Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (5 page)

 The sound of footsteps on the porch stopped my pacing dead. It was too soon for the delivery boy. I threw open the front door, trying to catch whatever was out there, but not really expecting to find anything. My heart skipped about ten beats when my eyes met another pair. A startled cry escaped my mouth and I took an instinctual step away. Detective Troy looked almost ready to scream too. His hand was still paused midair, ready to knock.

“Uh, hi,” he said, taking a step back and frowning. 

 “Back again?” was all I could think to say.

“Yeah,” he said, lifting an eyebrow as if questioning whether or not that was all right.

I narrowed my eyes, my heart still racing from shock. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Not scared, just startled.”

I stepped back to let him in the house.

“Any strange occurrences today?” he asked in an official tone.

“You have no idea,” I said but didn’t elaborate. He and I played this game often. He asked questions he really didn’t want to know the answers to; and I didn’t really answer his questions.

His eyes scanned the area. “It smells like alcohol in here.”

“You’re quite the detective,” I said.

Detective Troy wisely let the subject go. “I’ll be back. Are you staying here?”

“Yeah.”

I watched him jog up the stairs. I couldn’t get my mind around his faithful random checks. Did he believe me? Or did he have some angle?  He’d investigated my life inside and out after the murder.  He knew me better than any person in this town. Not because we were friends, but because outside of Susan and Doug I’d spoken more to him than any other person in Montgomery. In fact, after the murder I only spoke to him and my lawyer.

He’d cleared me as a suspect—or at least they’d never been able to bring charges against me—but I wondered what he felt personally.  My sandwich came while he was still searching the house for God only knows what. I took it into the kitchen to eat at the counter. When he was finished he found me.

“Everything looks clear.”

I nodded, faking interest.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded, not wanting my voice to betray the stress I felt. After Danny died I told anyone who would listen what had happened. All I accomplished was making people cross to the other side of the street when they saw me coming. Then the whispering about the crazy writer started. Detective Troy was kind, but his doubt was obvious.  I no longer spoke of the odd things that happened at the house; I didn’t need or want the attention.

“Do you want to tell me what happened today?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“No,” I replied curtly.

He frowned, but nodded. “Have a good night.”

He walked down the hall and I trailed him. Before he left, he turned back to me. “You know I only want to help. I’m not going to spread more gossip.”

I made full eye contact, searching for the truth in his eyes. He seemed sincere. I did want to talk to someone and I almost told him. The words were ready to spill out of my mouth, but I swallowed them back down. It would have been so nice to have a shoulder to lean on, a voice of reason, but I couldn’t do it. I don’t do damsel in distress and he wasn’t my knight in shining armor.

“Have a good night,
Detective
.”

“Think about it,” he said softly, then trotted down the stairs to his car.

I closed and locked the door behind him. There was nothing to think about it. I had already opened myself to enough ridicule. My stomach rumbled reminding me of the sandwich I abandoned in the kitchen. When I got there, however, the counter was sparkling clean and completely empty.

“I hope you get food poisoning,” I shouted. I went to my bedroom talking to myself the whole way. I slipped into bed without turning on the lights, still pouting about my lost dinner. Immediately, I felt something cold and hairy at my feet. Imagines of
The Godfather
flashed in my head. I jumped out of bed faster than I had ever moved in my life and darted for the light. Doing a nervous dance I yanked the covers back. At foot of my bed lay a dead rat, its claws curled towards its body. Disgust engulfed me, followed by a weird sense of confusion. It didn’t seem very ghostly to leave a dead rat at the foot of my bed. In fact, I even had a villain in one of my books leave a rat at a victim’s house much like this … before he killed her.

Not wanting to touch its filthy little body I went to the kitchen for a garbage bag. After a lot of hopping around and nervous disgust, I disposed of the rat as well as the sheets. With my bed freshly made, I tried to force myself to sleep, but the house was as active as ever. Almost like it was laughing at me.

Chapter Four

Night was always the worst for me. Alone in the dark house that already made me feel like an intruder was not ideal, but what choice did I have. Every small noise seemed huge, rattling my already frail subconscious. Every shadow seized my mind and filled me with inexplicable terror. A scream sat locked and ready in my throat. I spent the night drifting in and out of a light sleep, waking up every few minutes with a new fear. By sunrise the tension started to ease from my muscles and stomach. Finally, I was able to drift to sleep until I heard what sounded like the front door slam.

