Pieces of January

by Ronald Paxton

  She glanced back at Henry, caught his eye, and quickly shifted her gaze. A blast of wind sliced through the trees and smacked her in the face. Krista brushed long, thick hair away from her eyes and shivered.

  “Hurry up, Henry. It’s freezing out here.”

  The tiny dog completed his toilet and nudged Krista’s leg. She scooped him up and crossed the driveway to the porch. The pile of wood that Salem had stacked near the door earlier in the day had a light covering of wind-blown snow on top. Krista opened the door and set Henry down. She turned to close the door behind her and glanced over the porch rail. A clear set of footprints led down from the slate stone walk to the door on the ground floor.

  That doesn’t make sense. Salem hasn’t been outside since he took Henry out just before supper. The snow should have covered his tracks by now. He wouldn’t have gone down the walk, anyway. That’s not Henry’s spot. Oh, God, those prints are fresh!

  Krista slammed the door shut and locked it. She clasped her hands together to control the shaking. Monday was across the room, counting out money for the next game of Monopoly.

  “I’m almost ready, Mama. Can…?”

  “We’re going upstairs, Monday, right now.”

  She could hear Salem’s voice down the hall. He was in the nursery, telling Anderson a bedtime story. They had a bookcase filled with nursery rhymes and Little Golden Books, but Salem preferred creating his own stories because he thought it was a more authentic and personal experience he could share with his children. He had done the same thing with Monday when she was a baby.

  Salem stepped out of the nursery and met them in the hall. “He’s asleep. I…”

  Krista was squeezing Monday’s hand and breathing in short, shallow bursts. A fine sheen of sweat coated her forehead. Henry was whimpering.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Fresh footprints,” Krista gasped. “I saw them when I took Henry out.”

  * * * *

  Salem felt his heart drop into his stomach.

  Not again, please, not again. When will people stop coming after me and my family?

  He took a deep breath. “We need to go to the safe room.”

  Everyone knew the drill. They had done this before. The bedroom at the end of the hall was the most secure room in the house. It was on the third floor and inaccessible from the outside without a tall ladder. Three windows provided excellent visibility of the front yard, woods, and driveway, as well as the side yard. Nobody would be able to approach this part of the house without being seen.

  Salem collected Anderson and handed him to Krista. He walked down to the opposite end of the hall and found Diva sleeping on Monday’s bed. Salem picked the Siamese up and carried her to the safe room.

  Krista was sitting on one of the beds, feeding Anderson the rest of his bottle. She looked up as Salem entered the room. “He can tell I’m scared. That’s what woke him up. I think he might be an empath, like Monday.”

  Salem set Diva down and watched as the cat ran under one of the beds. Monday was sitting in Krista’s office chair with Henry in her lap.

  The room had originally been designed as a boys’ dormitory by Salem’s great-grandfather. The six original twin beds had been reduced to four, and Krista had converted half the room into a home office. As the owner of Carson’s General Store, she monitored the financial activity for both stores, as well as the campground that Salem owned. Krista also prepared the tax returns and handled the family’s personal investments. Even with a fulltime nanny, she found it hard to put in the necessary hours at the store to stay on top of everything. Working from home had proven to be a perfect solution.

  “Where’s Randi?” Salem asked.

  “She’s at the campground with Anderson. She won’t be back until sometime tomorrow.”

  Salem nodded. His best friend and son’s namesake had begun dating Randi in the aftermath of a serious relationship that had fallen apart and nearly killed him. In addition to being their nanny, Randi had become a close family friend. He was glad she and Anderson had found each other.

  “All right, I’ll be back. Lock the door and stay away from the windows. Don’t open the door until I give you the safe word.”

  Krista looked at him. “What if he’s already in the house?”

  “I’ll check the house first and then look around outside.”

  He closed the door and started down the hall, shutting the bedroom and bathroom doors as he went. If an intruder somehow slipped past him and made it upstairs, Salem would be able to hear the doors being opened.

