The Color of a Memory (The Color of Heaven Series) (4 page)

“Good idea. Can’t take any chances with those crazy Manchester raccoons.”

As I followed him to the kitchen, I wondered what it was he wanted to show me.

Chapter Seven

“Wow,” I said as I ran my hand over the shiny black hood of the vintage car in the garage. “What year is it?”

“It’s a 1948 Buick Street Rod. I thought you might like to see it because I noticed you pulled up in a ’76 Mustang. Is that yours?”

“Yeah, I bought it a few years ago.” I bent to peer in the side window of the Buick. “It needs work but I don’t know anything about restoring old cars. I just liked it and it was cheap.”

“You should let me take a look at it,” Alex said as he watched me move around the old car. “I’ve been working on this baby for a while and there’s not much else to do with her. I just come out here every once in a while…dust her off…polish her fender. Since I’m going to be off work for the next few weeks, I could use a new project.”

I straightened and regarded him over the hood. “Yeah?”

He nodded.

“Only if you let me help you,” I said. “I’m interested. I’d like to learn.”

“Sure.”

I felt a sudden rush of excitement. Returning my attention to the Buick, I ran a finger along the shiny door handle. “Can I get in?” I asked.

“Go ahead. It’s open.”

Simultaneously, we opened both doors. Alex got into the driver’s seat and I got in beside him. We shut the doors and sat there. I checked out the vintage dash and looked up at the ceiling.

“How long have you had it?” I asked.

“Forever. It belonged to my dad. It was his first car. He bought it when he was seventeen and never parted with it. It’s my favorite memory of being with him as a kid. I remember how he used to take me and my sister to the race track on Saturdays. He’d bet on the horses while Sarah and I would run off to a creek on the far side of the track behind the stables. We used to catch frogs and tadpoles. When he died, Mom put the car in storage and I didn’t see it for nearly two decades. A few years ago, I finally went down to the facility and got it out, started to put some work into it. Garry was helpful. He taught me a lot. You should have seen it before.”

“You did a great job. I wonder what it’s worth now. Probably a lot.”

“I have no idea,” Alex said, “but it doesn’t really matter because I’ll never sell it. Someday I’ll give it to my son.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What if you have a daughter?”

He thought about that for a moment. “Then I suppose she’ll be the one to get the keys on her sixteenth birthday.”

I laughed. “You’d trust a sixteen-year-old to drive this priceless heirloom?”

He considered that as well. “You’re right. What am I thinking? Maybe I should just get a giant glass case to store it in.”

We sat for a moment in silence, contemplating things.

“Do you ever take it out on the road?” I asked.

“I have, but not often,” he replied, palming the wheel. “I’ll tell you what—when I get this cast off, I’ll take you out cruising on a Friday night. We’ll go for ice cream.”

“I’d love that.”

As I leaned my head back on the seat and smiled across at him, I was struck by a clear and vivid image of my future—but it wasn’t what you’re thinking.

The premonition caught me off guard and I was confused by it. I won’t tell you what it was. Not yet, because I don’t want you to feel as if this story is flying off the rails.

Chapter Eight

Alex and I began to see each other regularly after our lunch date at his parents’ house, where we sat for over two hours in the front seat of the Buick, talking about life, work, movies…you name it.

I met his mother when she came home at five o’clock. Her name was Jean and she was a lovely woman with an infectious laugh. She asked me to come for a barbeque that weekend, and I graciously accepted her invitation.

Because I was working a lot of evening shifts that week, I was able to visit Alex in the afternoons. That’s when we began working on my Mustang. He ordered some replacement parts for it online and took care of some rust spots for me.

Through our mutual interest in restoring the car, we began to explore the vintage car community online. There were all sorts of clubs and rallies and chat rooms where we found answers to many of our questions and curiosities.

The attraction between us continued to grow, and by the end of the week, I surrendered to his overtures. Before I knew it, we were making out like a couple of teenagers in the back seat of his Buick. When we heard his mother pull into the driveway that day, we had to scramble out of there in a hurry. It was the most fun I’d had since…

Well, I couldn’t remember when.

* * *

Thankfully, I received no more phone calls from the mysterious “Private Caller,” but something else happened when I returned home from the barbeque at Alex’s parents’ house on Saturday night.

I unlocked my front door, entered and dropped my purse and keys on the chair. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning but I was wide awake because of my work schedule, so I turned on the TV, then kicked off my flip flops and went to get a glass of water.

As I was filling my glass at the sink, something drew my gaze to the back door. The window beside it was open.

A fireball of panic exploded in my belly—because I was certain I hadn’t opened it that day.

Swallowing uneasily, I shut off the water and set my glass down on the counter. My gaze darted to the knife block. I moved toward it and pulled out the eight-inch chef’s blade with the pointy tip.

Holding it at my side, I strained to detect any noise in the house. All I heard were the actors’ voices on
Law and Order
, and I wished I’d turned on
The Simpsons
instead.

My pulse raced as I crossed the kitchen to the back hall and moved quietly to check both bedrooms. I searched my own room first—looked under the bed and inside the closet—then I checked the guest bedroom which doubled as a place to store all my junk. The closet was clear and there was no one hiding behind the shower curtain in the bathroom either.

Nevertheless, my heart was still pounding like a drum, and I held the knife in a deathlike grip at eye-level as I moved through the house.

Oh, God
. I had to check the basement next.

