He left the room, shutting the door behind him and walked across to the glassed-in porch. The drafting table sat squarely in front of him when he opened the door. He stepped down on the sagging floor, feeling it give and bend underfoot. He looked around at the bare shelves and the decayed and falling apart window blinds. A few tubes of HB and 2B lead had been left behind in a drawer. In another, he found a malleable eraser and a broken ruler.
There’s still a story here.
He tried to imagine something to fit the space, but all he could think about was the fire and Gin. Instead, he took pictures of each thing that caught his interest, then went and did the same in every room of the house. Anything that gave him even the slightest hint of inspiration he took a picture of. He half limped back to his makeshift desk, uploading it all to his laptop.
I need to do the same thing at the graveyard and the railroad tracks.
He stood again and hobbled to the door, opening it and peering out through the screen. The old woman was asleep in her rocker, the glittering glass of the bottles shimmering back at him. He turned toward the railroad track to the south, lifting his right foot and twisting it a bit. It throbbed a little when he did it too much, but the lure of doing a little more wandering called at him.
A little jumpy, he went back to the bedroom and dressed in something for walking, wrapping up his ankle again just in case. He ventured out, heading back toward the ruins of the house beside the tracks, taking pictures along the way. He took many inside the building before walking along the tracks, again stopping at the two old cars and taking a few shots there.
His phone rang as he turned to walk back. He peered at the screen, shielding it as best he could from the strong gray light of the gloomy day.
Unknown caller.
He frowned at it but answered.
“Hello?”
Silence popped and cracked back at him.
“Hello?”
A muffled voice made noises, but no words. He frowned at it and closed the call. The little jingle and vibration for an incoming text made him stop and again squint at the screen.
Unknown contact.
He tapped it. Garbled nonsense appeared, broken up as if words, spelled out in not only letters but also symbols and numbers. He frowned and blocked the number, standing there a moment, listening to the faint wind. The air had become noticeably cooler.
Lost in his thoughts he walked along the railroad tracks toward the house.
Should make a little drive to the cemetery. Get more photos.
He turned the corner at the driveway to the house and stopped in his tracks.
“Mister Tilman! Ah, good. I was worried you were avoiding me.”
Ben leaned against his car, parked beside Quinn’s.
“I know I said our business was done,” he said. “But I got a little nagging feeling and thought perhaps I should check up on you.”
He eyed Quinn with curious eyes.
“Anything strange happen today?”
Quinn glared back at him.
“Yeah,” Ben said. “I see it in your eyes. Just keep in mind, she’s trying to warn you.”
“By setting the house on fire?”
Quinn marched past him, anger making him forget the pain in his ankle.
“She’s showing you the dangers of not seeing the signs by showing you what she experienced.”
“She didn’t live in this house, Mister Maetters.” Quinn glared back at him.
Ben laughed a little, looking away.
“You know the history then.”
“Yes,” Quinn said. “It’s part of what I do.” He again stared back at Ben over his shoulder. “I ask questions.”
“But still, it’s all she knows to do.”
Quinn huffed and unlocked the front door. Without asking, Ben caught the screen door before it could close and entered behind him. Quinn sighed, rolling his eyes.
Ben tilted his head to the side as Quinn grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge.
“There’s something that’s not common knowledge,” Ben said. “Something that you should know.”
He walked over and sat in the chair Quinn used to write, looking over his workplace.
“As you are who you are,” Ben said. “And the kind of man you are.”
“What are you getting at?”
“You’re an adulterer. You have no issue cheating on your own wife and have actively convinced women to cheat on their husbands.” Quinn puffed up, red-faced. “Granted, every married woman you leech yourself to is unhappy. All of them needing the illusion of love you provide, if only until you get bored of them. So for that alone, obviously, you provide a service, in your own way.” He sighed. “But over a hundred years ago, a man like you latched onto Miranda.”
“I think I’ve heard enough.”
Ben chuckled.
“Of course,” he said. “Then let me get right to the point. Miranda was murdered. Boarded up in the house and left to burn. The visions of fire you see, they’re hers. Everyone believes she got confused in the fire and died because she couldn’t find the door.” He shook his head. “Not true. Harmond boarded it up. It was coming. Fast. She was asleep and he’d been called to help. His rage… He was a very quiet man. He handled it his way, under the cover of the fire. It worked too well. So well his own conscience is what finally did him in. First, he couldn’t bring himself to build on the same spot, then he was seeing things and not getting much sleep and finally about eight years after the fire, he overdosed. Died in his sleep. No note. Just gone.”
“So how do you know all this?”
Ben flashed his shining smile at Quinn.
“It’s my job, Mister Tilman,” he said. “She’s giving you warnings. She’s telling you to get out.”
“I’m only here for two more months. Just two months. If you’ll all let me do my work-”
Ben laughed.
“If you were here just doing your work, Mister Tilman, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.”
