by Gracie Guy
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Elliott. But you must speak the words.” Her eyes were pleading with him. “If this is your husband, Daniel Michael Elliott, please say yes.”
Kara closed her eyes a moment before responding. “Yes, Sergeant.” She looked at Dan’s face and then back at the trooper. “This is my husband, Daniel Michael Elliott.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” John found the anguish on her face unbearable. With an outstretched hand, he tried to get her to sit at the dining room table. “Here, let me help you.”
Kara agreed to release her husband’s body and move to the table. As she stepped away, from the corner of her eye, she watched one of the other troopers discreetly pull the sheet back over Dan’s head, just before the coroner started to wheel the gurney out the front door to a waiting ambulance.
“Can Robin come in now?”
“Yes. I’ll get her.”
When both women settled at the table, Harley began to piece together what they believed happened.
“As I told you on the phone, we got an anonymous tip late yesterday about two people trying to buy some ecstasy and cocaine at a bar in Lake George Village. The woman involved looked familiar to some of the bar patrons, but they had no idea who the man was.”
Kara shouted in defense of her husband. “Danny didn’t do drugs.”
“I’m not saying your husband did drugs. But someone new to the bar was definitely trying to buy some.” Kara’s eyes seemed glued to his face when he ran his hands across his close-cropped hair. “And your husband fits the description of that someone.”
Kara’s unresponsive gaze unnerved him a little, so he continued. “Then around one o’clock this afternoon we got an anonymous call we’d find a body here.” He rushed to finish his statement before she could ask any questions. “We’re still attempting to trace the call. It appears to have been made from a payphone. Because of the spotty cell service around here, there are still quite a few of those in town.”
“What is the next step?” Kara’s question seemed so clinical for a woman who just identified her husband’s dead body.
“We’ll continue interviewing people in town. Ya know, put together a possible timeline.”
“Where are the dogs?”
John blinked a second, thrown by the change in topic. “Um, they’re in crates in a van.” He watched her brows wrinkle and her head shake, very slightly.
“Why didn’t I hear them barking when we got here?”
“They’re sedated.” Rage flashed across her face so John finished his explanation, quickly. “Look, we couldn’t get in the house. So I called Animal Control and they shot them with tranquilizers. We’ll help you get them in the car before you leave.”
She continued to stare at him, but seemed satisfied with regard to the dogs.
“Also, Mrs. Elliott, we’d like to ask you a few questions—in private.” Robin took her cue, with a very slight nod of approval from Kara, and left to stand on the front porch.
“What happened to my husband’s face?” She wasted no time pinning John with her question.
“He appears to be the victim of auto-eroticism.”
“Excuse me?” Kara’s face flinched as the words sunk in. “I. I don’t understand.”
“Mrs. Elliott, when we arrived here this afternoon, your husband was naked. Hanging from an S and M trapeze by a leather harness.” John wanted to kick himself as he watched her recoil with disgust. “There were various BDSM sex toys on the floor.”
“But how did he die?”
John breathed deeply before answering her. “Do you know anything about auto-eroticism?” She shook her head sharply without saying a word. “The person being turned on is trapped in such a way that their ability to breathe is severely limited. It’s supposed to make their orgasm more aggressive. More sensational, if you will.”
He felt a heated blush creeping up his cheeks. Giving this explanation to Kara ranked up there as one of the more unpleasant family notifications he’d done.
“While the actual sex act doesn’t involve a second person, someone had to help him get in the trapeze.” He stared at her beautiful hazel eyes. “Mrs. Elliott, your husband was not alone last night.” He watched as her eyes moved about the cabin.
“How were things between the two of you?”
“Fine.” John saw her pulse quicken in the vein at the base of her neck. “Why?”
“Are you sure?”
“Why are you asking? Am I a suspect?”
“We haven’t ruled you out.” He watched as her face developed a mask of distrust. “I find it curious that a happily married man would be hanging out in a bar nearly sixty miles from his wife and home. And then turn up dead in such a compromised position.”