I really didn’t want to go down there and thought about calling the police instead. But honestly…by then I wasn’t sure… Maybe I
did
open the window that day. I might have done it without thinking because I’d been distracted lately, thinking about Alex.

Oh, screw it
. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed his number.

“Hi, sorry to call so late.”

“No problem,” he said. “What’s up?”

In my panic, I was breathing heavily. “I know this sounds crazy, but I came home to find the kitchen window wide open, and I’m totally freaked out. I didn’t think I left it like that when I came over to your place, but I might have. I just checked the house and there’s no one here and nothing seems to be missing, but I feel like I should check the basement, and it’s dark and scary down there.”

“Shit,” he said. “If I didn’t have this cast on, I’d come right over. Want me to call David? He’s at the station tonight which isn’t far from your place. He could be there in five minutes.”

“Yes, please,” I said. “Will he mind?”

“No, he’ll love it,” Alex replied. “Don’t hang up. I’ll call him from the land line.”

“Okay.” I didn’t like being in the house alone when someone might be hiding in my basement, so I hurried to the front door to wait outside on the step.

I listened to Alex call David and was relieved when he told me David was on his way.

Chapter Nine

“Thanks so much for coming,” I said, rising from the deck chair on my front step. “I’m really sorry Alex had to call you. I feel like an idiot.”

“It’s no problem,” David replied, stepping out of his Jetta and quietly pushing the car door closed. “It was time for my break anyway.”

I held my cell phone up to my ear again. “Alex? David’s here now. I’ll call you back later.”

“No, I’ll stay on the line,” he replied, “just in case David gets jumped.”

“You’re joking, right?” I asked.

“Of course,” he replied, but I sensed that he wasn’t.

I hadn’t seen or spoken to David since that first day when he brought Alex to the ER, so it felt strange to have him here after dark on a Saturday night, taking care of this for me.

I opened the door and followed him inside. “The basement is this way.” I led him to the door, opened it and flicked on the lights.

We both peered down the steps. “Basements are creepy on the best of days,” he whispered. “Do you have a baseball bat or something?”

“Um…” I glanced around. “How about a frying pan?”

“That’ll do.”

I tiptoed to the dish rack, picked up my square-shaped, cast-iron skillet with grill ribs and handed it to him.

“I just gave David a frying pan to use as a weapon,” I whispered into the phone, wanting to give Alex a play-by-play report.

“Don’t tell him that,” David whispered to me. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He started down the steps. “Should I come with you?” I asked.

“No. Stay here and call 911 if I start screaming.”

“Did you hear that?” I whispered into the phone.

“I heard it,” Alex replied.

David reached the bottom of the stairs and disappeared from view. My heart raced the entire time while I listened to the sound of him moving around down there, no doubt checking every nook and cranny.

A moment later he came up the steps with the frying pan at his side. “All clear, but I think you might have a mouse problem. I saw some droppings behind the furnace.”

“Really?” My shoulders relaxed at the news that there was no intruder, but I wasn’t thrilled to learn there were rodents scurrying around in my basement.

“Do you have any traps?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” I pulled open the junk drawer in my kitchen and dug around at the back. “Here…found some. These are old, but they should still work.”

I handed them to David and he pulled them out of the plastic wrapper.

“These are good. Got any cheese?” I fetched some out of the fridge, cut a few small pieces and handed them to him. “I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing down the basement stairs again.

Suddenly I realized I’d left Alex waiting on the phone. “Are you still there?” I asked him.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“He found mouse droppings.”

“Better than Freddy Krueger,” he replied.

I laughed. “Don’t say that. Now I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.”

“You can always come over here if you’d be more comfortable,” he said.

“To your parents’ house? That would be kind of weird, wouldn’t it?”

“No. You could sleep in the guest room.”

I listened to David poking around in the basement, setting the traps. Then he came back up.

“That’s tempting,” I said to Alex, “but I’ll be fine. I’ll make sure all the doors and windows are locked when David leaves. Thanks for your help. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“No problem,” Alex replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

David flicked off the lights in the basement. “All clear,” he said, “but you should check those traps once a day to see if you catch anything.”

“I will. But listen… Before you go, would you mind checking the bedrooms for me? I’ll rest easier if you do.”

“Sure.”

David made a full sweep of the house and found nothing, then he took a flashlight out to the backyard and searched everywhere, behind the shrubs in the garden and under the deck.

Afterward I walked him to the door and thanked him again.

“Anytime,” he said.

I watched him back out of the driveway, then hunkered down on the sofa to watch TV.

* * *

At 5:00 a.m., I woke up and glanced at the clock on my bedside table. Feeling groggy and ill at ease—enough to make my stomach churn—I slipped out of bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom.

I flicked on the light, approached the mirror and frowned at my reflection beneath the eerie fluorescent glow. My eyes grew wide and I sucked in a breath of ice-cold terror, because there were handprints around my neck…

Gasping for air, I sat bolt upright on the sofa. All the lights were on in the living room, and an infomercial was playing on TV.

I touched a hand to my throat. “It was just a dream.”

Then I reached for my phone to check the time. It was only 4:00 a.m. Still dark out.

Lying back on the sofa, I closed my eyes and cupped my forehead in a hand.

Living alone had never bothered me before. In fact, I’d always felt rather proud of myself for becoming a homeowner at the age of twenty-five, but this was ridiculous.