Shadows Fall

by Denise A. Agnew

  “Hard to talk about?” he asked softly.

  “Yes.”

  “Then don’t talk about it now.” He polished off his brandy and rose slowly to head for the kitchen. He put his snifter in the sink. “When you’re ready to trust me with it, I’ll tell you my garbage. We’ll be even.”

  “Holding your innermost demons hostage?”

  “You got it.”

  She smiled as he returned to the couch and sat on the edge. “Still cold?”

  “Much better. Brandy and the fire is doing the trick.”

  Melissa’s cell phone went off in her purse, and by the time she'd dug it out, she’d missed the call. “My parents. Probably my mother. If there was anything on the news about the explosion, she’ll be freaking out.”

  “Of course.”

  “If it was up to her, I wouldn’t be living in this crazy little town all by myself. She thinks there are predators around every corner.”

  “There aren’t, but I can understand her caution. I find myself thinking that way sometimes.”

  “Because of your war experiences?”

  “Yep.” His gaze was direct and his words clipped. “I’m going downstairs to the management office to see if we’re doing any work on the haunted house tonight. Saturday night we had electrical issues. An electrician is supposed to come out.”

  After he left, she made the call to her mother. Mom hadn’t heard yet that part of downtown Simple had blown up, thank goodness. Yet her mother still freaked.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right. Where are you staying for the night if your apartment is off limits?” her mother asked.

  “With a friend. They’re putting me up for the night.” Melissa could have said she planned to stay at a hotel, but that would worry her mother even more.

  “A friend? Someone I know?”

  Melissa slumped into the couch, her head on the back. Cripes. “No. He’s ... I met him a while ago.”

  “He?” Mom’s tone dripped with suspicion.

  “A retired warrant officer. He was in the Marines.”

  “Oh.” Mom sounded less concerned, but not much.

  “He’s just a friend.”

  “I see.”

  Mom never just saw anything. Every word she spoke in a situation like this possessed meaning—thick meaning. Melissa stayed silent, unwilling to give her mother fuel.

  Mom cleared her throat. “Really, honey. I wish you would meet some nice man who isn’t in the military. You know how they are.”

  Melissa closed her eyes. Here we go. Maybe she should have lied. “Not all military men are like dad.” While she said this, she winced. Roarke might be more like her father than she knew. Detachment, duty coming first, sacrifices for country. “He’s also retired.”

  “What did he do in the military?”

  “I don’t know all the details. Combat engineering.”

  “I see.”

  I see. “Look, Mom, I’m going to call the police to see how the investigation is going and when I can get back into the store. I also want to call Henrietta and see how she is. I need to let you go.”

  After they’d hung up, Melissa felt guilty. Her mother only wanted to keep her safe, but her caution sometimes went too far. Melissa phoned the sheriff's department and they planned to keep the area closed for at least a few days until they could fix the pipeline and make street repairs. But they also said they’d allow store owners into the area as early as tomorrow.

  She called Henrietta and gave her the lowdown. “It’s hard to say until we can get down there. I’m hoping there isn’t water damage, but I don’t see how that could be. Then there’s replacing inventory. It’s going to be a nightmare. Shit, I forgot to call the insurance company. What the hell am I thinking?”

  “Hey, it’s all right. We practically got our asses blown up. I feel like we could both use a few days off after what happened. But let me know when you want me down at the store and we’ll start clean up.”

  “Roger that,” Melissa said with a teasing lilt in her voice.

  Henrietta sighed heavily. “And how are you?”

  “I’m snug.” She explained the brandy, blanket, and Roarke’s offer. “I should probably stay in a hotel.”

  “Are you nuts? Take his offer. You may not be able to get to downtown for another night or so while they clean up the mess and check some of the other buildings to make sure there aren’t more problems. Take some time off. We’ll be back in business in no time.”

  Melissa didn’t want to put a damper her good friend’s enthusiasm. “You’re right.”

