When the Shadows Come

by Breck, Alyssa

  She looked at him then looked back at the parking lot. “I don’t talk to cops.”

  He laughed. “I’m not interested in busting you for whatever might be in that bag you’re carrying.” Nathan pointed at the black grocery sack that dangled from her dirty hands. The handles were tied in a tight knot. “I’m looking for someone.” He held up a copy of the picture from Stafford’s driver license record. “You ever seen him around here?”

  The woman took a long drag off her cigarette and stared past the car. “Nope.”

  Nathan sighed and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Does this help refresh your memory?” Teasing a junkie with the means to score her next hit probably wasn’t the most noble of things to do, but he needed some information.

  She glanced down at the money and then looked at the picture. “He lives on the second floor. Quiet guy. Keeps to himself.” She reached for the money.

  Nathan let her have it. “Is he using?”

  Dropping the cigarette on the ground, she stamped it out with the toe of her cheap, yellow flip-flop. “Nah. He seems pretty clean. Comes and goes in that white van.” Her lip twitched.

  “White van, huh? You ever see him drive a gray car?”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s parked back there.” She hitched her thumb over her shoulder toward the back parking lot. “He doesn’t drive it much though. He’s usually in the flower van.” She scratched at a scab on her forearm.

  “What do you mean by flower van?”

  “He delivers flowers. Brings the van home a lot.”

  “Do you know what company he works for?”

  The woman shook her head and a stringy bit of her greasy hair stuck to her cheek. “Don’t tell him I talked to you, okay?”

  “No worries. But why? Are you afraid of him? Has he done anything to you?” Nathan rubbed his thumb along the vinyl of the steering wheel.

  “No. I mean, he’s just strange. He’s never said a word to me but something about him just feels off, you know? He makes my skin crawl.”

  Meth could do that to a person too but Nathan didn’t say that out loud. “I get it. Hey, thanks for talking with me.” Nathan pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet. “I know what the twenty will be used for, but use this to get something to eat, you hear?” He pressed the bill into her hand.

  “Okay. Yeah, okay. Thanks.” She smiled.

  As Nathan drove around the corner of the building he was pretty sure she wouldn’t use any of the money to buy food. Addicts fed their habit before their body. Their priorities were fucked up.

  The gray Toyota was parked in the corner of the parking lot. Backed into the space so the license plate faced a cinderblock wall. Arkansas didn’t require a front plate on vehicles, so Nathan put the Dodge in park and walked around the car to check the back plate. It matched. He peered in through the back window. While the car was older, it was clean and empty. Nothing in plain view that could help him get a warrant for this shithead.

  Stafford’s place was on the second floor so he couldn’t look through the windows of his apartment. There were no fire escapes like they had in New York. Nathan had visited there once. While fire escapes were great in the event of an actual fire, which was rare, they were more often used to aide burglars and druggies.

  Instead of snooping around, Nathan could go knock on Stafford’s door, but he had a feeling that once Dennis knew they were looking at him, he’d bolt. That’s probably what had happened in Texas. Nathan hadn’t delved into Oklahoma but that was probably the same as what happened in Texas. He had to find something first, and Nathan hoped Dennis wouldn’t kill again before he found it.

  He gave the car another look. Something sticking out of the edge of the center cap of the rear driver’s side wheel caught his eye. A green piece of foliage was caught in the plastic. Dennis had had his car in a wooded area sometime recently.

  DENNIS STARED DOWN at her wide, blue eyes. “How are you sterile? You’re twenty-seven years old.” He paced and ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re lying. This is bullshit. This ruins everything. You’re supposed to save me from this.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? She was no better than the others. He’d have to kill her.

  A knock on the door startled him, and he whipped his head in the direction of the foyer. “Who’s that?” he whispered. “Who are you expecting?”

  Carolina shook her head. “No one. I’m not expecting anyone.” She wiggled her fingers. “It might be the mailman.”

