Brink of Death

by Brandilyn Collins

  The thought was too unbearable to consider. Could mere minutes have meant the difference between life and death?

  “And I keep thinking, what did I do to somebody to deserve this? Did I ever cheat anyone? Did I ever raise somebody’s rent unfairly? I thought I might recognize your drawing. Then when I didn’t, I thought maybe it’s someone’s relative that I don’t know, getting back at me for…something. But I can’t come up with anything.”

  “Dave—” my voice thickened—”you can’t dwell on this.

  You can’t think that what happened is your fault. It probably has nothing to do with you.”

  He turned away, blinking rapidly, and it occurred to me how hypocritical I was being—I, who claimed the guilt for everything wrong in my own life.

  Dave sucked in a breath. “Thank you again for all your help, Annie.”

  “Sure.”

  As I crossed the street, Dave’s words echoed through my head. He was in my office… How I wished that whoever killed Lisa wasn’t tied to Dave’s business, but that seemed such a foolish hope. Somewhere out there was a man connected to Dave’s real estate properties. A man Dave hadn’t seen but I had. A man who apparently hadn’t had time to find what he was looking for.

  A man who, we could all hope, would not come back for a second try.

  Chapter 14

  Nine p.m.

  I trudged across the great room toward the stairs leading to the lower level. Cries of the mangled and dying echoed up the steps. Stephen was playing another computer game.

  Only a teenager could do that—choose killing as entertainment when it had capered without conscience across his own street.

  Where have I seen the Face?

  For the last few hours my mind had chanted the same maddening mantra. Where have I seen it? Where? I’d tried envisioning those features in dozens of places around Redding. Those ice blue eyes

  meeting mine as the man packs cereal and rice into a plastic bag at the grocery store. He asks me if I’d like help out to the car…

  No. The Face was not a packer at the store. Nor did he work behind the counter of the gas station I frequented. I hadn’t seen him at the nursery when I went to buy plants, at the outlet shopping center outside Redding, or even walking down the street as I drove by.

  Where have I seen him?

  The computer-generated cries escalated. Stephen was on a roll. I knew he would protest when I called him, and I did not relish the battle. Leaning against the doorjamb, I pressed my eyes shut. They felt like they’d been sprayed with sand.

  “You all right?” Jenna’s voice came from behind me.

  “Just tired.” I aimed her a weak smile. She and Kelly sat on the huge couch facing me, Kelly, both legs pulled up on the cushions, leaning against her aunt. Her long brown hair covered half her features. How pretty my daughter was. She took after Jenna, with her heart-shaped face and long eyelashes.

  How much more beautiful she would become as she grew.

  Behind that thought trailed the knowledge of all I had to lose.

  I glanced out the wall of windows overlooking the backyard. Night had fallen, pulling a blanket of discomforting blackness over Grove Landing. Those windows, displaying lovely scenery by day, now loomed with the menace of one-way mirrors. I shivered.

  For all I knew, the Face could be out there right now, watching us.

  At least the alarm was on. I’d activated it a couple hours ago, setting it to level one, which allowed us to move about the house but played sentry against the opening of any doors or downstairs windows.

  How different the house felt amid this night of a thousand eyes. After my father died, I was drawn to this house as if by some mystical force. My half of the hefty inheritance made the move possible. The money and stocks left by my father, even with the recent downturn of the market, would keep Jenna, me, and the kids for a lifetime. And the sale of his Hillsborough home netted another three million plus. The idea that I could afford to flee the Bay Area’s traffic and constant motion, the place where memories of my life with Vic still mocked me, took root, then blossomed. As soon as we moved, I grew to love the feeling of being surrounded by woods, by the natural beauty of the neighborhood.

  Now I felt only oppression.

  Where did I see him?

  Enough, Annie.

  “Stephen,” I called down the staircase, “come out of your dungeon!”

  “Why?” he shouted back over a fatal scream.

  “Because we need to talk as a family.”

