Ever, Sarah

by Hansen, C. E.

  “You have to understand, I thought…” I felt the heat rush to my chest. He just told me he’s never hidden anything from me, and I knew for a fact he had. But that was a different conversation I needed to have with him at another time.

  “I know you don’t remember much.” He continued. “I know you’re feeling very confused. I also know you were manipulated by a scheming maniac who preys on young women.”

  “Maniac? Manipulated? I wasn’t the first?” Now I was surprised.

  “I don’t know for sure, the police are working on a theory of mine now. But before we continue, I’d like it if you tried to eat something. You look pale and I’m sure you didn’t eat well when you were gone.”

  The way he said the word gone, had the small hairs on my neck standing upright.

  “You need your strength. You’ve had a rough day.”

  “I’m really not hungry?”

  “Terry made chicken pot pie. It’s one of…”

  “I know, I know… It’s one of my favorites.” I cut him off.

  “Well, actually it’s one of mine, but you do like it.” He said smugly, but he smiled, and that did a lot to put me at ease.

  “I guess I’ve moved back into second place here, huh?” I mumbled, trying to sound funny and totally missing my mark.

  “Stay here, I’ll get us some food.” He squeezed my hand, “And you…were never second anything.”

  He got up and disappeared behind the wall leading into the kitchen. He came back a short time later carrying two bowls of steaming chicken pot pie. The smell alone was enough to garner my interest.

  “Try to eat a few forkfuls.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Needless to say, it didn’t take me long to eat nearly the entire portion. But I watched Brad as he nearly devoured that pot pie.

  What a funny word, pot pie.

  Brad gathered both our bowls and carried them in the kitchen and placed them in the sink. I heard him open the fridge and was sure he was stowing away the leftovers.

  My stomach tightened as I realized there was no more procrastinating for me. It was time to tell him everything.

  He returned a few minutes later and sat down next to me again.

  “Remember what I said.” He slowly nodded, staring intently at me, and waited patiently as I composed myself. “The day you took me into the City to your building and brought me to have a look at my office.” I looked at him for his acknowledgement and he nodded again. “Remember when I decided to go outside instead of going up with you to your offices?” No response, just his undivided attention, “I went outside and took a seat on the bench, the one by the fountain. I sat there for a while just looking around, watching the people. I was enjoying myself. Loving the people, the smells, sounds…when, out of nowhere, a man came and sat next to me. He introduced himself to me, then told me that we, he and I, had been,” I think I had the good sense to blush here, “he told me that we had been having an affair before the accident. He knew about the accident, that’s one of the things that really threw me.” I took a deep breath, “He told me that you were very controlling and I was very unhappy with you.”

  I noticed the tick in his jaw had started again, and I watched as his hands tightened into fists. “He told me he could prove to me that I was leaving you for him. He was very convincing. I was confused and very afraid. I knew I was afraid of something, I’d been having bad dreams and I was nervous deep inside about something. I didn’t know what happened in the past. He said he had proof.” I reiterated, “I thought that maybe he was telling me the truth. I had no way of knowing for sure.” I said, reemphasizing my point.

  “You could have asked me.” He said plainly. No emotion in his voice.

  “He had me thinking you were the one who had hurt me, Brad.” I lowered my head. I felt tears spring to my eyes and I fought to keep them back. “How can I ask you? What if he were right?”

  He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple, rose and fell, and I could see in his eyes that he was fighting to restrain his anger.

  “Before I continue any further, I need to know if you’re angry with me?” My voice was small, like a child.

  I was sweating now, feeling the thick, pot pie swimming around my stomach.

  “Sarah. I know you think I blame you, but I don’t. I know it wasn’t your doing. I’m not mad at you for anything that has happened. And neither is your mother.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t known how heavy forgiveness was weighing on my mind until then.

  “My mother. How is she?” I just wanted to hang my head and cry. My poor mother, I put her through hell.

  “She’ll be here first thing tomorrow. I had to practically beg her to give us tonight. It took a lot of cajoling to get her to promise she would stay home.” He smiled, but I could tell it was strained. Very strained. “For all I know, she’s camping outside our door.” He chuckled and the sound of the slight rumbling in his chest had me calming down, even if just a little bit.

  “Are you sure you want to hear all this?”

  He nodded, but I could see his lips tighten.

  “He asked me to meet him at the bottom of the driveway, and we drove around for a while. We were going in all different directions. I had no idea where I was. We finally pulled up in front of a modest home. The neighborhood was nice. Simple.” I realized I was being too descriptive. I needed to make sure I kept it at what went on ‘in’ that home.

  “When we got there he left the doors open, that made me feel a little more at ease. He brought me upstairs into one of the bedrooms…”

  I saw a dark fire light behind Brad’s eyes.

  “No, no, nothing like that. It was full of boxes. There were two in the corner with my name on them.” My hands began to shake. “He pulled a suitcase out of the big box and put it in front of me. It matched the overnight bag I’d brought with me.” The intensity of Brad’s look made me squirm. I stopped.

  “Go on.” No emotion. Shit!

