Sinister Shadows

by Brittany Cournoyer

  “Who did we buy this house from?”

  Pierce turned from where he stood in the doorway and furrowed a brow. “It was purchased through an estate auction.”

  “An estate auction?”

  Pierce nodded. “Yes. That’s how we were able to get such a good deal on it. Houses like these usually go for triple the price we paid for it.”

  Duncan cocked his head to the side, and Pierce could see something spark in his eyes before he opened his mouth to speak. “But you said we put all of our money into this house.”

  “We did. It’s not like either of us were rich by any means when we went house hunting. Even though we got a good deal on this house, it was still a bit out of our budget.”

  “Then why didn’t we look elsewhere?”

  “Because the deal was too good to pass up.”

  “What happened to the previous owners?”

  Pierce shrugged and crossed his arms. “They’re dead.”

  “I figured as much, since it was through an estate auction, but do you know how they died?”

  Pierce sighed and uncrossed on his arms to run his hand over his hair. Duncan’s curiosity was understandable, but he hated to be the bearer of bad news. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  Duncan’s eyes widened at Pierce’s question, and he swallowed audibly before giving a jerky nod. “I do.”

  “They were…they were murdered, Duncan.” Pierce could see the shock on Duncan’s face and the questions in his eyes. He held up his hand to hold off anything Duncan might ask. “I don’t know the specifics, and I didn’t ask. We knew what happened to the family before buying the house, and after discussing it, we decided it was too great of a deal to pass up. The house is safe, and while what happened to them was unfortunate, it was a freak thing.” Pierce was done discussing it. “I’ll see you in a few hours. Get some rest.”

  Pierce turned and left a confused Duncan sitting in the middle of the bed. Trudging down the stairs, he grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, then went out back and snagged a chair from the shed so he could sit in the fresh air for a while. He had a new job to start later that night he had to prep for, and the prep work didn’t include delving into the dark past of their home.

  “Hello, Mr. Reynolds. This is Gina from the billing department at Riverview Hospital. This is my second attempt to contact you regarding the paperwork of Duncan Reynolds. The letter we sent to your address was returned to us, and we really need to discuss the discrepancy with your husband’s paperwork. Please return my call at—”

  Pierce erased the voicemail. The woman was persistent with getting Duncan’s paperwork fixed, and to be honest, she was getting on Pierce’s nerves. He filled out the paperwork the best to his ability, and he was certain he had written the correct social security number down. But with the stress and concern for his husband, he could’ve easily made a mistake. He’d call her back when he had time, which he unfortunately didn’t have at the moment. Pierce’s job was very time consuming, and he never had a day off. Duncan took up what time he had left, and sometime during the day, he also had to get some sleep.

  The night had passed too slowly, giving Pierce plenty of time to play the scene of Duncan masturbating in front of him on a loop in his brain. In the wee hours of the morning, while nothing was happening, he allowed himself to rest his head against the seat of his car and close his eyes. He let his mind fill with the way Duncan looked and sounded as he stroked his cock. Pierce salivated, imagining himself sucking Duncan’s cock into his mouth and licking it clean after he came, and before he knew what he was doing, he had unbuttoned his own pants and reached his hand inside. Soon the sounds of Pierce’s groans, mixed with skin sliding against skin, filled the cab of the car. With Duncan’s groans of pleasure in his mind and visions of him writhing on the bed dancing behind his eyelids, Pierce stroked his own cock until he came in his hand. When he opened his eyes, he was a panting, sweaty mess. Thank god he had extra napkins and a bottle of hand sanitizer in the glove compartment. That was the first time he’d come in weeks, and it was a shame he hadn’t been able to do it with Duncan helping him.

  Duncan’s walking practice went better than Pierce thought it would, and after a few passes across the room, he was able to bear a little more weight on his ankle. He didn’t seem to be nearly as shaky as Pierce thought he’d be, and he would probably be on his own two feet in no time.

