by Susan Conley
“The medical examiner’s report said there weren’t any signs of a struggle, that’s why they assumed it was an accident. No one willingly drowns. But it must have felt like an eternity, as she gazed into his eyes, watching the little boy she’d known and loved all her life … kill her.” Brad drew a halting breath.
Though the house was warm, Brad’s hands had gone icy cold. Chelsea rubbed them between her own. “I hope it didn’t happen like that. No one is that cold blooded.”
But Brad continued. “Then I think he dragged that old bench up to the house, planned to get rid of it. But there wasn’t any rush, until I found you, until we started to figure it out.” Tears filled the corners of his eyes. “He came here yesterday to dispose of the bench, but we were already here and put a kink in his plans.” He closed his eyes again, and a solitary tear leaked out. “I think he did it, I think it happened that way. But I can’t prove it, and I don’t know where to look for the evidence, besides the bench. Stan’s firm works independents, he’ll have someone who’s thorough and who knows what to look for. I want the bench tested, the boulder pulled out of the pond. I think Sam did it.” He grew more sure as he stared into Chelsea’s eyes.
“And I think he killed Angie Blackwell because she left him at the restaurant, alone. She embarrassed him, he’d want to get back at her. Maybe he didn’t mean for it to go so far, maybe he didn’t do it himself, but I think he made it happen.” Brad shook his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but something’s broken inside his mind. He’s not right, maybe he’s never been right.”
Chelsea pulled Brad into her embrace. “He’s not the same little boy I saw in the albums. He was carefree, laughing, his life was good. You could see it in his eyes. If it’s like you think, something happened to him. Something bad.”
Brad squeezed his eyes shut. “But what could have happened? Why?”
Chelsea brushed her fingers across his cheek. “We’re just supposing. Maybe it wasn’t him.”
“But maybe it was.”
When Chelsea had first entered the small drawing room, the sky had lightened with first pale pinks and purples of dawn. Now the room was bright. She glanced over at a small clock on Deloris’s desk — it was almost nine o’clock.
“It’s morning. I don’t think I could have gone to sleep anyhow.” She yawned.
“I’m going to make a call. Do we need to worry about breakfast?” He walked back into the bedroom and dug out his phone.
“No, I couldn’t eat, now not.” She wandered to the window that looked out over the back side of the property.
“Stan. Hi, Brad Rearden,” Brad said into the phone. “I’m fine, yeah, the business is great. Sure … ” He listened some more and laughed at what Stan said, then he cleared his throat. “Hey, I was wondering … Can you get some of your people out to my aunt’s place? Just past Springfield. I’ll be here all day.” The voice on the phone talked and Brad listened. “Thanks, buddy, it’s been hard. In a couple of hours? That sounds great. I owe you. I’ll text you the address.”
As Brad ended the call, Chelsea backed away from the window to sink down on the bed.
Brad dropped the phone next to her. “What’s wrong?” His eyes found hers.
“I think someone’s out there. And I think it’s Sam.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Brad moved to the window, peeled aside the curtain, and peered outside. “Someone’s out there, alright, I can see their shadow moving. Did you see Sam?” Brad spoke quietly.
“No, it’s just a feeling. I don’t know, maybe it’s someone else, but it feels like him.” She shivered. “I wish we hadn’t let Grams and Hildie take the Jeep last night, it’d be nice to get out of here right now.”
He turned to Chelsea. “You stay here, I’ll head down, see what’s going on.”
“No way. I’m not staying here by myself. I’m coming too.” She picked up his hand.
He smiled at her and stole a quick kiss from her lips. “Okay, but stay out of sight, just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“Just in case you’re right.” They slipped back into their jeans and t-shirts and made their way back to the kitchen and out the back door. They stood on the screened porch, and looked over the patio and backyard. Brad took another quick kiss. “Stay here.” This time she listened.
He crossed the patio and stepped around the corner, out of sight. Chelsea heard his voice rumble. “Sam?”
