Angel Board

by Rufty, Kristopher

  She had heard noises all right, but what they were she couldn’t tell. “Hello?” she called out. “Who’s in here?” Though she couldn’t see anyone, she could surely feel them. They were in here, hiding. Waiting for her to enter. Lurking behind a corner, or in a shadow.

  A gooseneck lamp on her desk was the only illumination in the room. There were many shadows for something to lurk in. She liked to keep some type of light on in the main rooms, and normally chose the smaller ones with less wattage. Looking at the darkness now, she realized the lamp wasn’t much help to her at all.

  She groped at the wall until she found the light switch. When she turned it on, the room shimmered with light, eliminating all the darkness. She saw the room was clear, and her fear lessened enough to enter. Tiptoeing across the floor, avoiding glass splinters, she neared the frame. The tarot cards crumpled under her feet as she stepped on them. She crouched and slid some cards out of the way.

  She knew immediately what picture was inside the broken frame. She grabbed the sides of the frame and lifted it up. Turning it over, she found the picture had not fallen out.

  Torn in places, the picture was of David and Amber sitting on a boat. Their mother had taken the picture last summer with her old camera while they were at the lake for a weekend getaway. David and Sam had recently broken up, and Mom thought they should do something as a family to show him they cared. Other than their mother’s sporadic bickering, it had been a fun trip. The broken glass had left jagged gashes in the picture. A couple at the bottom, a long one in the middle, but the nastiest damage was the tear across Amber’s throat. It looked as if someone had intentionally sliced the throat. Her eyes had been gouged out, and a shard of glass still protruded from one of the sockets.

  Shivering extremely hard, Amber dropped the frame on the floor.

  The door slammed shut behind her.

  The sudden sound made her shriek. Jumping to her feet, she turned around but found no one coming at her. She stepped back a couple of paces. Glancing across the room at her dresser, she looked into the mirror. She could see her own reflection standing close to the bed. Looking closer, she discovered she was not alone in the room.

  She could not see her with the naked eye, but she could not be hidden in the mirror. She wore a white cloak, and long, black hair covered her face. Faded gray-feathered wings projected out of her back, sagging slightly over her shoulders.

  “No!” Amber cried. “This can’t be…”

  Watching in the mirror, Amber saw the angel raise her arms. She held them with her wrists arched, pointing her penetrating fingernails at Amber.

  “What do you want with David? You stay away from him, you bitch!”

  The angel lunged.

  Sam parked in Amber’s spot. She remembered being told that Amber had to leave her car at the bar. They’d go get it in the morning.

  The lights were on inside. Leaning over the steering wheel, she glanced up at the upstairs window. Amber’s bedroom. A light was on in there as well. She could see shadows of movement whipping back and forth through the room. They appeared to be moving fast, as if a wrestling match had broken out between the brightness and the dark.

  “What’s she doing up there?” she wondered aloud.

  Sam wished she had Amber’s home number programmed into her cell phone. Something else Sam had put off doing for too long, and now it was too late. Hesitant to walk in unannounced, she contemplated beeping the horn but ruled out that idea.

  Sam opened her car door. The alarm buzzed loudly, reminding her that she had left her keys in the ignition and the lights on. She turned off the lights, yanked the key from the ignition switch, and the buzzing died.

  Then she heard the glass shatter above her.

  Sam looked up. Where she had seen the frantic movements now seemed to be exploding. Jagged pieces from the smashed window began to rain down. Scraggy tips cut her as they fell.

  Ducking inside her car, she wiped a dab of blood off her cheek. She looked through the windshield just in time to see Amber’s battered body landing on the hood. The metal caved in, and the car bounced from the impact. Her windshield cracked, spider-webbing from side to side.

  Sam wanted to speak, to scream. But she could not. Her lips moved, but no words would come.

  Amber’s eyes were opened wide, showing Sam the horror they’d just witnessed. Her mouth was opened in a frozen scream. Blood pooled under her, running off the sides of the hood and flooding the pavement.

  Sam found her voice and screamed until it was gone again.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “What a nightmare,” said Giles, standing over Sam’s smashed car. The caved hood was slopped in a thick, red paste. Amber’s body had been taken by the coroner half an hour before. All that remained now was the damage. Giles’ hair was even more unkempt than usual, looking more like a feral nest than an actual hairstyle.

  Stiltson, lighting a cigarette, turned to his partner. His face was pale, sick. Shaking his head, he asked, “What do you think happened?”

  Giles made a face. “What do you think I think happened?”

  “Somehow, I bet you’re going to tell me David Barker is to blame.”

  “Well, it’s a nice place to start. The deceased is his sister.”

  Stiltson took a deep, heavy drag off the cigarette and glanced at the squad car parked by the curb. Sam sat in the back. She appeared to be looking at him, but he doubted very much that she had a clue what she was seeing. The only thing on her mind at the moment was what she’d witnessed.

  “Yeah, but Ms. Corban said when she’d arrived, she didn’t see anyone.”

