A Desolate Hour

by Mae Clair

  “Yet you found one?” Evening’s mouth thinned and his gaze narrowed. “Robbery?”

  “No.” Caden sensed where he was headed.

  “A crime of passion? Perhaps anger?”

  “It doesn’t look that way.”

  “A personal vendetta or a business deal turned sour?”

  “We’re working those angles.”

  Evening pushed his chair back and stood. “I have booked a room at your wife’s hotel, Sergeant. You know where to find me should you wish to discuss anything further.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I told you once before something would be required of you when past and present join.” Evening’s gaze dropped to the marks on Caden’s forearm. He nodded slightly, indicting the gashes. “That time has been set in motion. I have only to look at your arm to see the dissolution of all that came before.”

  More riddles. This time, rather than chasing UFOs, Evening wanted him to believe in witchcraft and spirits.

  Deciding he wasn’t going to get anywhere, Caden crossed the room and opened the door. “I’ve got to get back to work.” Unusual for him to end the conversation before Evening, but he was tired of the alien calling the shots.

  Without a word, Evening stepped into the hallway.

  “Why are you here anyway?” Caden said to his back.

  Evening stopped but did not turn. “To be certain you do what is required.”

  “Which is?”

  This time Evening did turn. “Kill the Mothman.”

  Chapter 8

  Treachery and death.

  Knowing the meaning of the spider etching on the wooden case Sarah had found tucked among Shawn’s belongings made her apprehensive. Why would anyone carve such a vile symbol on a trinket box? As much as the she wanted to dismiss the matter, she couldn’t help wondering what the case contained.

  It was time to talk to Suzanne.

  She hadn’t seen her friend in several days. During the week, she usually stopped by Suzanne’s coffee shop to grab a cup of decaf on the way to work. The last few mornings, she’d found someone else covering for Suzanne. Today, the girl behind the counter told her Suzanne wasn’t feeling well.

  The news left Sarah feeling badly for not having checked in with her sooner, especially given her impending divorce. Finagling her hours to leave the courthouse early on Thursday afternoon, Sarah drove to Suzanne’s new home. Her friend’s car was in the driveway, the blinds drawn on the windows. The house had a strange shuttered feel to it, an impression compounded by an overcast sky. Overhead, the sun played hide and seek with angry layers of clouds, the ever-present charge of electricity clinging to the air.

  Sarah picked up three newspapers lying in the driveway and headed up the sidewalk. Pressing her finger to the doorbell, she glanced about. Two flowerboxes below the front windows had a slightly neglected look as though they hadn’t been tended for a while.

  When the doorbell brought no answer, she opened the screen and tried knocking.

  “Suzanne, it’s Sarah. Are you home?”

  The wind whipped through the grass and a cloud passed over the sun. A muted shuffling rose from somewhere behind the door. “Suzanne?” She knocked again. To her left, the dangling flutes of a chime tinkled a shivery note.

  Goose bumps broke out on her arm. Worried, she pounded again. This time the blind to her right flicked to the side briefly before dropping back in place. A moment later the interior door opened a crack.

  “I’m not feeling well, Sarah.” Suzanne hovered behind the door, hidden in shadows. The interior of the house looked dark, the air stuffy as though it had been closed up for days.

  Sticky air struck Sarah in the face. She inched to the side, hoping for a glimpse of Suzanne.

  “That’s what Tina at your shop said. I wanted to drop by and see how you’re doing…if you need anything.” She’d also wanted to ask about the box, but now that she was here, her concern shifted to Suzanne. Her friend was normally outspoken and vivacious, not someone to tuck herself away in a dark house even if she wasn’t feeling well. Suzanne was more likely to be visible, hoping to garner sympathy.

  “No, I’m fine.” Suzanne’s voice was rough around the edges, as if she hadn’t spoken in a while. Either that or she’d been crying.

  “You don’t sound fine.” Sarah splayed a hand against the door. “Can I come in?”

  Suzanne’s hesitation was nearly tangible. Finally, she sighed and stepped backward. Her movements were stiff as she shuffled to the couch. Whatever her ailment, she clearly wasn’t well.

