by B. Groves
“No,” Mac argued.
Claire rolled her eyes and took another sip of wine. “Please. I know what’s being said. It’s all bullshit.”
Mac listened as Claire told her story. He’d been a cop long enough to know when someone was lying and Claire wasn’t lying.
Mac thought about the case of David Westcott. He couldn’t recollect that David had a sister, or that she was sent to live with other family members after the searches were called off. He’d have to dig up the case and read it.
“I got a phone call from her lawyer and here I am,” Claire said.
Her gaze turned far away in thought. “I guess I came back because I wanted to know more about my mother’s family, and why Rose never contacted me. I have little memory of my brother’s drowning, and I don’t think I ever grieved correctly. I always wondered about him and my parents.”
Mac felt sorry for Claire. She lost her whole family in a matter of three years and had to be raised by her grandparents, but she seemed well adjusted from what Mac observed based on their conversations tonight.
Mac again argued inside his own mind whether to tell her now or wait.
“So, you when you said you were born here, you weren’t kidding,” Mac said with a slight smile.
Claire nodded and ate a piece of salad. “Yes, I was, but went to live in New Jersey when I six. I want to know why.”
“I’m sure Rose had a good reason,” Mac reasoned.
Claire smiled, but he could see the bitterness behind it. “I’m sure, but it would have been nice to know all this before I moved down here.”
“I don’t blame you for being upset for not knowing she was alive. Family secrets suck,” Mac said.
Claire scoffed. “That’s the truth. Am I going to talk all about myself because of my current celebrity status, or are you going to tell me your story?”
Mac chuckled and told her mostly everything. He wasn’t ready to divulge his whole life story yet.
When did one tell a possible partner about tragedy? Claire already knew tragedy. Yet, Mac decided his own life-changing event could wait.
Mac told Claire he and his wife divorced three years before.
“Kids?”
“No.”
Mac was close to telling her. Hell, it was on his lips.
Mac and his ex-wife met in elementary school. They were inseparable. After they finished college and married, Julie soon became pregnant.
Mac’s son Jacob was stillborn at forty weeks. He lost it all after that, including his wife. He was still recovering from his grief. He wondered if his date with Claire was his way of trying to move on.
Mac didn’t want to share that kind of information now. It was too soon since the anniversary was approaching and he needed a handle on his emotions.
“It’s a long story,” Mac said.
Thankfully, Claire didn’t push the subject. She took the hint, and they moved on from there, eating their dinner and telling their stories.
Mac was surprised when he checked his cell phone and almost two hours passed after their initial conversation.
With each passing moment, they would exchange a smile, then a grin. Claire was not the shy type. She reached over and brushed his hand giving Mac permission to hold hers.
Mac tried to avert his eyes a few times when she caught him staring at her. She never shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her blue eyes twinkled in the dim light.
Finally, their fingers were entwined by the time they were finished their dinner and drinks.
Mac thought about running away. He never had a date like this since Julie. He thought about paying the bill and leaving, but why?
Why was he such a coward? What was holding him back from getting close to another woman?
Did he have some misplaced loyalty because of his memories with Julie? It wasn’t that. Julie left his life a long time ago, even before Jacob, they were holding on by a thread.
His fear was that happening again, but Mac realized he was much older now and more mature. His views on marriage and relationships had changed since he was a kid.
He needed to let those fears die in a proverbial fire and move on with his life.
The bistro wasn’t busy, and they made sure they would tip the waitress well since she wasn’t chasing them out.
He couldn’t believe the ease of conversation he and Claire had the whole night.
They talked a lot about books, and Claire gave him a huge lesson of what it was like in the publishing world.
“I never knew how much time and energy went into publishing a novel until I interned for a publisher in New York,” Claire commented. “Nowadays, it takes too long and the big publishers aren’t taking the hint that they need to catch up to the self-publishers. This is why I thought about going at it alone.” He couldn’t fault her for wanting to strike out on her own after what she’d been telling him about the publishing industry.
He was under the impression authors made a lot of money, but when Claire explained her royalties, he understood why she had to work two even three jobs to support herself.
“Most authors keep their day jobs,” Claire explained. “They have to because the industry will spit you out if you don’t sell.”
“It’s almost as if labor laws don’t apply to artists,” Mac said.
“Even when I won awards, it didn’t help,” she explained. “You’re right. We’re taken advantage of daily. No one does a damn thing to change it. I’ve fought for better contracts but if I don’t have other authors to stand behind me, I get laughed out of the room.”
Their conversation turned back to Mac and his job. He didn’t mind talking about his work. He loved his job.
Claire was fascinated about his duties. She listened intently as they talked, and playfully commented she needed this information for a future book.
Mac knew the night had to end, but he didn’t want it to.
