by H E Joyce
‘It’s possible, yes.’
‘Hmm, I see.’
‘Do you really think she went to all the trouble to track me down here in Brooksville?’
‘Yes, I do. She moved here not long after you. It seems pretty clear she went to great lengths to be in the same place as you.’
‘But why? Why would she want to do that? I don’t understand.’
‘I can’t be sure, but I wouldn’t mind betting it was for some kind of twisted revenge for her father’s death. The sad thing is, she may never have acted on those feelings had you not played right into her hands.’
Laura wasn’t entirely sure what he was getting at. ‘What do you mean?’
‘How were things before you met Michael? Did you have any threats? Phone calls?’
‘No, nothing,’ Laura said. ‘In fact things couldn’t have been better. Well apart from, you know.’
Frank nodded. Oh, he knew. ‘The thing is Laura, she was in a relationship with your husband long before he became your husband, if you get my drift. In her eyes...’
‘I stole him?’
‘That’s about the crux of it. And I guess when she realised it was you who’d taken him from her – not that I’m suggesting that’s what you did of course – then...well. Perhaps it tipped her over the edge.’
Laura stared at the floor. ‘So, I took her Dad and then her partner. I guess she hates me, right?’
‘Think that pretty much sums it up.’
‘And after making me suffer for a while, she kills me. Is that how it goes?’
Frank leaned forward on the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘It’s not going to come to that, Laura. I’m going to keep my eyes on her, and after the holiday I’ll get a restraining order put on her. She won’t be allowed within five miles of you. It’s going to be alright, don’t you worry about a thing.’
Laura smiled. ‘As much as I appreciate what you’re doing for me Frank, I think it’ll take a bit more than a restraining order to stop her.’ She stood up. ‘A piece of paper with some fancy words on it won’t make the slightest bit of difference to a psychotic schiz...’
‘I’m sorry,’ he interrupted. She was right. The woman was crazy, and there wasn’t a court in the land that could change that. ‘I guess there’s no point in me trying to hide what she may be capable of.’
Laura sat down again. ‘I know, in the eyes of the law, she hasn’t done enough to get arrested. But what about Jody? I won’t send him back to school while she’s still there, I just won’t. How on earth did she get a job in a school? Don’t they bother making checks anymore? The thought of her with my son… it makes me feel physically sick.’
Frank nodded. ‘I understand. We’ll have to cross that bridge after the holidays, but I’m confident they won’t be keeping her on. I’ll personally see to it that they don’t.’ He raised himself from the deeply cushioned chair he had sunken into. ‘Right, I’m off to Ellsworth to check that Miss Anderson is safely tucked up for the night, then I’ll make my way back to Bangor. Laura, keep the doors locked and you’ll be fine. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, if that’s okay?’
‘Yes, of course it is. You have no idea how much I appreciate what you’re doing.
Laura and Sally walked him to the door. ‘Take it easy out there, Frank, it’s a wild night. And be careful of…’
‘Don’t worry, I’m always careful,’ he said. ’Goodnight Laura, Miss Munroe.’
Besides the wind that grew ever stronger, the rain had also arrived: heavy, driving rain that even with the wipers turned on to their fullest, barely cleared the screen. It made driving to Ellsworth a hazardous journey despite there being no other traffic to contend with. Tree branches that had been torn away and other pieces of debris blew across the road causing Frank to swerve on a number of occasions. He began to question the wisdom of venturing out on such a night. You would have to be mad, he thought.
Beth struggled to keep the car under control with the powerful gusts of wind that seemed at times to almost lift it from the asphalt. She peered through the windshield, straining to see the road ahead through the torrential rain. Visibility ahead was almost non-existent.
The car, it seemed, came from nowhere, the headlights not visible until they were just yards away from each other. She cursed and swore at the unseen driver as they passed one another, the car’s taillights quickly fading away in her rear view mirror. She flicked a cigarette from her pack and searched for her lighter, keeping one eye on the road, but never slowing down or stopping. She eventually located it, lit the cigarette, took constant puffs of it, stubbed it in the ashtray and immediately lit another, then another, and another.
The journey had taken some time, twice as long as it would under normal conditions, but she was almost at Brooksville now. Things would soon be alright. The moment she had thought about for so long was almost here. Soon Laura would be dead, and she, Michael and Jody would have their whole lives ahead of them. She smiled to herself and her body tingled with anticipation as she approached the outskirts of the town.
*
Frank had only passed one vehicle on the road to Ellsworth. It had been a near miss. Now though, having arrived in one piece, he parked his car outside Beth’s apartment block. He knew from his last visit which of the windows belonged to her apartment and amongst them all, it was the only one that was unlit. What did it mean; was she in bed? Unlikely, he thought. Could it be she was in a bar? Again, he thought it was unlikely as most, if not all appeared to have closed for the night due to the storm.