“I wasn’t here, Sergeant.” Kara replied in a steely tone.
“You weren’t where? At the bar in Lake George Village, or home?”
“Neither.”
“Then, where were you yesterday, Mrs. Elliott?”
“I was in Atlanta for a conference.”
“What type of conference?”
“Tech stuff. You know, computer systems, programming, and software.”
John Harley hated computers. The only advance he thought they’d brought in the past twenty years was the speed to identify DNA of suspects and victims.
“My flight got into Albany around eight o’clock last night. Dan was supposed to pick me up. I waited an hour and then grabbed the last rental car available before they closed for the night.” Kara’s eyes never wavered from his, challenging him to interrupt her. “I got home around eleven-forty five.”
“Why did you wait so long for your husband?”
“I’m sorry?” He liked the confusion in her voice. To John, it meant she wasn’t quoting some practiced script regarding her whereabouts.
“Why didn’t you just call him?”
“Do you take me for an idiot, Sergeant? Of course I tried calling him. Feel free to check the records of all three phones. Mine. His. And the land line.” He saw her eyes turn to ice.
“Sir, if you think I was involved with Dan’s death you are an imbecile.” She emphasized the word are. “He was my life!”
“Mrs. Elliott, when we have a dead body and no obvious suspect, we have to consider all possibilities.” John could hear the sympathy creeping into his voice.
“Well, just ask anyone who knows me, personal or professional. We’ve been a couple for years. We used to work together in the trades.” Kara shot from her seat and started pacing. Her arms seemed to embrace the room. “We built this freaking cabin together. With our own hands!” Each lap, her voice got a little louder. “We spent countless hours in front of this fireplace talking about having babies!” Then, she crumbled on the stone hearth. “And now it’s gone.” Her tears tumbled down her face while her voice faltered. She slapped her hands on the cold limestone, her body convulsing. “My God almighty, what am I gonna do?”
John gave her a few moments before guiding her back to the table.
“Mrs. Elliott, I know this is very difficult for you, but I have more questions.”
Her tear-blotched cheeks were starting to puff up. The spark in her eyes had been extinguished. John felt like he’d destroyed her.
“Well, sir?” Weakly she cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Does your husband know anyone in Schenectady, Glens Falls, or Duanesburg?”
She shook her head. “Maybe. He knows a lot of people.”
John noticed that she still referred to him in the present despite having just identified his cold body. “Do you know if he’s been in those areas lately?”
“Maybe Glens Falls. I don’t even know where Duanesburg is. Why?”
“Those are places where we know of popular dungeons.”
“Dungeons? Did you just say dungeons?”
“Yes. That is the term given to congregational spots for people who want to practice less conventional sex. I told you there were various BDSM toys on the floor.”
“Lately, there’s been street chatter about the doms and subs taking their tricks on the road.”
“Doms? Subs?” She held her hands up in confusion. “What?”
“Sorry. Dominants and submissives. It’s part of the whole process.” He watched her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Ya know, the whole Fifty Shades thing.”
“Um, yeah. Didn’t read it or see the movie.”
John ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. “There’s no need for us to discuss the merits of the story, or the sex involved. I just want to solve this case.”
“Me too, Sergeant.” Kara nodded her head in agreement.
“My suspicion is that the woman in the bar is part of the Glens Falls dungeon. Maybe she was chatting up your husband and discovered he was a newbie. Willing, but a newbie.” He heard Kara let out a deep sigh. He felt like she was keeping something from him. “Anyway, maybe she thought the drugs would enhance his experience. Until we find her, we won’t know.”
He stood and offered his right hand to her. “Mrs. Elliott, you’re free to go. I’ll call you if I have more questions.”
She stood up before accepting his outstretched hand. “Good bye, Sergeant.” Without looking back, she left the cabin, leaving the door open in her wake.
