Comes the Dark

by Celia Ashley

  Jamie stared for a few seconds before nodding. He stood. “I’ll contact the paper tomorrow. Want to go for a beer or something?”

  Dan rose, too. He put the chair back where it belonged. He thought about Maris, hoping she’d fallen asleep. “Sure. Only one and a bite to eat. Somewhere they have soup because I told Maris I’d bring some back for her.”

  “Listen to you, all domesticated and shit. Don’t you have a can in the closet somewhere?”

  He glared at Jamie, who burst out laughing.

  “Kidding, Stauffer. Just kidding. Follow me to the Sickle. They always have great soup. And it’s quiet there.” Jamie lowered his voice. “I have a few things to tell you.”

  Twenty minutes after consumption of their meal and a second beer for both of them, Rogers still hadn’t opened up. Dan signaled the waitress and asked her for an order of the minestrone to go.

  “What’s your hurry?” Jamie said. “Afraid your girlfriend won’t be there when you get home?”

  Dan lowered his glass to the table. “What’s your fucking problem all of a sudden?”

  “Sorry. Nothing. Well, that’s not true. You…you always were, I don’t know, confident? Secure? You’ve been antsy this whole meal, like you can’t wait to get out of here.”

  Spinning his glass in the ring of condensation, Dan considered his reply before opening his mouth. “I’m not any less confident or secure than I was. What you mean is that I used to treat the women in my life without any real concern. But now, there’s someone I worry about. What the hell is wrong with that? You and Roxie have been together how long? Five years? Are you telling me you don’t give her any consideration?”

  “Of course not, but that’s different.”

  “How?”

  Jamie remained silent, his glass wrapped in his fist. His gaze shifted to the remnants on his plate and stayed there.

  Dan pulled out his wallet and placed a twenty dollar bill on the table. “I’ll leave that with you. I’m assuming you’re not ready to leave?”

  Jamie lifted his head. “Do you want the latest or not?”

  “On what?”

  “The Mabry case.”

  “Yes, but if you’re in the mood for being a jackass, I can wait another day.”

  “I’m…I’m good. Sit down, wouldya?”

  Dan hadn’t realized he’d gotten up. He eased back into his seat.

  “Want another one?” Jamie nodded at Dan’s empty glass.

  Dan shook his head.

  “Suit yourself. Yesterday we pulled a lot of boxes out of the old lady’s attic.” Jamie rushed right in without preface. “Photo albums and paperwork, in case there’s more family than Maris is letting on, or perhaps even knows about. Families get estranged. There’s always a possibility of someone else. So far, nothing, since we can’t tell who’s who in the pictures. There’re no names in the albums. No one else knows Maris is out of the hospital. I haven’t said anything because the Chief is pushing to get her in to go through them. If we have more names, we can start trying to track people down.”

  Dan sighed. “Unfortunately, family makes the most sense. But only if one of them had a real vendetta or stood to gain something. I can’t see that old woman pissing somebody off at this late stage in her life, can you? What about a Will?”

  Jamie’s next beer arrived. He took a sip before answering. “Well, that’s the kicker, Stauffer. There was a Will, leaving everything to the surviving blood relations in a direct line from the two sisters. With Maris’s grandmother’s children all dead, I guess that reads any grandchildren now. Alva had an estate worth three million dollars. Who would have thought, huh? According to her solicitor, Alva had been getting ready to change the Will, but she didn’t come in to do it. At the time the Will was drafted, the attorney is pretty sure there were several living family members, but the document was signed years ago. He has no idea who has survived. I know Maris insists she’s the last in the line, so if we can’t locate somebody else in her family, it’s going to be down to just her. Any alibi she has better be rock solid at that point.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Was that a prayer? He thought it might be. He’d uttered quite a few of them over the past several days, poorly worded with basic intent. Dan stood again, accepting the bag with the container of soup from the server. Jamie reached out for the check. “Try and get me a couple of days, Jamie, if you can. She’s not in good shape. A bit more rest would help so her head is clear. She’s concussed and isn’t supposed to be engaging in any strenuous brain activity. She can’t even read or watch TV. Looking through those photo albums isn’t going to help. Or the stress. She has the instructions she left the hospital with if you need them. They spell her limitations out pretty clearly.”

  “Okay. As soon as the request is official, I’ll let you know. I’ll take a copy then.”

  Dan extended his hand toward Jamie, who took it after a brief hesitation. “Thanks,” Dan said. “Sorry for being sensitive. I understand your concerns.”

  Jamie released the handshake grip and waved in dismissal. “If we don’t find any blood relations alive, she’s going to need a lawyer. You know that, don’t you? A lawyer to present her alibi in concise terms with every ounce of proof available.”

  His gut in knots, Dan nodded and exited the restaurant.

  * * * *

  With a finger in each dangling handle, Maris slowly pulled Dan’s desk drawer open. She gazed down at the Priestess card, an image that had come to her in a convoluted dream. So much of the dream made no sense, but she remembered the card had a main part. That and the words don’t touch it. Naturally, she awoke with an intense yearning to disobey and do that very thing.