  That’s fine if I’m on the main floor, but if I’m downstairs, the only thing I’ll be able to hear is a scream or a gunshot.

  Salem retrieved his shotgun and loaded it. He stuffed extra shells into his pockets just in case. The shells packed enough punch to stop someone without killing them. He had seen and done enough killing to last a lifetime during his two decades as a member of an elite Army Special Forces unit. The honors, the medals, the hero’s welcome home…none of those things had kept the nightmares away. It had taken time and Krista’s help, but the bad dreams were finally gone.

  The first floor was the most vulnerable part of the house. It lacked the high vantage points of the main and third floors. The lock on the outside door was sturdy, but the screened-in back porch could be breached without much difficulty. From there, it would be a matter of getting past the thick sliding glass doors. If that proved too difficult for an intruder, there was always Bo’s bedroom or bathroom windows on the back corner of the house. A person could simply crack one of the panes, unlock the window, and literally step into his father-in-law’s bedroom.

  He released the safety on the gun and started down the stairs. The enormous great room on the main floor was divided into dining and living room areas that were defined and separated by strategically-placed furniture. The room was empty. Salem noted the empty bowl of popcorn on the long table in the dining area. The Monopoly Board was still in front of the fireplace. Nothing appeared out of place.

  The sliding glass doors that led out to the screened back porch were secured. Salem stepped out onto the porch and swept the barrel of the shotgun from left to right. The porch was clear. He looked down and saw footprints in the snow. Krista was right—they were fresh.

  There were two bedrooms and an adjoining bath on the main floor. Salem searched Randi’s room first and then moved on to the second bedroom and the bathroom. A final check of the kitchen yielded nothing. The second floor was safe.

  Salem unlocked the door that led downstairs and hesitated. There was a short flight of steps to a landing and a second flight that disappeared around a corner. Going down steps around a blind turn was a bad idea, but there was no good alternative. He could go outside and enter the downstairs through the door. That would allow him to check the porch and the large open room at a glance. The downside was that if the intruder was already in the house, he would be free to walk upstairs unimpeded while Salem was still outside.

  He decided to bypass the steps. Clutching the shotgun in his left hand, Salem shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and leaped. He hit the landing hard and rolled down the second flight of steps.

  Salem came up on his knees and swung the gun left to right. The main room was clear. He checked the kitchenette and the laundry room and then moved on to the storage room and the porch. Bo’s bedroom was the only place left to search. It was the most likely point of entry for someone trying to get into the house. If anyone was in there, they had just made a big mistake. The room had originally been intended as live-in quarters for a maid or housekeeper. It was a comfortable space, but small, with little room for a person to maneuver or escape.

  The door to the bedroom was closed. Salem slipped past the bookcase and the ping-pong table. He caught a reflection in the sliding glass door and hit the floor, rolling until he was behind the sofa that was in the middle of the room facing the fireplace and an ancient black and white television set. He peeked around the corner
of the sofa. The person, or reflection, was gone.

  You’re acting like a scared little girl jumping at shadows. Get a grip!

  Salem shifted the shotgun to his right hand and crossed the room. He flung the bedroom door open, registered the empty space, and moved into the adjoining bathroom. The shower stall mocked him, daring Salem to pull back the heavy curtain and see who or what was waiting on the other side.

  He placed his finger on the trigger and yanked the curtain back. The stall was empty.

  Who did you expect…Norman Bates, Alfred Hitchcock, Captain Kangaroo?

  The snow was still falling as he stepped outside. The footprints were beginning to disappear under the fresh layer of white precipitation.

  Salem shifted his gaze across the yard. The snow was undisturbed, which meant the trespasser had come in from the road. That was bad news. His property extended for a mile through thick, undeveloped woodlands on each side of the road. There was no chance of finding anyone in a dark, snow-covered forest.