Chapter Five
With the confirmation of her husband’s death, the return trip to Lake Placid seemed senseless. Why did Robin suggest going home? My home is with Danny. It’s always been with Danny. And now he’s gone. I have no home. More silent tears coursed down her face, hidden from Robin’s view, as she looked out at the darkness the window offered. What do I do now? Plan a funeral? Call my mother? Call his mother? She knew Robin had the answers, but Kara wasn’t ready to talk. All she wanted to do was cry, to purge her heart of the pain.
Kara heard the dogs shift in the back seat as they emerged from a drugged stupor . Comforted by their presence, she gave into her exhaustion and fell asleep. An hour later, she awoke as the car slowed for her driveway and the dogs started to whine with the excitement of recognizing their home.
“Hey, I’ll help you with the barn.” Robin wasn’t asking, she was insisting, shutting off the engine.
“Uh, okay. Yeah. Okay.” When they stepped from the car, the dogs dashed toward the barn, causing the yard to light up. The horses nickered from the back paddock, probably wondering why they were still outside. “It won’t take long. I got it ready earlier.”
Over the years, the two women spent hundreds of hours handling horses together, so there was no need for Robin to ask for direction. She led one mare from the paddock while Kara grabbed the other. Gently patting their rumps good night, each horse was ushered into a spacious box stall with ample fresh hay, grain, water, and bedding. “Ya know, Kara. Even the kids I gave birth to don’t have such comfy beds!” Her friend’s wan smile made her wince.
“You’re exaggerating.” Kara walked toward the door, her left hand reflexively reaching up to drop the light switch. Her right hand held Robin’s as they crossed the yard to her car.
“Thanks for driving me.”
“Do you want me to stay? My mom can sleep over with my kids.”
“No.” Kara stared at the ground, afraid to look at her friend’s face, knowing she would cry if she saw sympathy there. “Gotta put my big girl panties on and deal with this.”
“Okay. I’ll call you in the morning.” They held each other a few minutes before Robin got in her car to leave. She gave a few quick toots of the horn as Kara watched her tail lights coast down the long, winding driveway to Route 73.
Wrapped in darkness, she listened to the fading sounds of her friend’s car heading west into Lake Placid. Kara stood for a few minutes with her canine sentries sitting to either side of her. She bent her head back, taking in the expansive sky filled with twinkling stars. Why does it look so normal? It didn’t take long for her neck to ache from the angle. She glanced down at the dogs and then at the barn, listening to the familiar sound of the horses. I have to move. I have to go in the house. I don’t want to.
Giving in to the inevitable, she crossed the remainder of their front yard and climbed the few steps of the porch. The dogs sniffed around the base of the door, waiting for her to unlock it. It seemed unreal. Less than twenty-four hours before, she’d done the same thing, wondering where Dan was. Now that she knew, her home took on a different perspective. Still warm and still lovely, but he would never again be waiting for her to walk through the door.
Kara fought back tears as she watched the dogs dash around the house looking for him. After a full tour, they stood before her in the kitchen, heads cocked in a quizzical pose as if to say, “Where’s Dad?” She dropped to her knees, ignoring the cold of the ceramic tile, and wrapped her arms around her faithful companions. Both dogs whimpered softly as Kara’s never-ending tears dampened their coats. After a few minutes, the dogs followed her to the bedroom, watching her undress and waiting for their cue to jump on the bed, to lay on either side of her.
Despite the emotional trauma she’d experienced, Kara found herself unable to sleep. John Harley’s words kept repeating in her mind. “I find it curious that a happily married man would be hanging out in a bar nearly sixty miles from his wife and home. And then turn up dead in such a compromised position.” In truth, so did she.
Did she neglect Dan? Too many hours at work? Too much travelling? Why was he in a bar? And the sex. My God, why? She thought their relationship was always ripe with intimacy. He wanted more? He needed more? How am I ever going to tell people about this?
