Second on the Right (24 page)

"Another baby!" he exclaimed.

"James! Can we first get through this birth?
Give me a chance to recuperate before considering another?
Honestly, I'm not sure I can handle two, let alone three,” she
said.

He grinned wickedly, "I want more, with you.
Let's have at least a dozen."

"A dozen! James Benedict!" she pulled
partially back to see the grin on his face. "Ohh!" Then looking
back over at where Robbie was playing, she smirked, "You just want
the process, not necessarily the end result."

"Oh, well, the thought
did
cross my
mind," he said, kissing her neck and pulling her back to him.

“I suppose you’re going to tease me when I
start teaching her sign language, too? I did it to help with his
development. Besides, it was fun. He couldn’t talk, but he could
communicate still. It gave him some feeling of control.”

“And you’d know all about that. Control, I
mean,” he said with a grin.

Eileen gently elbowed James at his response.
He faked as if she had delivered a low blow, groaning dramatically.
Eileen rolled her eyes. Robbie, having overheard the noise his
father made, came running over to him. He looked at his father, who
was still grinning, then at his mother, who was also smiling.
Confusion set in his face as his eyes darted back and forth until
eventually falling on his mother for answers.

"It's all right sweetie. Daddy was just
misbehaving. Mommy's taken care of it. See? Daddy's fine," she said
reassuringly.

James fell to the ground on his back, grabbed
his stomach and groaned louder. When his son reached him, a look of
concern on his face, James gave him a wink and a smile. Robbie
decided to tattle.

"Mommy! Daddy's fakin'," he said, pointing to
his father.

"Oh, I'm well aware of that fact," she
responded, turning to head for the house.

James shouted out one last groan for her
attention.

"He'll get no sympathy from me!" she shouted
back.

Robbie took the opportunity to join in the
fun and dove onto his father. James lost his breath as his son, who
apparently thought him a trampoline, knocked it out of him.
Scooping Robbie up into his arms, James stood and ran to catch up
with Eileen. Holding his son in one arm, he wrapped his other arm
around his wife, and they walked inside the house for lunch.

Robbie, Robert James when in trouble, or
Robert James Benedict when
really
in trouble was a highly
intelligent three-year-old, though as Robbie would correct, he was,
in fact, three and a half. He truly was his father's son. As Robbie
grew, he came to expect at least his mother to be home with him
every day. Robbie was not only intelligent, but also observant,
highly resourceful and extremely astute, especially for a child of
his age. The clever boy often put his mother at wits ends when
bargaining. He had discovered if he said nothing, and allowed the
other party to lay down the terms, he could usually find a way to
use those terms to his advantage. As evening came and his bedtime
approached, Robbie once again was in bargaining mode with his
mother. Hearing her great sigh, he knew he was close to wearing her
down for the inevitable “all right” that would follow his previous
request for another book. He fully intended to stretch it out to at
least five additional stories.

Robbie was finally bathed, teeth brushed,
dressed in clean pajamas, and tucked into bed. Eileen knew despite
all of this, it would be at least another thirty minutes before she
would be close to saying goodnight. He looked back up at her with
as much innocence as he could muster. She watched her son for a
moment, observing his facial features as he pored over a choice of
books, deciding with which one to start.

Though Robbie was a lot like James,
especially in temperament, his eyes were strikingly different. He
had deep-set eyes, unlike his father’s, whose eyes were more open.
The features he had, though not similar to James, were in fact
very
familiar.

"Mommy, read dis one," he said, shoving a
book into her hand and waking her from her thoughts.

She raised an eyebrow, "And how do we
ask?"

"Pwease, Mommy. Read dis book?
Pwease!
" he begged.

"Of course, darling," she smiled at him. She
was startled to find a book on pirates in her hand. "Isn't this
just a tad too exciting for bedtime?"

"Oh no, Mommy! Daddy says it okay. We are
piwrates," he responded with fervor.

"Is that so?" she glanced at the doorway,
wishing she could hook James into reading instead.

James was not there. He had been called away
on business for a few days. However, before he left, he had been
emphatic about making Patrick promise to remain at the house until
his return. James had given Eileen the impression that the previous
threats hadn’t been on his mind. Yet, just before he left, he made
it clear they were at the forefront of his thoughts by having
Patrick swear to watch over the family in his absence.

Having run out of milk for Robbie, Eileen had
asked Patrick to make a quick run to the store. He hesitated, but
with Eileen's reassurance that it would only take him a few
minutes, he had relented and gone for milk.

"Very well, a story of pirates you shall
have," she said with a smile and began to read.

After the story, the two battled wits and
negotiated from one book to three. Having read the three books,
Eileen kissed Robbie goodnight and shut off the light, leaving his
room illuminated with stars and planets. Cracking his door a bit,
she promised to leave the hall light on. Once downstairs, Eileen
filled up a cup with ice water, grabbed a novel she had been
meaning to read, and made herself comfortable in the living
room.