  Sarah shut the door behind her. “You look like you need a doctor.”

  Dressed in pajamas, her blond hair a tangled cloud around her head, Suzanne curled into the corner of the sofa. Tucked in a hunched position, legs drawn up beside her, she had the look of a frightened animal.

  Something was seriously out of whack.

  Sarah moved to the blind. “Why’s it so dark in here?”

  “Don’t!” Suzanne flung out an arm but the movement came too late.

  Sarah tugged on the cheap plastic, guiding it open. Diffused light streamed into the room, cutting a path to the couch. In the sudden wash of illumination, Suzanne’s face was mottled with bruises. One eye had swollen nearly shut, feathered at the edges with purple. An ugly blotch of yellow and black fanned outward from a cut on her cheek.

  Sarah’s stomach rolled over. “My God! What happened to you?”

  Suzanne flinched, one hand jerking to her face. Her mouth quivered and her eyes filled with tears. Hugging her arms to her chest, she ducked her head.

  Sarah was at her side in an instant, sinking onto the sofa, brushing the messy platinum mane from her shoulder. She wanted to shriek, demand who was responsible for the brutality, but her friend’s huddled body language was a strong indication of fragility. Sarah spoke softly, her grip one of support rather than command. “Tell me what happened.”

  Suzanne swallowed audibly and wiped a tear from her cheek. Two of the nails on her left hand were broken and ragged. “I can’t.”

  “It was Shawn, wasn’t it?” She’d never thought him capable of violence but no one else had reason to treat Suzanne so horribly. Just the mention of his name made her bite her tongue in anger.

  Sniffling, Suzanne grabbed a Kleenex from a box on the coffee table. Several used tissues were balled up and scattered on the floor, something Sarah hadn’t noticed upon entering.

  Soothingly, she rubbed Suzanne’s shoulder. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. When did this happen?” Her friend hadn’t admitted Shawn was responsible, but she hadn’t denied it either.

  Suzanne kneaded the tissue between her fingers. “Sunday. He…he showed up in the driveway.” Her voice caught and cracked. “I think he’d been drinking.”

  A big surprise there.

  Sarah forced the sarcasm silent. Scorn wouldn’t help. “You have to report him. You have to tell Ryan Flynn.”

  “No!” Suzanne shook her head vehemently, her eyes widening in a look of pure terror. In high school, she’d had a thing for Ryan. Later, Sarah suspected she’d kept that attraction tucked away, a temptation she’d harbored throughout her marriage. But the crush had always been one-sided. Ryan would help her because it was his job to help.

  “I don’t want anyone to know, especially Ryan.” Fire had made Suzanne’s voice crack, but now the fight was gone. Tears rolling down her battered cheek, she slumped against the cushions. “Shawn said it would be worse…the next time…if I told anyone what he did.”

  Sarah fought rising fury. “Don’t you realize he said that to make you afraid? He’s counting on you not to tell anyone. You have to stand up for yourself.”

  “You don’t understand how it is.”

  “No. I guess I don’t, but seeing you like this…” Wrapping an arm around Suzanne’s shoulders, she hugged her close. “How long has this been going on?”

  “It was just once.” Suzanne
swiped a palm over her face, mopping up tears.

  Sarah handed her a clean tissue.

  “Thanks.” Struggling for composure, Suzanne patted her face, then lightly blew her nose. “When he showed up at the house, I told him to get lost.” Her face contorted as she looked inward, dredging up the memory. Fresh tears flooded her eyes. “He chased me inside, and…” She shook her head. “It was awful. I never knew he could be that way.”

  He’d shown a bad side once before. “He pushed you when you were pregnant.”

  “That was different. He was drunk, and it was the only time he’d ever raised a hand against me.” Sniffling, she dabbed her face. “He was hung over Sunday morning but he was sober. He knew exactly what he was doing, and,” her voice broke, “I think he enjoyed it.”

  Sarah’s stomach clenched. “If you won’t talk to Ryan, talk to one of the other deputies. Or go to the Point Pleasant police.”

  Suzanne looked miserable, torn between wanting to go and fearful of what would happen if she did. “We don’t live in the town limits.”