  “Besides, staying with a hunky Marine ... yum.”

  Melissa chuckled. “You never quit.”

  “Never. There is something I was thinking about, though. It does have me worried.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What Jilly said about Simple. Her words just keep ringing in my ears. Things have been so damned weird in this town lately.”

  Melissa groaned. “Listen, whatever Jilly has going on, it has nothing to do with what happened today. That was an accident. A fluke. It could have happened any time.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  They finished the conversation, and Melissa called the insurance company. After a long and frustrating conversation, she came to a resolution. The insurance agent promised they’d get right on the claim as soon as she filled out the paperwork. Fatigue swept over her, and she closed her eyes. Roarke came in a few moments later and startled her out of sleep.

  “I’ve got to help with the electrician this afternoon,” he said as he rummaged in a kitchen drawer. He came out with a key and handed it to her. “Here. Key to the apartment. That way you won’t be stuck here without one while I’m out.”

  Surprise made her speechless for a moment. “Okay.”

  “And you look beat.” He looked at his watch. “Are you hungry?”

  “No.” She yawned. “Tired. Maybe I’ll take that nap.”

  He grabbed the sweats from his room that he’d promised her, handed her a tube of toothpaste and showed her the guest room. “It’s all yours. Take that bath or shower if you want to.” He stood close, and he reached out to cup her cheek for a second. A shock of heat tingled in her skin at his touch. His gaze held warmth. Damn. Damn. Damn. She liked this way too much.

  He drew his hand back quickly, as if he’d caught himself doing something he shouldn’t. “Sleep well. I’ll be downstairs for a while. Make yourself at home.”

  He left and closed the door. A recliner sat in one corner, and she sat there long enough to take off her shoes. She staggered toward the bed and collapsed upon it. Her mind raced for a while, jumping from one subject to another. If she thought about almost getting blown to bits, she started to shake. If she thought about how long it would take to get her store up and running again, she wanted to punch the pillow. Instead she grabbed the pillowcase and twisted it in her fist. Finally she sank into oblivion.

  That’s when the bad dreams started.

  Chapter 10

  As Roarke stopped into the Steele Company office in what used to be the administration area for the asylum, Linda looked up at him with devilment on her roundish face. Although the woman could be his mother, she eyed him as if represented a tasty morsel on a stick. She was pink all over, with pale pink shadow, a pink tweed jacket, and short skirt with high-heeled, knee-high fuck-me boots to match. She looked like some sort of ridiculous Pepto Bismol bottle.

  She removed her suit jacket to reveal a filmy, almost see-through pink blouse that he wouldn’t have imagined her wearing in a million years. She was a hot mess. He was used to her extroverted but friendly personality, but she’d never looked at him like this before, and she had never dressed this way before. At least not that he’d ever noticed. Hell, what did he know? Maybe she dressed like this on dates. Maybe she had a date this evening and didn’t plan to go home before wowing her man. Roarke’s grandmother on his mother’s side would have called Linda “tarted up.” Brassy, b
old, and too damned much.

  “Well hello.” The slight Texas twang in her voice rolled off her tongue, more pronounced than usual. Her smile went broad and sultry.

  Puzzled by Linda’s sudden transformation from conservative schoolteacher attitude to siren, he blinked. He looked around the expansive, upscale reception area for the manager’s secretary. “Where’s Clemy?”

  “Oh.” Linda frowned as if he’d asked the wrong question. “She has a doctor’s appointment. Female complications.”

  Too much information. “Mr. Hampton?”

  “At the corporate offices in Denver. He won’t be back until later in the week.”

  “The electrician here?” he asked.

  “He got here early. I sent him on to the basement with the key.”

  Roarke made a move to leave. “Good. I’ll go right down and see if he needs anything.”

  “Wait.” She walked toward him, that huge smile eating him up. “We should get together and talk sometime, Roarke.”

  He returned her smile and tried for humor. “Won’t your boyfriend be jealous?”