  Dennis walked to the foyer and peeked out of the small window in the door. The man in the brown uniform was already jogging down the stairs, and a cardboard box was left on the porch.

  He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “It’s just a package.” Dennis had left her for five seconds and now she was standing in front of the couch.

  She took a deep breath and yelled, “Hey, Siri. Call 9-1-1!”

  “Fuck!” Where was her God damned phone? He needed to end that call before it connected.

  She suddenly came to life, her eyes went wild, like a trapped animal. Carolina ran up the stairs, screaming. He hoped the fucking delivery guy was gone. If he decided to be a hero in response to her hollering, Dennis would have to kill two people today.

  The little dog clawed at the sliding glass door, barking his head off at Dennis. The phone was on the table near the front door. Dennis grabbed it and checked the screen. It was locked and no call was in progress.

  “God damned bitch.” She’d tricked him. Siri wasn’t doing shit on that phone.

  The dog barked again and snarled and snapped while trying to get inside. Dennis headed up the stairs after her and made a mental note to kill that fucking ankle biter on his way out.

  A door slammed shut just as he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs. Running forward, he threw his full weight against it and it bowed and creaked but didn’t give. He tested the handle. Locked.

  Fuck! He couldn’t let her call anyone or try to climb out a window or something.

  He stepped back and looked at the white paneled door, searching for the weakest spot.

  “What do you want?” she screamed. “Take my purse. There’s money in there. Please, just go away.”

  Lying bitch. “Open this door, and I won’t hurt you,” he answered with a snarl.

  He put his shoulder into the door and it splintered slightly. His adrenaline spiked, his heart pounded and his mouth went dry. Another hit and the door flew open, little pieces of wood stuck out from the frame where the locked latch had torn free. His eyes searched the room.

  “Where the fuck are you?” he screeched.

  Flipping the edge of the white comforter up, he looked under her bed. In frustration, he picked up her clock and threw it across the room. He tore open the closet door and pulled her clothes out, throwing jackets and skirts across the floor. He didn’t want to kill her, but she was making it damned hard to resist his most basic urge. He wanted nothing more than to fuck her and then end her right now.

  The bathroom. The bitch was in the bathroom. Great. Another fucking door to break down.

  He tried the handle. Locked. Backing up a bit, he lifted his leg and kicked his booted heel right above the knob. The door flung open and bits of splintered wood scattered across the tiled floor. He stopped and listened. Water dripped from the faucet in the oversized tub. His hearing had grown acute, and he thought he heard her breathing. Throwing back the shower curtain, he pounced. But she wasn’t there.

  “Fuck,” he yelled, gritting his teeth. He turned around just in time to see a flash of movement by the door to the room. He followed her into the hallway and saw her running back down the stairs.

  He gave chase and caught her halfway down.

  She screamed when he grabbed her hair. Her hands were still taped together, but she turned around, digging her nails into his face.

  The commotion knocked him off balance, and he grabbed he
r as they both toppled down the remaining stairs. His head hit the tile hard, and he bit his tongue. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth, and he saw red. Literally. His vision clouded, and a pink haze covered everything he looked at.

  She was on her hands and knees, breathing hard as she struggled to get up.

  He grabbed her ankle and yanked her back. “Why are you making this so fucking hard?”

  She kicked back, almost getting him in the face.

  “You bitch.” He got up and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to the ground. “Go time.” He smiled and pinned her arms above her head with one hand and unbuckled his belt with the other. Now that he knew she couldn’t save him, he was going to do to her what he’d done to all the others.

  “NO. STOP IT.” CAROLINA tried to free her hands, but he held them in a viselike grip. Not much she could do anyway with the duct tape still in place. Panic tore through her, and she kicked her legs and screamed.

  Mallory appeared, kneeling beside her. “Carolina. Stop struggling. Be still.”

  Carolina shook her head. “No,” she screamed. “He’s going to kill me.”