  If Pierce were being honest with himself, he’d admit he had mixed feelings about Duncan getting better. While it was great Duncan was healing properly and would soon regain his independence, it also meant he’d no longer need Pierce. And once he was back on his own two feet, what did that mean for the state of their marriage? His memory hadn’t returned, which meant neither had the love Duncan once had for him. No matter what Pierce told him about their life together or how many pictures he printed off, they didn’t take the place of emotions. And that was a very sobering thought.

  The fear Duncan might leave him had Pierce feeling severely depressed, and as he drove home after his long night of work, he decided to make a pit-stop at the gas station he frequented. He wasn’t ready to go home just yet and face Duncan. Seeing the face he loved but was unable to touch was almost unbearable, and knowing he might not get to see it daily once Duncan was healed made Pierce’s heart ache.

  After paying for an iced coffee and a donut, he went to leave the store but stopped to peruse the bulletin board as he always did. He enjoyed trying to find any new fliers someone might’ve posted, and just as he thought, there was one that hadn’t been there before.

  “Have a good day, Fred,” Pierce called out as he left the store.

  “You too,” Fred replied from where he was stocking cigarettes behind the counter. His back was to Pierce, and he didn’t bother to turn around when Pierce left.

  As Pierce drove the rest of the way home, he tried to tell himself that everything would be okay. Duncan’s memory was slowly returning, and he’d remember the love they once shared. Until it did, he just had to continue being the loving, supportive husband Duncan needed.

  Chapter Twenty

  It’d been three days since Duncan first trekked upstairs to the attic, and he’d returned each of those nights to go through the rest of the boxes. He’d broken the attic up into sections and would only tackle a section a night to ensure he returned to his room in plenty of time. There’d been a few close calls on nights he’d fallen asleep, and every time he awoke, he was worried he’d missed his chance. Each time, he debated on whether he should go up there, and each time he did it anyway.

  This time, he had his cell phone with him—the same phone he’d never used, since there was still no service to it. But it provided extra light when he was digging around in boxes shoved in a dark corner where the moonlight didn’t reach.

  Duncan’s ankle was feeling stronger every day, though he was still careful not to put too much weight on it, and he was confident once he was done with his search in the attic, he could explore the downstairs next. He just wanted to finish digging around in the attic first, since everything he’d found had been fascinating.

  Mostly what he found were men’s and women’s clothes and knick-knacks that’d been tossed haphazardly in boxes with no regard to their fragility. A few other boxes held mementos from the kids’ school days in the form of trophies, ribbons, and even stubs to games, concerts, and movies. One box held baseball and swimming memorabilia, while another was dedicated to dance and cheerleading. As he continued to go through the boxes, Duncan felt like he was learning more about the family who used to inhabit his home, but he wanted to know more.

  After he finished digging around in a box that held items belonging to the daughter, he moved on to another, larger one in the farthest corner. The box was filled with angels in varying sizes and material. Some were glass, others plastic, and a couple were stone. The box of angels held Duncan’s interest, and he could imagine that the large, oak curio cabinet that’d been pushed in another corne
r was where the beautiful collection sat proudly on display. Duncan was half-tempted to bring one downstairs with him but knew it wasn’t possible. Doing so would open a door for questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.

  Rather than give into the temptation, Duncan carefully packed the angels back in the boxes and cursed under his breath when a crack in one of the statues sliced his finger. Shoving his finger in his mouth, he quickly sucked the blood seeping from the wound to staunch the flow, and then went back to packing the box before pushing it into the corner. He only had a few more to dig through for the night, and he wasn’t going to let a little cut stop him.

  Limping to the final boxes, he sat down on a small stool that’d been flipped over on its side, as if it were thrown in the corner, and then put a box on his lap. It was smaller than the others, one used for shipping something through the mail, and it was extremely light. Duncan began to wonder if it was empty, but when he pulled open the flaps, he was surprised to see it actually had something in it—envelopes.

  “What the?” Duncan asked as he reached inside to pull out a small handful of them.

