Broken Pieces

by Carla Cassidy

  Kelsey shrugged. “He seemed really nice and he’s funny. I thought he kind of liked me and I guess I sort of liked him. But maybe it was just an act. Maybe he and his dad hated Grandpa enough that he was just pretending to like me.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions, okay? He may be a very nice boy who had nothing to do with this.” Mariah hoped so, for her daughter’s sake.

  Kelsey looked up at her, hope shining in her eyes. “You think? I mean, he seems really nice.”

  “Then let’s give him the benefit of the doubt for now,” Mariah replied, but made a mental note to herself to talk to Clay the next day about the Kent family.

  Was it nothing more than a teenage prank? Or was it something more ominous? Those thoughts played in Mariah’s head during the meal and afterward.

  They were still whirling around in her brain late that night as she stood at her bedroom window and stared outside. Somebody had been lurking in the shadows of the trees. Somebody wanted her to leave town. Were the two things related?

  Maybe it was time to step up the renovations, get things done as quickly as possible and do what the spray-painting culprit wanted.

  Perhaps it was time to go home.

  It was back.

  The rage and the hunger.

  He stood in the cover of the trees, staring up at the window where Mariah’s silhouette was visible. As long as he didn’t move from his position, he didn’t have to worry about her seeing him. The night was dark, with clouds chasing across the sky and obscuring the moonlight.

  It was too soon. It had been only a couple of nights since he’d taken Missy. He’d thought that she would ease the pain and calm the beast inside him, but she hadn’t.

  He leaned with his back against the tree, the rough bark biting into his bare skin. The night air did nothing to cool his fevered skin, the burn of unrelenting wrath in his heart, in his soul.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gain control. He wasn’t a bad man, although he was a man who did bad things. Sometimes he felt as if there were two people inside his skin, both the good man and the crazed, raging bad man.

  Most of the time the good man was in control, going about his business and being an upstanding citizen. But lately, especially since Mariah’s return to town, the bad man had been rising to the surface far too often.

  He believed that in brutalizing those women he took a piece of them. He thought that if he got enough pieces, he’d become whole and the anger and disappointment would go away. On some level he knew it was irrational, but in a stronger, more visceral place inside him he couldn’t help but believe it.

  He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides as he once again looked up at the window where she stood. She shouldn’t have come back here. She should have stayed away. If he hadn’t seen her again, then Missy Temple might still be alive. But Mariah had stirred the beast in him.

  He’d tried to warn her away and hopefully she would take the warning and go back to where she’d come from. But if she didn’t, then he couldn’t be responsible for what might happen.

  Mariah.

  His first.

  His best.

  Maybe if he took her again, made her disappear like all the others, she’d be the final piece that would fix him. She’d be the cure for his madness.

  Chapter 14

  Mariah got up late the next morning after a night of bad dreams. The images that plagued her in her sleep were more vivid than they’d ever been and she felt unsettled and on edge as she dressed for the day.

  The first thing on the agenda this morning was coffee, and then she intended to get to the job of painting over the message that some creep had left on the house.

  She was seated at the table and on her second cup of coffee when her cell phone rang. It was Janice. Her familiar voice was a balm against the riotous emotions that had warred inside Mariah since the moment she’d opened her eyes.

  “How’s life in the slow lane?” Janice asked.

  “Not so slow. Yesterday a graffiti artist decided to leave a message spray-painted across the front of the house.”

  “You’re kidding. What did it say?” Janice asked, concern in her voice.

  “Go home, that’s what it said.”

  “Okay, who have you managed to piss off while you’ve been there?”

  Mariah laughed. “That’s exactly what Clay asked me when he came to investigate. What makes you think it’s about me? Clay mentioned that it’s possible it’s the work of some jealous teenage girl who finds Kelsey threatening.”

