She smiled to take away any sting. “No, I don’t have any siblings—no cousins either. I was an only child of only children. I grew up a real Daddy’s Girl.”
“Wow. Your own bathroom. No sharing the television remote. Must’ve been heaven.”
“No…no, it was very lonely. I think my mother would’ve liked more children, but it wasn’t in the cards—I guess that’s why I could never live up to her expectations.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“That was one reason Ethan and I had Daisy…so Robbie wouldn’t be an only child. I vowed I would never put a child through that…the loneliness of being the ‘only’ of the family. And for a while there, I wasn’t sure I could have another child. Robbie was almost eight before I found out I was carrying Daisy.”
“Was he excited?”
“Oh, yes. More excited than Ethan, I think.” She chuckled. “He was the one who helped me pick out the things for the nursery…chattering on and on about what colors to paint her room, and what kind of mobile to put over the crib. He read several books on being an older sibling, determined to be the best big brother ever. It was so cute…”
Her voice trailed off.
Phillip reached across the table and took her hand.
“I know there’s nothing I can say to take away the pain of a lost child, Brenda, but maybe—”
She shook her head.
“It’s okay. I know…you don’t have to say it.” She glanced around the restaurant to keep herself from crying.
At this time of the morning, it was relatively empty. An old couple sat at a table nearby, conversing softly. They exuded an easy familiarity Brenda envied. I expected to be like that with Ethan someday…
There was a booth full of teenagers sharing a large plate of French fries and laughing over their sodas. Her heart twisted at their easy camaraderie. That could’ve been Robbie in a couple of years.
In the farthest corner of the dining room was a man sitting alone in a shadowed booth. The light bulb in the fixture directly over the booth seemed to be burned out, and it was hard to see the slumped figure.
She frowned. Something about the gaunt shape was familiar. She leaned forward, trying to see him better.
“Is something wrong?” There was a touch of anxiety in Phillip’s voice that she found charmingly endearing. It sent a thrill of warmth through her.
But the man in the corner soon leached the warmth.
“I…I don’t know for sure. Do you see the man over there in the corner?” She bit her lip.
“The one sitting alone?” Phillip turned in his chair to see more clearly.
“Yes, across the dining room. There’s something familiar about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere before.”
“This isn’t that big a town, Brenda. Maybe you’ve run into him at the market or something.” He turned back to her.
“No…that’s not it…oh, my God!”
It suddenly hit her where she’d seen the man before. It was Daisy’s skellyman—the man who’d been staring after their car on the night they went to the movie. The recognition sent a stream of ice water down her spine.
As if on cue, the man raised his head from the contemplation of his coffee cup and met her gaze across the dining room. He bared his teeth in a wicked grin.
“Coming for you,” he mouthed silently. And his eyes flashed crimson.
Chapter 26
“What is it, Brenda? You’re white as a sheet.” Phillip half rose from his chair.
“I-It’s just…that man over there. I thought I saw…” she stammered. “I just…I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” She managed a weak smile. She turned her attention back to her plate, but suddenly the syrupy pancakes had lost their appeal. She pushed the plate away with a grimace of distaste. “Look…I’m not really hungry anymore. Can we just go?”
“Of course.” Phillip signaled for the waitress.
As they waited for the check, Brenda glanced back at the booth where the man had been sitting. It was empty.
It couldn’t be the skellyman, she told herself sternly. How could he have followed me? Besides, nobody’s eyes glow like that…it was just a man… But the fear flaring inside her left her colder than ever.
She couldn’t even convince herself.
She shook herself, awkwardly draping her coat across her shoulders as Phillip pulled his wallet from a jacket pocket and tossed down cash to pay the bill.
He put his arm around her waist and guided her toward the door. As they passed the booth where the “skellyman” had sat, she pulled away from him.
“Just a second,” she told him, stepping over to the table. “I need to see—”
She didn’t know what she expected to see. The table hadn’t been cleaned yet, but all that sat upon it was a cooling cup of coffee.
“Phillip!” she said eagerly, turning to him as inspiration struck her. “That coffee cup—it might have his fingerprints on it.”
“Whose?”
“The man—the one who—”
“Who what, Brenda? What did he do?”
“He…he said he was coming for me,” she mumbled, her face heating.
“He what?” Phillip’s jaw tightened.
She gulped.
“When you turned back around, he grinned at me, and he mouthed that he was coming for me.”
His expression hardened into what she had come to think of as his “cop face.” Signaling the waitress over, he pulled out his badge as she approached.
“I need to take this coffee cup as part of an ongoing police investigation,” he told the puzzled teenager. “I’d be happy to pay for the cost of the cup.”
The blond shook her head, “Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary. If it’s a police matter…”
“Do you have any plastic bags in the kitchen? Something I can use to wrap this in?”
“Uh, sure…let me get you something.” She wandered back toward the kitchen.
Brenda felt her face heating further—I must look like a tomato by now.