Quinn threw the bottle of water into the sink as hard as he could. It spun in the curve and bounded back out, dropping on the floor with a hard thud.
“Get the fuck o-”
He turned to the table. No one was there.
He staggered backward a few seconds before running to the front door, staring out at the driveway. Only his own car sat there, the faint cool breeze twisting at the small shrubs beside it. He closed his eyes and just breathed.
The woman across the street was talking. He looked in her direction, his mind racing. She chatted conversationally as if someone stood in front of her. He strained to hear her words but caught nothing. He staggered backward, closing the door.
“Am I going crazy?” He looked around the room, paranoia creeping into him. “Maybe I do need to move somewhere else.”
He stared down where Ben had sat.
“Am I inventing this in my head? Did any of this really happen?” He rubbed his face and dropped hard in his chair. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
His head ached. He looked at his phone, staring at the names.
A spider crawled across the table, just at the edge of his vision.
Chapter 19
IDEALIZE, DEVALUE, DISCARD
Trembling and very shaken up, Quinn got in the car and drove to the church. Lily had already left for the day. Only Dan and a few other parishioners were still there.
“You look like you’re in need of counsel Quinn,” Dan said. He walked up and patted Quinn’s shoulder as he shook his hand.
“I think I’m going out of my mind, Dan.”
“Need to talk?”
“I don’t know.” Quinn swallowed. He glanced around them. A few older ladies were cleaning up from some sort of meeting. An elderly man was working on a bit of wiring at the front. He lowered his voice. “I think I’m going crazy.”
“Come with me.”
Dan led him into a hall and down into a small office, shutting the door beh
ind them. The room was very clean and plain, with only a single poster of a sunset on the wall in a plastic frame. Fluorescent lighting made it seem stark and cold.
“Have a seat.”
Both of them sat on a pair of matching dusty blue couches, facing each other.
“So what’s troubling you, Quinn.”
Quinn let his head drop to his chest.
“Everything you say here will be kept just between us, alright?”
“I’m seeing things that aren’t there, Dan.” Quinn frowned at him. “Fire. People. Hearing sounds. I don’t know. I think I’m losing it.”
“Have you had anything traumatic happen lately?”
Quinn felt himself sink.
“My wife kicked me out. Right before I left to come here.”
“That’s dreadful.”
“We’ve had some trouble for a long time.” He winced. “A big event for my daughter came up and she asked me not to go.”
“Ah well, that’s when things get difficult in families. Stress on everyone. Not just the adults. How old is she?”
“Fourteen. She’s a lot like her mother. Headstrong. Determined. Ambitious.”
“Things that attracted you to your wife, no doubt.”
Quinn half-smiled.
“Partially, I guess. She wasn’t happy with the man she was with at the time. So I came along and swooped her off her feet. Gave her twenty years.”
“What caused the breakup?”
Quinn shrugged.
“My wife is too ambitious. I spent a lot of nights by myself while she was away for work. And-”
“Temptation arose.”
“You could say that,” Quinn said. He leaned forward, motioning with his hands. “Look, things happened. They do that. And well-”
“She found out.”
Quinn drooped.
“Yeah,” he said in a small voice.
“So now you’re paying for crimes against your marriage,” Dan said. He shrugged. “My advice would be to apologize. To swear up and down that you will never do it again, and Quinn…”
Quinn peered up at him.
“That means sticking to that promise,” Dan said. “You go back on it even once after that, you shatter everything. It will never be the same again.”
Too late for that Dan. About fifty times too late.
He nodded as Dan got up and patted his back. There was a knock at the door.
“You’ve caught me at kind of a bad time. I have a meeting coming up in a few minutes,” he said. “But if you need to talk more, please, come back in an hour.”
Quinn nodded.
“Thank you, Dan.”
“You’ll get through this, Quinn. I’ll gather some things to share with you when you come back.”
Quinn nodded again and stood.
***
Quinn left the church feeling mostly disgusted.
That was a waste of time.
He pulled out of the church parking lot and sat there at the intersection for a long moment. Steeling himself, he turned the opposite way.
***
He cruised through Lily’s neighborhood slowly, studying the families, the houses, the perfect little yards, the clear and clean streets. It felt so clinical, so artificial.
Cookie-cutter lives.
He pressed the brakes as some teen boys ran out, collecting their basketball, the thump of their loud music blaring as he passed.
He drove down each of the four streets, steering clear of her house, until the very last turn. He saw it there, at the far end, staring back at him. He took a deep breath and pushed the gas.
You were almost perfect, Lillian Barnett. A little more time with me and you’d have lost your pristine veneer. Your loss, love.
He stopped the car just at her driveway. She was at home. He thought about honking the horn, making her look, making her see him there, but instead decided to let fate decide if she would look or not.
See me, Lily. Wonder why I’m here. I’ll wedge into your mind. You’ll worry about what I’m up to.