  “I opened the suitcase and it was filled with…I’m embarrassed.” I looked up at him. He just nodded, prodding me on with his chin. I continued, “undergarments. Stockings, and underwear. There were no clothes. I thought what kind of woman packs just underwear? It was odd. Then he pulled out a box of cards and notes…all signed Ever, Sarah, just like the ones I found in your nightstand. I wasn’t snooping by the way. I thought it was my nightstand. I thought it was my envelope. I’m sorry.”

  “You did nothing wrong.” He said plainly.

  “Well, here were cards and notes, very explicit notes, where I declared my love to…”

  “Those are mine!” The sound of his fist hitting the table startled me so much I jumped. He stood up quickly, then walked directly over to the bar and poured himself a glass of the scotch, I think. “Would you like one?”

  “I need one, but no. I need to finish this. What do you mean they were yours?”

  “You gave those letters and cards to me.” His anger was barely in check, “When you lay in a coma, in the hospital, someone broke into our home. I didn’t know until now what it was they took. The safe was locked, nothing taken. Your jewelry was still in your closet safe. We couldn’t figure out the reason for the break in. Terry assumed it was because whoever broke in heard her coming up the drive and ran out.” He tilted the glass and drained it. Then turned his back to me as he poured another. “The son of a bitch took your ‘things’ and my memories—my cards, my letters—and pushed them off on you as though they were his own.” He took a sip and I nearly jumped out of my skin when he slammed his glass on the top of the table. “Lena told me you were being harassed at work by a man. That he’d given you a bracelet. She said he was relentless. He kept calling you, every day, every single day...” he was in a daze of controlled anger. “This son of a bitch called you and broke into your office.”

  I just looked at him like he was mad.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You were being stalked by a psycho. You
may not remember, but Lena confirmed my suspicions. I just don’t understand why you didn’t come to me, and now I’ll never really know.” The desolate tone of his voice was so sad I wanted to scream.

  The sound of the phone ringing nearly caused me to jump out of my seat. I wasn’t expecting it; I was so engrossed in our conversation, or my revelation. My eyes followed Brad as he walked over to the table to pick up his cell.

  “Hunter.” His voice was tight.

  I watched as his face changed rapidly, covering a myriad of emotions, from attentive to angry in a few short moments.

  “Thank you detective…I will…she is doing much better, thank you for asking. I most definitely will let you know if I hear anything…no, there is no need for that…I don’t think…I’m sure Sarah would be happy to cooperate. We will. Thank you.”

  He pushed a button killing the call.

  “What?”

  When he just stood there looking like he was contemplating murder, I got nervous.

  “I will not be a victim again. Either you tell me what is going on or I ‘m leaving this house.” And I meant it.

  Brad turned his attention to me. His eyes bright, his mouth set in a tight grimace.

  “The detectives would like to ask you some questions.”

  “That is not what has you looking like that.” I was scared and my voice quivered.

  “Paul Anderson, or as you know him, Kevin O’Shea, fled his home and as of this hour, is still at large. There was a basement. Did he ever mention a basement to you?”

  I thought about it and remembered the door with the strange lock. The door, like both the front and rear doors that had a deadbolt that could only be opened by a key. I told Brad about the doors.

  “They found the bodies of three women in the basement. The police are investigating.”

  “Bodies?”

  “Yes. Three women.”

  “Who?” I knew their names, well at least their first names. “Mary, Tanya and Julia.” I mumbled, but the expression on his face told me I was right.

  “How did…”

  “Boxes. There were boxes in the other bedrooms with those names on them. Oh my God, those poor women, and to think I was…how did they die?”

  “I don’t know. The detective didn’t say. I assume because it’s still an open investigation.”

  I think he did know how they died, but he was worried I’d stress out. Instead, I just got angrier. I wanted to hurt him, Kevin/Paul. I had every opportunity to kill him and I left him alive. Had I known about those poor women, I would have…hurt him. Badly.

  “He preyed on women?”

  “Worse, he preyed on women in distress.” He turned his back again before I could hear the string of expletives run out of his mouth. “He knew exactly what buttons to push.”

  “He’s out there?” I was just a bit nervous not to mention aggravated that he was free while I was locked inside my head, my memories frozen in a time I’ll never get back.

  “I want you to pack a few things, I’m taking you to your mothers’ house.”

  “No, you are not.”

  “Sarah, don’t fight me on this. Please.”

  “Bradley.”

  “Sarah.”

  “Only if you come and stay with me.”

  “If that is what it takes, I will come with you.”

  “And STAY.” I reiterated.

  “Get your things.”

  “Our things.”

  “Yes. Pack my sweats, underwear, socks and a few tees.”

  I stood up and walked up the steps to make up an overnight bag for the both of us. When I got into the bedroom, I was of one mind. To get us both out of here, and to stay out of here, until the police catch that bastard!

  I packed our toothbrushes, our deodorants. His sweat pants, a couple of tee shirts, underwear and socks. I threw in my lounge pants and a few tees, some underwear, socks and both of our sneakers. I went into Brad’s closet to get his suitcase. I reached up and pulled it down.

  Flash.

  Flash.

  Flash.

  Flash.