  Her thin eyebrows went up, and her giggle sounded like a teenager’s. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Ah, that’s too bad.”

  “You could help me remedy that, couldn’t you?”

  “What, you want me to set you up?”

  “No.” She sauntered closer. “I was thinking we could have a good time, Roarke. A really good time.”

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s in the cards, Linda.” Crap this is getting deep fast. Extraction, Marine. Extraction.

  “Is it her?” Linda’s voice went raspy, almost husky.

  “Who?”

  “That woman upstairs with you. You know ... Miss Allan.”

  He jumped at the chance for an escape. “Yeah. I’m dating her.” Her eyes went from a lively brown to black in an instant. He stepped back, startled. What the fuck?

  He waved and hurried out the door. “I’ll see you later.”

  He hurried toward the basement. His heart beat as fast as if he’d escaped from the maw of a Great White Shark. Jesus. H. Christ. What had just happened? He kept walking, not sure he hadn’t imagined it. Were the women around Simple losing their minds? No one could have denied Jana and Linda had circled him, beasts ready for a taste of his hide. Women didn’t come on to him often, and certainly when they did they showed more finesse than Jana and Linda. He scrubbed at his jaw.

  As he approached the basement door, he remembered his experience down here the other day. During the haunted house event he’d kept any lingering apprehension at bay. With the other zombies in the basement, he hadn’t felt alone. Shaking his head, Roarke reached the closed basement door, opened it, and flicked on the flashlight he’d brought. The steps creaked as he walked. Nothing unexpected. Lights flickered.

  “Hello,” he called out in the semi-darkness.

  When he reached the bottom of the steps, the feeling he’d vowed not to experience again hit him. His heartbeat swallowed him up, and became the only sound in his ears. His breathing quickened. He pushed forward and glanced into each cell doorway. No electrician.

  When he reached the end of the hallway, he stopped. His chest felt as if he couldn’t get another breath. When he realized that he’d worked himself up, he forced a deep breath into his lungs. One. Two deep breaths. He stepped forward into the bigger room. A work lamp sat on the floor. Boxes piled up in the middle of the floor blocked one side of the room. This whole place was a damned mess, but it made for good haunted house material. Roarke pointed his flashlight beam around the room.

  “Don’t come back here,” a deep male voice said in the farthest corner from Roarke.

  Roarke started forward again. “What’s up?”

  The man who stepped around the boxes wore an expression so frightened and broken, Roarke came to an abrupt halt. The man wore electrician garb. He walked toward Roarke, and instinct made Roarke clutch his flashlight tight.

  “Something wrong?” Roarke asked.

  “Yeah. I’m not coming back here again.”

  Puzzled, Roarke glanced at the lights hanging from the ceiling. “Job giving you trouble?”

  “This place is.”

  Cryptic remarks like these made Roarke itchy. He liked the facts. No dancing around, prettying up, or making excuses. A man did the job right or he got the hell out of the way. “What’s going on?”

  “You shouldn’t be back here,” the man said. His nametag said Pete.

  “I’m Roarke O’Bannion from the haunted house committee. Linda said you’d be down here and need help. She wanted me to show you the lights giving us issues.”

  Tall and thin as a rail, the electrician looked around sixty. Dark shadows haunted his eyes, and in the case of his hair, Pete had a very bad comb-over. “She wouldn’t come down here. I asked her to show me.”

  Roarke played along and shrugged. “Some women are afraid of dark places.”

  “So are some men.” Pete’s eyes still held fear, as if he expected a bogeyman to jump out of the corner. Maybe that was the man’s problem. Maybe Pete didn’t like the dark.

  “Hey I’ve got this extra flashlight if you need it to see while you finish.” Roarke held up the big halogen flashlight with the wide head. “This is a mess in comparison to the rest of the place.”

  “I worked on this building when they were building the condos. Said I wouldn’t come back.” He gazed around the gloomy room. “Can’t believe I did.”

