Shadows Fall

by Denise A. Agnew

She closed her eyes and sighed before opening them again. “I don’t know. Unless everyone in this town is in league with that ridiculous church.”

  He allowed the thought to percolate a minute. “People like the ones who write these stories and the ones that make up the facts ... karma gets them in the ass every time.”

  “Henrietta would say they have a right to be totally wrong.”

  He grinned and tossed the paper on the counter. “I think my subscription to this rag is running out. And it’ll stay that way.”

  Wind rattled the kitchen windows. The brightness of day made his experience in the basement yesterday a lifetime away, a nightmare. Like Mr. Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, he figured the dream had to be an undigested bit of food. He didn’t dare think any deeper; anything more meant he’d cracked, and he didn’t plan to end up in a veteran’s hospital at the psych ward. Just because his mother had lost it and had run off in some mental disturbance haze didn’t mean he would go that way, too.

  “You said karma gets people like that. I didn’t think you’d admit to believing in karma,” she said.

  He shrugged. “I don’t see karma as a religious or supernatural thing. I’ve seen too many people do bad things and they get themselves into these horrible messes they create from their actions. The onus is all on them. They’re the type of people who make sucky decisions and it hits them over and over again because they do dumb things.”

  “You’re right. I never thought of it exactly like that.”

  “Melissa,” he said softly. “Don’t let these bastards get to you. The papers are after a story regardless of how newsworthy it is. They’re looking for hype and bullshit.”

  She smiled, and the pretty grin made his libido kick up another notch.

  “Thanks for defending me,” she said.

  “I don’t like bullies. I don’t have to believe the same things you do, but I didn’t fight in a war defending freedom to have some nut jobs try and take away someone’s freedom of religion or beliefs.” Her grin widened, but she didn’t say anything, and he almost reached over to brush that wavy hair away from her face. God, damn it. He wanted to touch her. Instead he held back.

  As they left the apartment, he found a cream colored envelope on the floor in front of his door with his full name penned on it.

  “What’s this?” Impatient, he slid open the envelope and read the parchment-like invitation.

  “Steele Company invites you to a formal dance reminiscent of the old days ...” He drifted off. “... invited ... on October nineteenth at 6:30 pm at Tranquil View Condominiums. RSVP.”

  “Are you going?” she asked.

  “Don’t know. I’ll give it some thought. They probably invited all thirty tenants to the event and people who worked on the haunted house. It’s a big publicity thing.”

  When they got to his SUV in the parking lot, she asked, “Thirty tenants? That’s the total number of renters in a big place like this?”

  “Total living here full time. I hear there are some Hollywood types that just bought condos for a summer retreat. We’ll see when summer gets here.”

  As Tranquil View became smaller in the rearview mirror, Roarke worried about the relief he felt at leaving.

  * * *

  “That’s done.” Roarke returned from the dumpster outside the back of Melissa’s store.

  Henrietta smiled at Roarke and Melissa in turn as they finished the last bit of cleanup beyond what the cleanup company had already done. Water had been pumped out and windows boarded up. The place smelled a bit strange and carpet would need replacement.

  Her insurance company adjuster had arrived Monday and inspected her store contents, then a check was cut. The building owner’s insurance company had already been in to assess damage to the building itself. At least things with insurance had run smoothly, but some repairs including window replacement wouldn’t happen for a few days more. In the meantime, the boarded-up windows made the store look abandoned. Melissa didn’t have income-replacement insurance because it had cost more than she could afford. But now she was already losing income because of the blast. She sighed and shrugged the tension from her shoulders. She was trying to stay optimistic. People around the community had been very nice, stopping to check on her at the store, and other shopkeepers affected by the blast proved supportive and kind. Maybe the New Frontier church and the newspaper and city council didn’t have as much influence as she’d imagined.

  Roarke drew his forearm over his forehead. He’d worn an old beat up navy t-shirt rather than a sweater and it stretched across his muscular torso in a way Melissa couldn’t ignore. The t-shirt smoothed along broad shoulders, ripped arms and pecs. Smooth cotton pulling across his six-pack sent her libido off the charts. The man was hot. No question. The fact he stayed warm in that form-fitting t-shirt blew her away.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  She cleared her throat. “No. I’m just glad this part is over.”