  “Yeah, but still…”

  “And the team hasn’t found any signs of forced entry, or a trace of another person being here.”

  “He’s her brother. She probably just opened the door for him.” Giles groaned. “I seriously doubt she threw herself out that window.”

  “So far, the evidence is saying she did.”

  “What are you saying she did?” Raising an eyebrow, Giles awaited Stiltson’s theory.

  “I can’t really say,” he admitted. “But, judging by the look on her face, if she actually did throw herself through that window, she wasn’t expecting to do so.”

  Giles nodded. “I agree.” He looked over at the squad car as well. He placed his hand over his chest, as if feeling pain in his heart. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. The air was so cold, his breath turned to smoke in the air. “Maybe one of us should take our battered witness home?”

  Stiltson stomped his cigarette out on the paved driveway. “I had already agreed to do that.”

  Giles patted Stiltson on the back. “I would have volunteered, but you know how I am when it comes to comforting women in distress.”

  “Want me to tell you a secret on how to fix that?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Stiltson rubbed a finger across his moustache. “Just stop. Listen to them, wait for a chance to speak, don’t force your words on them.”

  Giles nodded attentively. “What if that doesn’t work?”

  “Grow a mustache.”

  “What?”

  “A mustache, grow one.” He winked at Giles before turning. He left him standing alone at the edge of Amber’s lawn.

  Driving, Stiltson constantly stared into the rearview mirror, catching glimpses of Sam in the backseat. She sat mutely with her arms folded over her breasts. What little make-up she actually wore had smeared under her eyes. Black lines streaked down her face like little trails. She looked psychotic.

  But after going through what she had, who could blame her?

  “Who’s going to tell David?” she asked, not taking her stare from the window.

  Stiltson cleared his throat. “Well, I imagine the mother. Giles has the unfortunate duty of informing her what happened. He’s on his way there now. He’s a lot better at breaking news like that than I am.”

  She nodded.


  “So, do you still want me to pursue what you had asked me to?” he asked.

  Sam did not answer right away. Watching her in the mirror, he could tell she was giving it a lot of thought. Finally, she responded, “Yes, I think that now, more than ever, it might be a good idea.”

  “Me too,” he agreed. “Me too.”

  David felt like he was falling with nothing under him to stop the plunge. Seeing his mother in that kind of condition was horrible. Not since his father died had she been so hysterical. Luckily, Ms. Hodder was there to translate a lot of her disjointed babbles. He had never much liked her. She tended to pry a bit too much for his taste. He had often put the blame for his own mother’s meddling on Ms. Hodder’s shoulders. But, now, he was thankful she was there to comfort his mother. He certainly couldn’t do it himself. After Mom had told him what she knew, he’d left and was now walking back to his apartment.

  He’d left his car at Mom’s, too scared to drive out of fear he would crash.

  Amber was dead.

  The thought had hit him in the chest like a torpedo fired point blank. It was hard to accept. Amber was no longer living. She’d never again call, or come over. The best road trip partner and movie companion he’d ever known was gone.

  Forever.

  He thought back to the vision of a funeral. Amber hadn’t been there. And now it was clear, it made sense. Amber was in the coffin. It was her funeral, and for some unknown reason, Brandon Cartwright was there. His empty feeling of loss began to fade, turning to dread and loathing.

  Why would he be there?

  Why did Amber have to die?

  Stiltson parked at the curb in front of Sam’s house and shut off the engine. Looking at her home, Sam thought it seemed darker, emptier, than it had when she left. She had planned to spend the night with Amber, staying up until the wee hours of the morning, discussing David and what they planned to do. Though it would be serious work, Sam was looking forward to the company. Like two girls at a sleepover. Now she’d have to be in the house alone tonight.

  “Will you be all right?” Stiltson asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

  Far from it, she thought, but instead answered, “Yeah, I believe so.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what were you two planning to do tonight?”

  She smirked. “We’d planned on trying to find a way to help David.”

  He turned around in the seat, draping one arm over the headrest. “I want you to be honest. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  She shrugged.

  “You call me out of the blue and ask me to keep an eye on David, but you don’t give me a reason why I should.” He sighed. “I think something is going on, but you’re not telling me all of it.” He reached over and patted her knee. “I can’t help you if I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “I don’t understand what’s going on, that’s why I need the help.”

  Smiling that pleasant smile of his, he said, “Fair enough.” He faced the front again and climbed out of the car. “I’ve gotta let you out. The door won’t open from the inside.”

  Like a prisoner, she thought. Not much different from how I’ll feel in the house tonight.

  She watched him walk past her window and step out of the way of the door. He opened it. Like a chauffeur, he stood to the side and held out his arm, pointing it to the yard.

  “My lady.”

  She forced a less than convincing smile. He was trying to be sweet and cute, and she appreciated it, but it wasn’t helping. “Thanks.” She stepped out of the car. After the warmth of the backseat, the cold air outside seemed to slap her across the face.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said. “I’ve got someone willing to help me keep an eye on David. He won’t recognize her, so it’ll be easier and safer.”

