by Jette Harris
“I take it this wasn’t a personal call,” Steyer said.
“I couldn’t tell.”
Steyer raised his brow. “I beg your pardon?”
Remington looked anxious. “Sam’s flying down.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Why?” His voice was harsher than he had intended.
“She said it was to pitch relocation services. She’ll be visiting the house tomorrow afternoon.”
“But…”
“But?”
“You said, ‘She said’ as if you didn’t believe her.”
Remington started to grind his teeth.
“Stop.”
“She mentioned staying through to the weekend and getting married in the courthouse.”
Steyer closed his eyes and sighed. He turned to stare at the front door, then bounced his fist against Remington’s shoulder. “At least you’re never without a nice suit.”
Remington gave a nervous laugh and sighed.
“You’re going to have to go out of your way to conceal your relationship,” Steyer said in a low voice. “We have no idea what the Phoenix is willing to do to compromise this investigation.”
“Really, we have no idea where this guy is right now. He could be home by now, on the other side of the country.”
Steyer shook his head. “I am fairly confident he’s still here. Very close.”
“What makes you say that? His confession of love?”
“His behavior is consistent with a schism.”
“A schism?” Remington furrowed his brow. “Like multiple personalities?”
“No, no, nothing like that. He is aware of his own actions, and most likely aware of the change in his behavior. But… there’s no way of telling how dramatic the change will be without talking to the man.”
“Or waiting.”
Steyer shook his head and lowered his voice. “I’m afraid Heather won’t survive the wait.”
Heather’s limbs were heavy. The drugs made her feel weak and listless. Her mind twitched from one train of thought to another as she gazed through a gap in the curtain, but it kept returning back to I’m not sure if I like feeling like this. She didn’t know how long she had been lying like that, but it must have been hours. The stars shined obscenely bright.
She blinked. When she opened her eyes again, the room didn’t seem so dark and the TV downstairs had gone quiet.
The stars were gone.
A charge like electricity spread through her muscles. The stars are gone. The curtain’s moved. He’s here. He’s behind me. He’s come in through the window.
She went rigid, afraid even to breathe. The room was silent. Nothing moved.
The window was locked. And it’s not like he could climb over you while you were sleeping. Stoned or not, you would notice that.
Despite the voice of reason, the fear didn’t fade. Panic continued to hold her paralyzed.
He’s not there. Just turn your head and look. Her body did not respond to the command.
Just act like you’re stirring in your sleep.
She still couldn’t move.
OK… OK… start small.
She twitched her fingers, and, as if she were coming out from under a spell, the charge faded from her limbs. Although fear still gripped her, she took a deep breath and turned her body as she would if she were turning in her sleep.
The room was empty, but the fear didn’t fade.
5
04 June 2006
Sunday
Sunlight flooded the room as if the lights were on. Although Heather had long surpassed the point where she could get back to sleep, she stayed curled under her blankets. She had emerged just long enough to slip a book of poems by Sylvia Plath off the shelf. She flipped through it listlessly until she reached The Colossus. The book left a conspicuous little dent in the drywall when she flung it across the room.
It was far too close to home.
A few hours later, Grandpa’s voice drifted up the stairs, followed by footsteps. His tone was odd, like he was speaking to a—
“Heather?” There was a tap on her door.
“Yeah?”
“Someone’s here to see you.”
A child’s voice said something softly. Heather shot up, muscles protesting.
“Hold on! I’ll be right there!” She snatched up some faded jeans and a baggy t-shirt, and struggled to pull them on without her shoulder hurting. The bandages on her wrist seemed bright as neon. She dug into a bin of gloves and socks, pulling out a pair of evening gloves. She tore them off as soon as she pulled them over her wrists. They looked ridiculous and the bandages were still visible underneath.
“I’ll be right out!”
Peering under the bandages, she decided the best course of action could be to cut them off. The scabs were pale and peeling, only some redness around the stitches betraying her self-mutilation. They were far less noticeable than the bandages themselves.
Tech and the child spoke softly out on the landing. Sterling or Xavier would have come to the window, as Sterling had the other day. Devin was far too young; She prayed it wasn’t him waiting on the other side. She could hear a boy speaking with a pitched, inquisitive tone.
When she opened the door, David, the second-youngest Shatterthwaith, was squirming, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he had to use the bathroom. Tech stood behind him. She did her best to smile, but he gaped up at her.
“How did you get here?”
In the dim light of the hall, she could barely see the scars knotting up his neck and face, from the dog attack that caused his crippling agoraphobia. “I… walked.”
“All the way across the yard?” Pride stirred in her chest as he nodded. “You weren’t afraid?”
His nodding grew more enthusiastic. “Yes, I was. But I said… What would Heather do?”
Tech chuckled. Something snapped in Heather’s chest, like her heart breaking. To hide the tears rising in her throat, she knelt down and held out her arms, careful to keep her wrists down—not that a six-year-old would understand. David hesitated before running to her and wrapping his arms around her neck. She panicked for an instant as his shoulder choked her, but she wrapped her arms around his little body and shifted him aside.
