The Whispered Word

by Ellery Adams

  She grabbed her right hand with her left, hoping to make the sensation go away, but it didn’t stop.

  Nora mounted the stairs. She’d ascended three steps when the odor assaulted her again.

  She realized that what she smelled wasn’t rust. It was another metallic scent.

  The scent of blood.

  Chapter 15

  Out of a gap

  A million soldiers run,

  Redcoats, every one.

  —Sylvia Plath

  “Abilene!” Nora shouted, taking the steps two at a time. “Abilene!”

  The name soared up the stairwell and bounced off the high ceiling. The echo that came back sounded like the scuffling of bats.

  Nora looked up the stairs and saw blood.

  Thin rivulets ran down the steps above her and a glossy red puddle was pooling on the fifth stair from the top.

  What will I do if Ezekiel Crane is on the landing, waiting for me? Nora thought, hesitating.

  She was unarmed and had no way of defending herself.

  But when Nora thought of Abilene, her own vulnerability no longer seemed important. Taking out her phone, she hit the emergency button and continued to ascend the steps.

  The source of the ruddy rivulets was on the landing.

  Nora was too shocked to reply to the 911operator’s questions. The woman asked what kind of assistance she needed, but Nora couldn’t even hold the phone to her ear. Her arm dropped to her side and her lips parted, but she couldn’t speak. She could only expel the extra air in her lungs in a slow, silent sigh.

  There were two people on the landing. One was alive. The other was dead.

  The dead person was a man.

  He was sprawled on the floor, his face turned in profile. Nora tried to process a blur of details. The temple of the man’s black glasses against his silver hair. The neatly trimmed beard and mustache framing his open mouth. Teeth slightly yellowed by age. A blue dress shirt. Khakis. Brown loafers. A gold wristwatch. A glassy blue eye.

  Nora’s gaze fixed on the wound in the man’s side. The shirt was cut near the lower ribs, revealing a red-rimmed gash in the pale flesh. This was where his life had leaked out.

  Not leaked, Nora thought in horror. Streamed.

  Tearing her eyes away from the dead man, Nora looked at the living person.

  Abilene stood directly across from Nora. They were separated by the body—an isthmus of flesh on a sea of dirty tile.

  Abilene looked more marble sculpture than human. She was fish-belly white and completely still. Her back was pressed against the wall and her face was a contorted mask of fear. She held a knife in both hands and stared unblinking at the dead man.

  “Abilene,” Nora whispered.

  There was no response from Abilene, but Nora heard another voice.

  Suddenly remembering the phone in her hand, Nora lifted it to her ear.

  “Ma’am?” the operator said with saintly patience. “Ma’am? Are you there?”

  “I need an ambulance,” Nora said.

  This wasn’t good enough for the operator. She wanted clarification. “What’s the nature of your emergency?”

  “Just send an ambulance.” Even more softly, Nora added, “And the sheriff.” She rattled off the address and hung up.

  Abilene still hadn’t moved and Nora knew she had to get to her.

  Nora shuddered as she stepped over the dead man’s legs. It was jarring to walk over him like he was a piece of roadkill. It was even harder to avoid putting her foot down in the blood seeping from his body.

  When she was close enough to touch Abilene, Nora whispered, “It’s over. It’s over now.”

  Nora didn’t know what to do with her hands. She didn’t dare touch Abilene—not with her death-grip on the bloody knife. In the gloom, it looked like the horn of some dangerous, mythological animal.

  After a very long, very tense moment, Abilene’s gaze slid away from the dead man and came to rest on Nora’s face. She blinked in recognition.

  “There you are.” Nora managed a smile. “It’s okay, Abilene. Come away now. Come with me. We’ll just go into your apartment. Okay?”

  Abilene’s head moved up and down in a mechanical nod, as if her brain was disconnected from her body. She stood there, bobbing her head up and down. Up and down. She didn’t move any other parts of her body.

  “Will you let go of the knife?” Nora asked. “Please?”

  Looking at her hands, Abilene gave a little jump of fright and released the knife. It clattered to the floor.