  He began a slow circuit around the house, checking the doors and windows as he went. Salem reached the side of the house and glanced over at the storage shed on the edge of the woods. The small unit housed a lawnmower, chainsaw, and assorted tools for landscaping and yard work. He decided to check the lock on the shed, even though there were no footprints leading up to it. The lock was secure.

  Salem completed his search and returned to the side porch. The would-be intruder had circled the house, stopping in front of the ground floor door and Bo’s bedroom windows. There was a handprint on both windows, but no evidence of attempted entry. The curtains in the room were closed, and the intruder had evidently decided against smashing a window pane to gain access to the house.

  The good news was that this individual was an amateur. The clear footprints and handprints told Salem that much. The trespasser had taken no precautions to hide or disguise his presence.

  The bad news was that this person was an amateur. That meant there was no way to understand his motive or anticipate what, if anything, he would do next. The only thing Salem knew for sure was that the person was either crazy or desperate. Nobody else would be wandering through the woods on a night like this. This was the kind of weather that killed people.

  He went back inside and stored the gun and shells before heading upstairs. The complete silence coming from the safe room made his mouth go dry. Salem cleared his throat and swallowed hard.

  “Bingo.”

  Krista opened the door and stepped into his arms. “You were gone a long time. I was getting worried.”

  “Everything’s fine. The house is clear, and I didn’t see anybody outside.”

  Krista smiled up at him. “I’m glad I married a man who’s brave in addition to being tall, dark, and handsome.”

  Salem laughed. “You’d better get your eyes checked. I might be brave, but when it comes to height, looks, and complexion, I’m Mr. Average.”

  “Well, Mr. Average, as you can see, your son and daughter have fallen asleep. What do you think we should do about that?”

  Salem looked around the room. “I see two twin beds that aren’t being used. I think we should push them together and spend the night right here.”

  He had just removed Krista’s bra when the sound of a car engine broke his concentration. Salem tiptoed over to the window and watched the lights of a vehicle a hundred yards away vanish into the night.

  Jesus! He was here the whole time, probably watching every step I took through a pair of binoculars.

  “What is it?” Krista asked.

  “Nothing,” Salem said. “Just the wind.”

  Chapter 3

  Bo fed a couple of bills into the drink machine and selected a twenty-ounce bottle of water. It was a rip-off—there was a water fountain at the end of the hall—but he needed to sit down and rest.

  The drive from the motel to the hospital had been a nightmare. Fortunately, traffic had been light, but visibility and road conditions were still horrible. He had driven the entire way hunched over the steering wheel, fighting the urge to increase his speed. Time was running out for Melissa, but the death-defying spinout from earlier in the evening was still fresh in his mind. The most important thing was getting to the emergency room in one piece.

  He had failed to consider the emotional and psychological cost of driving through a blizzard with his unconscious or dead girlfriend laid out in the back seat. The utter quiet in the car, the silent, naked woman in the back seat, the possibility that Melissa would suddenly sit up and either tap him on the shoulder or sink her teeth into his neck, all of these things had Bo on the ragged edge of hysteria the entire drive.

  I am too old for this crap. If Melissa’s determined to kill herself, I can’t stop her, but she’s not going to drag me down, too. I want to live to see my next birthday.

  “Mr. Carson?”

  The person who had just entered the waiting room was tall, trim, and movie star handsome. His thick, fashionably long hair looked perfect.

  Bo nodded and got up from his chair. He noted the grim expression on the man’s face.

  She’s dead.

  “I’m Dr. Christian. Miss Wright should be awake soon. I can take you back to see her.”

  Bo’s mouth fell open. “Wait, she’s awake? But I thought…”

  “We gave her something to help counteract the effect of the drugs,” Christian said. “I’m glad you found her and brought her in when you did. It’s obvious that she’s been using for a long time and has built up a tolerance for the drugs she takes. That’s the only reason she isn’t dead.”