“I’m sorry, Phillip. I didn’t mean to make a fuss.”
“No—you’re right,” he reassured her. “It’s a good idea. If this is the guy who’s threatening you, it’s important to know who we’re dealing with. You’re right. There should be fingerprints at least, maybe even DNA—though it takes longer to get results back from those tests than it does on television, so we might catch him before we know if he’s in the criminal database.”
He grinned at her, excitement radiating from him. “This could really be an important lead. It might make it easier to convince the brass that you really do have a problem.”
Her eyebrow lifted.
“Oh? They didn’t believe me before?”
A dusky flush darkened his cheeks this time.
“Well…you gotta admit, it’s a weird case…and we really haven’t had all that much tangible evidence to go on—”
“I suppose the tape from my answering machine just seemed like a prank to them, huh? How do they think I managed that? Do they think I faked the voices on that tape? How? And why? Why would I want to destroy what fragile remnants of my family memories I have left?”
“Brenda—” He reached for her and she stepped back.
“Don’t touch me.” She knew the reaction was unfair, but the thought of the police snickering at her pain started her blood boiling—and Phillip was the only cop she knew.
Just then the waitress reappeared, a plastic grocery bag in one hand.
“This was all I could find.”
“That’ll do nicely,” Phillip assured her, taking it from her with one of his disarming smiles. He wrapped the half-full coffee cup carefully in the plastic. Turning to the hovering waitress, he asked again, “You sure I can’t pay you for the cup?”
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” replied the girl with a dismissive gesture. “At least one or two get broken every nigh
t. It’ll just get charged up to normal breakage.”
“Thanks again.”
While Phillip was chatting with the waitress, Brenda fumed over what he had told her.
So, I am considered a nutcase around the station house, am I? The men in charge think I’m some sort of attention-seeker, do they? They think I’ve done all this myself?
It was a miracle Phillip had paid her any attention whatsoever, then. Or did he really believe her at all? Could it be he was helping her merely because he wanted to get in her pants?
Suddenly she wanted to go home. Or at least back to her parents’ house. Anywhere Phillip wasn’t. It might be childish, but at the moment, she really didn’t want to be with him.
Phillip raised the wrapped cup triumphantly.
“Got the evidence, Brenda.”
“Great,” she replied, with a brittle smile. “You’ll probably want to get that right to the crime lab.”
Phillip frowned. “Is something wrong?” he asked, voice laced with concern.
“I’m just tired, and my arm hurts. I want to go home.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll take you back to my place and go to the lab from there.”
“No. I want to go home—to my house. I think I’ve been overreacting. If the police don’t think there’s anything to worry about, why should I? Besides, your crime team checked it all out, didn’t they? It should be fine now.”
“Brenda—”
“Besides, I have to get home and feed Mask. Poor little thing. I totally forgot about her last night when we left. She’s just a kitten. She’ll be starving. She needs more attention than I’ve been giving her.”
“Fine. I’ll take you home then. I’ll help you straighten up before I run to the lab.”
“No. I’d rather be alone right now.”
Hurt swept across his face and was gone.
“Sure…whatever you want.”
She was silent all the way to the house, nursing a hurt of her own. She felt hollow inside—betrayed…even if it wasn’t really Phillip’s fault.
She had begun to imagine a future with Phillip in it…but if he’d just been humoring her along at the request of—or worse, against the orders of—his superiors, how could she trust anything he said?
It made her heart ache to think about it. She just wanted to curl up in a little ball somewhere and cry her eyes out. Alone again…naturally…she thought with a grimace.
The car pulled into the driveway of her silent house. It looked abandoned in the pre-dawn darkness. She always left the porch light on, but in the flight from the dwelling yesterday—was it only yesterday…?—she must have forgotten.
Phillip turned off the car, sitting for a moment in silence.
“I don’t know what I said, Brenda…but I’m sorry. Whatever I did to hurt you, I’m sorry.”
Brenda shrugged.
“It isn’t important,” she murmured. “I need to get inside.”
Phillip got out of the car.
“Not without me,” he answered firmly. “The crime scene team probably left a mess, and I’m not leaving until I make sure the house is still secure.”
She shrugged indifferently, still nursing the hurt.
He came around the car and opened the door for her.
“You have your keys?”
“Hell…I left my purse at your house. And you gave my keys to the crime scene team anyway.” She felt her face crumple. This was all too much to deal with.
“Do you have a spare key hidden somewhere? Most people do.”
“There used to be one under a fake rock in the flowerbed. I don’t remember if it is still there. Oh, God!” Her right hand flew to her mouth. “That’s how he could’ve gotten into my house!”
Phillip led the way to the front door and squatted down beside the flowerbed. He found the key and cautiously unlocked the door and edged it open.
There was a flicker of movement inside the darkened house, and he swept Brenda behind him, glancing around him for a weapon.
She peeked around his shoulder just as there was a plaintive mew from the hallway.