  Abilene immediately scooped it up again. “I have to hide it.”

  She pushed past Nora, rushed into her apartment, and frantically paced in front of her kitchen cabinets. Then she yanked the oven door open and was about to toss the knife inside when Nora grabbed her by the wrist.

  “Just put it in the sink,” she said. “We can’t hide it.”

  Abilene’s mouth quivered. “I have to. If I don’t, Hester . . .”

  Nora didn’t understand. “What about Hester?”

  The hand gripping the knife violently trembled. “She’ll get in trouble.”

  At that moment, the terrible reality of what had happened struck Abilene like a high-speed train. She pulled in a shallow breath and when she released it, a cry rushed out. It was a primal sound. An animalistic keen that came from the deepest crevice in Abilene’s soul. It was the sound of pain. Years and years of it.

  Guiding Abilene’s hand toward the sink, Nora told her to let go.

  Abilene dropped the knife and sagged against Nora.

  Nora put her arms around the young woman, who felt as hollowed out as the book in Amanda’s house. Abilene sobbed into Nora’s shirt. Her tears dampened the skin of Nora’s neck. Nora stroked her hair and murmured that it was all over now.

  After a time, Abilene grew calmer.

  “What will happen?” she asked.

  Nora heard the ambulance sirens. They were close. Very close.

  June and Hester were probably seconds away as well.

  “Is that your uncle?” Nora pointed toward the landing. She didn’t want to speak his name. If that horrible man was dead, then Nora wanted every part of him to be dead. She didn’t want to grant him an ounce of power by letting his name enter Abilene’s apartment. This was the first and only place she could call her own and Nora wanted to preserve its sanctity for a little longer.

  Abilene made a noise that Nora interpreted as a confirmation.

  “I’m going to take care of everything,” Nora said. “Starting with you.”

  At that moment, she would have given anything for a blanket and a black coffee laced with Irish cream. Abilene was nothing but skin, bone, and shivers. She’d stopped crying, but seemed too weak to stand.

  Nora led her to the futon and had just coaxed her into sitting when she heard a shriek reverberate in the stairwell.

  “Jesus!” Nora crossed the room and whipped open the door. “Don’t come up here!” she shouted down to her friends. Her words ricocheted off the ceiling and walls like gunfire.

  “Where’s that blood coming from?” June yelled back. “What’s going on?”

  Keeping her distance from Crane’s head, Nora leaned over the landing railing. She could see her friends standing in the hallway below.

  Hester had her arm looped through June’s and was staring upward with big, frightened eyes. “Is it Abilene?”

  “No, no.” Nora waved her arms back and forth to dispel the idea. “It’s her uncle.”

  Further conversation was curtailed by the arrival of two paramedics, one of whom was Jed.

  He saw Nora on the landing and bounded up the stairs. Nora didn’t need to warn him about the blood. He came to an abrupt halt before reaching the slick pool on the fifth step.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked Nora.

  She pointed down at the dead man. “No, and he’s already gone. Abilene’s inside. I think she’s on the brink of passing out. She needs a blanket.”

  When Je
d pivoted to speak with his partner, Nora returned to Abilene’s side.

  “Help is here.” She placed her hand over Abilene’s. Her skin was cold to the touch.

  There were noises outside the apartment door. Voices and footfalls on the stairs. Nora’s time alone with Abilene was almost up.

  “People are going to ask you questions,” she said, giving Abilene’s hand a shake to get her to listen. “Lots of questions. But you don’t have to answer them. You don’t have to talk until you’re ready.”

  Abilene didn’t seem to hear her. “When they find the knife, they’ll take Hester away. It’s my fault.”

  Nora didn’t understand this until it dawned on her that Abilene couldn’t afford such a fine culinary tool. “It’s Hester’s knife?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you took it from the bakery?”

  “No!” Abilene’s eyes flew open wide. “I’d never take anything from Hester!”

  Nora was really confused now. “Are you saying that you didn’t use Hester’s knife . . . on your uncle?”

  Abilene shook her head so violently that her hair stuck to her tear tracks.

