Hunched over and sweating, I turn back to the road. I can’t be seen or caught. I have to be careful. I think I’ve left the sedan behind, but I have to be certain. And I have to make it home in one piece. If I’m being honest, I don’t know how much more time I have. Lives have been ruined behind less evidence than DS Anderson has on me. All he has is a gas can with my prints on it. But it’s my can, so of course my prints are on it. He’s got nothing, in truth, but it won’t stop him from nailing me to the wall. DS Anderson will crucify me with or without evidence.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Fuck that prick,” I scream. My eyes are weary, but I’m about to leave city limits. “I’ll kill that bastard before I let him take my family away from me.”
I squint at the road, trying to discern where I am. In an attempt to lose the dark sedan, I’ve taken an unknown route out of the city. I think I’m headed in the general direction of my in-laws’, but I don’t recognize the road.
My head is pounding with each beat of the invisible clock.
Knowing I’m on a suicide mission in my current state, I pull off the road and slam the car into park on the shoulder. I fumble to locate my painkillers, but I can’t find them in the mess I created as I searched for the lighter.
Tick.
It’s sounding off again.
“Fuck!”
My fingers explore blindly through the detritus, hoping to grasp a familiar plastic cylinder. I have to numb the sound or it will tear my skull apart.
I find something plastic and yank it from the floor with gusto. But it’s not a pill bottle. It’s my cell phone.
“No…” I groan, dropping the phone into my lap. I grab my head with both hands.
I feel myself losing consciousness. It terrifies me, but I can’t stop it.
My phone rings. It shoots enough adrenaline to keep me awake for at least another moment. I can’t see who’s calling, just blurred colors on the screen. I thumb the green answer button and listen.
“Dad?” Aza’s voice asks from the other end.
Like surfacing from an ocean trench, I am encased in light and sweet air. I gasp and swallow enough to set me coughing.
“What are you doing?” Aza asks. “Drowning? Are you swimming without me? Jerk.”
“Oh, Aza, I’m so glad you called.”
“Really? Are you dying or something? Because you sound like you’re dying.”
I take a moment to catch my breath. The world once more bursts into vibrancy. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had something caught in my throat.”
“Oh. When are you coming home? I’m bored.”
I check the time. A little after noon. It shouldn’t be so late already.
“Did your grandfather get tired of chasing you?”
“He said old men need naps.”
“Maybe you could hang out with your mother?”
“We don’t get along well enough to play. Besides, she went out.”
“Out?”
“Uh-huh. She took Grandmother’s car out to get secret things for a surprise dinner tonight. She said it’s something you’ll really love. What is it? She won’t tell me.”
I’m bewildered. I’m not sure Joy has ever cooked specifically for me. In the beginning, she used to cook dinner for Aza and I once in a while, but as time went on, it became more and more my job.
“I have no idea.”
“You’re no fun. Where are you?”
“I—uh…” I scan my surroundings. I’m sitting on the side of some country road, but I don’t know it. And it’s not where I initially pulled over. I’ve lost a couple hours somewhere along my journey. I could be anywhere. “I’ll be home soon, don’t worry.”
“You better be. When you miss dinner, everyone wants to talk to me. It’s annoying.”
I laugh. “Your grandfather is right. You are a rascal.”
“And you’re the fire man.”
I stop laughing. “What’s that supposed to mean? Fire man?”
“Huh? I didn’t say anything. I don’t talk to people who call me names. Except Grandfather. He’s allowed to because he lets me call him names.”
“You didn’t just call me the fire man?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Aza sighs loudly. “Now you’re being boring. Bye!”
Aza hangs up.
I stare at the phone, trying to puzzle out what I am sure Aza said to me. The fire man. And I haven’t forgotten what I’m certain she said to me last week. I saw you that night. A headache is slowly beginning to form at the base of my skull.
I pull the bottle of whiskey out from next to my seat. I take a quick swig and replace it. It’s enough to take the edge off, but I know it won’t last forever. Nothing does.