  He snorted loudly enough for me to hear. I wasn’t quite sure which he was snorting at—that we were a family or that he was supposed to care.

  “I don’t want to talk.”

  “Too bad. Come anyway; the game’ll keep.”

  Sighing, I made my way to the couch opposite Jenna and Kelly and fell into it. Kelly shuffled around the glass-topped coffee table to ease beside me, laying her head on my shoulder. I stroked her hair.

  Two minutes ticked by before we heard the slow thud of Stephen’s feet upon the stairs. Two minutes of my mind spinning more scenes of where I could have seen the Face.The water meter reader who was in the neighborhood two days ago?

  No.

  Someone pulling up beside me at a traffic light, in a parking lot.

  No.

  Maybe a mover. One of the men who’d carried in our belongings. I focused on the massive stone fireplace, remembering, imagining the Face plodding through the house, asking where I wanted a certain box…

  No.

  Stephen scuffed to the oversize armchair between the two couches and threw himself into it, sitting low on his spine, legs spread. “Okay, here I am. Let’s talk like a family.”

  His sarcastic tone set my teeth on edge. Jenna scowled at him. I could not blame her for disliking him. Sometimes I thought, If he weren’t my son…

  I summoned what energy I possessed. “Okay. We need to talk about…what’s happened here. With so much going on, we haven’t had a chance to be with each other.”

  Stephen rocked his knees back and forth. “What’s there to talk about?”

  A disgusted tsk emanated from Kelly’s mouth. She raised her head and shot her brother a venomous look.

  “First, I want to know if you two have questions about the investigation or anything. It’s hard enough to go through this, and a bunch of unknowns won’t help.”

  “We already have a bunch of unknowns,” Stephen countered. “Who killed Erin’s mom and why? And where is he now?” He made a point of looking toward the back windows, then tilted his head at me. “And why did Mom move us here in the first place?”

  “Stephen, will you knock it off!” Jenna retorted. “We don’t need your attitude right now.”

  His mouth locked tight, his fingers picking at a seam on the chair.

  “Is there anything—” I drew out each word as if talking to a belligerent toddler—”that you’d like to ask about the investigation? Or what happens next?”

  “No.” Stephen’s fingers worked with increased force.

  “Would you please stop picking at that seam!”

  He shot me a look, then jammed his arms over his chest.

  “Can Erin come over tomorrow?” Kelly asked.

  “It’s fine with me.” I traced a finger across her forehead.

  “But they’ve got a lot of family here now, and she might want to be with them.”

  “What about the funeral?” Jenna put in. “Have you heard anything?”

  “I think Gerri or somebody mentioned Thursday, with a viewing on Wednesday.”

  Jenna raised her eyebrows, as if surprised that the casket could be open. Apparently, any bruises could be covered. But this was not a conversation I cared to have in front of the kids.

  Where have I seen the Face?

  “That picture you drew really looked like the guy, didn’t it.” Stephen jutted his chin at me.

  I blinked at him. The kid could read my mind. His tone ran neutral, but did I detect a hint of
respect?

  “Yes, it did,” Jenna replied. “By tomorrow copies of it will be all around town. It will probably play a major part in helping find the guy.”

  “That’s cool.” Stephen sniffed, keeping his eyes on his feet. “You oughtta do that more, Mom—draw pictures of criminals. Don’t some people do that for a living?”

  “I suppose. Okay. Next on the agenda. Until this…person is caught, we have to be extra careful. I know the sheriff’s detectives are keeping an eye on the neighborhood. But I’m still going to be sure the alarm is set at night. And Stephen, for right now I want you to continue sleeping in the guest bedroom.”

  He scowled. “Mom—” Abruptly he turned from me to Jenna. “Are you going home tomorrow?”

  “Yes, in the afternoon. But I’ll come back up Friday after work.”

  “Not till then?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my tone.

  “You’ll miss the funeral.”

  “I know, but I’m missing a day at work already.”