  I was hiding in Brad’s closet. The man in the bedroom was beating on the door incessantly. He didn’t know that there was a door from the closet into the hall. I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I escaped into the hallway.

  I sneaked along the wall to the back staircase and tip toed quietly down. I ran to the garage to get into my car. When I got there I realized I’d left my keys upstairs. IN THE BEDROOM!

  I thought about running to the roadway, but I was hurt. He’d pushed me into the wall and my head was bleeding. I remembered that I was feeling dizzy. I was sure he would catch me before I made it down the driveway.

  Flash.

  I snuck up the back stairs, quiet as a mouse and spotted my purse on Brad’s nightstand. The man was still in my closet banging on the bathroom door. Shouting obscenities.

  “I will kill you.”

  “You will be mine.”

  “I will make you suffer.”

  All threats.

  All frightening.

  I snuck back into the bedroom.

  I walked slowly, holding my breath until I had my purse. I took out my cell phone and snuck back into Brad’s closet.

  “I saw you Sarah. You fucking cunt.”

  I trembled violently, but reached the door that led to the hall. I heard him behind me. He knew I’d gotten out and was right behind me.

  I ran down the hall. I threw my purse over the banister. It landed on the floor of the great room.

  I’d hoped he would think I’d left. I ran into the bedroom and looked around.

  No, not under the bed-he’d find me.

  Not the closet-he’d open the door.

  I spotted the rocking chair in the corner, the afghan my grandmother gave draped over the back. I sat behind it. Holding the rocker still. I reached up and pulled the afghan down so he wouldn’t see my feet and held my breath.

  I could hear his footsteps out in the hall. I inhaled one more time and held it again. I saw his shadow as he walked quickly past the door, and I was sure he fell for my ruse.

  I sat, quivering, waiting to hear him open the front door and run out to chase me. But instead I heard laughing, a horrific, loud maniacal laughing, the sound ringing through the halls and bouncing off the walls of the great room.

  I tensed. I heard him walking back towards the bedroom where I was still behind the rocking chair. I swiped at the rivulets of blood running into my eyes. It stung and blurred my vision; I wiped it quickly on my shirt. Breathing. I heard breathing. Heavy breathing. It wasn’t me. Someone else was breathing, and he was very close. I looked up slowly and saw him looming over me. The frightened look on my face just seemed to spur him on and he began laughing again. I put my hands over my ears and pressed them tightly.

  Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed me by my upper arm, his fingers digging into my flesh and he yanked me out from behind the chair and with his hand clasped tightly over my arm tightly; he shook me like a rag doll, all the while laughing. I remembered getting angry because he was hurting me and laughing. I reached out and clawed at his face.

  Shocked, he pushed me away, releasing me and I took the opportunity to run out of the room. I headed towards the stairs. I almost made it. I almost made it, but he grabbed my hair and pulled me back, my arms flailing. He held me at the top of the stairway and laughed as he released me, pushing me forward and I tumbled and bumped and slammed down the steps, losing consciousness as my head smacked into the hard wood.

  I faded.

  I faded hearing his laughter.

  Flash.

  His face was still fuzzy, but the sound of his voice familiar.

  Very familiar.

  “Brad!” I shouted.

  I heard loud footsteps coming up the stairs and I instinctively ran into the closet. Feeling kind of stupid at my reaction, I stood up and was about to walk out of the closet.

  Then I heard him.
/>   “Sarah?” I knew that voice. I was sure of it.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Sarah? Where are you?”

  “Sssssssaaaarrraaahhhh.” I felt my body go numb when I heard the loud hiss

  That wasn’t Brad’s voice.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A spurt of hot wetness ran down my legs and I cowered behind Brad’s suits not moving.

  I saw shadows in the bedroom. He stood at the entrance of the closet. I could see his feet under the door.

  “I know your tricks now. I know how you move through this labyrinth. I know everything.” He shouted into the air.

  He wanted me scared.

  He wanted me helpless.

  He wanted me dead.

  I refused to give him what he wanted.

  I waited until he walked past where I stood. Then I heard him open the door into Brad’s closet from the hallway. His footsteps echoed in the hallway. He walked across the hall and into my closet. His shoes sounded different, his shoes made a different sound walking on the tile floor. I listened as he walked back into my closet and then he stopped.

  I was petrified. I was sure he could see me standing behind Brad’s clothing, but he walked through the bathroom and I listened as he opened the door from my closet into the hallway.

  “I know your tricks!” He shouted.

  He figured out how I had got away from him the first time.

  He laughed.

  That sound, from deep in his chest, rang out.

  I cringed.

  I pulled my jacket closer to my body as if it were a shield and felt something inside. I reached in and pulled my hand out. In it was a nail file. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was something.

  Now that I remembered doing.

  I slowly straightened up. My legs were shaking to the point where I didn’t know if I could stand without falling. I backed up, leaning against the wall for support, willing my legs to regain their strength. I wrapped my fingers around the nail file as though it were a talisman, praying the whole time I wouldn’t need it.

  I knew the monster I was about to face killed three women and damn near killed me, and I’ll be damned if I will be his victim again.