  “Great.” She stepped onto the frosted grass. It felt frail under her shoes and crunched as if she were walking on pine needles in the forest.

  “Oh, wait, I almost forgot,” he said.

  She stopped walking. All she wanted was to get inside and take a shower. Hopefully the hot water would help mitigate her jittered nerves. Though she had not exercised in weeks, her muscles ached like she had been running sprints all day. A shower and sleep would help.

  “This was sitting in Amber’s living room. Your library card was being used as a bookmark.”

  “What?” Sam turned around. During all the chaos she had completely forgotten about loaning Amber her library card. She remembered how tenacious Amber had been about going to the library and doing research.

  “This book,” he continued. “I thought it was yours.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She smiled another contrived smile at him. Even though it was good, she doubted he believed it was legit. “I forgot all about that.”

  “It’s not yours, is it?” He studied the cover. “The Other Side of Angels, by Brandon Cartwright.” Shaking his head, he said, “Doesn’t seem like your cup of tea.”

  “It’s not,” she confessed. “I let Amber borrow my library card today.”

  “Really? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “I didn’t think about it until now. Why? Does it matter?”

  Groaning, he handed her the book and took a pack of cigarettes out from his interior coat pocket. “It may. Any information, no matter how irrelevant it may seem to you, could make or break a case.”

  Sam felt awful, as if she was sabotaging the investigation. “I’m sorry,” she said. Her lip quivered, her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t think…”

  “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. That was just the cop in me talking. In the wake of everything, it’s understandable that it slipped your mind.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “Yes, I do.” He smiled. It was a genuine, warm smile. Unlike her atrocious, fake smiles, his was comforting. He tore a match out of the book and struck the red tip across the sandpaper strip on the back. The match sparked and ignited. He raised it to the tip of the cigarette. Then, with a wave of his hand, the match extinguished.

  “Amber thought maybe this would help,” Sam said.

  “That book?”

  Sam’s eyes were watery, her nose red. She sniffled. “I guess so. She went to research some things at the library, hoping to find something.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I don’t either.” She laughed. Not a funny laugh, it sounded odd even to her own ears. “I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

  “Go on,” he said. “Remember, no matter how small it may seem…”

  “Yeah, I know.” She took in a deep breath and could taste the cigarette smoke in the air. It made her think of David. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much she truly missed his companionship. How, no matter what, he always seemed to be there for her. He was perfect.

  But things had changed.

  “Sam?” he asked, snapping her out of the daze.

  “Sorry. My head’s not clear right now.”

  “I understand. We can talk about this some other time.”

  “No, I’ll say it. You’ll think it’s crazy, but I’ll say it anyway.” She released another heavy breath and finally worked up the nerve. “Amber had gotten it in her head that David was haunted.”

  “Haunted?” He thought about it briefly. “I can see why she might have thought that.”

  He didn’t laugh in her face. So far so good.

  “You don’t understand. She thought he was haunted by angels.”

  Stiltson choked on a puff of smoke and coughed, hard. Each cough came from deep within and sounded full of mucus. He had better quit smoking, very soon. “Angels?”

  Let the laughter begin.

  Sam shook her head. “I know how crazy it sounds. That’s what she believed, not me.”

  “That would explain the book.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “For the sa
ke of argument,” he said, flicking his cigarette into the street, “let’s hope it isn’t angels we have to deal with.”

  “Why not?”

  “If it is, logic goes out the window, and we’d be fighting blindly.”

  That’s just what I needed to hear.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Amber Barker was buried on January third. Carol had specifically chosen that day. She’d wanted to wait until after the New Year to have the funeral. Her belief was that a year shouldn’t end in such tragedy.

  Amber Barker’s death was ruled a suicide. There was minor evidence that challenged that presumption, but nothing solid to go on.

  The service was peaceful. Quiet. Reverend Steely delivered a quick oration and followed it up with some very kind words that put Carol into tears. David thought he was being very hypocritical. He’d been one of the many who’d tried to convince Carol that Amber was being beckoned by the hands of Satan. Fortunately, he spoke about none of that at the service.

  David was a pallbearer, along with Martin, Reverend Steely, Amber’s ex-boyfriend Ted, and Detective Stiltson. Unsure why Stiltson had volunteered to help, he still appreciated the gesture. Stiltson had many flaws that David could see, but under them all, he clearly was a kind man.

  They carried her casket around the back of the church and into the substantial cemetery. Rows of tombstones seemed to stretch on endlessly. Thankfully, they didn’t have a long walk ahead of them. The Barker plot was on a lower level near the back. Carol had bought the plot right after her husband died, so the family could be together in the life to come.

  As they marched along, David noted a mixture of old, faded headstones and newer, brighter ones. An icy wind whipped through the cemetery, causing the weight of the casket to shift in their hands. Luckily, they managed to avoid any accidents.