  After a moment, she shut the drawer. Her fingers tingled with the desire to snatch the card out of the darkness within. But the atmosphere of danger pervading the dream was strong enough to deter her foolishness. Turning on her bare heel, she gazed at Dan’s neatly made bed. Warmth danced over her skin in memory. Why couldn’t she love a man like that?

  Because, when he was gone, she’d be a hollow husk. Nothing of herself would remain.

  Maris shut off the light and returned to the guestroom. She climbed back beneath the covers. She wanted to write the elements of her dream into her diary, describe the impact of the card, but the journal was tucked away in her canvas bag on the other side of the room. Energy flagging from her stroll in Dan’s room, she decided not to get up. Her stomach growled. Where were Dan and the promised soup?

  Reaching up to finger the edges of the bandage, Maris listened to the sounds of the house around her. The rain had stopped, but the intermittent drip of water in the downspouts continued. Wind rattled a window frame somewhere, and the compressor behind the refrigerator hummed into life like the distant rumble of a passing car. Too noisy. Possibly needed a cleaning.

  Maris snuggled down under the soft sheets and blanket and closed her eyes. She’d hear the front door when he returned and wake up again…

  She opened her eyes to a darkened room and a silhouette standing over her. She let out a shriek that would have shamed her if she gave a damn. She flailed out, striking someone squarely in the stomach.

  “Maris! It’s me!”

  Maris heard a scramble in the vicinity of the nightstand. The lamp flared into life. Maris snatched up her pillow and tossed it at Dan. “You scared the living crap out of me!”

  “Sorry. I came in, and you were asleep, so I turned off the light.”

  “Why were you standing over me like that?”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clutching the folded top of a brown bag in one hand. “I…I was listening to make sure you were breathing. I started to worry that maybe…maybe you weren’t.”

  “I’m breathing. I’m fine. I’m only tired. And really, really hungry. Is that soup?”

  He held out the bag. “Minestrone.”

  “Is there a spoon in there?”

  “Yep.”

/>   “Thank you.”

  She took the bag from Dan and slid over automatically to make room for him. “Oh. Sorry. You don’t have to. I’m sure you have things to do.”

  He sat, propping several pillows against the headboard for both of them.

  Maris pulled the container out of the bag and opened it. Steam rose from the contents. “Want some?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is it okay to eat in bed? Don’t know what your house rules are.”

  “They’re all annulled for an invalid houseguest. Eat up.”

  She did, with relish. In the hospital she hadn’t had much appetite. Gratitude for her release—for her life—probably explained the return of it. He spoke as she ate, his arm draped lightly across her back, his hand at her nape.

  “Not now, but soon you will have to go to the station to look through photos. Jamie ordered albums and paperwork removed from your aunt’s attic. They’re looking for identification of family members to determine if any of them might still be alive.”

  “I told you—”

  “That you’re the last one. I know. But are you certain? I have cousins I’ve never met. You could, too, you know.”

  Maris dropped the spoon into the container. She looked at him over her shoulder. “My father had two brothers. One died at sea before he’d ever married. The other one was killed in an auto accident quite a long time ago. His wife remarried, but I have no idea where she is. She and my uncle didn’t have children.”

  “Who told you all of this?”

  “My mother. After my father passed away. I was curious why only friends came to his funeral and no family.” Dan’s fingers moved on her neck, soothing a knot away. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Rub, rub, rub. “No.”

  Liar.

  Easing away from his ministrations, she held up the soup container. “Sure you don’t want any?”

  “Positive.” His hand dropped to his lap.

  Maris surprised herself by finishing it off. Once again, she dropped the plastic spoon into the bottom of the container and slipped the lid back on. Dan took it from her and set it on the nightstand on the folded bag.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A minute passed. She wished there was a television in the room. She would have turned it on, if only to listen to with her eyes shut. “Is this supposed to be so awkward?”

  “I think it’s because we are…undefined? And because you insisted on sleeping in the damned guestroom.”

  Maris giggled. She turned and settled herself on his chest, her arm around his waist. He slid downward until they were both nearly reclining on the mattress, then circled both arms around her. She whipped the blanket up and around until it covered his legs.

  “Now isn’t this cozy?” he whispered against her crown. His left arm lifted for a moment. The light went out.

  After several more minutes of silence, Maris made a decision. “Dan, I’d like you to tell me a story.”

  He grunted. “What, like a fairy tale?”

  “No. Not a fairy tale. I’d like you to tell me the story of how the Priestess card came to be in your desk drawer.”

  His respiration stilled beneath her ear.

  “I wasn’t being nosy. The day Jamie was here I bumped the desk and the drawer opened. Tell me that story, Dan, please, because I can’t figure it out.”

  He slid down farther, stroking back her hair until he contacted the bandage and the fuzz beneath. He rested his fingers against the side of her neck. For a few minutes, he remained silent, but then she heard the first rumblings of his voice in his chest as he began to speak into the darkness above her head.