He laughed a little to himself, though a little hint of sadness crept in. Before it could take hold, he deliberately spun tires, making a black half-circle in front of her house and sped away, almost daring someone to step out in the road.
***
He drove to the store. Seeing Tamara’s car there, he parked and went in. Billy stood at the register. A gasp erupted from the back of the room. Quinn turned toward the noise.
“Hey man,” Billy said. “She don’t wanna see you.”
“I’m just here to buy some water.”
He stomped to the back of the store, seeing Tamara cowering behind one of the shelves. He moved closer to her, but not close enough to spook her.
“Hi angel,” he whispered.
“Don’t talk to me.”
“I miss you, baby.”
“Shhh.”
He breathed in deep.
“You’ve been smoking again.”
“What do you care? Leave me alone.”
“Angel, I-”
“You messed around with Megan. Don’t talk to me.”
“It was only on the phone, angel. Nothing like what you and I have. I was lonely. I couldn’t talk to you.”
She sniffled.
“Come on angel,” he whispered.
He slipped slowly around the aisle. She crouched by a box of canned goods. He reached out and touched the top of her head.
“You’re even beautiful hard at work.”
“Stop touching me, Quinn.”
He stepped closer, hugging her head to him, his eyes on Billy, checking out another customer.
“I only want you, angel.”
She shivered with a deep sigh, her left arm wrapping around his leg.
“But I can’t get away.”
“When do you go on break?”
“I never know. They tell me when I can now. Nothing’s planned anymore.”
“I wait and watch then,” he said.
“You can’t do that,” she said. “They’re watching for you.”
“Then let me do this now.”
He bent down and pulled her hair, tilting her to look up at him. He stared into her eyes.
“The first chance we get, yeah?”
“Okay.”
Her breathless voice made him smile inside. With one last glance at Billy, he kissed her, feeling her tremble and reach out, hugging him.
“Oh, Quinn,” she whispered. “I love you, baby.”
“I know, angel.”
He kissed her again and slipped back to the water. He wrote his number on a slip of paper and reached around the row, handing it to her. She snatched it out of his fingers, kissing his hand.
“Call me when you can, angel.”
He grabbed up a heavy pack of water bottles and marched to the counter.
After he paid and went out to his car, a smug satisfaction dropped over him like a shroud. As he pulled out of the parking lot, Stephen spotted him and made a ward across his chest. Quinn huffed, sneering and shook his head.
***
The gray day still lingered between the threat of rain and the clouds thinning enough to show the sun trying to break through.
He decided to take a chance and go back to the Nock cemetery. He pulled in and parked, remembering the last time he was there, walking arm in arm with Carol. For a moment he remembered her ridiculous scarf and sunglasses but felt a stabbing jar as an image of the shadow box flashed in his mind. The perfectly replicated scarf lying on the bed by the odd, folksy painting of himself. He shook the memory away and got out, squinting up at the temporary brightness in the sky. By the time his eyes dropped to the entrance it was already gloomy again.
He marched in, his ankle hardly hurting at all anymore, pushing open the gates. Inside he wandered around, taking pictures imagining a dozen stories before even getting to the historical section.
As he passed the stone bench where the two of them sat that day, he thought again
about Carol. He went in a little further, stopping in front of her family plot. He took a few photos and stopped, turning to look back toward the bench.
He found her name in his phone and tapped it. It rang only twice.
“Hi, Quinn.”
“Hi, sweetheart. How are things?”
“He’s suffering a bit with the infection, but they think they’ve got it under control.”
“That’s great news.”
“Yeah,” she said. He heard her trying to keep her voice down. “Sonya is trying to claim it was an accident, but she stabbed him three times.”
“Wow,” he said. “How are you holding up?”
She made a little groaning noise in her throat. He heard her walking and closing a door.
“I don’t know, Quinn,” she said. “I’m feeling so guilty.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Think about why he got stabbed.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “It’s stupid.”
“Look, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m walking through the graveyard, taking pictures, and all I can think about is the day you and I talked here. I need to see you. I know you’ve got a lot going on, but…” He sighed. “I really want to hold you.”
“Oh, Quinn.” He heard her voice break.
“I need to look into your eyes. I need to see you’re okay.”
She sniffed.
“Are you crying, sweetheart?”
She cried in earnest then.
“Aww, I’m so sorry, Carol,” he said. “I wish I was there. I wish I could hold you. You want me to come to the hospital?”
“No,” she said. “No. I wish you could, but I just couldn’t bear it.”
“I understand.” He sighed. “I’ll tell you what. Call me when you get home. I don’t care what time it is, I’ll come, okay? I just wanna hold you, sweetheart. Okay?”
She sniffed again. The silence seemed to make the wind pick up, the birds chirp louder.
“Alright,” she said.
“Any time. Seriously, Carol. Any time at all.”
“Okay.”
“You call and I’ll be there before you can blink twice.”
Lasting Shadows Page 23