”

“Huh?”

“Are you going to tell me about the letter?”

We leaned against the counter. I gave her the rundown.

“You don’t leave a kid in the hands of monsters to save your own ass,” I said.

“Not everyone is brave enough to stand up for what they believe in,” Val said. “Sometimes it’s easier to look the other way rather than get involved and make a difference.”

“Still, I was hoping there would be a least one normal person in my family.” Time to start lowering my expectations. “So what do you really think about this place?”

“We need to get the plumbing and electrical checked out. Think about getting central air, if you’re going to stay. A good cleaning, a fresh coat of paint, and you could move in.”

“Yep.”

“Look at me.”

I turned to face her.

“You don’t have to stay here forever. Try it, and if you don’t like it, sell it. Then you could take the studio at my house. It’s private and it would be pretty cool to have you down the driveway.” She smiled.

“I’ll try it for a while. Will you help me pick stuff out?”

“Try and stop me.”

“Thanks. Just not up to doing this myself.”

I started wandering around.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Val said.

“That they hid the pages somewhere in this house?”

She nodded.

“It’s as good a place to start as any.”

“Be right back.” And she went out the kitchen door.

Worn linoleum tiles and cigarette-burned Formica countertops waited with me.

She came back with a toolbox. I smiled.

“What? Dad told me to always keep it in the trunk. You never know when you might need something. Where do you want to start?”

“The kitchen. Slap some bacon on a biscuit and let’s go—we’re burnin’ daylight.”

She shook her head. “I can't believe you said that.”

We pulled out a few drawers and were met with emptiness. The kitchen fixtures were encrusted with who knows what. Neither of us were squeamish, but this was beyond gross.

Val grabbed a raunchy knob and tugged. The drawer held tight to the frame. Time, grease, and unknown substances made a strong adhesive and a good security system.

She braced a foot against a cabinet and yanked. The drawer came flying out, followed by a swarm of cellophane-wrapped snack cakes.

The last cabinet watched in horror as Val and I dismantled its neighborhood.

“Whoa!” Val said.

“Holy crap!”

The contents of the cupboard weren’t what we were looking for, but instead was a mecca of collectible fast-food movie cups.

“This is insane.” Val shuffled through the compilation of plastic. Something rattled around in one of the cups. She dumped the contents on the counter.

Hard, black shells that resembled candy-coated treats skittered to and fro. Forensic examination revealed that they once had legs.