“Maisie,” he says, taken aback. “Come in, come in.” He stands from behind his desk and comes and takes my hand. “How are you?”
“Well, um, I’m okay. How are you?”
We make small talk for a few more seconds before he invites me to sit down. I take the hard seat in front of his desk. Meanwhile he walks around to his deeply cushioned chair and sinks in.
It’s so uncomfortable, that I can’t help but think it’s on purpose. He doesn’t want any of his guys taking a break in here for very long.
“What can I do for you, Maisie?”
“First, I just wanted to thank you in person for...” I look up at him and then away, the words stuck in my throat. It’s hard to say thank you for him identifying my husband’s body when he might have been the person who made it necessary in the first place.
But Biff misjudges my silence.
“No need to thank me, dear. I’m glad I could save you from that additional trauma. I know his death was hard on you.”
I nod, thankful for the natural segue into the reason I’m here. “I was hoping we could talk about that, actually. I need to know more about Grady’s death. Can you tell me everything else?”
“What do you know about Grady’s death?” he asks carefully.
I tell him exactly what the police told me. He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Yes, that’s right. There isn’t really anything else to tell.”
“I saw Travis yesterday,” I say. “I stopped by to talk to him. And he seemed to think there was something more.”
Biff’s eyes turn glacial, and his expression chills my bones. Then he relaxes and sits back in his chair, the picture of innocence. “Travis took Grady’s death hard. They were friends. I wouldn’t read too deeply into it.”
To my suspicious ears, the last sentence sounds more like a warning than a suggestion. And civil, yes... but even Travis had confirmed he and Grady had never been friends.
“Even so,” I continue, girding my loins. For Grady. “Maybe he had something to do with Grady’s death. That day on his lunch break, Grady called me and mentioned he’d had some kind of conflict that morning with Travis. Do you think...?” I left the end hanging on purpose.
Biff raises his brows. “That Travis had something to do with his death?”
I don’t nod or move or breathe, waiting to hear what Biff would say.
But he shakes his head, and my breath leaks out in disappointment. I honestly expected him to throw Travis under the bus. Maybe we were wrong about Biff. About Travis. About everything. “No. Travis is a good guy, and like I said, they were friends. The only issue the two of them had was that Travis tended to forget his hardhat on the job, and as you know, Grady was always a stickler for the rules, and safety. To a fault.”
“But my husband, the stickler for rules and safety, supposedly returned to the work site after hours, alone, got into an excavator with out a hardhat after reminding Travis about it, recklessly parked it on a slope, and wasn’t paying attention as it fell on him? What about the chemicals from the barrels he was buried with? I suppose those were somehow his fault too?”
Saying it out loud makes me feel like an idiot for never questioning it before. That iss literally against everything I knew about my husband. How had I not seen it before? How had I not questioned it? “I don’t believe that at all anymore.” It also makes me more convinced I’m right. With or without Grady’s memories.
“Maybe you’re right about the accident. Maybe it wasn’t an accident so much as an—” He waves a hand in the air. “An escape.”
“An escape?” I grit out, incredulous. “You’re implying that my husband killed himself? Are you serious?”
“Now Maisie, I know you’re grieving and you don’t want to believe it, but that kind of thing happens all the time.”
“Not with Grady. And I know that for a damn fact.”
We glare at each other in a moment of silence.
I’m done having my suspicions mansplained away by this man. I’d already come to my own conclusions. Biff wasn’t being truthful. He knew something, or was involved somehow, or knew Travis was involved.
But I couldn’t afford to confront him right now, alone, and without proof.
I pretend to deflate, to slump back down. To seem defeated, weak. “I know you’re right, Biff. I just want answers, you know?” I allow my eyes to fill with the tears burning behind my lashes. Only I would know that they were from rage and frustration, not sorrow. “To why this happened. And why it happened to my husband.”
“I think you already have the answers,” Biff says with all sympathy, “It’s just a matter of accepting them now.”
I tearfully nod. It’s too easy to slip back into weeping widow mode. “You’re right.” And he is. Grady and I have to accept that Biff and/or Travis, a long-time family friend and both his co-workers, had had something to with his death and disappearance. They’d betrayed us. And for what?
That was our next step, to find out.
“Thank you, Biff. I’m sorry to bother you during business hours.” I stand and walk to the door, throwing a watery smile his way.
“Maisie...”
I turn back to him, hand on the knob, face blank.
“How did you know about the barrels?” He’s not smiling now. His eyes are glittery and dark.
I shake my head, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. “I—I went to visit Travis yesterday, like I said. That’s why I asked you about him. He must have mentioned them.”
Biff taps his desk with all his fingertips at once, then stands and comes around his desk toward me. “Did he mention anything else?”
He’s standing over me, and it makes me more nervous. “No.”
“In what context did he mention the barrels?”
I didn’t have an answer for this one, and no time to make one up. I swallow tightly. I’m going to just say it, and see what his reaction is. “He said you had something to do with Grady’s death. That you were burying something in barrels, then Grady wound up dead.”
Biff’s face progresses from pale to bright red to purple as I speak. But then he’s laughing.