  “Nothing teenage girls do surprises me,” Janice replied drily. “They can be the meanest human beings on the face of the earth. I’ve always said that what we should be doing is recruiting teenage girls into the army because they really know how to kick ass. So, how are you otherwise?”

  “If you’d asked me last night, I was ready to pack my bags and leave. Screw the renovations, screw this town, I was out of here. But this morning I’m feeling differently. I’m not about to let a little dab of spray paint scare me off.”

  “Good for you. But you sound stressed and tired.”

  Mariah sighed. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “Nightmares?”

  “The worst.” She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of the dreams that had tormented her all night long. “They’re much more vivid than they’ve ever been. It’s like I’m trying to remember something important in my sleep, but when I wake up, I don’t know what it is.”

  “Returning to the scene of the crime probably has something to do with the increased frequency and intensity of the dreams,” Janice said, sounding more like a psychiatrist than a friend. “You need to talk to somebody about getting a tranquilizer to help you sleep.”

  “No, thanks. And now, on to more positive things. The overgrown yard now looks like a neat lawn, the carpeting in the living room has been pulled up to reveal gorgeous hardwood floors and I’ve picked out tile for the kitchen floor.”

  “Sounds like you’re sinking a lot of money into the place to turn around and sell it.”

  “I’ll more than get it all back when it sells,” Mariah replied.

  The two chatted for a few more minutes; then a knock sounded on the back door. “I’ve got to go,” Mariah said. “Somebody’s at the door.” She said a quick good-bye to Janice, then hurried to answer the door, assuming it would be Joel.

  It was Finn. “Is that fresh coffee I smell?” he asked as he entered the kitchen.

  “Fresh an hour ago,” Mariah replied as she pointed him toward the table. “What are you up to this morning?”

  “The usual. Chores and herding kids.” He thanked her as she placed a cup of coffee in front of him. “I saw the paint on the front of the house. You have trouble?”

  “You tell me. That was left yesterday afternoon while Kelsey and I were out.”

  Finn took a sip of his coffee. “You called Clay?”

  She nodded. “He came out and saw it. He thinks maybe it was some teenager.”

  Finn shook his head. “When my kids get older, if they ever do anything like that, they’d better get out of town before I get hold of them.”

  Mariah grinned at him. “I can’t imagine those two darling red-haired kids of yours ever doing anything wrong.”

  “Ha! I tell Hannah all the time that I think those kids are part demon. They understand almost every word in the English language except no and they’d rather break a toy than share it with each other.”

  Mariah laughed. “It’s just a stage. They’ll outgrow it.”

  “You promise?” Finn shot her a comical look of desperation. “Speaking of kids, that’s why I stopped by.”

  “You want me to adopt yours?” Mariah teased.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he replied with a laugh. “Actually Hannah and I were wondering if your daughter did any babysitting. Sunday is our anniversary and I’d like to take Hannah out for dinner and maybe a movie. Our regular babysitter is on vacation with her family.�
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  “Yes, she does some babysitting, but I’ll have to check with her and see if she’s interested,” Mariah replied.

  “Interested in what?” Kelsey asked as she appeared in the kitchen. Tiny barked and growled as he saw Finn. “Shh.” Kelsey stroked his back to calm him.

  “Babysitting for Finn and Hannah Sunday night,” Mariah replied.

  “We pay good and we’re great tippers,” Finn exclaimed.

  Kelsey grinned. “How can I turn down an offer like that? What time do you need me?”

  “Why don’t I pick you up around five thirty and I should have you home by ten or so,” Finn replied.

  “Sounds fine to me.” Tiny growled again. “I’ll just take him back upstairs,” Kelsey said.

  “Not on my account,” Finn said as he stood. “I’m leaving.” He smiled at Kelsey. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He leaned over and kissed Mariah on the cheek. “And I still don’t feel like you and I have had a really good chance to talk.”

  “You know where to find me,” she replied. She got up and walked with him to the door. “Hey, before you leave, do you know anyone who does outside house painting? I’m keeping Joel busy inside, but I’d like to get somebody working on the outside as soon as possible.”

