The detective reached for the light switch and flipped it. It was dead, just like everything else inside. Brian shut the door. The metal lock clicked, and then like that, he was sealed inside. His pupils adjusted to the filtered light, a bodily function that still worked. The Starry Night was still hanging. The flat-screen television was still suspended. The furniture still offered a place of reprieve. But the blood, brain matter, and dead body were gone, now recreated with chalk and police tape. Brian stared at the outline of the woman who had once lived inside the condominium, the outline of her last pose, the outline of death. A strange feeling surged through him. He scratched his skull. A scream from a woman pierced him. Brian flinched. More shrieks cut through him. Brian turned away from the dead body made of tape.
“What the fuck?” Brian mumbled.
His mind was shot. His body yielded. He suddenly felt burned by the glare from eyes of a million lost souls. It was as if he were back in that hotel room nearly ten years ago, that room where he had witnessed evil. He remembered seeing his father, the detective, trembling, sweat pouring from his brow, a pistol against his temple. Brian couldn’t do anything, his body frozen, his mind gripped by the image that still haunted him. When he had looked into the eyes of the man sitting on the bed in front of him, he didn’t see his father; he saw a monster. And Brian could never forget the last words his father had said moments before the bullet blasted his brain—“I have to get them out of my head.” Brian never told anyone those words, even his wife, and to the present day, almost ten years later, he did not know what they meant. After his father had committed suicide inside that room, Brian remembered holding him and holding the badge clutched in his father’s dead hand, the badge that transferred to Brian inside that room. He knew that he had to become a police officer, to carry on the flame of the family—he had no other choice. The ten year anniversary was now just a day away, and no matter how Brian tried to keep those memories buried, he knew those memories had just found him inside the condo. Brian needed to get out of the room; he needed to run away, far away. He turned to the kitchen, but someone was in there. A shadow moved. Brian knew it was a demon—the demon that stalked him.
“Where am I?”
His eyes locked with the pale green abstract on the wall. It sucked him in, stole his focus, tightened his stomach. He couldn’t look away, yet he couldn’t look. As his mind screamed, a ring pierced his ears. Brian tried to remove the sound, but it screeched louder and louder like a raven spewed from hell. Then, he realized what it was—his cell phone.
“It found me,” he whispered.
Brian punched his head and finally removed the trance. He entered the kitchen, collected himself, and answered the phone.
“Detective Boise speaking.”
A void returned, a void of uncertainly that made the shiver return to his backbone.
“Hello?” Brian asked as he removed the phone from his ear to see the caller ID, but the voice he heard stopped him cold.
“Hey, Dad.”
Brian smiled as his son’s voice removed him from his dread and filled his body and his mind with a sense of safety.
“Hey, tiger. What’re you up to?”
“Just getting ready for school. What are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m just working. You know,” Brian replied as he stared at the place of death marked on the floor. “How’s Mom?”
“She’s good,” Jonathan replied, but then his voice changed as an ounce of fear consumed his nine-year-old vocal cords. “I think she’s mad at you. Are you going to get a divorce?”
“Hey. You don’t worry about silly things like that. Your mother and I love you so much. Nothing will ever change that.”
“Are you coming to my basketball game after school?”
“Oh, another big game, huh?” Brian stalled as he looked around the room.
“Yeah, we’re playing the orange team.”
“Ah, the orange team. They sound weak,” Brian joked with his fatherly voice.
“Ha! Can you come, Dad?”
“Okay. What time is it?”
“Three o’clock. Really? You’ll come? You promise?”
Brian looked at the ray of light shining through the drapes as his son’s words rang in his mind.
“Yes. I promise. Have a good day at school, son. I love you,” Brian returned.
“I will, Dad. I love you too. Bye.” Jonathan ended the call.
Brian hung up his phone as the silence of death returned. While he felt overwhelmed with uncertainty, one thing was certain—his son presented him with an objective, a clear path in an unclear world. The darkness of the case consumed his mind and his body, which pushed him to the point of no return. Brian hoped seeing his family would somehow bring him back to the light, but he feared this time that they too were lost in the darkness.
Chapter 16
A woman in her early twenties typed an email. Her long nails, painted green, clattered off the keyboard as she formed words such as “poor” and “subpar,” which referred to a faulty business card order. Her writing was short, brief. It was a style from years of texting on her cell phone. She closed the email with a valediction carefully chosen. She decided to type “Very Respectfully” because her email referenced the lackluster print quality of the business cards that she had received for her boss. The young woman added her name, “Megan Sharp,” and then she included her title, “Office Assistant,” followed by her company’s name, “Malloy Consulting Service.” She scanned the email for word choice that the spell checker could never correct. But before she could hit send, her desk phone rang, prompting her green nails to surround the black plastic receiver.
“Malloy Consulting Service. May I help you?” her dainty voice answered as she ran her left hand through her blonde hair, highlighted with brown.
Her phone connected with a cellular phone service, which beamed the signal from a tower to a handset inside a BMW X3 Sport Utility Vehicle, a handset held by her boss’ wife—Laura Malloy.