There wasn’t any response, but then Chelsea smelled the smoke. From her hiding spot inside the screened porch, she crept to the slatted side that extended out onto the patio.
Brad called again. “Who’s out there? Sam, is it you?” There was a scuffling, followed by a shout of pain. “Sam, what the hell are you doing? Stop, you can’t do that! Stop it, damn it, stop!” There were more sounds of scuffling and grunts as Brad struggled over something.
Chelsea squinted between the slats and leaned closer. Her view was hampered, her ability to help limited. Anxiously, her fingers tried to pry the slats farther apart, her nail ripping down to the quick, she silenced a whimper. Her pounding heart rested somewhere in her throat as panic swept through her. She wanted to scream out, to cry for help, but who would she call? How could they help? The chill of icy cold dread seeped into her bones and over her goose pebbled flesh. She’d only just started to love Brad, would she lose him already?
Chelsea stepped closer, catching a quick glimpse of the side of a face, wild beyond recognition, the sounds of the struggle still ringing in her ears. Then she heard a wet thwack, along with the heaving of an exerted breath. The sound of a soft sigh came next as if the air was being let out of a balloon, followed by a heavy weight hitting the ground. Her lips formed the word “Brad” though no sound escaped her throat.
She stepped from her hiding spot, seeing what Brad and she had most feared. It was Sam, his face sweaty and smeared with dirt as he gazed upon the ground. He strained to pull something heavier than himself. He dragged it, scraping it along the terrain toward the back of the property.
The bench Brad had wanted tested sat in the corner under the overhang of the porch’s roof. Flames licked across its wooden surface. Chelsea panicked, picked up the old quilt from where Brad had dropped it the previous night, and dowsed the fire. Most of the bench was saved.
She crawled between the shrubbery, keeping low. The flowerbeds were harder to maneuver, and in some places, they were crushed by the heavy weight being dragged across them. Finally, Sam’s bent form came back into view.
He was bowed and sweating. He cursed, dragging an arm across his forehead. “Damn it! If you’d only listened, if you’d tried to help me instead of that girl you find so attractive, taking by rights what’s already ours! And you, all but giving it away! You’re full of yourself! Now look what you’ve caused!” Sam swung his foot back and kicked his heavy load.
Chelsea crept closer and saw what he was dragging. Brad. Her fist flew to her mouth and she stifled a scream. She watched Sam kick Brad again before tugging him forward, the pond coming into view.
Brad’s head dangled from side to side as he bumped and scraped along the ground, toward the water where Deloris Rearden had met her end.
Chelsea bit her knuckle to keep from calling out; tears stood in her eyes. “Brad,” she whispered. And she moved deeper, weaving through the trees, getting closer to the pair.
“I don’t know why you couldn’t just leave all this alone! Why you had to stick your nose in where it didn’t belong!” Sam growled out, and he grunted, pulling Brad nearer to the water’s edge. “But no, you were always Deloris’s favorite. You just had to snoop around!”
“And that stupid girl, you had to drag her out here. You’re going to give away potentially millions of dollars, because of what? You got laid?” he shouted and once again, he kicked Brad’s body.
From the front of the house, Grams’s voice called out, “Brad? Chelsea? Are you decent? Ready for breakfast?” There was a short pause. “Chelsea?”
Chelsea’s heart raced with a whole new kind of panic — Grams couldn’t be here, not now! She glanced up toward the house, worry twisting her stomach.
“Now, who’s that?” Sam’s hate filled eyes roved over his brother’s face. “Who the hell else did you bring out here?” He kicked out at Brad’s body again, wiped his forehead on his sleeve, pulled his shirt straighter, and tucked it into his pants where it had come loose. “You wait right here.” He bent down and patted Brad’s cheek with a laugh. “I’ll be right back.” In his hurry to get to the front of the house, he missed Chelsea completely.