  Henrietta planted her hands on her hips. “Losing revenue sucks. But we’ll survive. Let’s open that box of donuts.”

  Suddenly Melissa couldn’t move fast enough. She tried to stay away from sweets, but after working hard all day, that box of donuts sounded like a perfect sugar rush. “I almost forgot to tell you both. My mail today had an invite to the ball at Tranquil View. It’s for you and me, Henrietta.”

  “Really?” Henrietta took a bite out of a chocolate-filled treat. “Sounds like a hoot.”

  Roarke had dropped Melissa off at her doorstep last Tuesday without a kiss, but with a brooding expression that had melted her almost as much as a smile. She’d worried that their day and night together, and the strange things that had occurred at Tranquil View had been her imagination. Maybe the crying, mumbling, and other things she’d seen and heard could be discounted, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable experiencing them. She hadn’t told him about her dream because she was sure he wouldn’t listen.

  The rest of the week had been tied up with insurance stuff and she’d fallen into bed each night and slept like the dead. Roarke had called her once each day to see how things were going, and they’d ended up chatting almost an hour each time about anything and everything. His search for his mother kept turning up dead ends, but he was spending time every day hunting for clues, talking to the cops, and to the private investigator he’d hired.

  Melissa used a napkin and paper plate as she munched on a plain donut. She closed her eyes and sighed in ecstasy. “Mmm.” When she opened her eyes, she caught Roarke watching her eat, and the sizzle in his eyes sent a rush of pleasure to every corner of her body. “So are you going to the so-called ball, Roarke?”

  Roarke sank into a chair and ignored the donuts. “I’m going. If just to see what the big deal is.”

  “I haven’t decided.” Henrietta munched on her donut. “I’m tired these days. I want to go home and crash most of the time. I don’t know if I can stay awake for pretension.”

  Melissa ate slower. “Here, here.” She’d been snacking on the donut like it was the last one she’d ever taste. “I suppose it could be fun. Depends.”

  A knock on the front door startled Melissa and she jumped about a foot.

  Roarke moved toward the front. “I got it.”

  When he left, Henrietta put her paper plate on her desk and stretched. “I have sore muscles. I’ll ask my hubby for a massage when I get home.”

  Melissa imagined Roarke massaging her ... all over. She almost squirmed at the delicious thought. Voices at the front door broke into her obsessive thoughts of Roarke and sex.

  He entered the room with Jilly. “Look who I found at the front door.”

  Melissa gawked at Jilly’s transformation from the last time she’d seen her. Her thick, dark hair shone with red highlights, but she’d piled it in a bun on the back of her head. She wore a high-necked gingham blouse tucked into a knee-length gray wool skirt. Her long gray coat hung open. She drew her mittens off and stuffed them in a pocket. She held her pu
rse close to her body. If she wore high-top button-up boots she’d resemble a girl from the 1800’s. Gone were the multiple ear piercings and black nail polish. No rings graced her fingers.

  After a round of hellos, Jilly’s pretty face looked far too serious and lined with worry. “I’m glad you’re all okay. I was only a couple of blocks down the street when things blew up. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

  “Hush girl.” Henrietta pressed Jilly’s arm. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

  “She’s right. How are you?” Melissa asked.

  “Okay, I guess.” Jilly’s shrug punctuated her lackluster statement.

  “You’re dressed differently,” Melissa said. “I mean, very differently.”

  Jilly’s eyes darkened with emotion, sadness perhaps. “Mom bought these for me. A whole bunch of ridiculous blouses and skirts. She said I had to wear them from now on because the church mandated the other day that women should dress far more modestly. Like they did in the past.”

  Melissa held back a snort.

  “You don’t impress me as a girl who would wear these clothes for long,” Henrietta said.