“Hi, Megan. Is my husband available?” Laura asked as she navigated through the morning traffic.
“Oh, hi, Misses Malloy. Let me check.”
Megan pressed a few buttons on her phone, a device that took her a month to figure out.
Behind the door labeled “Trevor Malloy – President,” the man who signed her paycheck sat at his desk. He wore a white fitted dress shirt and black silk tie that begged to be caressed. A 4 x 6 inch photograph of his family in Times Square sat directly in his view, but his focus was on the 24” computer monitor on his desk. Trevor clicked the mouse as he squinted his eyes. The pixels in the screen formed stock charts that all dropped over time. As he remained motionless staring at the 16 million color display, his desk phone buzzed.
“Mister Malloy. I have your wife on line one.”
“Please, put her through,” Trevor returned as the picture of his family pacified him.
He picked up the phone and sat back, stretching his spine.
“Hi, honey,” Trevor said.
“Hey, sweetie. I just dropped the kids off at school and thought I’d stop by. You’ve been working all night, huh?” Laura replied as she used her blinker to signal her detour into the underground parking.
“Well, I’m always working. Come on up. I have something to show you,” Trevor revealed, as his mood uplifted.
“I’m driving underground to park so I may lose you.”
“You’ll never lose me. See you in a few.”
Trevor returned the phone to its cradle and returned his focus to his computer screen. He used his mouse pointer and minimized window after window of stock charts, all heading south. Finally, he came across the last window on his screen. It showed a family posing in their bathing suits under the summer blue sky. It wasn’t the clothing he cared about, or even the summer scene, rather it was the object modeled by the family of four—the large in-ground pool.
Six minutes after Megan transferred the phone call to her boss, the door opened. Laur
a sauntered inside enveloped in a gently fitted double-breasted wool coat with side pockets. She held a four-cup coffee holder filled with three tall cups of traditional black. Megan minimized her Instant Messenger window and looked at her new visitor standing next to The Scream—a painting that she detested.
“Hey, Misses Malloy,” Megan said with an over-exaggerated smile.
“Here you go, dear,” Laura replied as she placed one of the coffees on Megan’s desk.
“Thank you so much.”
“Is he in his office?”
“Yes, he’s expecting you. Go right in.”
Laura walked toward the door and read the words scripted in Times New Roman font. A peculiar feeling always came over her when she approached the sturdy slab of wood, as if the name would suddenly be gone one day, replaced with a new tenant. But the name was always there when she had checked, and the man behind the door, her husband, always convinced her he would be there—he had ever since she met him by chance that one day ten years ago when she was working in the men’s department at Saks Fifth Avenue. It was the way he had been dressed that stimulated her, the perfect dimple in his tie, and the crease in his pressed pants. And the one thing that she remembered most was how his shoes glistened under the store’s lights.
Laura nudged the door, as she smelled something so familiar, something that appeased her for the past ten years. Her eyes adjusted to the softer light as she sneaked into the space. Laura wanted to try to catch him in a candid moment, a moment that captured her husband when he thought no one was looking. But as she entered, he looked at her from across the room as if he too had sensed his other half.
“Come on in,” Trevor announced.
Laura saw him sitting on the edge of his desk. His hand vacillated as he buffed something. Laura wandered past The Starry Night as her eyes rested on the black sock on her husband’s right foot, and then she looked at her husband, polishing one of his shoes. As she reached Trevor, the sweet smell that had gripped her at the door soured into a synthetic stench.
“What do you think of this?” Trevor asked as he displayed his shoe.
The dark charcoal gray glimmered in the light and reflected like a polished butcher knife. Trevor placed the cloth down next to a yellow tin, which stored the polish that shined his shoes.
“Perfect, as usual,” Laura replied. “I brought you something hot,” she continued as she placed Trevor’s coffee on his desk.
“I need something hot.” Trevor had a look in his eyes, a look that hooked her. He opened his arms and wrapped them around his wife. He entered the confines of her wool coat and pulled her close. Trevor buried his head into Laura’s auburn hair. As both embraced, he leaned in and kissed her tenderly.
“I want to show you something, come around,” Trevor said as he stepped into his polished shoe.
Laura grabbed her coffee and followed her husband around the desk. She glanced at the papers covering it. Stock graphs topped one pile as a document plastered with “Contract for Services” in its header rested on the top of another, but Laura had no time to read the fine print. He offered her a chair. She lowered, but saw something yellow invading the black cushion. Laura caught herself and removed the yellow lid to the shoe polish tin.
“The wrong person’s going to get covered with this,” Laura barked just enough to make her point known.
“There it is,” Trevor said with a culpable smile. He joined the canister with its lid.
“Where do you get that stuff?”
“The place where we’re taking our next vacation.”
“Vegas?”
“No. Italy,” Trevor laughed.
“So this is the master at work,” Laura joked as she looked out from behind the desk at the walls lined with Trevor’s prizes. “This is like your second home, isn’t it? Or is it your third?”
Laura turned to Trevor’s computer screen as he swiveled it to give her the best view. He maximized the window showing the in-ground pool.