She followed, remaining out of sight — Sam couldn’t know she was here, that she had seen what he’d done to Brad. But she also knew to stay close enough to Sam to make sure he didn’t harm Grams and Hildie. She hid in the bushes, close enough to hear their conversation.
“Hello!” Sam called out with a grin, waving, as he made his way around the house. “If you’re looking for Brad and Chelsea, you just missed them.”
“We have Brad’s Jeep. Where’d they go without it?” Grams asked with disbelief in her voice.
“They said something about heading into town. They wanted breakfast, and since no one’s stayed here in a while, the kitchen’s bare. They decided to walk.” He leaned against the front porch.
“Are you sure? It’s about five miles into town,” Hildie said, and looked doubtfully down the road. “We didn’t see them on our way in. Surely they didn’t get that far.”
Sam gazed down the road too. “They’ve been gone for a while, but you might still be able to catch them.”
“That’s strange, we told them we’d be by in the morning. We planned to have breakfast together.” Hildie glanced over at Grams suspiciously.
“What can I say, young love is impatient.” He laughed a little sarcastically. “Maybe they just wanted to be alone.”
“Why not take your car?” Grams raised her eyebrows.
“You got me. I offered.” Sam gestured to the Porsche. “Look, ladies, I’m kind of busy here. Do you think we can talk after Brad and Chelsea get back? I’ll have them give you a call.”
“I don’t understand why they didn’t just call us. We could have come earlier.” Grams walked closer to Sam. “Why wouldn’t they call?”
“I really don’t know, but I am busy.” Sam motioned back to the lane. “Bye now.”
As Sam waited while Grams and Hildie climbed backed into the Jeep and drove away, Chelsea sped back to Brad as fast as her legs would take her.
Chapter Forty-Three
Chelsea raced over to where Brad lay, motionless. She felt his forehead, then his carotid pulse. It was strong; he was only knocked out. “Thank the heavens.” She bent down and brushed his lips with a soft kiss.
She spoke in a hushed voice, stealing another quick glance over her shoulder. Sam was still out of sight. “Brad!” She lifted his head to her lap, but when she pulled back her hand, it was covered in blood. Her hand shook. “Oh my God. Brad,” she whispered, “please wake up!”
She gently lowered his head back to the ground and hurried to the small pond, scooped up water in her cupped hands, and turned back to where Brad lay. She splashed the water over his face, causing him to cough. Slowly he blinked his eyes and squinted. “Chelsea?” Brad held his hand over his eyes, blocking the sun’s rays. “My head’s pounding like a sledge hammer. What happened?”
“Sam’s what happened! He’s around the house,” she uttered, her voice thick, and she dropped to her knees, a fat tear rolling down her cheek. “Come on, Brad, get up!” She whispered harshly. “Come on, before he gets back.”
“It was Sam?” Brad asked, disoriented. “Why are we at the pond?”
“There’s no time, Brad, get up! Get up now!” She roared in a loud whisper. “He’s coming back, he going to kill you. And me too if he catches us.” She shoved him, tried to push him up into a sitting position, and pulled on his arms, struggling to get him to his feet. Tears rolled off her chin. “Sam is insane.”
“No, he’s not. Or at least, I wasn’t, until I met you.” Sam’s voice came from behind her, and Chelsea’s head snapped around. “Brad, Brad!” He mimicked. “Get up before Sam catches us!” He continued in a falsetto voice. “He’s going to kill us!” His voice grew harder, and he grinned wickedly. “At least Deloris didn’t whimper and cry — she just died. Kind of like what you’re going to do.”
Chelsea glared over her shoulder to see him sauntering toward her. His deep brown eyes almost glowed, and maniacal need shone in their depths. “Damn. Now, I have to start all over.” He bent down and retrieved a small hammer hidden in the flowerbeds. He must have dropped it on his way to the front of the house.
“No. Look, Sam, if you want the property, it’s yours. I’ll give up all the rights. I don’t want it.” Chelsea tried to pull Brad with her as she backed away. “Let us walk away and it’s all yours. No questions, no authorities.”