I look around again, hoping to pick out something familiar.
“Fuck, I’m lost,” I say.
Thumbing on my phone, I launch the GPS app and punch in my in-laws’ address. Shit, I’m over an hour and a half away.
“How the hell did I end up here?” I ask, looking at the tiny blue dot on the map. I’m sure Joy would get a kick out of my being lost. Not that I can tell her.
I throw the car in gear and pull back onto the road.
A half hour later, I turn down a street I recognize. I can’t quite place it, but the further I drive, the more I realize I’ve driven it a number of times before. And then it hits me.
“Ah, fuck. This is Ty’s road.”
The self-serving bastard lives in a cultured Cape Cod at the end of the street I’m driving on. I’ve given him countless rides home. In fact, I’ve given him a ride home every time we’ve gone out together. I always have to pay and I always have to drive. I never realized the injustice of it all until now. He’s taken my money, my time, and my wife.
My pulse quickens as I near the end of the street. I couldn’t pry my hands from the steering wheel if I tried. I spit an endless slew of curses at an ever-quickening pace. I haven’t given Ty a second thought in the past few days. With things going so well with Joy, I actually forgot about Ty, as bizarre as this seems now. He fucked my wife against the wall of a sleazy motel room. How could I forget that?
Drudging up the memory makes me hate Joy. I can’t stop the darkness festering deep in my core. Even if I forced her into it, there’s no excuse for infidelity. And Ty… His betrayal is the greatest of all.
I slow as I come up on his house. His lawn is perfectly manicured, his picket fence as perfect as it is stereotypical. I’ve never been inside, but I can imagine the suffocating precision in every piece of furniture and wall art. As toxic of a human being as Ty is, he has a rigid sense of style and order.
I’m nearly at a crawl as I pass within full view. I slam on the brakes.
Ruthie’s car is parked in the driveway. Joy is with Ty.
I throw the car into reverse and hastily park along the street two houses back. I’m far enough away that I shouldn’t be seen, but close enough I still see her car and most of the front entrance to Ty’s house.
How could she?
I don’t see any sign of Joy or Ty from my vantage point, but I only have view of a small window near the front door. The street and yards are quiet. Peaceful. Leaves flutter on a light breeze, and even inside my car with the windows up, I smell the decay of autumn. I gag and look away.
How could I be so stupid to believe that Ty and Joy’s relationship would just end? Change is a lie. Just an illusion of truth used to hide sin.
I fumble for the whiskey bottle. There’s only a little left. No matter, it’s all I have. Two strong swallows and the bottle is empty. I toss it to the floor and root through the garbage heap that is the interior of my car.
I find my jacket and nearly let out a victory shout, for I remember what I’ve stored in the pockets. I pull out a pill bottle and tear the cap off. Just four pills left.
“Fuck!” Where did the rest go?
I throw back all four and chew them, savoring the bitter taste.
Bing.
I yell and snatch up my phone. I lower my window and prepare to hurl the phone into the closest yard, when I see the text.
If you’re the fire man, can I be your little firebug?
The message has come from Paul’s phone, but the words are Aza’s. She doesn’t have a phone of her own and no doubt absconded with her grandfather’s. It must be how she called me earlier.
I read the text a dozen times, trying to figure out the meaning behind it.
I type back, Aza, what are you talking about?
Bing. I flinch even though I’m staring at the screen, expecting a response.
I’m bored, so I’m just thinking. Think, think, think.
Something brushes against my shoulders. I whirl around to see nothing but an empty back seat. I glance at Ty’s house. It’s as still and silent as ever, but the wind has increased, and the sky is quickly darkening. Foreboding storm clouds are gathering in the heavens. There’s no disguising their intent.
Bing.
Want to know what I’m thinking now, fire man?
I squeeze the phone and shake my head, even though Aza can’t see it. A low rumble of thunder builds overhead. It will only be a matter of seconds before the sky splits apart in violent war. I am sitting on the edge of destruction.