He knew deep down that Claire was not some greedy, selfish woman who didn’t care about her family. She was struggling to find her place in the world and thought moving back to her hometown would solve all her doubts.
Mac insisted on paying, and they left the bistro with a smiling waitress getting ready to close.
Mac walked Claire to her car as they conversed about the change in scenery and how excited she was to explore the mountains.
“This state is the best of both worlds. A few hours east, you have the best beaches, and here we have mountains,” Mac said pointing to the west.
“Boy, you really promote this place,” Claire said with a smile.
Mac shrugged. “It’s home.”
Claire pulled her jacket closer and said, “It’s strange to me, but I’m sure I’ll feel the same way soon.”
“You have roots here, and I think once you find those you’ll feel better,” Mac said.
“Yep,” Claire turned back to Mac when they reached their cars. “Thank you so much for dinner. It was a nice welcome gift.”
They stood there awkwardly for a moment, and Mac didn’t know what to do.
“My pleasure,” he said with a smile.
He wanted to kiss her, but how would she react?
Mac didn’t have to wait long.
Claire’s smile turned mischievous. “What do we do now?”
Mac’s eyebrows rose in question. “I’d like to see—”
Mac didn’t know what happened and he stiffened from the surprise.
He felt cool arms wrap around his neck and his head pulled closer to soft, puffy lips.
He tried to grin. He wanted to, but he was busy.
Mac responded to Claire’s kiss and softened his lips when her mouth opened to let him in.
Their tongues formed an erotic dance and Mac’s jeans became too tight from his response.
He never expected Claire to kiss him first. Hell, he never expected to be standing here right now.
A cool breeze passed between them so Mac pulled Claire closer to feel her warm body against his.
He wrapped his arms around her feeling every inch of her curves under his hands.
He didn’t want to let her go. Every fiber of his being knew he had to. He wanted to take her home, take her clothes off and make love to her, but it wouldn’t be tonight.
Claire came up for some air.
She grinned from ear to ear and said, “I’d like to see you again, too.”
Mac laughed, and they separated.
“How about this weekend after I get off we go for a night on the town,” Mac suggested as they exchanged cellphone numbers.
Claire nodded enthusiastically and said, “That sounds like fun.”
Mac smiled at her enthusiasm and found it to be intoxicating like her lips on his.
Mac opened the car door for her and she hopped in.
“Goodnight, Officer,” she said with a smoldering look that Mac couldn’t resist.
He leaned in and took her lips again. They were as soft as velvet under his, and he regretted pulling away.
“Goodnight, Claire,” he said.
He shut her car door and watched her drive off.
Mac thought he’d never have these kinds of emotions again, but as he walked to his car, he thought the future looked brighter, although the dark sky told him otherwise.
The guilt of not yet telling Claire about how he found Rose was on his mind.
He didn’t know how she’d react, and he hoped she’d understand.
12.
C laire went home that night and walked around the house to make sure all was quiet and secure after she placed her supplies on the kitchen island. She organized them so when the food was thrown in the trash can she wouldn’t have to mess around with getting the stink out of the refrigerator by searching for them.
She smiled as she put a finger to her lips, and thought about the gorgeous officer she kissed earlier in the evening after she was done lining up her cleaning products.
As she thought of that kiss, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she thought the shadows around the hallway were moving away from their respective corners as she stopped to listen for any unusual sounds.
She shivered, feeling like she was being watched. She didn’t know how she knew, but she could feel eyes staring at her from a distance.
“David?” Her voice a whisper.
No answer.
Claire swallowed hard as she walked down the darkened hallway and climbed the main stairs to reach the bathroom and bedroom. Each noise made goose bumps form on her arms. A distant groan of the wooden floor made her almost jump out of her skin.
Stop this, she scolded herself. This is childish. It’s a house. It can’t hurt you.
But as she was getting ready for bed, the foreboding feeling never left her although she tried to stifle it.
She had a big day ahead of her tomorrow. Clean the refrigerator, grocery shop and wait for the cable company to finally hook up her WIFI and cable. She was tired of watching gospel singers and hazy news channels on the TV. She always enjoyed flipping through cooking channels when she was writing, since the cheery voices of the chefs made her mood lighten, hence made her writing more likely to have a “happily ever after.”
She dreaded gazing in the mirror. With only one eye open, she searched around the reflection but found nothing out of the ordinary.
Relief coursed through her, and she changed into her comfy pajamas and lay down on her bed to read for the night.
Claire fell asleep not long after she turned a page to start a new chapter. It was a restless sleep because she thought eyes were constantly watching her from a distance.
She woke up early the next morning. She was grateful she had no strange dreams but cursed tossing and turning all night.
She gazed out of her bedroom window, finding the wind had picked up during the night and heavy rain clouds were moving in from the west.
Her bedroom window was already wet from the rain that was moving through the area.