  “Bad pay?”

  “Just bad.” Pete’s frightened expression deepened. “Look, I did what I had to. I’m leaving now, and I’m not returning.”

  Glancing around at the two light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, Roarke frowned. “Those are fixed already?”

  “Pull the cord and find out,” Pete said.

  Roarke wanted to groan. What the hell was it with people today? Had they all freaked? He reached up for the first cord and clicked on the light bulb. It worked, and he checked the other one. “Great. There’s the problem with that junction box or whatever it is in the corner, and all the lights down here keep flickering off and on. Did you get that fixed?”

  “Got it.”

  Roarke decided he’d take the man at his word, but what Pete said earlier made Roarke wary. “Why did you tell me not to come back here?”

  Pete swallowed hard. “I’ve got to tell the management.”

  “About what?”

  Pete’s gaze danced around the room, checking every corner. “There’s something down here that shouldn’t be.”

  “Vermin? They were supposed to take care of that months ago.”

  “Hell no. This is a lot worse than rats or bugs.”

  Roarke shook his head, tired of dealing with this obtuse character. He stepped by Pete and past the boxes in the center of the room. He glanced around and saw boxes upon boxes, some crates, and other cardboard. It was all junk that worked well to create a creepy atmosphere, but should go to charity or find its way into the garbage. The boxes seemed closer, as if they would close in on him any minute. That tightness—the enclosed and trapped sensation—rose higher. Maybe Pete had felt it, too. What was it about this damned corner that sucked him in and made him want to come closer? It made no sense.

  Darkness swam around him as the lights Pete had fixed dimmed. Words floated in Roarke’s mind.

  Oppression.

  Death.

  Fear.

  Murder.

  Hate. Hate. Hate.

  Roarke turned. The electrician stood at the edge of the boxes, wide-eyed. “Feel it now, do you?”

  “What?” Roarke said through dry lips and tight throat.

  The man drew in a sharp breath. “This place ain’t right. I’m leaving here, and I’m not coming back. I might even quit my job.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?”

  Pete shook his head. “You never heard about this place because you didn’t grow up in Simple. I did.”

  “T
ranquil View? That it was an insane asylum?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what?”

  Pete shifted on his steel-tipped shoes and reached down to close and lift a big tool box. “Place is infected. Infected.”

  “Haunted?”

  “Evil, man. You see, it doesn’t operate on things you can see and hear and touch. Least not in the physical world. Best you get out of here, too.” With that, the man turned and left.

  Let him. Maybe the guy was close to retirement and about ready to lose his mind. Hell, even old Marines could lose their minds. Roarke suspected he might have left his somewhere upstairs. He stood immobile, challenged by this place and the feelings inside of it. Pete ran from it; Roarke never ran from anything. At least he hadn’t until he came to Tranquil View and this damned town. That he might even consider running pissed him the hell off.

  Ghosts. Evil. Bullshit all of it. A nagging thing itched in his mind. It poked and prodded and demanded he pay attention. Something didn’t work in here. It was foreign and yet it lived and breathed in here. It was alive. As Roarke remained still, he heard breathing all around him, and the lights dimmed another degree. The corners went darker. Like cotton, the room stuffed his mind and ears. Like molasses, the air felt thicker. It was stuffy, and soupy to breathe. The darkness encroached and swallowed and ate the walls. It made tracks toward him one inch at a time, finding a morsel to nibble upon. Like a lion stalking prey it mesmerized and dominated. From complete rationality to utter chaotic madness, Roarke saw and felt the room devouring him. Encircling. Hoping he wouldn’t move. He was a dumb animal. A lower form of life. He couldn’t escape.

  Inside his mind he panicked. His body refused to move.

  * * *

  Melissa fell into the dream, plunging down a dark tunnel until she hit bottom. She gasped and jerked as she realized she stood in the middle of Roarke’s living room. Everything in the room looked normal.