  “Are you telling me that you didn’t kill him?” Nora stared at her intently.

  “No!” Abilene’s shout came out as a hoarse whisper.

  Nora didn’t think anyone would believe this. She wasn’t sure if she did. When she’d come upon Ezekiel Crane, his body was probably still warm. His life was still leaking out, still dripping down the stairs. How could someone else have killed him?

  There was a forceful knocking on the door and a man’s gruff voice. “Sheriff’s department.”

  Nora turned to see a deputy she didn’t recognize.

  “Ma’am, please take a seat next to the other lady.” Catching sight of the bloodstains on Abilene’s gray sweatshirt, the deputy asked, “Are you hurt?”

  Abilene gazed at her clasped hands and didn’t answer.

  “She’s in shock,” Nora said. “She needs a blanket. Could Jedediah—he’s one of the paramedics—take care of her? Now?”

  A crackle of static burst from the lawman’s radio followed by Sheriff McCabe’s voice. “Is the room secure, Fuentes?”

  Fuentes nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m coming up,” the sheriff said, and the deputy’s radio fell silent.

  Two minutes later, McCabe entered the apartment. He scanned the scene before gesturing to his deputy, and the two men conferred by the door. Nora couldn’t hear their exchange, but she saw Deputy Fuentes point at the sink.

  The sheriff walked into the kitchen area, peered into the sink, and passed a hand over his mouth. He then approached the futon.

  “What happened?” he asked Nora.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “The man on the landing is her uncle. She says she didn’t kill him and I don’t think she can talk right now. She needs medical attention.”

  McCabe walked to the doorway and crooked his finger at whoever was waiting outside.

  Jed strode into the apartment and made a beeline for Abilene. He had his kit in one hand and a blanket in the other. Setting his kit down, he draped the blanket over Abilene’s shoulders. Next, he removed a blood pressure cuff and a package of smelling salts from his kit. He told Abilene where he was going to touch her and why, assuring her that he was there to see to her medical needs and that was all. He asked if she felt any pain. She didn’t respond.

  Nora felt a hand on her shoulder.

  When she turned, Sheriff McCabe gestured at the kitchen area. “Can we talk over there?”

  Deputy Fuentes was already standing in front of the sink, taking photos of the knife. The flash blinked like a strobe light and Nora put her back to the scene.

  McCabe acted like no one else was in the room. He kept his sharp gaze on Nora’s face. “Walk me through what you saw.”

  She told him everything, quickly and quietly. When she was done, she said, “I don’t think you’ll get anything out of her. She’s in a deep state of shock. That man was her jailor for her entire life. And now . . .”

  “He’s dead. Stabbed. He’s outside her door and there’s a bloody knife in her sink.” McCabe spread his hands. “I have to take her in.”

  “She said the knife belongs to Hester,” Nora said. “She also says that she didn’t take it from the bakery.”

  When McCabe’s brows rose, she couldn’t blame him for his disbelief. If Abilene hadn’t stolen the knife and used it to kill her uncle, then who had?

  At that point, Jed came over to update the sheriff on Abilene’s condition.

  “Physically, she’s okay,” Jed said. He tapped his temple. “But up here? She’s checked out. I’m not sure if she can answer questions, let alone understand them.”

  The sheriff glanced at Abilene. His eyes were hard, unyielding. “She’ll have to. Did you use the smelling salts?”

  “No need. She’s conscious and alert. But she’s in shock. She may need a thermal blanket. She’s shivering pretty badly.”

  “Give her the blanket and we’ll warm her up more at the station.” McCabe waited for Jed to move before saying to Nora, “You and Ms. Winthrop need to come too.”

  “You couldn’t keep us away,” Nora said tersely, and hurried over to make promises to Abilene. “You might not see us, but we’ll be there. We won’t leave you.”

  Abilene didn’t react. She just stared at her trembling hands. The blanket hung over her shoulders like a dead animal and Nora readjusted it so that it covered more of her thin torso.