The weather had been so nice that Eileen
decided to leave the windows open. She stretched her legs out on
the couch and looked over at the porch for a moment. A quick image
of Benedict appeared in her mind. Curious, she placed her book down
on the sofa, stood, and walked outside. The darkness reached up to
the porch. She could hear tree frogs trilling in the distance.

Standing on the threshold of the door, Eileen
looked to her right. She vaguely remembered coming out there the
night she had been drunk, over four years ago, and it was nearly as
dark now as it had been then. She could have sworn that when she
had come out on the porch, Benedict had been leaning against the
house. Frowning slightly, she was not sure why she had that memory.
The only time she had spent with him on the porch was during the
mid-afternoon of the first day he had been there.

Eileen took a few steps and paused. She
remembered standing by the railing, looking back at…
James
?
She struggled with the images in her mind. James had said they both
had gone to bed that night. He swore nothing had happened. Yet, it
truly felt as if something had happened.

It had seemed so real, but James
insisted.

She shrugged off the feeling, almost as if
she were experiencing
déjà vu
. Gripping the railing, she
closed her eyes and enjoyed the light breeze as it caressed her
skin. A faint sound echoed in the trees nearby.

Her eyes flew open.
Was that laughter?
Flashbacks to the night on the porch came flooding in her mind. She
hoped perhaps a couple was walking along the Sound, becoming a
little too loud. She strained her ears, but heard nothing except
the rustle of leaves and the faint sound of lapping water. Feeling
uncomfortable, she rubbed her arms and turned to go back
inside.

She caught some movement in her peripheral
vision. Eileen turned to find a dark figure with red eyes crouched
on the railing where the dining room was located. She was slammed
by the sudden feeling of déjà vu. She froze. Her heart raced. Was
it real or merely shadows tricking her eyes? A chill crept through
her bones and the wind picked up. As a feeling of dread took over,
she stepped towards the door. The figure shifted.

Startled by the movement, she cried out and
ran inside, the figure darting fast. She slammed the door shut and
struggled with the lock, her fingers fumbling as she shook in
terror. Then, the lights went out. She could hear footsteps as the
shadow reached the door and began turning the knob.

Eileen was near the point of hyperventilating
from this unknown threat. She managed to secure the lock and backed
away from the door, down the hallway. Her fingers felt along the
wall, trying to locate the stairway up to Robbie, too panicked to
remember the layout of the familiar room. As she was about to climb
the stairs, the front door opened.

She rushed over and slammed it hard on the
intruder. He let out a yelp of pain. "What on Earth are you doing,
Eileen?" Patrick cried out, turning on his flashlight. "The power's
out, but the breaker isn't doing the trick. You okay?"

Hearing Patrick's voice, she yanked open the
door, pulled him inside by his shirt collar and locked the door
behind him. She was gasping, leaning against the front door.
Patrick turned the flashlight on her and looked at her
suspiciously.

"Eileen, what's happened? What's going on?"
he whispered.

Trying to catch her breath, she replied,
"Something, on the porch." She grabbed Patrick as he headed towards
the back. "No," she whispered.

Patrick pushed her hands away. "Eileen, let
me take care of this. You go upstairs and stay in Robbie's room.
I'll come to you when all is clear. You remember our code."

She nodded and headed upstairs.

Patrick made his way to the back porch,
having turned his flashlight off. He paused before entering the
living room, listening for any movement, any noise at all that
would clue him in to the presence of the intruder. Once his eyes
adjusted, he was able to move his way closer to the door. He could
make out a dark figure, working to release the lock. He couldn’t
tell what it was or even if it was looking at him.

Pulling out his gun, he raised it to the
level of what he guessed was its heart. As he cocked the gun, the
click alerted the figure, and it turned around to face him, beady
red eyes glowing in the darkness. Patrick was taken aback by the
sight. Then anger set in.

What the hell is that?
he
wondered.

The figure had successfully opened the door
and had entered the living room. Patrick swallowed hard, trying to
control his breathing, to relax his body. The intruder rushed him.
Patrick squeezed the trigger and shot not once, but three times.
The shadow was thrown back onto the porch. As Patrick advanced, it
turned once to look at him. Patrick shot again, and the figure
jumped over the railing and ran into the woods.

The lights suddenly came back on. Patrick
gasped. Taking a closer look around the living room and porch, he
found a set of bare footprints, smaller than his own, but larger
than Robbie's. The one thing he didn’t see was what he was
expecting: blood.

Stretching back against his chair, James took
a deep breath. He had met with the board for hours yesterday,
discussing not only company strategy and finances, but also the
recent threats. Black circles made from an unknown, shadowy
substance had been discovered in James’ office and on company
equipment. James did his best to assure the board members, and
hopefully stockholders as well, that measures were in place to
provide protection of employees and assets. An investigation was
currently underway, thanks to friends of Patrick's in the New York
precinct, as well as locally at Scotland Yard. He had arrived early
the next morning, continuing his review of the financials before
the next meeting that afternoon.

James rubbed his eyes and ran his hands over
his face. It had been a long few days, which seemed more like
months. Time always stretched when he was absent from his
family.