by Joe Hart
Thump, thump, thump.
Turning his head and listening, Donald tried to discern where it had come from. After a few seconds, it repeated, this time louder, from the far end of the house, near the guest bedroom.
Donald looked out the windows to his left at the swirling trees and spitting rain. Must be a tree branch rubbing against the house. He shrugged and moved through the dining room to the door that led into the spacious guest bedroom. As he reached to flip on the light, he had the sudden fear that a hand would stretch out from the darkness to grasp his wrist. The image was so strong he nearly shrank back and shut the door, but instead, he fumbled against the wall until his fingers met the switch.
Light flooded the room and instantly turned the windows into opaque rectangles. Donald moved to the glass and cupped his hands around his face, wary of the storm tossing something hard at the window at that moment. He looked into the night, trying to spy a reaching branch or some other debris that might have caused the thumping, but saw nothing save waving leaves and a pulsing line of lightning that illuminated the dark river at the far end of the yard.
Donald stood back, chewing on his lip, and shook his head. Nerves, frazzled from the call with Ian, was all it was. He needed sleep and a nice round of golf in the morning. Along with a few drinks. Feeling better, he moved out of the room, snapping off the light as he went. He had taken two steps toward the kitchen when the screen door flew open and banged against the side of the house. Donald’s heart leapt in his chest and did a drum solo against his ribs. Immediately the fear became anger, as he resumed his course through the house.
“Fucking storm,” he said under his breath as he walked to the entry and flipped on the outside light, which illuminated a half circle of the yard and driveway in front of the house. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, immediately catching a face full of wind and rain. Donald squinted against the stinging drops hurled at him by the wind and stepped onto the porch to grab the screen door from where it banged insistently against the siding. With a grunt, he pulled the door shut and stepped inside. When he tried to latch the outer door, it wouldn’t stay shut.
“What the shit?” he said, leaning closer to the catch. After a few seconds of inspection, he saw that the tongue of the lock was missing, sheared off and gone. Rage vented like steam from his pores, and he yanked on the screen door as hard as he could, trying to wedge it shut with pure force. The rest of the handle broke off in his hand, and the door sailed open with a bang.
“Fuck you!” Donald yelled, and slammed the inner door shut. He trembled from the anger coursing through his veins and wished he had some outlet to release it. If Ian were here now . . . oh, it would not be good. The thought of pummeling the smug vice president’s face into a mass of jelly made him feel better, and he flexed the muscles in his arms, relishing the image of his fist smashing over and over into Ian’s teeth.
BANG.
Donald flinched in spite of his fury and peered through the darkness of the house toward the guest bedroom.
BANG.
The sound was louder this time. Was a fucking tree falling on the house? He moved through the kitchen and dining room until he stood just outside the door to the guest bedroom. He listened, his ear almost pressed against the wood, trying to hear anything inside that would indicate the window was broken. He didn’t want to step onto glass with just socks on his feet. Slowly he opened the door, and found the switch before his mind could come up with anything else to scare him.
The window was intact, and nothing else was out of place. He turned in a small circle, looking for anything that could have fallen. The room was spartan to begin with, and there were really no adornments that could have toppled to cause the noise he heard.
“Pussy,” he said. “And now you’re talking to yourself.”
He shook his head and exited the room for a second time, promising himself he wouldn’t entertain his imagination again if he heard another sound. Half smiling at his foolishness, he walked toward the kitchen to grab his phone and saw movement in front of him, near the entry. Donald stopped in mid-stride, every muscle in his body going rigid, his skin tightening into a million points of gooseflesh.
The inside door swung open and bumped against the wall.
It rebounded off the coatrack that hung just inside the doorway and slowed, before moving back again with the wind’s insistence. One thought flashed over and over in his mind as he watched the door travel its slow arc: I didn’t lock the door, I didn’t lock the door, I didn’t lock the door. Now the sounds from before became something different, not random effects of the storm but purposeful and calculated movements. They were herding me, he thought, and another shiver of fear swam through his spine.
His eyes searched the dim outlines of the kitchen counter until he located his phone. The shadows of the house, benign before, were now roiling, malevolent shapes that seemed to move on their own. Donald took a shaking step forward and stopped when he heard something else just below the sound of the storm outside. Whispering. The hiss of words from a mouth that didn’t want him to hear. Donald’s bowels turned to soup, and he forced back the urge to fall screaming to the floor. He needed to get his phone and barricade himself in the bedroom upstairs. He’d call for help, and would crawl out a window if he had to.
He shot a look through the archway to his left, into the living room. The back door was through there, but an even darker layer of shadows hung in the room, and he couldn’t get himself to move in that direction. Just a few more steps and he could grab his phone, grab his phone and run. If it was just the storm making sounds and opening doors, he would feel foolish but safe.
His stomach clenched as he heard another susurration somewhere in the dark. He moved forward despite the animalistic feeling in his chest that screamed at him to run. Donald focused on his phone and readied himself to lunge for it. In a second, he’d have it and he could give in to the primal pleadings to flee.