“I have never killed anyone. I’m an honest businessman. My hands are clean.”
The strange emphasis on that one word reminds me of how Travis had spoken when speaking of Biff.
HE would never kill anyone.
“Travis was so wrecked after Grady’s accident that I knew something was up. He took it way too hard considering he and Grady didn’t really get along. And do you know why that was?”
I shake my head. Hearing Biff echo my thoughts about Travis was disconcerting, made me question our conclusions. “You said they were friends.”
He shrugs, “I’ve just been trying to protect his integrity, his legacy, his family. But I’m done protecting him. I can’t believe he’d try to pin it on me. He was so tore up about it because he was guilty. He’s the one who killed Grady, either by intention or accident.” He shrugs again. “I guess we’ll never really know.”
My stomach drops in dread. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you know?” Biff’s look of sympathy gives me little warning. “Travis committed suicide last night. Your visit must have really affected him. I thought that was why you were here.”
“Oh no,” I say, hand covering my mouth. That poor man. Could it be? It kind of made sense, explained his reaction to Grady’s death. But what about Grady’s memories? Then again, he had been hurt and through a traumatic experience. Could he be misremembering?
“Did you know Travis called me before he died? He told me he’d been burying waste in our construction site. That Grady had found out that night and confronted him. They fought. Travis beat him and then ran the excavator over him, to try and make it look like an accident. He confessed it all.”
I’m shocked and horrified, and now I don’t know what to believe. It sounds close enough to Grady’s memories to be true. “I—I didn’t know. Have you told the police?”
“I have. I’m sure they’ll call you about all this tomorrow.”
Biff comes closer, and leans with one hand against the closed door. He’s at least seventy pounds heavier than me, and all his weight is pressed against it. I won’t be able to open it. “What else did Travis say to you when you met with him?”
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head, gulping.
He grabs my arm, hard. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He slants closer, until I can smell the smoky-sour ghost of a cigarette on his breath.
“He didn’t say where the barrels came from, or what happened to them? If he said anything else, I need to know. It might explain why he did what he did. And why he killed himself.”
“He didn’t say anything more.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.” His hand tightens on my arm until I wince.
I try to pull out of his grip. “And I’m not sure I believe you!” Maybe Biff didn’t kill Grady, maybe Travis did, but I no longer believe he is the kind, generous man he makes himself out to be.
Biff’s expression goes glacial again, his eyes black, and I’m afraid.
Grady’s right outside the door and all I have to do is let him know I need him. I pull back as far as I can so I don’t go flying when he opens the door. Then I take a breath and call out my husband’s name.
The door creaks open, Biff’s bulk set off-balance by it, and Grady, growling, says “Let go of my wife. Now.”
Biff releases me instantly, and I pull back, cradling my arm.
Grady steps through door, into the light. “Hello again, Biff.”
Biff backs away from me, looking between Grady and I, face pale. “B-but you...you were dead. How did you—?”
Grady appears next to me, hand out. I take it and he nestles me close to his side, under his arm. Then we both turn to a still and silent Biff. “Miss me, Boss?”
Chapter Sixteen
Grady
I’m waiting outside as Maisie enters the lion’s den. As the door closes behind her, a rush of familiar air brushes my face.
It’s the air of the trailer, scented like carpet glue and cigarettes and Biff’s cologne—
My pulse speeds up until it feels like my heart is going to pop like a water balloon.
Before I realize what’s happening, I’m back behind the building, on all fours in the dirt, blind with blood and pain, but I can still smell his cologne through my broken nose. I hear his words and his voice, artificially sympathetic.
And like a time-lapse movie, I suddenly remember everything that happened before that moment. And after it.
I gasp for breath, slumping against the wall, weakened by the gallop of memories and sensations assailing me.
Biff didn’t kill me himself—his hands didn’t beat my body—but he was just as responsible as those who did. He’d known exactly what was going to happen when he took me to the skull-faced man, I’m sure of it. And he was okay with it. And Travis was the one who buried me, but because he’d ordered it.
He’s a dangerous man, a guilty man, and I’d just sent Maisie in there with him alone.
I’ve heard nothing from the present while I was trapped in my memories, but now through the door I hear Maisie faintly calling my name.
I tear the trailer door open and fly in, to see her arm in his bruising grip, his expression threatening more violence.
This was not going to go well for him.
Biff doesn’t say anything when I ask him if he’s missed me. He’s still trying to work this out, how I could be here when he was so sure I was dead.
I can’t wait to tell him that there’s no way to work it out in his head. I’ve given up trying, and accepted it.
I’m still dead.
Maisie has a hand to her arm, and the red marks under her fingers are lighting up my spine with rage, making my vision pulse between normal and flat black, but I’m keeping it in check.
Barely.
It was one thing to kill me. But no one puts a hand on my wife.
I turn to her, put my hand on her shoulders. “Maisie, I want you to leave. Lock the door behind you.”