He pulled up the collar of his coat and rushed in to the block where he began his ascent to the third floor via the dimly lit and freezing cold stairwell. It seemed an even greater effort than his previous visit; he vowed he would go on a diet and try to get back into shape very soon. He could hear televisions in some of the apartments, people’s voices through the paper-thin walls in others, but when he reached Beth’s, it was perfectly silent. He put his ear against the door but could still hear nothing. At that moment, a scruffy unshaven man in a vest appeared from one of the apartments. He looked at Frank with suspicion.
‘What’s your game, Mac? Beat it before I call the police.’
Frank was unperturbed by the threat. ‘Don’t suppose you’d happen to know where the person that lives here is?’
‘You’re right, I don’t, now beat it.’
‘Okay pal, don’t worry, I’m going.’
‘Yeah, and don’t come back, neither,’ the man shouted, as Frank made his way down the stairs.
‘Happy Thanksgiving,’ Frank shouted back at him.
He dashed to his car and got in; the rain was beating down so hard it hurt. There was one last thing he could try before leaving, he dialled out the number for her apartment. There was no answer. He started the car and began the slow drive back to Brooksville.
*
Michael woke, lifting his head from his desk. He felt awful and had no idea how long he had been asleep; he barely remembered how he had got to his office. He staggered to the washroom to fill a glass with water, desperate for painkillers for his head. A sudden wave of nausea hit him and he was immediately sick in the washbasin. Whether it was through the alcohol or from the mess he had made of things, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was both. As he thought about what he had put her through, what he had done, and how the hell he was going to put it right, he vomited again, the acid falling from his mouth in unrelenting bursts.
He splashed his face with cold water and took a couple of painkillers, then, once he felt able, picked up the phone and called home. It rang until it was eventually answered by the machine. He pleaded with Laura to pick up, but she didn’t. He hung up and immediately re-dialled the number.
‘Let him sweat,’ Sally said, as it cut in again.
‘I know you’re right, but I’d better answer.’ She picked up the phone, sighing. ‘What do you want, Michael?’
‘Laura! I am so sorry, I just want you to forgive me, please... I’ve been such an idiot, y
ou deserve better. I won’t let you...
Laura held the phone away from her ear.
‘...I promise, honey. We can work this out, I know we can. Laura... please... please speak to me.’
She took a breath and held it back to her ear. ‘I need more time, Michael, much more time. Where are you anyway?’
‘At the office.’
‘Give it to me,’ Sally said, snatching the phone from her hand.
‘Listen to me you piece of crap. Don’t bother coming back here tonight, you’re not welcome. If you do, I’ll punch your fucking lights out. Do you understand?’
Eighteen
Beth Anderson’s empty apartment was concerning him as Frank made the return journey. Where could she be on a night like this if it wasn’t to cause trouble? It had been his intention, that once he was satisfied she was at her apartment, he would return home and give Laura a call the next day. Now, he wasn’t sure what to do for the best. He did not wish to alarm Laura unnecessarily, but neither did he like the thought she might be in harm’s way, should Beth be out with the solemn intention of carrying out her threat.
It hadn’t occurred to him before, but now he wondered if the vehicle he’d had a near miss with on his way to Ellsworth had been Beth. If that were the case, she had a good head start and was in all probability already at Brooksville. The thought made his blood run cold, though knowing Laura was not alone in the house gave him some reassurance.
He would have liked to have been able to drive faster, but the wind and driving rain were increasing in ferocity by the second. His windshield wipers could not clear the water fast enough, it was as if he were going through a carwash. It was impossible to see anything ahead and he was forced to drive at little more than ten miles per hour for fear of going off the road, or colliding with something.
The journey had taken him the best part of an hour by the time he eventually reached the outer limits of Brooksville. Debris from trees, fence posts, and all manner of flotsam had been blown past him along the road; some pieces had actually made contact with his car, thudding heavily into the bodywork and smashing across his windshield. Luckily it had not shattered. Now, as he made his way along the sloping road that led to Brooksville Heights, he was faced with yet another problem.
He slammed the breaks on just in time as an obstruction suddenly came into view. A number of tall fir trees had fallen across the road, some were completely uprooted, while others had broken away halfway up leaving the upper parts of their trunks hanging down over the road. Overhead transformers sparked, their poles leaned at precarious angles, and the power cables thrashed wildly around in the wind creating intense flashes of light. There was no way through.
He weighed up the situation and realised that it would not improve; there would be no help arriving to clear the road any time soon. There seemed little choice but to get out of the car, brave the weather and walk to Laura’s house. The wind and rain battered him as he buttoned up his coat and left his car. It was all he could do to stay on his feet without being blown over and he leaned into the wind that howled around him. Conscious of the risk of other falling trees and power lines. he headed for the dense areas of wood that he believed may be safer and offer more protection.
There wasn’t a chink of light apart from the beam of his flashlight; he was glad to have it, it would have been impossible to see in front of him in the woods without it. His assumption that the woods would offer some protection from the wind and rain was correct, though it was heavy going, The ground was like a quagmire and his shoes were being sucked deep into the mud as he walked.
The woods were on the hill that led down to Brooksville Heights; he knew he couldn’t be far away, but with the terrible conditions and no point of reference, his progress was slow and seemed to take forever. He could hear the tops of the trees thrashing around wildly as they caught the wind, and he only hoped that no huge branches would break away and come crashing down.