“It’s just the kitten,” she said, stepping around him and kneeling awkwardly on the porch. “Here, baby,” she crooned to the kitten, holding out her hand.
Mask tentatively stepped forward, nosing at the palm of her hand, then looking up at her with wide eyes. Another tiny mew.
“My poor baby.” Brenda gathered the little cat up and settled her into the crook created by the cast on her left arm. She petted the soft fur with her good hand.
“You need food, I bet, don’t you, darling?”
Mask licked her hand.
“Let’s get inside,” ordered Phillip from behind her, a hand in the center of her back.
Normally, she would have taken exception to the peremptory tone, but now, she was just too tired to care. Getting to her feet, she started toward the darkened interior.
“Let me go in first,” Phillip said, reaching out and stopping her.
She let him precede her into the house, reaching over and clicking on the light in the hallway. The house seemed much less sinister with the mundane light of the hall fixture illuminating it.
Everything was just as the crime squad had left it… Which was to say, a complete and utter wreck. There was print powder dusted everywhere she could see.
From where she stood, she could see the disordered playroom and a glimpse of her tossed bedroom. Hopefully that was the worst of it…she hadn’t checked the garage, or Daisy’s room, or…
Brenda sighed. “It’s going to take me forever to get this place cleaned up.”
“Are you sure you don’t want any help?”
It was tempting to forgive him for being a cop, for humoring her along, for pretending to be her friend…but she hardened her heart. It isn’t worth the help to forgive the humiliation.
“Yes. I’m sure. I’m going to have to figure out how to do things on my own eventually. It’ll be weeks before this darn thing comes off.” She gestured with the broken wrist—forgetting the kitten was sleeping in the crook.
Mask protested, clawing herself upright. Brenda chuckled.
“Sorry, little missy.”
“Well, let’s make sure there’s no one else here. Once the house is secure, and I’m convinced you’re locked in tight, I’ll go—and I’ll check back with you later in the day.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t. But I’m going to.” The expression on his face brooked no refusal.
“Whatever,” she sighed. “Go for it.”
As he moved further into the house, Brenda headed into the kitchen to feed the kitten. She stopped in the doorway with a little gasp of dismay. She had cleaned up the handprints from Daisy’s aborted breakfast attempt…didn’t I? It was days ago…
And yet the counters were once again covered with white flour.
She stepped forward. There were distinct handprints in the flour, and this time they were all one size—much too large for Daisy, and yet, too small for her own when she held her right hand out to make sure. Not that she would have forgotten throwing flour around the kitchen…
What the hell is going on around here? This sick joke has gone too far!
She had never been one to believe in the supernatural, and she wasn’t about to start now. No matter how compelling some of the evidence was. No, someone human was trying to drive her crazy—and she just wasn’t about to let it work. She had Daisy to think of.
And, for now, she had Mask to take care of. Sighing, she set the kitten on the floor. Taking a partial can of food out of the refrigerator, she scooped the remainder into Mask’s food bowl, and then started for the sink with the water bowl.
As soon as Phillip left, she’d draw herself a nice hot bath and soak in it until all of this went away—at least for a while. She smiled to herself. That sounded heavenly…
There was another fan of flour on the counter beside the sink, and she glanced at it as she reached for t
he faucet.
She dropped the bowl with a clatter as she saw a message appear line by line in the flour—HI MOM…I’M HOME.
Chapter 27
He had thought maybe the flour thing would work. When he saw that he could leave handprints on the day of the aborted pancakes, he had resolved to try it again next time he had a chance.
Now that she was here and he had tried to make contact, he realized he should’ve known better. His mom had never believed in anything supernatural. She scoffed at ghost stories and stuff.
But he couldn’t help what he was. And if she wouldn’t accept him as a ghost, he’d never be able to tell her—what?
What was it he was supposed to tell her…it was so damn important…
He bit his lip at the swear word. Being dead was no reason to be vulgar. His mother had always said there was no excuse for vulgarity.
He could feel himself slipping back to the darkness he floated in most of the time. He’d failed again. But there must be some way to get through to her.
Chapter 28
Phillip ran into the kitchen, skidding to a stop beside her.
“What is it, Brenda? What happened?”
She shook her head, bending down to pick up the water bowl and filling it automatically. She set it down for Mask.
“I don’t know…” she shrugged. “It’s got to be a prank of some kind. I mean, look at this place.” She encompassed the whole kitchen with a sweeping gesture. “Some kid must’ve come in last night after we left. After the crime squad left. Maybe they didn’t lock up or something. A friend of Robbie’s maybe—not that this is the sort of thing I would expect a friend to do.” She wasn’t ready to tell him what she thought she had seen.
Phillip frowned, scanning the countertop.
“Do you have a camera handy?”
“I had a disposable—but I used it the other night—oh! Remind me to show you those photos. I got them back yesterday. I don’t have another one…
“Wait a minute! I gave…was going to give Ethan a digital for Christmas last year. I think I put it in the top of the hall closet. I hope I’ve got batteries.”
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