With a little cry that surprised him as it slipped free of his mouth, he sprung forward and thrust his hand at the phone. He felt the rough edges of its case against his fingertips and the relief of knowing he could call for help.
A heavy piece of steel fell out of the darkness and cut through his wrist.
Donald watched it as if from somewhere outside his own body, saw the rusty serrated edges of the blade slice through flesh and bone and shatter the tile countertop beneath. His hand shot forward, free of his arm, and landed on the counter, looking like a fish on a cleaning table. The stump gouted a dark shadow that spread out in an even pool on the counter. Only after a split second of pain did he realize the shadow was his blood as it spattered the kitchen floor.
Donald stumbled back, clutching his ruined arm against his chest like a newborn, the hot wetness beginning to soak through his T-shirt. A hulking shadow moved through the kitchen toward him, ungainly and hunched as it lifted the massive steel blade over its head. He reached out with his good hand and tried to spit out pleas of mercy, but his feet tangled and he fell to the ground, his sight going hazy as the thing from the storm loomed over him.
CHAPTER 8
They didn’t talk very much on the drive back to town.
Liam turned the truck’s heater on high, but it didn’t fully warm him through his soaking clothes. He didn’t know if he just needed to get dry or if the chill he felt had to do with what he saw at the Shevlins’. Several times he glanced at Dani, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she stared out the windshield at the rain-slicked road, her fingers playing with the edge of her T-shirt.
When they reached town, he began to turn the truck in the direction of her hotel, but she put a hand on his arm as he did.
“Could we go to your hotel instead?”
He nodded and headed for the south end of town, the darkened eyes of shop windows watching them as they passed by.
When they reached his room, he offered her a
pair of his sweatpants and a clean T-shirt. She thanked him and headed for the bathroom. After a few minutes, he heard the shower start, the patter of water matching the din of rain on the roof above. Twenty minutes later, Dani emerged from the bathroom just as he shut the door and walked past her carrying an almost-scalding pizza box.
“What’s that?” she asked, following him to where he set the pizza on the desk beside the bed.
“This is a pizza,” he said, grinning over his shoulder. She swatted at him, and he dodged it, nodding toward a bin of ice containing a six-pack of beer. “Thought you might need one of those,” he said, pulling a piece of sausage pizza onto a paper plate for her.
When he looked up, he saw Dani’s eyes focused on him, a strange look on her face. “What?” he asked, holding out her plate.
“How did you know this is what I needed?”
Liam smiled. “I didn’t. I just like pizza and beer.”
She laughed and sat on the bed as he cracked two of the bottles open and handed one to her.
He sat on the floor while they ate with relish, and he surprised himself by how many slices he consumed. He hadn’t felt this full or satisfied by food in a long time. He began to trace through his memory for a better-tasting meal and stopped, content to enjoy the moment.
“You know, if it wasn’t for a crazed lunatic running free, this town would probably be okay,” Liam said, finishing off the last bite of his pizza. He waited and looked at Dani out of the corner of his eye.
A begrudging smile played at the corners of her mouth, and when she saw him looking at her, she shook her head.
“That’s a little dark,” she said.
“The best humor always is.”
“Terrible.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“I’m not,” Dani said, smiling.
“Okay, just saying,” Liam said, holding up his hands. Their eyes locked for a split second, and his stomach fluttered like he was on a roller coaster. Dani looked away, her face darkening. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, you’re fine and this is great,” she said, motioning to the pizza box and beer. “It’s just . . .” She paused, searching for words or courage; he didn’t know which. “I’ve never been as scared as I was tonight at that house. When you went outside, I didn’t know what was going to happen or if you’d come back, and I . . . I don’t know . . .” Her voice trailed off as she took another sip of beer, looking away.
He saw the glistening of tears and reached out to touch her hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there. I got caught up in the moment and reacted.”
Dani nodded, pulling her hand away from his to swipe at her tears. She was quiet for a long time, then she turned to him again.
“Who do you think it was out there?”
“Truthfully?”
“Yeah.”
“The killer,” he said, waiting for her to cringe. She only nodded.
“What do you think he was doing?”
“I’m not sure. That’s what I’ve been going over in my head. I don’t know if he saw me or if he was just on a little reminiscent tour or what.”
“That’s so creepy.”
“If it’s any consolation, I was scared out of my mind too.”
“Yeah, it gives me great confidence that the guy with the gun was just as terrified as I was.” Dani’s eyes sparkled, and in that moment he couldn’t think of anything more beautiful.
“Listen here, I was just saying that to make you feel better. I wasn’t actually scared at all,” Liam said, sniffing and turning his eyes to the ceiling.
“Umm-hmm,” Dani said with a mocking nod. She shifted on the bed and turned toward him a little more. “Why do you have a gun with you if you aren’t a cop anymore?”
“I asked myself the same thing when I grabbed it to bring with me,” Liam said. “Call it a premonition, I don’t know. I just brought it out of instinct.”
“Well, I’m glad you had it tonight.”
“Me too.”
He felt his eyelids growing heavy, the crushing exhaustion no longer held back by adrenaline or his frantic thoughts. He yawned, stifling it with the back of his hand. Dani finished her beer and stood, setting the empty bottle on the table nearby.