  “Look at the stairs. Just for a second,” Mallory whispered.

  A man dressed in a black hooded robe stood at the top. Carolina stilled and coldness filled her body. She saw her own breath as she tried to control her breathing and block out what this man was doing to her. “Help me. Please.” She mouthed the words, but no sound came out of her mouth.

  “We will,” Mallory said as she stood and took a step back.

  The sun must have covered the clouds and shadows took over the room, darkening corners, blackness converging.

  Now Mallory leaned over her. “Don’t cry. It’ll all be over in a minute.”

  The flower guy was kissing Carolina’s neck and pulling at her clothes.

  Hot tears streamed from her eyes, and she forced herself to focus on Mallory’s face.

  A rumble started. The floor trembled beneath her back. The Chinese vase on the table beside the staircase shook and tipped over, crashing to the floor. Pieces of porcelain scattered and came to rest beside her head.

  Carolina watched the shadows gathering, each slipping into the next, getting darker with each addition. There were so many. Her breath caught in her throat as the dark cloud pulled away from the corner by the front door and drifted toward them.

  “It’s okay,” Mallory crooned.

  The cloud hung right above them then crashed like lightning into his back. His body was wrenched from atop Carolina, his nails scratching her arms as he tried to hold on.

  The screeching hurt her ears, and she cupped her hands over them. “Oh, my God.”

  The blackness slammed him against the wall, enveloping him. The nails on the chalkboard sound grew louder, drowning out his screams. His face contorted and turned red, his eyes widened as if he were being strangled.

  Carolina sat up and scooted back against the stairs, holding onto the wood railing. The shaking intensified, like an earthquake. She glanced over her shoulder and watched the robed figure slowly dissipate, and he was gone.

  Mallory sat beside her, tears falling down her face.

  “What’s happening?”

  “He’s not going anywhere good. The shadows exist for this. They gather energy for this purpose. That’s why they’ve never hurt you, Carolina.”

  He kicked his legs against the wall, one foot cracked through the drywall as he struggled. Then he stilled. His lifeless body slipped down and crumpled on the floor. The shadows held his spirit or his essence. Carolina wasn’t sure what the white, smoky apparition actually was, but it had come from him and it looked like him. The screeching slowly lowered in volume and the last thing Carolina saw was his face, frozen in fear, as the shadows completely covered him and crawled up the wall to the corner.

  The sun filtered through the window and lit up the space, spreading upward into that same corner where the shadows disappeared, taking him with them.

  Carolina sobbed, her body shook. “Was that him?” She looked at Mallory.

  Mallory nodded. “Yes. It’s over. It’s finally over.”

  Carolina tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She needed to call someone. She shuddered at the sight of his body and the odd position of his neck.

  The shadows had broken his neck. “How am I going to explain this?”

  Mallory answered, “Tell them he fell down the stairs. It’s not a lie.

  Carolina nodded. “Okay. Yes.” She steeled herself and stood. The effects on her body from the tumble down the stairs manifested and she groaned. She limped her way to the kitchen to find something to cut the duct tape with. A kitchen knife worked to slice through the tape enough to pull her wrists apart. Blood rushed back into her numb fingers, and she shook her hands.

  Almost in a trance, she walked back past the dead body at the foot of the stairs and picked up her phone from the table in the foyer. She called Nathan.

  Chapter 12

  Nathan had left the shitty apartment complex in Searcy and was on the interstate heading south toward Little Rock. The window was down and the wind was blowing through his hair. Finally, a day without rain and it was a cool seventy-three degrees. He’d just finished leaving a message for the DA asking about a search warrant for Stafford’s place when his phone buzzed.

  “Claiborne.”

  A woman sobbed on the line. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He held the phone away from his ear to check the caller ID.

  “Carolina? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I need you to come to my house.”