  “This must’ve been the couple who used to own this place,” Duncan murmured as he continued to study the mail.

  He leaned his phone against a few mattresses that had been pushed against the wall, giving him just enough light that he could make out the words on the envelopes. Seeing the furniture upstairs had filled his mind with a lot of questions and freaked him more than a little bit. Pierce had told Duncan there was no extra money for furniture since his hospital bills had been so astronomical, so why was their furniture in the attic? The only explanation he could come up with was that it was left behind by the previous owners, but if that were the case, why weren’t they using it? But it wasn’t like he could come right out and ask Pierce, so he tried to squelch the unease he felt over seeing all the furniture in attic. Though, why had the attic been locked? What was Pierce trying to hide?

  Rather than spend too much time trying to come up with answers to his many question, he pushed them to the back of his mind and went back to looking at the envelopes in his hand. He flipped through and saw they were utility bills, bank and insurance statements, and jump mail. And they were all for Brantley and Jessica Parrish.

  After he’d gone through all the envelopes, he went to put the last batch in the box when something caught his eye—the post mark. He’d expected the dates to be from a year or so ago, since he and Pierce had bought the house at an estate auction, but they weren’t.

  Wanting to double check that he wasn’t wrong, Duncan grabbed his phone and clicked on the screen to check the date—June 23rd. Then he looked back at the envelope—May 17th. Something didn’t seem right.

  Setting his phone on his lap, he picked up the box and dumped the envelopes on the floor. Digging through them, he picked up a few to check the dates and saw they were postmarked from May and some at the beginning of June. Why would the Parrishes still be receiving mail if they were dead? And hadn’t Pierce told Duncan they’d been living here for a few months? It made zero sense, but he didn’t have time to sit there and mull it over, since Pierce would be home soon. No, he’d have to figure out a way to ask Pierce questions without tipping him off that Duncan had been digging around in the attic.

  After cleaning up his mess, he shut off the light and made his way back to his room. After he was finally settled in bed with the blanket pulled up to his chin, he heard the front door opening, followed by Pierce’s footsteps. It was only after Pierce had gone back downstairs from checking on him that Duncan allowed himself to relax enough to fall back to sleep.

  “How did you cut your finger?” Pierce asked Duncan.

  “What?”

  “Your finger. The cut looks fresh,” Pierce noted, settling the tray over Duncan’s lap.

  “Oh, I didn’t even know I had it,” Duncan said with a forced chuckle. “It must’ve happened when I was shaving.”

  Pierce grabbed Duncan’s hand and closely examined the cut. Duncan couldn’t stop the nerves that bubbled in his belly or the knot of dread that formed in his throat. Though, what did he have to be nervous about? Pierce reminded him almost daily he was Duncan’s husband and this was his home too, so why couldn’t he explore it? But he was still scared of being caught roaming around.

  “Does it hurt?” Pierce mumbled as he softly palpated the cut.

  “I didn’t even know I had it.”

  Pierce hummed in his throat before he brought Duncan’s finger to his mouth and pressed his lips against it. “That should make it feel all better. Be more careful next time, okay?”

  Duncan tried to arrange his lips into a small smile. “I will, thank you.”

  “Of course. You need to eat up, and make sure to finish your juice. You haven’t been touching it lately, and I’m having to pour a lot of it out. You know how I feel about things going to waste.”

  “I’m sorry. I keep falling asleep before I can finish it all,” Duncan lied.

  Honestly, he hadn’t been finishing a lot of his meals because he’d been too anxious to go exploring.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Pierce asked and reached out to touch Duncan’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

  “Aside from the occasional headache and nausea, I feel fine.”

  “Headache and nausea? Maybe it’s because you haven’t been taking your medicine the way you’re supposed to.”

  “But my ankle doesn’t even hurt anymore, so I figured it’d be okay to stop taking it.”

  “We don’t want to get ahead of ourselves. It always seems to feel tender after you practice walking, so it’ll be nice to have the medicine on hand in case you need it.”