  “Then you need to see Ryan.”

  “Please, don’t push me. I just need to think.”

  “Okay.” She knew when to back off. Continued prodding would only make Suzanne more resistant to the idea. Her friend was a strong woman, one who was used to calling the shots. The role of victim had turned her world upside down.

  “Why don’t I hang around and make you dinner? We can watch a movie or something. You need to get your mind off what happened.”

  The hint of a smile curved Suzanne’s lips. She lowered her eyes almost shyly. “Thanks. I’d like that. I haven’t talked to anyone in days.”

  “Good. I’ll tell you what…” Sarah stood. Having a task filled her with renewed purpose. “You just stay here and relax. I’ll go bang around in the kitchen. I left work early and don’t have any plans for tonight. We can do a girls’ thing.”

  “You’re a good friend, Sarah.” Suzanne rested her head against the rear of the sofa. “I don’t have many left these days.”

  Sarah bit her tongue, unwilling to point out that Suzanne’s sometimes snooty personality was at fault. Even Eve, who was friendly with Suzanne, was often put off by how she came across. Many people considered the former Miss Point Pleasant stuck-up and condescending, but Sarah had noticed a change in her when she’d become pregnant then lost her baby. “Do you want me to switch on the TV?”

  “Not now.” Suzanne folded her hands over her stomach. “I just want to close my eyes and forget about everything for a while.”

  “You do that.” Sarah walked back to the blind and tugged it down halfway. “If you fall asleep, I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.”

  Later that evening, after a dinner of baked chicken and rice with a green salad, Sarah was reminded of the box. She hated to bring up Shawn, but seeing how he’d treated Suzanne made her more determined to know what the object contained.

  She popped a movie into the VHS player for Suzanne while she cleaned up the kitchen, then puttered around doing a few other chores. Suzanne told her not to bother, but she watered the plants outside, straightened up the living room, and brought in the mail. There was several days’ accumulation, a sign Suzanne hadn’t been out of the house since her violent encounter with Shawn. She thought about making some tea, but Suzanne had her open a bottle of cabernet instead. With the TV muted to low, they sipped their drinks on the sofa.

  “This has been nice.” Suzanne had taken the time to freshen up and comb her hair, but the bruises on her face were still starkly evident. “I appreciate everything you did to get my mind off Shawn. I can’t believe I actually wanted to know more about his family line.” She sipped delicately at her wine, then gently fingered a cut on the corner of her mouth. “Did you ever have any luck digging into his background? Was Obadiah really at Fort Randolph?”

  The perfect opportunity to ask about the wooden case. Sarah doubted Suzanne wanted details, so she kept her explanation brief. “Looks like that part was true, but I didn’t discover much. I ended up giving the carton of documents back to him.” Lowering her eyes, she swirled the wine in her glass. “Do you remember a wooden case with a spider marking on top? It was in the box you gave me.”

  Suzanne frowned. “It was? I always thought that thing was creepy.”

  “So, you know what I’m talking about?” Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who found the box unnerving.

  “Yeah. His dad tried to give it to Shawn a few days before we got married, but his mom freaked out. She said it was evil and called it devil magic.”

  A chill scampered down Sarah’s spine. “Devil magic?”

  “I know. Spooky, right? Gertrude claimed to have second sight. I blew off a lot of what she said, but I was glad when she took the box back. I didn’t want it in the house.”

  Sarah didn’t blame her. Especially after hearing it labeled “devil magic.”

  Suzanne stretched her legs. “After Shawn’s dad died, I guess it got mixed in with the stuff he inherited. He never went through most of those cartons, thinking they were just old photos and books He and his dad didn’t get along, so he wasn’t eager for any reminders.”

  Sarah wondered if Job Preech had ever hit his wife. She remembered Gertrude as a stern, pious woman, and couldn’t imagine her being pushed around. “I don’t know if there was a key, but the box was locked.”

  “Oh, sure.” Suzanne bobbed her head. “That was part of the riddle.”

  “Riddle?”

  “If there was a key, it was lost ages ago. The lid had some kind of secret release mechanism but no one ever figured out how to work it.”