To his relief, he reached open land, and in the distance he could just make out the vague outline of a building he knew must be Brooksville Heights. For a moment he considered sitting it out and waiting at the edge of the tree line in the hope the storm would pass, but there appeared little chance of it relenting any time soon. It seemed, in fact, it might only be the beginning. Frank braced himself and began his walk towards the house.
The gale force wind was blowing in from the sea as he battled to walk against it. Progress was slow, but the closer he got he could see a faint light flickering inside the house. Not electric lighting, he thought, but a storm lantern. There were no lights across the bay either; he could only assume that the power was out over a large area. The next morning, in what should be a day for family gatherings, was certain to reveal devastating damage and widespread chaos along the whole of the north east coast. At least he didn’t have those kinds of problems to worry about, he thought.
He had almost reached the house when he saw a dim glow a few hundred yards away near the barn; it was moving around erratically as if it were someone with a flashlight. He quickly switched his off. He found it hard to believe that it could be Laura skulking around in the darkness on a night like this, particularly when she was so afraid, and he wondered if it could be Michael. The rain had penetrated his clothes through to the skin and he shivered as he made his way cautiously over to the barn. The beam of light he had seen suddenly disappeared, and as he got closer he noticed a car parked close by. He recognised it immediately.
Frank unclipped his shoulder holster and took the small handgun from it. The wind howled through the barn, its doors flailing wildly with each gust that caught them, smashing them against the walls over and over. The noise from the wind, the clattering doors and the rain that was striking the roof was deafening. He could only rely on sight, and he moved forward cautiously, his eyes darting from side to side. He flicked on his flashlight as he entered the barn and the powerful wind blew inside like a maelstrom, gathering fragments of straw in its wake and blowing them into his face. The sections of tin roof flexed and seemed as if they would be torn away at any moment. He called out, shouting to be heard over the noise.
‘Beth? Are you there? Come on, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk, that’s all.’
There was no answer.
He moved further inside, flashlight in his left hand, gun in his right, all the time looking around him while trying to shield his eyes from the normally innocuous pieces of straw that now bombarded him as intensely sharp missiles.
As one of the doors was ripped away from its fixings and flew up into the night sky, a gust blew in with such force that Frank heard the roof moan, then saw one of the panels above him being torn off nail by nail before it disappeared. A flash of lightening lit the barn’s interior for a moment and in that split second, he saw her face only feet away from him. In such lighting she looked hideous, her dark hair soaking and sticking to her face, her mascara running from her eyes in long black streaks. She had a crazed look in her eyes. He recoiled and fell backwards, losing the grip on his gun and his flashlight.
He grappled around him, searching for his gun and struggling to get up, but there was no time. Beth wasted no time and straddled him as he lay helpless on the ground. Another flash of lightening, and he momentarily saw her raising the knife, laughing, then darkness as she plunged it into his chest.
Nineteen
Following his brief conversation with Laura and subsequent lambasting from Sally, Michael sat at his desk for a short while to gather his thoughts and to figure out how to win back his wife. He still felt nauseous. The thought of losing her was unbearable, though he knew that if the worst happened and she decided not to take him back, it was no less than he deserved. He had been such a monumental fool, but he couldn’t give up that easily. Their marriage was, as far as he was concerned, worth fighting for. He hoped that Laura would eventually feel the same way.
But for tonight it seemed, there was no chance of him returning home, no chance of begin
ning the reconciliation process. It could be days before Laura would eventually speak to him, he completely understood that, but he needed to speak to someone, to unburden himself of the terrible guilt he was feeling and to seek advice from someone with a sympathetic ear.
He found himself locking up the office and dashing along the street to the Merryweather’s. It was raining heavily, the wind was getting stronger and the huge waves were tossing the boats in the harbour violently, smashing into the harbour wall and lashing across the road. Michael could see the lights of the Merryweather’s apartment above the shop and he rang the doorbell, then stepped back to look up at the window. He could see Blanche peering down to see who was calling on such a night. He waved at her, but wasn’t certain she recognised him standing below in the darkness.
A few moments later she appeared at the shop door, pulled up the blind to verify who it was, and then one by one released the catches.
‘Michael! What on earth are you doing here on a night like this? Is something wrong?’
He did his best to shield himself from the rain. ‘Do you think I could come in for a while?’
‘I’m sorry, yes, of course you can, you’re always welcome, you know that. What on earth is the matter? There’s nothing wrong with Laura I hope.’ She ushered him inside and closed the door. ‘Come on upstairs and take that wet coat off; you can tell me all about it by a warm fire,’ she said with a look of concern.
They went up the stairs through a room at the back of the shop and Michael followed her into the kitchen. A fire was blazing and two meals, clearly still hot, were on the table in the centre of the room. George was stood at the window, looking out across the bay.
‘I’ve interrupted your dinner,’ said Michael.
‘Oh don’t be silly. In fact there’s plenty more if you’d care to join us.’
‘No, thank you, Blanche, I’m not very hungry.’