Claire dressed for the job she had, but first, coffee.
She made a disgusted face from the powdered creamer she had to buy from the night before, and couldn’t wait until she went grocery shopping for real creamer and other real food.
She was comfortable this morning. No eerie feelings were plaguing her. No strange movement of shadows in the corners. No shocking cold worlds that were not part of this world.
She checked her Facebook page and found more comments from her followers about the pictures, and ignored them for now.
She was excited to see Mac had followed her page. She wondered if he saw the pictures of the house, and what he thought of the possible apparition everyone else was commenting on.
She had a hunch that he hadn’t told her his whole story yet after their date last night. He held back some intimate details, and that was okay. They didn’t need to spill the beans about their lives inside that restaurant on their first night out together.
They talked for hours, telling many stories of their adventures in life, and when he was ready he would tell her more.
Claire put down her coffee and got to work.
Cleaning out the refrigerator didn’t take as long as she thought.
Two hours later, she was wiping the inside down with bleach and had long since removed her mask.
She gagged a few times as she threw away the old food, but it wasn’t long before the horrible smell was gone for good.
Claire needed to look up when trash day was around here as she carried the bags to the trash can and deposited them, making sure the lid was firmly closed remembering her grandfather complaining to her grandmother about not securing the can. They would wake up the next day finding that raccoons had made a mess all over the yard.
Her gaze found its way to the trail where her brother met his tragic end. She wanted to go to the edge of the river, sit down, and mourn her loss, but that would have to wait until later.
Claire lowered her head and tried to remember that day, but it was still off in the distant darkness where she couldn’t reach it.
She turned and went back inside the house, her mood more subdued as her thoughts turned morbid, and she couldn’t help but think of how David must have felt in his final moments. She hoped it was quick and painless, but she knew better from previous research of drowning victims from her standalone novel about a couple stranded on a deserted island.
She walked up the back staircase to take a shower before the cable company arrived.
She wanted to break down and sob as she imagined David falling into the river’s current and struggling for air. The thought of it made her chest tighten with each step and the more she thought about the more realistic it became.
Claire sat on the side of the bed in her room, and her eyes drifted to his picture on her nightstand, suddenly regretting her decision to move back to Lingate. These thoughts never crossed her mind in New Jersey, and she hated having them now.
“Dig…”
Claire froze in place. The voice echoed off the walls. Her eyes were wide, and she turned her head every which way to find the source of the voice.
It was distinct. The soulful voice of a young child.
Claire stood, her eyes darting around, but she was alone.
She walked into the hallway and went room to room, but again, all was empty.
She came out of Rose’s bedroom and breathed deeply.
It was loud and clear. She heard her brother’s voice.
Claire tried to gain her composure. She didn’t want it to be the truth. She wanted to think her brother was somewhere resting at the bottom of the river. His soul—if that part of death was true—in heaven with their parents.
Was this real? Was she going insane from coming back to the house she lived in for three years?
There were so many unanswered questions. Ones that she didn’t dare touch on when she had dinner with Mac.
Dig?
What did that even mean? If this was her brother’s spirit, why was he telling her to dig? Dig what? Dig where?
These questions continued to haunt Claire as she stumbled into the shower. The big, gaping hole in the pit of her stomach opened up again.
She’d had relief for a blessed three days, and now it was back, telling her she needed to find some answers soon.
She found comfort in the hot, steamy water as it sprayed down on her tense shoulders and back.
She ended her shower, knowing she had more unpacking to do, and these answers would not come easily.
There were so many mysteries to solve. Ones that bothered her every moment since she stepped foot into Kinsey House.
Claire came out of the shower with her emotions swirling around like a tornado inside of her.
The apparition in the window, the voices, the odd dreams, and the butterfly brooch waiting for her to return while it sat on Rose’s bed.
Why did Rose need her to see that?
Claire had to brush this aside for now. She wanted to get settled before she searched for answers, but that one word—dig—was like an annoying mosquito that kept buzzing around her ear.
She dressed and went back downstairs to tackle more boxes when the doorbell rang.
She made a disgusted face at the ding-dong of the bell. It sounded like a poor bird gasping for its last breaths. That was another problem she would have to ask Bishop to fix. If he couldn’t, then she would ask if he could recommend anyone.
She checked the time on her phone and frowned.
The cable guy shouldn’t be here already, she thought.
Claire walked up to the door and opened it. She was shocked to find Shirley—she couldn’t recall her last name—standing there with a box and two bags in her hands.
What was she doing here?
“Good Mornin’,” Shirley said cheerfully.
Claire opened the door halfway, and said, “Good morning. Shirley, right?”
Shirley waved a hand and smiled. “That’s right. I know I’m here unannounced so my apologies, but after yesterday I wanted to give you a warm welcome to beautiful Lingate.”