“I knew you’d come home,” he whispered, voice cracking.
A sob wracked her body. “Does your mother know you’re here?”
“Uh…”
“David!” She pulled away.
“I told her I wanted to invite you over, just not that I was going to…”
She groaned and took his hand.
“Want me to walk you over?” Tech asked.
Heather hesitated, remembering those heavy boots crossing their lawn, but shook her head. “You can watch from the porch if you want. I don’t want to overwhelm Lauri with everyone showing up at her front door.”
“Be safe.” He touched her arm like he was unsure that he could touch her. She patted his hand.
As soon as they stepped off the front porch, David pressed himself against her leg and needed to be pushed along. He was just tall enough for her to put a hand on his shoulder.
Sean Shatterthwaith sat on the roof of his porch, just outside the window of the room he shared with Lauri. David didn’t see him, but as soon as Sean caught sight of his second-youngest, he crushed his cigarette out, spritzed himself with something, and ducked into the window. He made it to the front door just as they did.
“Heather! Heather… Hey, Heather…” Sean had never been a man of eloquence unless he was cracking a joke or being sarcastic, but he didn’t look to be in the joking mood: he had deep circles under his eyes that made them look bruised against his pasty skin. He had always been pale, but now he looked even more so. Even his bright red hair looked dull.
“I’m gonna tell Mom you’re here.” David dragged her into the living room and shot past his father.
Heather smiled, but her throat was too tight to speak.
Sean nodded, understanding. After a tight-lipped moment, he opened his arms and flicked his hands.
Hugging him was painful. And he stank.
“You smell like strawberries and cream cigarettes,” she muttered. He coughed a laugh. After a long, sobering silence, he took a deep breath.
“Is it… better to come home broken, or not to come home at all?”
After all the coddling, his frankness felt like exactly what Heather needed. “I’m leaning toward the latter at the moment.”
He sighed. His body felt like it was unwinding under her arms, like he had just given himself permission to relax. He pulled away and nodded with a smirk. “But the worst part is over now. It’s all just… finished.”
No. No, it’s not. “I hope so.”
“Heather, sweetheart—” Lauri emerged from the kitchen just in time to see Heather flinch at the epithet. “Honey, does your grandfather know where you are?”
Heather chuckled. “Yeah, he’s on the porch. I was just bringing David home.”
Lauri’s brow shot up with shock. “Obviously, we need to have a word with them…” She gave Sean a look.
“I’ll go count heads.” He patted Heather’s arm, sending little jolts up her shoulder, and trudged toward the back.
“Let me take a look at you.” Lauri gestured for Heather to lift her arms. Heather complied, biting her lip. Lauri sighed as if someone had not been doing their job. “Are you hungry? Want a PBJ?”
“No, I’m on a… a strict eating schedule.” Any other explanation would have been rejected. As it was, Lauri’s eyes narrowed as if she were either questioning Dr. Scarrott’s orders or she had seen straight through Heather’s lie. She eyed her emaciated frame.
“Well, do me a favor on the way out.” She led Heather into the kitchen and handed her a platter of grapes and carrots. “Carry this out to the patio. I’ll be out as soon as I’m done cutting apples.”
“Sure thing.”
As Heather carried the platter toward the back door, she paused to pop a juicy-looking grape into her mouth. After the hospital food, she had been thirsting for fruit. She eyed the carrots as well.
“She did that on purpose…” she muttered.
The back yard was not as noisy as it usually was when all the kids were out back. Xavier and Sterling—now the eldest, Heather reflected ruefully—stood a few feet opposite one another in the shallow end of the pool. Devin, the youngest, swam back and forth between them with an uncoordinated doggy paddle. When he saw Heather, he squealed and paddled to the edge of the pool.
“No, Devin, wait!”
Sterling didn’t reach the edge of the pool before Devin had pulled himself out. Heather almost dropped the platter as his wet little body collided with her legs, soaking her jeans through.
With a dramatic sigh, Xavier climbed out. He took the platter from Heather and set it on the picnic table. He turned to gaze at her. Heather rubbed Devin’s back, giving Xavier time. His face slowly fell as Devin began to cry. With a sniffle, Xavier turned abruptly and went inside. Heather’s throat tightened, but she couldn’t blame him.
“Mom’s gonna whoop you for dripping on the floor!” David yelled.
“Xavier!”
Heather sighed. Almost normal… With one exception… She looked around as if Monica would be spread across one of the pool chairs, looking glamorous in huge sunglasses and a bikini. She wasn’t. Devin looked up, face covered in tears and snot.
No, it’s never going to be normal again.
“Sorry, he’s been such a crybaby.” Sterling picked him up. He hugged her neck as she carried him to the picnic table.
“I don’t blame him.” Heather felt a crushing sense that Sterling was trying to avoid her, only less obvious than Xavier.
David came running out in swim trunks. “Go get your bathing suit! Let’s play chicken!”
His request was so far outside the realm of possibility, Heather laughed. He frowned. “Sweetie, I can’t swim, I have…” Stitches. Lots and lots of stitches. “…scratches.”