  “Roger Francis does a little painting during the summers when he’s off work at the high school. You might give him a call.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  He gave a wave and left, taking a large dose of the room’s energy with him.

  Kelsey placed Tiny on the floor as she got out a bowl for cereal. “I guess you’ll just have to make sure we’re home from Dr. Taylor’s house in time for Finn to pick me up for the babysitting job.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. Jack said one o’clock. A simple meal can’t last that long.” An edge of excitement fluttered in Mariah’s stomach at the thought of seeing Jack the next day.

  But all thoughts of Jack fled when half an hour later she and Kelsey grabbed paintbrushes and got to work on the bright red lettering on the house.

  Maybe Clay was right. Maybe it was nothing more than a jealous teenager’s way of expressing anger. It wouldn’t be the first time an adolescent grabbed a can of spray paint to communicate emotions.

  Joel showed up at noon and began sanding the living room floor. He was quiet and seemed contrite and got right to work. Spray-painting a house might be something a drunk would do, Mariah thought as she cleaned up the breakfast dishes—especially an angry drunk.

  She wondered if Clay had questioned Joel, then commanded herself to stop stressing about it. It wasn’t as if somebody had left a dead cat on her doorstep or something else more ominous. It was just a little paint, for crying out loud.

  Thinking about paint and the sad condition of the exterior of the house, she found Roger Francis’s phone number in the book and called. Roger’s wife, Marianne, answered the phone and for a few minutes she and Mariah chatted.

  “Finn told me that Roger does some painting during the summers,” Mariah finally said.

  “Whenever he can get the work,” Marianne replied. “He hates the summer when he isn’t coaching and so a couple of years ago he started taking on paint jobs during that time.”

  “Is he home? I’m looking for somebody to paint the exterior of my house.”

  “He isn’t here right now, but I can have him call you as soon as he gets in.”

  “That would be great,” Mariah replied. “I’m anxious to get this old place back in shape.”

  “You should have a housewarming party when you get it all fixed up,” Marianne said.

  “I’d rather have a wealthy buyer,” Mariah said with a laugh.

  By evening Mariah was exhausted. She’d arranged with Roger to give her an estimate for the paint job on Monday morning. Joel had sanded the entire living room floor and intended to varnish it on Monday.

  She and Kelsey had spent much of the day packing things up in Mariah’s parents’ bedroom. Mariah had been pleasantly surprised by how little emotion she felt as she folded their clothing and emptied dresser drawers.

  If she felt anything, it was a kind of peace that never again would her father be able to hurt her, that never again would her mother look at her as if she were the spawn of Satan.

  And there was pride, that she’d survived them. She hadn’t become a drug addict or an alcoholic. She hadn’t become a child beater or a person who self-mutilated with a razor blade. She’d simply survived.

  She thought of the letters she’d found in her father’s desk drawer, letters she’d written that had never been opened. She’d poured her heart and her soul into those pages, hoping for an answer, some sign that they had loved her.

  The day she’d found those letters in the drawer, she’d been freed from any more emotional baggage of her parents. You could pick your friends, but you didn’t pick your parents. In the grand parent lottery, she’d lost, but from the misery of her own childhood she’d learned the ways to be a pretty terrific parent all on her own.

  Kelsey cooked a chicken dish for dinner and afterward they both cleaned up the kitchen. Then Katie’s mom arrived to pick Kelsey up to spend the night.

  Mariah refused to get spooked in the house by herself. She wandered from room to room, making notes about what needed to be repaired or replaced.

  If Roger could get the outside of the house painted and Joel finished up the living room floor and tiled the kitchen, then she could conceivably put the house on the market in the next couple of weeks.

  Maybe she should go ahead and contact a Realtor. She wanted somebody who could handle all the details of showing the house when Mariah and Kelsey returned to Chicago. When the house sold, Mariah would make a short trip back here to sign the closing papers. Then she’d be done with this house, Plains Point and her past.