“I wanted to surprise you and the kids,” Trevor said.
“A pool?”
“Yeah, what do you think? We have the room in the backyard and I know the kids would love it. Especially the diving board.”
“Can we afford it?”
“Hey, don’t worry about that. Business has been very good lately,” Trevor explained, as he brushed Laura’s hair from her face.
“But I thought the stock market has been taking a nose dive? That’s what they say on The View.”
“That’s why I’ve been working more, traveling more. I’m trying to strategically select my services.”
“Strategically select my services. I wish I could do that. I need to figure out how to strategically select between the washing machine and the stove.”
“Let’s hire a maid then,” Trevor said.
“I’m only joking.”
“No, I’m serious. Don’t you remember what I promised you when I asked you to marry me?”
Laura blushed. “Of course I do.”
“And I still mean that today, always. I wanted you never to have to work, and I only want you to do what you truly enjoy.”
“I enjoy taking care of my family.”
“Well, if you ever get tired of us—”
“I would never get tired of the kids. You on the other hand…” Laura joked.
Trevor smiled, but then the smile faded. “I hated how my mom had to work when I was growing up. And my dad worked so hard for so little money.”
“That’s what public servants have to sacrifice.”
“If my dad was still here today, I would tell him that the world turns because of businessmen…not public servants.”
“I wish I’d had a chance to meet your parents.” Laura took a sip of coffee and repositioned her chair, but her right foot, protected by only black leather, nailed something stout under the desk. “Ouch!”
She tried to save her coat from a mouthful of coffee as the twinge in her toes tormented her. Laura swallowed and looked under the desk. She saw Trevor’s black briefcase. Laura put her coffee down and picked up the case, but Trevor grabbed it before she could feel its weight. He placed it on the other side of the desk—his side.
“What’s in that thing?” Laura asked.
“Just some tools for my job.”
“What kind of tools? Lead bricks?”
Trevor chuckled as Laura stood from her chair to stretch her toes. She gravitated toward The Starry Night just as most did in front of the masterpiece. Trevor followed her and cased his office. She outlined the painting’s mahogany wood frame with her finger.
“So, what exactly have you been working on lately? You’ve always been so secretive,” Laura inquired.
“Consulting.”
Laura shifted toward the degree on the adjacent wall, which hung just like van Gogh’s masterpiece across from it.
“Master of Business Administration with Minor in Mathematics. Trevor Malloy,” Laura repeated. “Big office, young secretary, frequent flyer miles, you have it all.”
Trevor grabbed her from behind and wooed her with his most deadly quality, his masculinity.
“And most importantly, a beautiful family,” Trevor whispered into her ear.
Laura broke free from her husband. She kept her eyes forward as he followed. Even though his name was on the door, Mrs. Trevor Malloy was making herself known.
“I know all about you,” Laura said.
Trevor stopped cold.
She returned to the desk and grabbed her coffee. Then, she studied the wall housing Trevor’s hidden room.
“You think you can hide it from me? I’ve been with you for too long. I know you. I know all about you.”
Laura looked at Trevor’s desk. The picture of her family stole her focus.
“Where?” she asked.
“Where is what?”
Trevor’s heart raced. He felt sweat saturate his dress shirt. He didn’t like this feeling.
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Uh… No.”
“The new pool… The money…”
Trevor froze.
“I can read the hints,” Laura said firmly.
“Hints?”
“You’re taking us on a vacation. Where?”
Trevor exhaled and chuckled.
“A vacation? I don’t have a vacation planned…not yet,” Trevor said as he embraced his wife.
“I thought you were hinting at a vacation. I want to go to Italy.”
“Let’s go. All of us. Once the kids are on break,” Trevor said.
Laura smiled. “Are you going to make it to Kevin’s game today at three o’clock?”
“Of course.”
“They’re playing the orange team and he’s really excited,” she said in his arms.
Laura let herself return to the wife of the businessman. But she returned because Trevor liked her in that position, a position that he could predict, a position that allowed him to love his family while he worked. Trevor held her tightly as she gave him a kiss, but she knew something was different about him; he seemed nervous.
He removed his lips and squeezed her. “I wouldn’t miss the game for the world.”
Chapter 17
Jonathan ran for a basketball. It approached the out-of-bounds line. He dove and grasped it in mid-air. As the ref watched, Jonathan hurled it back to another kid in blue; it was Kevin. He dribbled around some orange jerseys. He shifted toward the baseline. He jumped, released the ball, and scored. The crowd erupted in cheers as Jonathan and Kevin slapped hands.
Laura sat at the bottom row of the bleachers. Trevor was next to her with Katie under his arm. The businessman wore the same black silk tie wrapping through the collar of his fitted white dress shirt. Laura looked at the scoreboard. In bright lights it read, “Blue: 29 – Orange: 17,” but the “2” was missing a bulb in its tail. Everyone studied the clock tick like a chain smoker studying his watch at the funeral of his least favorite uncle: “1:07…1:06…”
A Smudge of Gray: A Novel Page 10