  Melissa was in one of the ER patient bays. Bo blanched at the sight of the lines attached to the back of his girlfriend’s hand. There was a tube in her nose.

  “What is all this?”

  “The nasal cannula is giving her oxygen,” Christian said. “Miss Wright was unconscious. We needed to assist her breathing and guard against potential brain damage. Her oxygen saturation rate is good. As soon as she wakes up, we’ll take her off the oxygen and see how she does on her own. We’ve also been monitoring her respirations, pulse rate, and blood pressure.”

  “What’s in that bag on the pole?” Bo asked.

  “That’s an intravenous solution of saline and electrolytes, as well as medication to help reverse the narcosis.”

  Bo sat down and rubbed his forehead. “So, what’s the plan? Are you going to admit her?”

  Christian shook his head. “There’s nothing more I can do for her from a medical standpoint. Unless she experiences problems breathing on her own, I should be able to release her in a couple of hours.”

  Melissa shifted in the bed and murmured something unintelligible.

  The doctor motioned to Bo and led him into a small office on the far side of the room. “I wanted to speak to you before Miss Wright wakes up. Does she have any family?”

  Bo cleared his throat. “No. Her parents are dead, and she doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. There are a couple of cousins, but she lost touch with them years ago. I’m really the closest thing to family Melissa’s got.”

  “I hate to put this on you, Mr. Carson, but you have to convince her to get help.” Christian pulled a brochure from his drawer and handed it to Bo. “Passages Addiction Center is a new facility at your end of the county. They’re actually located where that Pirates South amusement park used to be.”

  “I’ve seen it,” Bo said. “That’s just down the road from the motel where Melissa lives.”

  Dr. Christian nodded. “The addiction center is part of the Passages Assisted Living and Wellness Community. Jack Fowler is the director. I’ve referred a number of patients to them. They’re open twenty-four hours, seven days a week. If Miss Wright is willing to go, all I have to do is make a phone call. She can be there in time for breakfast.”

  Bo flipped through the brochure. “So, this place is just for drug addicts?”

  “They treat the full spectrum of addiction diseases—alcoholism, dru
g addiction, sex addiction, gambling, and compulsive spending. They also accept patients with eating disorders. It’s a thirty-day inpatient program.”

  Bo sighed and looked at Christian. “I imagine you can guess what Melissa does for a living. She does have insurance, but I’m sure it won’t come close to covering a month in a private medical facility. Are there any other options?”

  “Passages doesn’t turn people away, Mr. Carson. They’ll accept whatever Miss Wright’s insurance company will pay. She won’t owe a dime. They’re able to do that because they have a strong donor network. It’s based on the St. Jude Children’s Hospital model. They’re also supported by a number of grants, foundations, and estate bequests from grateful families.”

  Bo reached across the desk and shook the doctor’s hand. “I’ll talk to her. Do you want to be there?”

  Christian thought for a moment. “It’s probably better for you to talk to your friend alone. I don’t want her to feel threatened or defensive. Just let me know what she decides. I’ll check on her in a little while to see how she’s doing.”

  Bo left the office and smiled as he crossed the room. Melissa was awake.

  “What happened, Bo? Why am I in a hospital bed?”

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “How do you feel?”

  Melissa shrugged. “I feel all right, just a little groggy and confused. I don’t remember anything after my last client. He wasn’t a regular, but he had a referral from a guy I see two or three times a month.”

  Bo leaned closer to her. “Was there anything strange about this guy?”

  “No, he just wanted straight sex. He did bring a big bag of powder with him…said he wanted to party. I wasn’t about to say no to free dope. I guess I overdid it a little.” She glanced down at the IV line in her hand. “I must look horrible.”

  “You look hot,” Bo said. “I’d like to climb in that bed with you right now.”

  Melissa laughed. “Let’s get a nurse over here to get me unplugged so we can go back to my place and have some fun.”