  “Once upon a time—that’s the proper start to a fairy tale, right? Once upon a time, there was a boy who was afraid of the world. To counter his fears, he worked for and took the job of a brave man, a police officer. And he was good at it. One day, though, he met something dark and evil which changed his view of everything, but he did his best to deny it had ever happened.”

  Maris closed her eyes, moved by the manner in which he’d chosen to reveal his story to her…and the fact he had at all. She curled her fingers around a handful of his shirt.

  “He worked harder at being a police officer, and after completing the tasks presented to him by the…king, he was crowned detective along with another man who became his junior. And all was right with the world again. The dark places didn’t exist. He decided to live in the light of his new position.

  “But one night an old, um, seer passed away, and while he was in the home where she practiced her craft, he forgot his teachings in the blink of an eye and came home to discover he had taken one of her possessions with him.”

  “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

  He pressed a finger to her mouth. “Yes. Are you going to let me finish?”

  She nodded against his chest.

  “He didn’t even remember doing it. But before he knew it, it was too late to return the object to the place where it belonged because he feared his folly would condemn him, and he…he was a bit of a coward, I guess.”

  “Dan…”

  “Quiet. Were you this much of a pain in the ass when you were a kid?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Then the detective made a second mistake when he met the Priestess in the flesh and was blinded by so many things that he didn’t want to believe about her. He took her to the seer’s house in direct opposition to what he knew was right, and to make matters worse, they lay together—isn’t that the term used in old books?”

  Maris nodded on his chest.

  “The detective was transformed and lost and guilt-ridden all at the same time. But the one thing that saved him was the fact he’d found someone he could share the unknown world with and maybe, one day, understand.”

  “Dan, I—”

  “Hush. I’m almost done. If you interrupt me, I don’t think I’ll be able to finish. This isn’t my forte.”

  “Storytelling?”

  “No. Honesty. Not this kind of honesty.”

  Maris swallowed, hard, but the lump refused to budge.

  “An evil, uh…”

  “Chariot driver?”

  “Sure, that works. An evil chariot driver tried to take the Priestess from him, and in the days of her healing, the detective who had fallen from grace realized he hadn’t. Not really. Because deep inside him something had been reborn, something he didn’t think to know again. And that’s the end of the story. Or maybe the beginning. I guess we’ll see where it goes from here.”

  Maris burrowed her face against his shirt, tears dampening the cloth.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No. There’s no crying in fairy tales.”

  “Bullshit. I seem to remember plenty of weeping and gnashing of teeth in those stories when I was a kid.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you came into my life, Maris. I just wish I knew what the future would bring. But that’s your territory.”

  “I don’t know what the future holds for us either, Dan.” She caressed his chest beside her cheek. “I do know this, though. Don’t touch that card again.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think you have to take my word for it.”

  “I’m taking your word for a lot of things, my dear. I only hope I don’t live to regret it.”

  He lapsed into silence then. After several minutes, his breathing grew deep and even. She smelled the faint, yeasty scent of beer on his breath and an uncertain spice. Far from offensive, the evidence of a taken meal was comforting.

  She knew Dan found her care with words a frustration at times, but she wished he had spoken his last sentence differently. He should have left out the words “live to.” Fate could so easily turn against his hope as he’d expressed it.

  Chapter 17

  “Ow.”
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br />   Dan’s arm had fallen asleep, and moving it brought tingling pain to the extremity. He shifted again, trying to ease himself out from beneath Maris’s sleeping form. She slipped off his chest. He caught her before her head bounced on the mattress and slid a pillow into place. After pressing his mouth to the side of her head, he left the room and went into his own.

  He stripped out of his clothes and into a pair of sleep pants, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, lingering before the mirror in a frowning study of his face. Where had that fairy tale come from? It had been easier to confess his story in that way rather than tell her outright. He wondered what she’d meant afterward about not touching the card. He assumed she meant physically, although he couldn’t imagine why. Perhaps there was a certain Tarot reader’s taboo involved. Either way, he couldn’t ignore the fact of his misappropriation of evidence. If not evidence, then a woman’s property. Perhaps Maris’s property now.

  God, he hoped not. He needed to speak with her in more detail about an accounting of her time the night her aunt died, although such questioning might be construed as assisting her to create an alibi. After all, he had no official reason for the discussion. One thing he knew for sure—there was no longer any point in denying his involvement with her. He wouldn’t add to her burden with a lie of that magnitude. It certainly wouldn’t help either one of them.

  Dan went to his desk and opened the drawer. He studied the card that had so fascinated him. He honestly couldn’t recall putting the thing in his pocket. Was there some significance to that? Maris would think so. To him, it was a mistake. A stupid mistake that might end up with consequences he hadn’t foreseen at the time. Certainly the scale of his error in judgment had been intensified by everything that followed.

  The lamp shimmered over the varnished colors of the High Priestess with her jet-black hair and enigmatic expression. The blue of her attire was very like the predominant color in the skirt Maris had been wearing that first night. He remembered thinking she’d known he’d taken the card. Nothing more than a reaction of guilty conscience, that one, as her question tonight indicated she’d had no idea. How many other reactions of his were based on his own suspicions and culpability rather than some special insight of hers?