  Funny how the idea didn’t fill her with joy. In the short amount of time they’d been here, this place had begun to feel like home.

  But it’s not home, she reminded herself. Home was her apartment in Chicago with its modern furniture and view of the smog.

  At eight she turned on the television that Joel had carried from the living room into her bedroom and she curled up on the bed to watch the latest offerings of reality TV shows.

  But the crazy antics of ten people living together in a house couldn’t compete with the dark thoughts that edged into her head.

  Was the painted message meant for her? Was there somebody in town who saw her as a threat? Maybe the man who had raped her? Had that same man been watching the house, standing in the shadows of the trees and thinking about that night so long ago?

  Or was the paint meant for Kelsey, as Clay had suggested? Was it possible that Mariah hadn’t seen anything in the grove of trees except drifting shadows from the trees blowing in a light wind?

  Maybe the sense of foreboding she felt was nothing more than the internal workings of a neurotic woman. Perhaps in returning to the scene of the crime, she was now sensing imaginary monsters in every corner.

  It was entirely possible that her “monster” had drifted out of town the night of the attack, or was now in prison for an unrelated crime. Or he could be dead. There was no reason to believe he was still out there waiting to terrorize her again.

  She was being foolish, like Marianne Francis, whose husband, Roger, had teased that she saw a boogeyman in every shadow. Maybe that’s what Mariah was doing, seeing boogeymen where none existed.

  She was just getting ready for bed when the phone rang. “Just thought I’d check in to make sure we were still on for tomorrow,” Jack said.

  “Unless you’re calling to cancel,” she replied.

  “Not on your life,” he replied. She sat on the edge of the bed, warmed by the mere sound of his deep voice. “I’ve spent the day racking my brain trying to decide what to cook for an important woman and her chef daughter.”

  “Don’t stress it,” Mariah replied lightly. “Hamburgers are always good.”

  “I’ll ke
ep that in mind. So, I’ll see you here about one.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Mariah said softly.

  “Not half as much as I am,” he replied, then murmured a good-bye and clicked off.

  The warm feeling that Jack’s voice had evoked carried her through a night of dreamless sleep and into the next day. It was just after noon when she finished her shower and was dressing for the date with Jack when Kelsey came into the bedroom, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

  “Mom, I don’t feel very good. I think maybe I should skip lunch at Dr. Taylor’s.” She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, as if her tummy was killing her, but Mariah saw a glint in her daughter’s eyes that belied the sick belly.

  “Then I’ll just call Jack and cancel,” Mariah said.

  “No!” Kelsey’s protest was immediate. “I mean, it would be so rude to cancel so late. He’s probably been cooking all morning.” She offered her mother a wan smile. “You go ahead. I’ll just stay here in bed and I’ll probably feel okay by evening when Finn comes to pick me up.”

  Mariah eyed her daughter suspiciously. “Why do I get the feeling that this is all a ruse on your part to give me time alone with Dr. Hot?”

  “Mom, how can you even think that?” Kelsey protested, but the twinkle in her eyes told Mariah that’s exactly what she was doing. “I’ll be fine here. I know all the rules. I’ll keep the doors locked and won’t let anyone in. I’ll just spend some time on my computer and maybe bake a cake or something.” Kelsey stood. “Honestly, Mom. I’d be bored to death if I go with you. You go have a good time and let me just hang out here.”

  “Are you sure?” Mariah knew she should be disappointed that Kelsey didn’t want to go, but it was hard to feel dismayed at the idea of spending time alone with Jack.

  “I’m positive, and you’d better finish getting ready or you’re going to be late.”

  Mariah gazed at the clock on the nightstand and realized Kelsey was right. Her pulse raced as she finished her makeup, repeated the rules to Kelsey, then got into her car to drive to Jack’s.