  Jilly unpinned her hair and allowed it to cascade around her shoulders. “I won’t. I just have to wear this crap whenever she thinks I should. I change when I get to school. Can you imagine me wearing this junk in high school? I can’t wait to graduate next May.”

  “What will you do then?” Roarke asked.

  “Get the hell out of here and never come back.” Jilly took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I wanted to come by and see how you were.” Jilly scratched her nose. “I wanted to warn you guys.” Her glance ran over Melissa, and when they locked eyes, Melissa almost felt as if the girl could read her thoughts. “That dream you had in Roarke’s apartment? About the woman crying out for your help? It’s true.” She nodded at Roarke. “It’s his mother crying out for help.”

  Bowled over by the girl’s insight, Melissa couldn’t say a word.

  “And Roarke, what you experienced in the basement was real, too. You’re doubting yourself but ... don’t. If you do, that doubt will kill you,” Jilly said. With that, the girl turned and left.

  All three adults stayed silent until the front door clanked and shut. Henrietta eyeballed her friends. “What the hell was she talking about?”

  Doubt and discomfort lined Roarke’s expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions Melissa couldn’t label. “I don’t know. What’s she talking about, Melissa?”

  Jilly had the dream spot on. It made her wonder what the hell the girl had meant when she said Roarke had experienced something in the basement. Melissa hadn’t figured on telling Roarke about her dream. Short of lying to him, what choice did she have now? She’d have to tell him the truth.

  She licked her lips. “I had a dream at your apartment. It’s complicated.”

  His eyes narrowed, filled with doubt. “I’ve got to hear this.”

  He waited for a moment, and Melissa noticed that Henrietta’s gaze bounced back and forth between them.

  “I’ll walk you to your apartment,” Roarke said to Melissa. “You can tell me then.”

  Henrietta bid them a goodbye shortly after. Melissa and Roarke strolled along the sidewalk. As they came closer to the short block before the pedestrian walkway where she’d almost been splattered by the truck, her muscles tensed. She ignored the reaction.

  “Go with me to the party,” he said.

  She almost tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, and he caught her upper arm.

  He laughed. “Yeah, I always have that effect on women.”

  They came to the pedestrian crossing and Roarke pushed the button for the light change. Still uncertain what to say, paralyzed for a reason she didn’t understand, she answered impulsively. “All right. I’ll go with you. But only if you explain what happened to you in the basement.”

  He sniffed. “Nothing happened.”

  The hell if she’d let him off that easy. “I’ll tell you about my dream. You tell me about the basement. It’s a fair trade.”

  Before he could answer, a car engine revved. Melissa’s attention was drawn to her right. The white van she’d seen at the condominiums roared toward a teen boy crossing the street ahead of them.

  “Watch out!” Her scream came at the same time Roarke yelled a warning.

  Too fast. The van came too fast. Going sixty, maybe ninety miles per hour, the van rushed down the half-abandoned road faster than any sane man would dare. The boy turned toward the sound of the engine. She recognized him as Jilly’s boyfriend. He moved, pouring on the speed as he tried to escape the murderous van. Melissa couldn’t scream, the sound locked in her throat as everything happened at once. Time slowed, practically crawling as events unfolded. The van struck the boy with a sickening crunch that reverberated in the air. People ran for cover. Women screamed. The vehicle steamed onward, sideswiping the side of a building. It plunged down a side street and disappeared.

  Jilly’s instinct told her to run to the boy, until she saw the mess the van had made of him. She’d never seen anything like it, at least not in real life. Gory movies aside, this sight assured her she couldn’t help him. No one could.

  “Oh, God.” Her voice broke and tears swam in her eyes.

  Roarke tugged her into his arms and turned her away from the sight. He pressed her body to his, enveloping her. “Don’t look.” His voice went ragged. Harsh. “Don’t look.”

  Never in her life had she tried to flee from harsh realities, but this time it was too much. She buried her face against Roarke’s shoulder, away from the mangled, crushed body of Jilly’s boyfriend.