  “And no one was curious about what was inside?”

  Suzanne shrugged. “Shawn didn’t care. He liked the idea of being descended from one of the original settlers in Fort Randolph but didn’t care beans about his family. Especially not his dad.”

  She’d never realized how bitter Shawn was beneath his boasting. Small wonder that rancor had given way to violence. “Do you know anything about the markings on the lid? The spider symbol?”

  Suzanne eyed her openly. “You’re really curious about this, aren’t you?”

  A flush of warmth rushed to Sarah’s cheeks. “Sorry. I guess it’s because of the genealogy angle.” She hated lying but knew she’d been pushing too hard.

  Suzanne accepted the explanation. “I only know what Gertrude told me. She was convinced the thing was evil. Part of me always wanted to know what was inside, but the other part was too spooked by what she told me. Job kept the thing locked out of sight, otherwise I’m sure she would have thrown it away. She definitely didn’t want Shawn having it.”

  And now he did.

  The idea that someone in Shawn’s ancestral line practiced witchcraft seemed too farfetched to believe. As much as she disliked Shawn, she hoped he’d shoved the thing back in the attic where it belonged.

  She finished her wine and set the glass aside.

  Leaning forward, Suzanne retrieved the half-full bottle from the coffee table. “Want some more?”

  “No thanks. I should probably head out soon. I have a few things I need to do before work tomorrow.” Uncomfortable leaving Suzanne alone, she hesitated. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you here by yourself. What if Shawn comes back?”

  Suzanne winced. A flicker of fear crossed her face, but she hid it quickly by sipping her wine. “I’ll be careful. I won’t answer the door.”

  A drunken Shawn Preech wasn’t going to let a door stop him. “You can’t hide out here forever.”

  “I know. I just don’t want anyone to see me until these bruises heal.” She fanned a hand near her face, her eyes brightening with a sheen of moisture. “It’s humiliating.”

  Sarah considered prodding her again to report Shawn but feared too much pressure would make Suzanne bolt in the opposite direction. During dinner, she’d hinted she was considering contacting the sheriff’s department. I
n the meantime, it wasn’t out of the question for him to come back.

  “Shawn’s been doing a lot of drinking. I think he’s getting worse and worse. If he winds up drunk again, there’s no telling what he might do.” Sarah gnawed on her bottom lip as she studied her friend.

  Suzanne was proud and vain. She’d never take a room at the hotel even if Eve let her stay without charge. She’d be too embarrassed to let anyone in town see her, not to mention staying at the hotel would put her near Shawn, a regular at the River. Logic aside, Sarah couldn’t bring herself to leave Suzanne on her own. “My trailer’s small, but you could stay with me for a while. We’d make it work. I could sleep on the sofa.”

  “You won’t do anything of the sort.” Sitting forward, Suzanne set her wine glass on the coffee table. Snatching up a tissue, she pressed her lips together in a visible effort not to cry. “I can’t deny I’m scared, but you’re one of the only friends I have. If Shawn did go on a bender and wanted to track me down, your place would be the first he’d look. I won’t put you in the middle of that.” Tearing up, she dabbed at her eyes. “I’ll be all right.” A weak smile curved her lips. “I’ll stay here and keep the doors locked. If I hear him outside, I’ll call the sheriff’s office.”

  “That’s not good enough.” Pushing from the couch, Sarah paced across the floor to the window. Suzanne’s driveway was hidden from the porch and a hedge line on the side made it easy for someone to creep up unseen. If something happened to Suzanne she’d never forgive herself. She was tempted to call Ryan Flynn on her own but knew it wouldn’t do any good. A report of abuse had to be made by the victim. If only there was somewhere Suzanne could stay for a few days until she came to her senses.

  Once she wasn’t feeling so vulnerable, she’d probably be itching to nail Shawn’s butt to the wall. Labeling him as an abuser would give her more power in the divorce. With time, Sarah was sure she could convince Suzanne to follow through on the report but for now she had to make sure Suzanne was safe. Shawn’s drinking, coupled with the thought of the spider marking, made her uneasy. Who knew what the jerk was capable of doing if he got thoroughly trashed?