  “Okay.” It was easier to agree with Pierce since Duncan had a question to ask him. “What was the name of the couple who used to live here before us?”

  Pierce furrowed his brow at Duncan’s question. “The Smiths. Why do you ask?”

  Duncan shrugged. “Just curious. And you said we bought it at an estate auction, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Okay, because I could’ve sworn you said our house was the first one we visited, and that I fell in love with it immediately.”

  “The auction provided an address, so we drove by to look. Why all the questions?”

  Duncan gave a smile he hoped was innocent. “I’m not sure. I just got curious. Maybe my memory is trying to come back, and asking questions is a way to help it.”

  “If you say so. I’m going to get a nap, and then I’ll be back to check on you and help you walk some more.”

  “I hope you sleep well.”

  Pierce pursed his lips but didn’t say anything else as he left the room, leaving Duncan alone with his breakfast and unanswered questions. The biggest one being why had Pierce lied to him? As he munched on his scrambled eggs and bacon, he willed the day to pass quickly so he could trek downstairs. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling he’d find a lot of answers to his questions down there. He just had to wait for nightfall to go find them. In the meantime, Duncan reminded himself to tread lightly. The last thing he needed was to tip Pierce off that he’d been snooping around. He’d figure things out soon enough, he just needed to be a little more patient.

  After finishing his breakfast and juice, Duncan settled down to watch Twister, and before he knew it, he was waking up to Pierce standing in the doorway.

  “Afternoon, sleepyhead. Ready to take a walk?

  Duncan nodded. “I must’ve crashed hard.”

  “You did. I could hear you snoring downstairs. Are you feeling okay? You look a bit flushed.”

  “Yeah, I feel fine. Just the headache and nausea I mentioned before.”

  “Maybe we should skip the walk today since you don’t feel well,” Pierce suggested.

  Duncan wanted to protest, but as he sat up, the nausea hit him full force, and he had to lay back down. “I’m afraid you’re right. Maybe we can try tomorrow,” he said through a moan.


  Pierce was quiet as he moved around to get Duncan a damp rag and a trash can to place beside his bed in case he got sick. Then he went downstairs and returned with another glass of juice and some saltine crackers.

  Duncan was too nauseous to even offer a thank you, and when Pierce returned downstairs, Duncan covered his face with the rag and willed his body to get better. He had plans for that evening, and he refused to allow a little nausea to deter him. He just needed to rest up and hope it passed. But as day progressed into night, the sicker Duncan became, and as he bent over the trash can, he began to lose hope he’d make it downstairs.

  “Come on, Duncan. You can do this,” he told himself. “You walked around on an injured ankle, so you can walk around while you’re sick. Suck it up.”

  Duncan took a deep breath to alleviate his nausea and closed his eyes, willing his head to stop pounding. It took a few minutes, but finally the nausea seemed to subside a bit, and his head stopped spinning enough that he could stand without feeling like he was going to fall over. Once he felt he was well enough to move, he stood up and started to make his way down the hall and to the stairs. It was time to go exploring, sickness be damned.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Duncan was starting to get curious—too curious—and Pierce wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Pierce knew he’d have questions, but he had assumed they’d be about Pierce and their marriage, not about the former occupants of their home or how they came to purchase it. They had a beautiful home to live in, and they were together. Shouldn’t that be the only thing that mattered? Not how or who they got it from.

  By the time Pierce had left Duncan, he was in a foul mood, and it seemed to get worse as time progressed. His job wasn’t going according to plan, and his target wasn’t being cooperative. He had personal deadlines to meet, and when something went off course, it could screw up his timeline. The fact he had to go to extra lengths to complete his job—drive around, which meant wasting his gas, and go inside a hotel to ask questions—was annoying. This was supposed to be an easy gig where he could catch the target in the act with a few photos, but it wasn’t working out that way. His target was being very careful, and Pierce had to work extra diligently to get his proof. Throw in the fact Duncan was asking too many questions, and Pierce was ready to drive his fist through a wall.