Life with him started out on such a pleasant note. They were both young and vivacious. Granted, they were both a bit gun shy, but neither one of them could deny the nearly electric chemistry that occurred between them. When did things go wrong? She searched her memory and could only come up with the number of times she welcomed him back into her life.
She’d met Danny shortly after she started working in the construction industry. He was only three years older than Kara, but with many years of job experience and was very good at his profession. In retrospect, he was also very good at manipulating her.
To say Daniel Michael Elliott was easy on the eyes was an understatement. His medium frame would have seemed effeminate on most men. But he moved with a dancer’s grace and he worked out four times a week to keep himself exquisitely toned. His coloring was Mediterranean swarthiness combined with the freckles and innocence of the Celtic people. Funny, she’d never known his true heritage. The one time she asked him about his nationality, he was quite terse in his reply. The entire scene was still fresh in her mind despite the fact it happened years ago.
When they first met, they used to take road trips admiring the small towns sprinkled about the northern portion of the state. Even though she’d grown up in rural upstate New York, Kara was always so unprepared for the rustic nature of life in the Adirondack Mountains. But, it was all so important to Danny, and he wanted her to share in his love of these mountains.
As they wound their way down Route 28 from Old Forge, Kara wondered if there was some sort of deeply-rooted genetic magic kindling Danny’s love for the vast stretches of forest. Personally, she found them to be very creepy. There were too many dark shadows and nooks and crannies for some psycho to hide in, just waiting to pounce on her. One might credit her imagination to too many horror flicks, but the place gave her the willies.
In truth, there was a time in her life when you couldn’t drag her out of the Adirondacks. Every summer of her teenage years, there were some monumental experiences she would never forget. Oh sure, there was some fun and disobedience she could never have told her parents about, but mostly these were very positive life-forming activities.
So, when did I flip my mental switch and start fearing this place? It didn’t really matter if being in the woods made her skin crawl. After all, Danny was great company and he’d never let the “big, bad wolf” get her.<
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Maybe Danny was a great-grandson of some French trapper who migrated south from the Quebec province. That might explain his fascination with the woods. And his dream to live so far from civilization he couldn’t hear his neighbors, and he could hunt and fish all day without seeing another soul.
She smiled to herself as she pictured Danny in buckskins, astride a big, bay stallion. There they stood, horse and rider with their long, dark manes whipping in the northern wind. Both of them with beautiful eyes a deep, rich brown, gazing out over the mountain tops.
She shook her head, as if to dislodge some mental cobwebs. She must have read too many of those romance novels to be entertaining thoughts like these.
Kara turned away from the foliage whipping past her window and gazed at his incredible profile. He was so handsome it caused a stirring in her groin.
“Hey Dan? Can I ask you a question?” She queried.
“Sure Kar…anything you’d like,” came his gentle response.
“I’ve been wondering….what nationality are you?”
She watched his eyebrows flex and his forehead crease, “Why?” he asked.
“Oh I don’t know, I guess I always figured knowing a person’s heritage sometimes explains their personality.”
She drew in a deep breath and watched him squint his eyes. His face morphed into a borderline mask of rage, and it frightened her.
Looking straight ahead at the road he replied, “I’m an American!”
Kara softly smiled and said, “Yeah I know, but at some point your family came from another country—like maybe France?”
Danny looked at her squarely. His reply so rigid it took her by surprise. “Why do you require some romance about my forefathers? Isn’t being American good enough for you?”
That day I should have told him to go fuck himself and walked away. Where did it come from, this all-consuming need to love him? But isn’t your heart the last one to listen to reality?
With the memory swirling around, even in her exhausted state, Kara admitted her marriage may not have been as happy as she eluded to with Sergeant Harley. She should have known years before there was a cultural chasm between them they would never bridge successfully. There were a few spectacular arguments in the beginning; unfortunately, Kara wasn’t paying attention to the forewarning of the many years of heartbreak she would endure. And now, she had to survive the ultimate pain—the death of her husband. And the shame of how he died.