Sam grinned, bouncing the hammer from hand to hand. “Yeah, sure. And as soon as you’re out of sight, you’ll be calling the cops. No, thank you.” He stepped nearer, leering at the pair.
“No, I promise, no police.” She took another step backward and tugged Brad’s arm.
Sam threw his head back and laughed until tears rolled down his face. “You really must think I’m stupid. But it’s you that’s stupid, bitch.” His lip lifted in a sneer and he lunged, just missing Chelsea as she ducked, and he gave a bloodcurdling scream.
Brad reached out as Sam came closer, shoving him backward. He stumbled, but it was long enough for Brad to hurry after Chelsea and push her out of the way. She hit the ground, and Brad placed his body between Sam and Chelsea.
“Sam, you don’t have to do this, we’ll get you help,” Brad cajoled. He edged forward with his opened hand held out. “Come on, give me the hammer. Mom and Dad wouldn’t want you to hurt anyone else.”
Brad’s words momentarily halted Sam in his tracks. “Mom and Dad? Ha! Like they care! Mom hides her head in the sand, and Dad, he’s a total freak, a sick bastard! You don’t know, you didn’t have to stay in that house! You could run to Aunt D!”
“Sam, what are you talking about … ?” Brad continued as he stayed in Sam’s path.
“You really didn’t know?” Sam’s sarcastic voice took on a new note of disbelief. “You really are stupid.”
“Tell me now, Sam. Tell me what I’ve missed, let me help you.” Brad pleaded.
Sam threw back his head again and chortled a sickening laugh. His eyes fell on his brother. “The late night visits, the other boys, Dad’s secret club.” Sam’s eyes lost their focus for a moment. “When he stopped letting me come to the farm, you never even questioned it. I couldn’t wait for the school year to start, for him to become distracted by … other things. For me to grow bigger, stronger, more like you. For him to forget about me like he had about you.”
“Mom said … .”
“Mom was just as bad!” Sam yelled. “She hid from what she didn’t want to see, just like you did!”
“No, Sam, I really didn’t know … ” Brad hands dropped to his sides. “If I had … ”
“What!” What would you have done? Called the cops? You think I didn’t?”
Brad stared at his brother, he stepped closer. “I would have tried to protect you … to make it stop.”
Sam uttered a guttural rumble. He growled with the injustice of his life, he no longer listened t
o Brad’s words. “But it all changes now!”
Sam swung the hammer in a wide arc, moving so quickly that a breeze glided over Chelsea’s sweat slicked skin. He smiled wildly, his eyes gleamed with feverish need. His growl grew to a roar. “You never knew? More like never cared! I hated you for that!”
“Then let me help you now, I can do that for you. Please let me,” Brad begged his brother.
“Like hell you will! Everyone will know, everyone will see.” Sam’s eyes moved back and forth, he spoke to himself. “No, you just need to die, no one needs to know anything.” Sam jabbered, no longer making sense, lost to both Brad and Chelsea. “Don’t worry about leaving your girlfriend behind, she won’t miss you for long, I’ll take care of her too.” Then he smiled almost serenely, “you get to stay together after all.” Sam’s eyes rolled and he laughed with the hammer raised, and he grunted with one final swing.
The birds fell silent as did the gentle breeze that had rustled in the willow’s shifting leaves.
• • •
Chelsea listened to all Sam’s revelations with growing dread. His sanity was gone, there was nothing left to save. The air vibrated around her, the buzz of a million bees filled her ears. Her hands raised to cover them as a thousand fingers of anxious need sought the air surrounding her. She tried to make herself smaller, closer to the ground. She heard the wheeze of the Watchman’s laugh as if in happy anticipation.
Chelsea’s eyes went dark for a moment, and when she widened them, she found herself existing in the two places at the same time. The Watchman’s mad gaze followed the struggle with Brad in the foreground, making a grab for Sam as he slipped by. The cold souls reaching out, but not for her.