His hand flew to the scars on his neck. “Oh…”
“They’re not bad.” The experience was much worse than the injury. “I just can’t swim with them.”
“Then you can watch me swim! I can touch the bottom now!”
With a shriek that made Heather wince, he jumped in. She held up her hands against the splash. David squirmed toward the bottom with one hand outstretched and one pinching his nose. She ran to the edge of the pool and stared down, heart pounding, ready to dive in at any signs of distress.
He tapped the bottom, spun, and kicked his way back up. She sighed with relief when he broke the surface and smiled up at her. She clapped gently.
“Very good!”
“Now stay under and count to a hundred!” Sterling called.
“OK!” David grabbed his nose and took a deep breath.
“Sterling!” Lauri pushed out the back door with a bowl of apple slices. Heather snagged one as she passed to the picnic table. Sterling stuffed one in Devin’s mouth, and he quieted.
“But Mom, I can do it!” David protested.
“Count to a hundred?”
“No! I mean, yes, but I mean—”
“You can drown yourself when I’m not here, but right now, you are to keep your head above water.” She turned to give Sterling a look. “And don’t tease your brother.”
Sterling rolled her eyes. Heather came over, but before she could sit down, Lauri looked her over, brow furrowed.
“Did you jump in?”
Heather looked down at herself. The front of her jeans were dark with water. Her shirt had large wet streaks across it and the shirttail was soaked from Devin’s hair. “I just got a very wet welcome.”
Lauri sighed. She turned Heather around and steered her back into the house. “If I send you home dripping wet, Tech will never forgive me…” She ushered her upstairs. “Up. Throw all that in the laundry. I’ll find you something from… find you something.”
Heather stayed rooted to the top of the stairs. She had been in this house countless times: playing, babysitting, studying. It didn’t look any different than it had before, but it felt… empty. All of the doors were wide open in a child-like fashion, except one: Monica’s room. She ducked her head, expecting the room to burst open and scream at her for her part in its emptiness, and closed herself into the bathroom.
She pressed her ear against the wood and heard Lauri open Monica’s door.
Heather undressed slowly, taking her time to reveal her scars to the home she had loved, hoping they would atone for her responsibility. She tossed her clothes in the laundry basket on top of the washing machine. It was already piled with all the clothes she had given to Sterling. She stood before the mirror in her underwear, her hips so sharp, they threatened to cut her panties, and her bra ridiculously unnecessary. Her skin was so marred, scarred, and bruised, she felt the urge to peel it off.
The door opened. Heather froze, not wanting Lauri to see more of the damage than she already had. But Xavier stepped in and froze, eyes shooting impossibly wide. Heather snatched a towel from off the counter and held it over her body. It barely covered her torso.
Xavier opened his mouth in slow motion, his eyes glued to Heather’s legs. “Is… is that a bite mark?” His pale skin went slightly grey.
“Xavier!” Lauri cried.
He flinched but didn’t move until she pulled him back. He raised his hand to point. “Is that… Did…”
Heather felt sick too. Hugging the towel to her chest, she sank down and leaned heavily against the vanity. “He didn’t… It wasn’t…”
“Go downstairs.” Lauri turned him away.
“I think I’m gonna be sick.” He shot downstairs.
Heather wanted to tell him it wasn’t the same for his sister. He didn’t beat her (as badly), didn’t have to force himself (every time), but she couldn’t. She choked on the words. Lauri hurried in and knelt by her side. She bundled up a shirt and sli
d it over her head.
“Come on, one arm,” she said softly, holding the sleeve open. Heather obediently slid her arm through.
“What—” Sean peered into the bathroom and promptly walked away.
“Other arm.” She raised her left arm gingerly, and Lauri pulled the sleeve down to meet it. They repeated the process with a pair of cargo pants.
“It wasn’t the same,” Heather sobbed in a small, tight voice.
“What’s that, honey?”
She covered her mouth and shook her head. “It wasn’t the same… for Monica. It wasn’t as bad.”
“Oh, Heather… You don’t have to…”
lie.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“But I was bad. I was so bad. And she wasn’t… she…” Her voice dissolved in tears. Lauri bundled her into her arms and rocked her.
“It’s OK. I understand. I understand. They’ll understand.”
Heather shook her head. She didn’t want them to understand, not really.
“I do not approve of this.” Agent Steyer held up a set of car keys. A slow smile crossed Heather’s face. “The Phoenix has your original key chain, so we had it re-keyed.”
She held out her hands, and he dropped the keys into her palm, For the past several days, she felt like she was just swapping one prison for another: the House, the hospital, and finally home. Now she was aching to venture out, as much as the idea scared her.
“This is a great risk you’re taking.”
Her face fell.
“I’d prefer you take an officer with you, or one of us.”
Heather sighed and opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand.
“I understand. I just don’t approve.”
“I’m just going to Best Buy to pick up some DVDs I ordered.”
Steyer slipped his hands in his pockets and studied her. “Do you have your cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“Which Best Buy?”
“Dallas and Mars Hill.”
“Drive time?”
“Ten to fifteen minutes.”