Bing. Even in my tight grip, I nearly lose the phone.
I’m thinking about what you told me when I was little and was afraid of the dark.
A tremor starts in my free hand and races up to my shoulder. I look toward Ty’s house again. The front door opens and Joy steps out. She’s eyeing the sky while finishing a conversation with Ty, who’s leaning in the doorway. Both are grinning like devilish imps.
They embrace briefly and Joy quickly walks to her car. Ty watches from the doorway, blinding white smile standing out like a beacon beneath a blackening sky. Joy gets in, starts up the car, and drives off. Ty lingers in the doorway until the car vanishes from view. As he shuts the door, my phones chimes again.
Bing.
Remember?
I cast the phone aside and grip the steering wheel. I lean forward to bring myself a few inches closer to Ty, the betrayer. I hold on, not knowing but fearing what I could do with free hands. Joy lied. Nothing has changed. Another layer of deception was added, but underneath, everything remains as it was.
Bing.
I don’t jump this time. The screen of my phone is facing me, perfectly propped up against the passenger’s side door. I don’t need to read Aza’s text message. I remember what I used to tell her when she was younger and frightened of the dark at night. It was a bit of nonsense I thought would toughen her up against irrational fears. Harden her. Change her. And now, those words are coming back at me, but with chilling new meaning, and a sinister provocation.
You do not have to fear the dark if you become darkness yourself. Then, others will fear you.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Just as the door opens, I kick it in with every ounce of hate-fueled strength I have. The stout wood catches Ty in the face and sends him to the floor, dazed. I step into his house and slam the door behind me. Ty’s nose is retching blood and his movements are slow. I’ve nearly done him in already.
I stand over him, dripping water from the raging storm outside. My heart beats slow and steady, my hands are still, and my mind is sharp and focused. For the first time since I lit the fire, I am in complete control.
“Wha—” Ty mumbles.
I kick him in the face. He rolls over with the force of the attack and lays still. I kneel at his side and press fingers to his neck. His pulse is still strong. Good.
Ty’s a fair bit taller than me. Heavier, too. I know I can’t lift him into a chair without a lot of difficulty, so I drag him toward the staircase in the living room. The railing is thick wood, polished and perfect.
I leave Ty in a disjointed pile and pick my way through his house. In a drawer in the kitchen, I find a roll of duct tape. Crude but effective.
I use the tape to bind Ty to the staircase railing. I wrap it around his torso, and lash his legs together. His arms I secure over his head as far as his shoulder joints will allow. I leave his mouth unbound, but use over half the roll on the rest of him.
Satisfied, I toss the roll aside and drag a kitchen chair in front of him. I sit down and wait.
Bing.
An hour’s gone by when my phone startles me from a dark reverie. Ty is still unconscious, his face a bloody mess, lolled to one side.
Bing.
I dig my phone out of my pocket, though I don’t remember bringing it with me. It’s a text from Joy.
You still at the precinct? Everything okay? I’m worried.
Normally, I wouldn’t respond, but I’m a different man right now. Changed. I close the text messages and thumb the call button. Joy answers on the first ring.
“Thank God,” she says. “How did it go with the detective or whatever?”
“Oh, it went just fine,” I say. I stand up and walk toward Ty. “Sorry it’s taken so long. They had me wait around for almost two hours before they even talked to me.”
“That sucks, but I guess not surprising. What’d they say?”
I smile and sit on the step closest to Ty. I run a finger through his platinum-blond hair, savoring the perfectly kept nature of it. Knowing I can destroy it.
“Not much, really,” I say. “The detective just wanted to know if I’d seen anything suspicious, anyone hanging around the house lately, or if we’ve had any work done on it. Asked if I had any enemies, that sort of stuff. Like straight out of a poorly written police procedural.”
“Have they found out anything? Any idea who could have done it? I can’t even fathom someone hating any of us enough to do such a thing.”