“I should go,” she said, glancing at the digital clock. “It’s almost ten.”
He nodded, wanting anything but to agree. “If you want, you can stay here.”
The words came out before he had time to think, and he nearly clapped a hand over his mouth. Dani didn’t move from the foot of the bed and gazed at him through a few locks of damp hair.
“I mean, you can stay if you want. I’ll sleep on the floor. I don’t sleep very well anyway. I just thought you might not want to be alone. I didn’t mean—”
Dani smiled at his discomfort. “Thank you. I would like to stay, if it’s really okay with you.”
“It’s fine, yeah, absolutely,” Liam said. “Let me just rearrange a little.”
He busied himself arranging a few blankets and a pillow on the floor while Dani went to the bathroom. When she returned, he was already on his makeshift bed. She moved across the room and shut the last lamp off, throwing everything into shadow, cut only by the faint glow of the single parking lot light behind the hotel. He heard the soft swishing of her clothes against the blankets as she climbed into the queen-sized bed. He lay with one arm crooked behind his head, listening to her even breathing. They were quiet for a long time, and just when he thought she might be asleep, she spoke.
“Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you sleep up here with me? I’m not coming on to you, but . . .” Her voice trailed off into silence.
He rose from his place on the floor, snagging a blanket and pillow as he went. Dani lay on the far side of the bed, her face turned toward him, although he couldn’t make out her eyes.
“Sure, I’ll sleep on top of the covers.”
He lay down and threw the blanket over himself, making sure to keep a polite distance between them. The last thing he wanted was her thinking he was taking advantage of her unwillingness to be alone. After he settled and all was quiet again, he waited for the weight of sleep to fall upon him, praying he wouldn’t have an attack now. How would he explain it to her? The thought of telling her made his insides squirm. He would just breathe and wait. Maybe he would be calm enough in a few hours to get some sleep.
Dani moved beside him, and he heard her hand slide across the space between them. Her fingers touched his bicep and carefully traced down his arm to find his hand. The grazing sensation of her delicate fingers on his skin sent a wave of goose bumps across him, wholly unlike the earlier prickling of his skin at the Shevlins’. He grasped her hand and heard her sigh, a small sound, content in a way that thrilled him.
He lay savoring the softness of her hand and resisted the urge to caress it. She needed comfort, nothing else. His muscles began to relax, and to his surprise, a wave of serenity spread over him, a blanket that smothered the tension his body had held all day without his full awareness.
Liam yawned again, apprehension attempting to blossom in his guts, but no vision appeared behind his eyelids when he shut them. And without knowing it, he fell into a dreamless sleep.
The cell phone vibrated beside his head, and his eyes snapped open in the dark of the room. Reluctantly he let Dani’s hand go, both their palms now covered in sweat, and snatched the phone off the bedside table. The screen showed a number he didn’t know and the time: 2:17. Liam hit the answer button and pressed the phone to his ear, standing from the bed.
“Hello?”
Panicked breathing met his ear, along with a hoarse curse. “Hello?” Liam asked again, moving toward the bathroom, not wanting to wake Dani.
“Liam?”
“Who is this?”
“It’
s Nut. God, man, there’s been another one!”
“What? Another murder?”
“Yes! Oh Lord, I think I’m gonna pass out.”
“Nut, slow down. What happened?” Liam stepped into the bathroom and swung the door shut.
The other man sounded as though he were having a conniption. “God, I’ve never seen anything like that in my life!”
“Nut, calm down, start from the beginning.” Liam set an edge to his voice, the tone gentle but commanding. It was the voice he’d used when interviewing suspects or getting a statement from someone shaken by a recent crime.
“Okay, Lord, okay. I was . . . I was on my way to Lenny’s place on the south end of town. He’s got a little nook out of the weather, and he told me to stop by sometime tonight. I was on my way and took the boardwalk by the river, past the park, since it’s the fastest route. I fucking stumbled on him, right there on the rocks!”
“Who? Who did you stumble on?”
“I can’t be sure, but it looks like that big shot from Colton.”
“Are you sure he’s dead?”
“God, yes! He’s . . . he’s . . .” Nut made a choking sound. “You just have to come see.”
Liam straightened in the darkness of the bathroom, indecision tilting him one way and then another.
“Where are you?”
CHAPTER 9
The headlights of the Chevy shone off the wet blacktop, turning the road into a glazed onyx river.
Liam drove fast, but not so fast that he couldn’t spot the parking lot he searched for. Soon, he came to the turn and swung off the deserted street, pulling into a space at the rear of the machine shop’s lot. He reached into the glove box and grabbed the small flashlight from where Dani deposited it the night before. He turned in his seat, searching for any other signs of life before exiting the truck.
Apprehension wormed through him, and he nearly stopped in his tracks after only a few steps. This was the worst possible scenario he could put himself in at the moment. He was already on the BCA’s radar, the sheriff had entrusted him with sensitive information, and now he was going to investigate a murder scene before notifying the authorities. If someone saw him here—he didn’t even want to consider it.