  On the landing, two deputies had begun processing the scene. The strobe sensation of camera flashes was even more disconcerting in the gloom. Nora tried to put her feet exactly where the deputy wanted her to, but she felt detached from her body, like she was floating above the stairwell, completely disconnected from the madness.

  “You’re doing fine,” the deputy said kindly and put his hand under her elbow.

  The touch brought Nora back to herself and she completed her descent.

  Hester, June, and Estella were waiting outside. As soon as they saw Nora, they fired questions at her with the ruthlessness of an invading army.

  Nora threw up her hands as if she could shield herself from the assault. “Slow down! I know you’re all freaking out, but so am I! Get in June’s car. I’ll tell you everything on the way.”

  “The way where?” Hester asked.

  Nora looked at her friend. “To the station. The sheriff is going to interview Abilene about the murder of her uncle. We need to be there for her, but we have to make a stop first.”

  Minutes later, the members of the Secret, Book, and Scone Society stood in front of the wooden knife block on the bakery’s biggest worktable. Hester had turned on every light inside the Gingerbread House, as if illuminating the space would reveal all the answers to her questions. She now stood, arms crossed over her chest, glancing from the knife block to Nora.

  “Do I need a lawyer?” she asked. More questions immediately followed. “Does Abilene? Did you see the knife? Did it have the same black handle as the others? Did you see my initials on the blade? Did you see the HW?”

  Nora hadn’t, but she didn’t want to tell Hester that most of the blade had been covered with blood. The handles matched. Nora was sure of this because the knife-maker’s emblem, two white figures enclosed in a red box, were on the end of every handle. There was no doubt in her mind that the knife used to kill Ezekiel Crane had come from the set in Hester’s kitchen.

  The four women stared at the empty slot in the knife block. The black gash in the wood spelled serious trouble for Abilene, Hester, or both.

  “I’m glad that asshole’s dead,” Estella said, tracing the rounded end of a knife handle with her fingertip. “No matter what, he’ll never hurt anyone again.”

  “No matter what?” Hester cried. “The what in this case is prison. For murder.”

  Estella looked at her blandly. “Sometimes you have to put a monster down. Abilene’s uncle was just like my
stepdaddy. Abuse is abuse. I couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t run. Neither could Abilene. Monsters never leave you. They keep coming.”

  “But we don’t want her trading one prison for another,” June said to Estella before turning to Hester. “Could she have taken the knife?”

  Hope flashed in Hester’s eyes. “No! She couldn’t have! I used it after she’d already left for the day.”

  Confounded, the women glanced around Hester’s kitchen as if the spice jars or saucepans could unravel the riddle of the stolen knife.

  “Could someone have acted like they were heading back to the restroom, but ducked into the kitchen instead? It’s only a door away,” Nora said. “Would you have noticed?”

  Hester took a second to consider this. “Not in the middle of a rush, like when the afternoon train or the lodge trolley arrives. Bigfoot could be in the kitchen and I’d be totally clueless.”

  “That’s got to be it.” June steered Hester toward the empty display cases and positioned her in front of the cash register. “Try to think back to that busy time. Which local folks came in?”

  Flustered, Hester, said, “I don’t know. A few lodge employees. Nick from the hardware store, Lucy from the vet’s office, some lawyers from the courthouse.” She plunged her hands into her hair, grasping at clumps of honey-colored curls. “I’m sure there were more, but their faces blend together. Day after day, it’s sometimes just a blur. I don’t have time to chat during a rush. I just serve and take their money. And repeat.”

  Nora understood. Unless she’d spent a minute or two talking with a particular customer, she couldn’t recite a list of everyone who’d visited Miracle Books on a given day.

  “I wonder if Ezekiel Crane came here looking for Abilene,” she said to her friends. “Maybe he took the knife to use on her. If you were framed for her murder, Hester, he might feel justified. He’d be punishing his ungrateful niece and the woman who helped her at the same time.”

  “If he came in here, I wouldn’t have known it,” Hester said. “I have no idea what he looks like. At Abilene’s, you told us not to come up the stairs, so we didn’t.”

  Nora shared what she’d noticed about Crane’s appearance.