 It left me even more edgy—something I wouldn’t have believed to be possible just the day before. I couldn’t hide here forever so I forced myself out of bed and walked around the house. Nothing was out of place. Nothing ever was. The front door was securely shut and locked. My reflection in the mirror on the wall caught my attention; who I saw was hardly recognizable. My hair was a mess from too many rough nights and not enough brushing.  My skin was starting to look stretched across my face making my cheek bones jut out. Large black circles nearly encased my eyes. I smiled a little bit, but it didn’t help. No wonder everyone was so scared of me, I looked like the monster they thought me to be. I believe haggard was the appropriate word.

Eventually I shrugged off my image and walked away from the mirror.  Who did I have to impress? The only people I saw were Detective Troy—and I doubted he cared what I looked like—and Dr. Livingston. I certainly wasn’t interested in impressing him.

I started going to see Dr. Livingston over a year ago and almost immediately he had become the bane of my existence. I knew my dislike for him was completely irrational, but that didn’t stop his mere existence from offending me. I hated the days I had to visit him more than my normal days, which was quite an accomplishment on his part. However, he held the keys to the medicine cabinet and I needed refills, thus him by association. Dr. Livingston was a stickler on not missing appointments and being on time.

I showered, dressed and brushed my hair, though still didn’t bother with makeup. I called a cab then scrounged for something that didn’t have alcohol in it that could pass for breakfast. Unfortunately, nothing fitting those very specific requirements was present. What I had fit no requirements whatsoever.  A block of cheese that had more green than the grass in my front yard, a completely spoiled half gallon of milk that I was willing to bet would be as lumpy as it was pungent, and something else that was entirely unrecognizable—bon appétit! Given my lack of culinary choices, I would have to grab something on the way to Dr. Livingston’s. I opened the door, deciding to wait for the cab on the porch—and was surprised by the sight of Doug was walking away from the house.

“Hey,” I called out to him.

He turned around, looking surprised “I’ve been knocking on your door for ten minutes.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

He started back towards me. “I’d given up. I was about to head back to tell Susan you weren’t home.”

“I could’ve been in the shower,” I said but felt uneasy. How had I not heard the knock? “What’s going on?” I asked, curious as to why they were suddenly bugging me again. It was one thing for Susan to show up, but Doug wasn’t the type to reach out. It was strange Susan sent him to check on me.

“Susan is … concerned. Since she dropped you off the other night, she’s done nothing but worry, has hardly even slept”

“You don’t look like you’ve had much sleep either,” I said with as much sympathy as I could muster, which admittedly wasn’t much.

“Well, when Susan doesn’t sleep, no one does,” he said dryly.

I almost laughed.  “Yeah, why don’t I find that surprising?”

“So is everything okay?”

“I’m really tired of people asking me that, but yes, it’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” I said a little snappier than I had intended.

“Just asking …” Doug looked like he wanted to escape. He kept glancing back behind him like he was looking for an excuse. “You know Susan misses you …we both do. You should come around more. Danny wouldn’t have wanted you to close yourself off.”

I smiled tightly.  “I’m sorry, but you knew Danny for what, two seconds? I don’t think you have any idea what he would or would not have wanted for me. You know nothing about him… or me.” My cab pulled up saving both of us from our own awkwardness. “I have to go.” In the cab I breathed a sigh of relief and gave the cabbie the address, although I was certain he already knew it. There were only so many drivers in a town this size and I never went anywhere else. I beat myself up again for not having my license. I’d just never gotten around to it—I was a city girl born and raised. Chicago was my home and after all of this was over I was going back. That is how I justified it at least. Really though, I just didn't have the will to learn. Danny said he would teach me, but we didn't make the time in our short life together. We didn’t make the time for a lot of things. Now even thinking about someone else teaching me to drive made me lonely. 

Dr. Livingston’s office was in its normal state. I sat in the waiting room thumbing through the same boring magazines that were there week after week. Dr. Livingston’s receptionist—the picture of ineptitude—was giggling on the phone with a friend rather than answering other calls. She was very image of a cliché secretary and I loathed her. Her ear piercing laughter echoing through the office and making my ears want to bleed may be what irritated me so much, hard to say. Perhaps I was projecting my anger and animosity for Dr. Livingston on her, since he was the one who forced me to wait for my ridiculous appointments each week. No matter what time I arrived, I always had to wait at least five minutes. Today was no exception. I often wondered if he played these mind games with all of his patients or if I was singled out.