“Hard to say. Detective wouldn’t share any information with me. Something about the sensitive nature of an ongoing investigation. He was a real prick, to be honest. But I’m sure they’ll tell us if they find anything out.”
“Yeah, I hope so. Are we still—do they think we’re still in danger? I mean, I can’t imagine they just wanted to burn our house down. Someone wanted to hurt us.”
Click.
I nearly drop the phone.
“What was that?” I ask. My heart rate kicks up a notch.
“What was what? Should we be worried?”
I stand and move away from Ty. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. “Everything is fine,” I manage to gasp, hoping Joy can’t hear the tremor in my voice.
There’s silence on Joy’s end. I start pacing.
“Joy?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m still worried. I don’t know why. Things have been fine lately. Even good, especially between us. Just had a moment today where I thought about the fact that there’s a monster out there who wants us dead. He must know he failed by now. But you’re right. We’re fine. Things are fine. The cops will figure it out. They’ll catch him, right?”
“Or her,” I say. You made me do this.
“Yeah. Okay. Sorry, just an off day for me, I guess. I didn’t know what to think with you being called down for questioning like that. I should have been there.”
Ty stirs. His head rolls to the opposite side and he groans softly.
“Everything is going to be fine,” I say, feeling the calm control slip back into my being. “Perfect, in fact. Everything is going to be perfect.”
“Well, look who’s mister optimistic today. That’s a little unlike you, isn’t it?”
Ty groans louder and lifts his head. He looks right at me and begins to speak, but I close the distance between us, slide down next to him, and clamp a hand over his mouth. He feebly resists, but I lean into it. Our faces are mere inches apart. The scent of blood and sweat fills my nostrils. I can taste it.
“Hey, like you said before, things are changing. I’m trying to look at things differently now.”
“Yeah? That’s great. I’m trying, too. You coming home soon? I haven’t seen you all day. I could use some alone time with my
husband.”
“Soon. I’m going to swing by a friend’s house for a bit, catch up and all that, then I’ll be home.” Ty thrashes against my hold, but there’s nowhere for him to flee.
“Oh. Okay. But don’t be too long, dinner will be at about six or so.”
“Mmm,” I say, purring in Ty’s ear. “I can’t wait.”
“All right, hon, see you later. Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I terminate the call, calmly place my phone back in my pocket, and slowly release Ty.
“What the fuck?” he screams.
I wipe my hand on his hair, cleaning off the spit and blood. The simple gesture sends a ripple of energy through my muscles. I am going to enjoy this.
“Hey, what is this?” Ty says, his words muffled behind a mouthful of blood and broken teeth.
I return to the solitary chair facing Ty and sit down.
“What’s going on?” Ty asks. He’s still struggling to make sense of what he’s experiencing. I imagine it’s quite a shock. Men like Ty never expect to be caught.
Ty continues to question me, in varying degrees of lucidity. I say nothing. I hardly move. I just watch, savoring the delicious sight.
Eventually, Ty’s head falls again. He’s moaning softly, but has stopped speaking.
It’s almost time to begin. I go to the kitchen and root around for appropriate refreshments for a show such as this. In a lower cabinet, I find Ty’s liquor collection. Shit, he’s got a lot. I select a bottle of whiskey for myself and a bottle of raspberry vodka for Ty—his favorite.
Back in the living room, I kick the chair at Ty. It hits his lowered forehead and falls aside. I set the liquor on the lowest step and sit on the next highest. I’m largely behind Ty, just out of his direct view, but firmly in his periphery.
Taking a chair off the forehead tends to rouse a man, and Ty perks up. He coughs and spits for a bit, but then turns toward me.
“Did you hit me?” he asks.
“Your first coherent question. I’ll drink to that.” I take a swig of whiskey. “And yes, I hit you—three times, to be precise. Once with your front door, once with my foot, and the last with a chair.”
House of Sand: A Dark Psychological Thriller Page 12