She shakes her head and puts a desperate hand on my arm. “Wait, listen. Biff says Travis committed suicide last night. That he was guilty of killing you, and he killed himself because of it. After my visit.” Her eyes are wide and wet and I know she’s feeling responsible. “I don’t know if I believe him, but if he’s right...”
I don’t know how I feel about Travis yet. I’m torn between sympathy and justification. He’d tried to stop it. Minimally, but still. And true, he did bury me. But he did it by the order of those who would probably have done the same to him if he refused. He did deserve punishment, but I’m not sure death was it.
I put my lips to Maisie’s ear and whisper, “I smelled his cologne, and I remembered.” Pulling back, I meet her wide, questioning gaze and nod.
Then I turn to glare at Biff. “He’s lying. I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed Travis himself.”
Biff, while still angry, smiles. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Like you didn’t have anything to do with what happened to me?”
His stony silence sounds guilty to my ears.
I keep my voice and expression mild as I turn to Maisie. “I need you to do this for me, okay sweetheart? I need you to go out and lock the door.” I rub my hands up and down her arms, but I’m already getting a little disassociated. I hope she can’t tell. “It’s the only way we’re going to get him to confess.”
She looks to Biff, and nods. She knows I’m right.
I herd her to the door with one eye on Biff. “Don’t open the door for any reason, no matter what you hear, until I tell you to, okay?”
“Okay.” But then she looks at me, and I know she can see me, see what’s happening. She grabs my chin and gives me a hard kiss. “Be careful.” Her stare is loaded and direct. And then the door is closing behind her in a subtle cloud of her perfume.
When I hear the click of the lock engaging, my shoulders relax, and I bend my neck first one way, and then the other, cracking it.
With a slow turn, I meet Biff’s eyes. There’s a lot going on there. Confusion, anger, determination, and a little bit of panic that makes me smile.
This is going to be so much fun. “You look a little surprised to see me. Why is that?” I take one slow step in his direction, then another.
He doesn’t budge. “I am. I thought you were dead. ”
“Why is that, Biff?” I want to know if he’ll admit it with me right in front of him.
“I saw your body. I—I called the police. I went to your funeral.”
Looks like he won’t.
“Hmm,” I reply as I take another step, hand on my chin. “That can’t be it. Could it because you had me beat to death and buried under a ton of dirt?” I drop the pretense and stare at him. “I remember everything.”
And finally, with one more purposeful step in his direction, he takes a little one back. I’m getting to him.
He gives a nervous laugh, and gestures at me. “I’m up to my eyeballs in debt from the recession, and I got a family to feed same as you. I couldn’t let you tell. I’m sorry how things went, but you’re okay now. You obviously didn’t die. So we can work this out, right?”
“Sure, we can. But on my terms. Because you touched Maisie, and because you’re wrong about one important thing.” He opens his mouth to ask what, but I don’t give him the chance. “I did die.”
He laughs, but it’s short-lived.
I advanced toward him slowly, and for every step forward, he takes one back. I glare at him, and welcome the blackness in. “You’re going to call the police and confess to everything,” I continue, voice low. “To burying the waste in this site, and any other site you’ve ever done it at. And you’re going to confess to hurting me so Maisie can get the insurance money to live on.”
“And if I don’t?” he asks, glaring, his
chest puffed out. So certain he has some kind of upper hand.
I glance down at my fingers, as if I’m checking my manicure, when in reality my vision is going flat and dark around the edges. “If you don’t...” I wait until I know my eyes are red, then I look back to him. “I’m going to eat you.” It comes out as a growl, and he’s taking lots of steps away from me now, but I follow him at an easy pace. “Are you going to confess?”
“It’ll ruin my life, my business—”
“If you don’t, or you if try to run, I’ll hunt you the rest of your life until I catch you. I’m undead, I can’t die, thanks to you,” I say, holding my arms out. “At least, not again. And thanks to those chemicals you buried me in, from the lab? I regenerate. Nothing can kill me.” Save beheading, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I smile with lots of teeth, because my curse has become our salvation. He gets it now. He looks like he’s going to bolt, and I want him to. I want to chase him, like a fox chases a rabbit. Will he scream when I catch him? “It could take years, but I’ll find you.” I pursue him around the room. “I know your smell, Biff. I can track you. You’ll never be able to trust the darkness. Because some night, I’ll be out there, waiting. And you’ll fall asleep behind a locked door, thinking your safe. You won’t wake up until I take the first bite.”
His heart is beating fast, thumping against his chest and my eardrums. My eyes are focused on his sweaty temples where the veins are bulging and pulsing. As I stare at them, it’s like I can taste platelets in the air with each beat of his heart. He’s scared, and it makes him smell delicious.
I pause in the act of taking another step. It bothers me, but only in a distant way, that I’m thinking about Biff like prey. But I’m hungry, and he’s a bad man, and he hurt my wife, and that’s all I can care about at the moment.
I lurch forward again.
Still, the two sides of my brain war with each other, the rational side and the hungry side, stopping and starting my steps in an unsteady rhythm.
But it’s gone too far to stop now. I welcome the darkness in. I need it. And he deserves it.
A Cursed All Hallows' Eve Page 27