  True, but a funeral was important. Jenna should be there; it was the neighborly thing to do. Of course, I would not say this to Jenna. This was where my sister and I differed—she felt she had the right to help run my life, but I would never run hers.

  “Take me with you.” Stephen faced Jenna. “I want to go see Nate. I called him today and he said he’s not doing anything.”

  I jumped in. “No.” Nate was one of Stephen’s friends who didn’t seem to be into drugs. Still, the last thing I wanted was for Stephen to be running around the Bay Area again. Besides, I could never tell about any of his friends.

  “Come on, Mom, it’ll only be for a couple days.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Stephen, you know why not; we’ve been through this a dozen times.”

  “So tell me the thirteenth time.”

  “I do not like your friends in the Bay Area. End of story.”

  “You said Nate wasn’t that bad.”

  “Yeah, but the rest of your friends are, and what’s to stop you from meeting up with them while you’re there?”

  Stephen glared at me. “So let me get this straight. You’d rather me stay here, where there’s some deranged killer running around the neighborhood, than be safe with Nate.”

  I closed my eyes again, his words bouncing around my head. I didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, he had a point.

  Oh. Vic.

  I should call him tomorrow, tell him what happened. The kids hadn’t, which spoke of their emotional distance from him. They were supposed to fly to Texas in the middle of August. Maybe they could visit early.

  Nudging Kelly off my shoulder, I pushed to my feet.

  “Come on, it’s bedtime.” I knew my daughter would be sleeping with me. “Stephen, you’re staying here and that’s all there is to it.”

  I mounted the massive staircase, Kelly by my side. We shuffled down the hall, past her room and into mine. Within minutes of climbing into bed, I fell through the trapdoor of sleep. The mantra echoed as my last waking awareness.

  Where have I seen that face?

  Chapter 15

  The day had nearly driven him insane. Handling his business deals, visiting and laughing with his sister, acting normal while his insides churned. Had she noticed anything? He tried so hard to be gentle with her, no matter what. More stress in her life she didn’t need. But all the while he wondered what was happening. What were the cops doing? What evidence had he left behind?

  Nothing, he told himself. Nothing. Except what he’d gone for in the first place.

  No news about the case yet, nothing on any TV channels he could get, anyway. Maybe they wouldn’t cover it. Was the woman dead or alive? They would look much harder for him if she was dead. He flexed his hands, remembering, reliving. He closed his eyes and smiled. Savoring.

  His eyes popped open. No. He hoped she wasn’t dead. That would make things so…messy.

  Even though she deserved it.

  He prowled his living room, smacking knuckles against the palm of his hand. So jittery. So full of energy needing to be spent. Maybe he should go back to the neighborhood tonight, try another strike. How crazy would that be?

  Crazy. Plenty crazy.

  He’d wait a day. Let things settle.

  Pacing some more, he wondered where his cat had gotten to. He wanted something to kick. Something alive.

  Maybe he should go tonight. Just finish the thing. Surely this time he’d find what he needed. Tie up those threatening loose ends he left. Protect himself.

  No.

  Better wait.

  But everything inside him clamored to go.

  He hulked through the expansive kitchen and into his manicured backyard. The pool water shimmered under a rising moon. Idly he scanned the perimeter of his lot for the cat. The beast was nowhere to be seen.

  Jingling two coins in his pocket, he considered putting out some food to lure the creature out of hiding. It had to be hungry. He hadn’t fed it for a couple days.

  Ah, forget the cat.

  His thoughts returned to his bungling of the previous night.

  Anger surged and he turned on his heel, anxious, needing to push it away. To prove to himself he was still In Control. He strode back into the house, down the long hall into the master suite. Opened the bottom drawer of his massive dresser.

  Stared at the magnificent work of his own hands—the one real skill he’d learned from normal employment. A skill so few knew.

  A skill that would save his life.

  If his own stupid mistakes didn’t ruin everything.