  Chapter 12

  “Tell us what you saw again,” Deputy Tate Freeman asked Melissa and Roarke as they sat at his desk.

  Roarke and Melissa had been there just outside the city limits of Simple for a good three hours with two other witnesses. Through the ordeal, Roarke had remained by Melissa’s side.

  Melissa felt as if her brain had somehow been drained as she sat in the hard plastic chair facing the deputy. “It’s starting to blur. You know everything I know. The boy is Jilly Gomez’s boyfriend. That’s all I know about him. The van was at the haunted house that first weekend. He passed me going way over the speed limit and he dropped off three teenagers. The van driver wore some sort of mask. A weird mask.” She shivered. “After Jilly ran from the basement, her boyfriend followed her outside, and the van was in the parking lot. The man watched us the whole time.”

  “Then you believe the man in the van was watching for the boy in particular?” The deputy asked.

  Melissa rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know. He seemed to be watching all of us.”

  “And you didn’t see the same man in the van today. It couldn’t have been another white van?”

  “The van looked exactly like the one at Tranquil View,” Roarke said. “I’m good with details.”

  The sheriff’s department had discovered the license plate number belonged to another car entirely, so obviously the van plates had been faked.

  “I don’t think there’s anything new to tell you.” Roarke kept his voice respectful and low. “We haven’t eaten for hours. If we’re free to go, I’d be happy to come back after a dinner break. Melissa?”

  She shivered. She couldn’t get warm. Her coat couldn’t shield her against stark reality and its sharp teeth. “Yes, of course.”

  The deputy eyed them with detachment. “No need to come back. We’ll call you if we need anything else. Take it easy, okay?”

  Grateful, Melissa kept things professional. “Thank you Deputy Freeman.”

  The deputy handed them both a card. “Here’s the department number. If you remember anything else, call us immediately.”

  Once they stepped out into the wintry, fading light, Melissa let out a breath as if she’d held it for days. Evening came closer, rushing toward them as clouds obscured the brilliant blue sky. The night felt like her enemy as it stalked them, wanting to tak
e over and remind them of vulnerability and death.

  Cold air rushed into her lungs as she hastily buttoned her long coat and grabbed her gloves from her pocket. She jammed the sock hat on her head and longed for hot chocolate or coffee. Or maybe she’d skip coffee and go right for a whiskey injection. Roarke’s arm came around her waist and she started. Stubble darkened his jaw line. His nose at this angle looked more pronounced, his mouth tight, and his eyes were flinty and certain. Dangerous defined him, and though she’d never wanted to be with a lethal man before, she did now.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’ll be fine. My stomach is growling, how about yours?”

  “Starving.”

  She made a sound of self-disgust. “But I’m not sure I can eat.”

  “Yep. Look, what you saw today ...” Those lips tightened again, his gaze drifting across the horizon as if he couldn’t think of a damned good thing to say that made sense. “ ... That can take a long time to forget. Give yourself slack. Don’t beat yourself up.”

  “I don’t need a shrink, Roarke.” Strength ran in her veins, in her family. She wouldn’t let them down by cowering. “Earlier when I ... when you held me after the accident ... that wasn’t me. I don’t do things like that. I don’t cry and I don’t run.”

  His gaze snapped to hers. His arm tightened around her. “I know. I’ve sensed that about you.”

  Okay. So he didn’t think she was a wimp. “I don’t fall to pieces.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Her eyes watered and she sniffed. No. No. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t do it. “Let’s get something to eat. I’ll cook at my place, if you’d like to come over.”

  “All right.”

  He kept his arm around her all the way to her apartment. They crossed the street in a different place. They didn’t say it, but by mutual understanding, they avoided the formal pedestrian crossing. By the time they entered her apartment, she couldn’t stop shaking. She stripped off her coat and hung it with his in the coat closet near the door. She rubbed her arms and then told herself to shake this off. She knew what her father would say, and his voice echoed in her head. He’d say this wasn’t a time for weakness. He’d always treated her like a soldier, and she’d learned to react like one in one area of her life. In a crisis, she didn’t give in, no matter what.