  He’d just passed the exit for the road that led to Romance. Checking his mirror, he turned on the lights and sirens and pressed his foot on the accelerator. He took the next exit too fast, and the Dodge fishtailed and he narrowly avoided sliding into a ditch.

  “I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me. Tell me what’s going on? Are you safe right now?”

  “I’m safe. He was here. Now he’s dead.” Her voice hitched, going up an octave.

  “Shit. Are you okay? Tell me what happened.”

  “I’m fine. Are you coming? I don’t feel so good.”

  “Sit down. Are you sure he’s dead?” Nathan pressed harder on the gas pedal and watched the speedometer inch up to ninety.

  “Y-yes. I’m sure.”

  “Sit tight. I’m almost there.” Nathan took a sharp left, the car fishtailed as his tires searched for purchase on the gravel road. He turned the wheel to the right to correct. “I’m here.” He ended the call and jumped from the car. In that moment, he couldn’t move fast enough. Taking the stairs two at a time, he landed on the porch just as Carolina opened the front door.

  Streaks of black mascara created railroad tracks down her cheeks, and her bottom lip quivered. Silver strips of duct tape hung from her wrists.

  He moved in slowly and pulled her against his chest. Normally, he wouldn’t hug a victim, but he’d become friends with her. In a way, they’d worked the case together. She wasn’t a random stranger.

  She didn’t respond. Her arms hung limply at her sides, and her body trembled.

  Looking over the top of her head, he spotted the body lying at the foot of the stairs. The man’s eyes stared blankly, and his mouth hung open. His head sat at an awkward angle. His neck was broken. There was no need to check for a pulse. No living human wore that familiar mask of death.

  Even contorted, the face was recognizable. Nathan knew who it was. Dennis Stafford was dead.

  She said something against his chest, but her voice was muffled.

  He pulled back from her. “What did you say?”

  “That’s him. Mallory told me.”

  Backing out of the doorway, he gently pulled her with him. “This is a crime scene now. Come sit on the porch.”

  He settled her down on the steps and crouched down in front of her. Pulling out his cell phone, he called 9-1-1. He kept a hand on her knee and explained the situation to t
he dispatcher. Ending the call, he touched her hair.

  Her eyes were on the ground. She wasn’t crying now or saying anything at all.

  “Carolina, look at me.”

  She didn’t respond but exhaled heavily.

  Touching her chin, he lifted her face up. Her skin was cool and clammy. She was in shock; a completely normal reaction to that kind of trauma.

  “I need you to talk to me. Tell me what happened in there.”

  Using her thumbnail, she picked at the tape hanging off her wrists. “He’d delivered flowers here on my birthday. Then I ran into him at the store. It was weird, but I chalked it up to coincidence. He knocked on my door this morning. I opened it, and he pushed his way in. He had this crazy idea that I was going to save him. How, I’m not sure.” Carolina put her hand on her forehead.

  “He turned on me when I told him I couldn’t have kids. I guess he thought I was going to be the mother of his children. He was crazy. I tricked him by pretending to have my phone call 9-1-1. I saw it in a movie once. I was able to get away from him at first.” She licked her lips. “We fought, and I ran up the stairs. He followed me.” Her words came out fast, almost rambling. “I ran into my bedroom, and he broke down the door. I was hiding behind the long curtain in the corner and when he went into the bathroom to look for me, I ran out and he chased me again. He caught me on the stairs, and we fell. He tried to ... he ...”

  “He what, Carolina?”

  “He was going to kill me, Nathan. But then Mallory came. And the reaper came. Then they came. They came for him.” She looked away from him and toward the woods.

  “Who came for him? Someone else was here?” Nathan asked.

  Bringing her eyes back to him, she said, “The shadows came for him.”

  The crime scene was processed quickly and the body removed. The detective from Romance PD asked Carolina the same questions Nathan had, but she left the shadows out of her answers. The story ended with the topple down the stairs.

  After everyone left, Nathan helped her remove the tape from her wrists.