  He banged the drawer shut. What to do tonight, what to do? He flung himself onto his king-size bed and stared at the ceiling.

  Nothing to be done in haste. He was the Man. He was In Control. He would think this whole thing out—and win.

  His foot jiggled and jiggled, exuding nervous energy. Like a yanked puppet, he sprang from the bed, then paced into his kitchen and stood staring out the window at the sky, talking to himself.

  Thinking.

  Calculating…

  Chapter 16

  The carousel sweeps round and round, its tinkling music off-key. My rigid body is tied to a grotesque animal. Up and down I go, the silver pole slippery under my sweaty palms. My stomach roils, and my head fills with the music and the hideous laugh of some unseen being, like a grave-rotted clown. Colors blur as I spin, running together in reds and white, like bloody rain. The Face waits for me, lunging each time I swing before him. He bares lion claws that snatch at me, closer and closer, until I feel the slash of air. Desperately I lean away, my arms pulling from their sockets.

  The next time he will have me. The next time…the next moment…the next second.

  He circles into view once more, those glazed blue eyes glaring at me, blond hair askew, pudgy jaws open and tense. He swipes at me, claws digging into the tender skin of my scalp. A shriek bursts from my mouth…

  My throat whirred like rusted machinery. I woke with a start, heart thudding. My eyes would not open. For a moment time cycled me back to the sirens of the previous night. My mind scrambled to remember where I was, what had happened.

  In one sickening rush it returned.

  I swallowed, tried to smooth my exhaling. Turning my head toward Kelly, I listened for her breaths of sleep. They were barely audible above the whoosh of blood in my own ears. As for me, sleep had fled, a fairy spooked by a demon.

  For some time I stared at the high wooden-beamed ceiling, the yellow light from the burglar alarm glowing like the eye of a dying animal. Jenna had apparently set the alarm on its first level, which guarded the doors and downstairs windows but did not activate the inside motion sensors. That made sense. If Stephen needed to use the guest bathroom in the night, he could do so without setting off the alarm.

  My thoughts turned to young Erin, awakened at midnight and hearing noises. The unthinkable becoming reality in her own home…

  Then I heard it. A noise
from the great room, a burr followed by a faint squeak, as if someone had bumped into a piece of furniture, scooting its legs over the hardwood floor.

  My muscles tightened. Air walled, unmoving, in my chest.

  I listened.

  Silence.

  Perhaps I’d imagined it. My overactive mind was alive and well this night, conjuring an experience similar to Erin’s. That was all.

  Or maybe I’d heard Stephen creeping downstairs from the guest bedroom for something to eat. Maybe Jenna was up. Doing…something.

  Maybe it was someone else.

  I glanced at the yellow light of the keypad on my wall, begging myself to take comfort in it. No one could have gotten into the house without setting off the alarm. If an intruder had managed to disarm the system, the light would not be on. Its very presence signaled all was well.

  I pictured Erin lying in bed one night ago, straining to hear. Hadn’t she too tried to convince herself not to worry about the sounds?

  Jenna slept below me, her bedroom suite down the hall from the great room. If someone had broken into the house, she would be first in line for danger.

  That thought jolted me into motion.

  I needed to call 911!

  Wait. I couldn’t call. I still didn’t have a phone for this bedroom. Why hadn’t I bought one when I had the chance?

  And my cell phone—where was it?

  Downstairs in my purse. In the kitchen.

  I swallowed hard. No way around it—I had to go down there to make the call.

  Folding back the covers, I eased out of bed and tiptoed across the carpet. I reached for my doorknob, imagining the noise it would make when I turned it. A light downstairs would be all I needed to see, telling me that someone in the family was awake. I grasped the knob and turned. When it would turn no more, I hesitated, then pulled to unlatch the door. A little click sounded.

  Cold fear washed over me. What if the Face was in the house? He’d have heard it.

  I rested my forehead against the wall, forcing myself to get a grip. The Face was not here. The alarm was activated.