A Tortured Soul

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A Tortured Soul Page 14

by L. A. Detwiler


  She studies me for a long moment, as if trying to assess whether or not I’m telling the truth. The woman barely knows me. I don’t know why she assumes she could detect my tell. Still, something in my words must convince her. She drops the gun to her side.

  ‘Dammit, I’m just so frustrated. Where the hell is he? What is this? Cody doesn’t do this sort of thing, not usually. Not like Richard. He’s so worried about me and keeping an eye on things at home that he doesn’t just take off without telling me. What the hell is going on, Crystal?’

  ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’ I feel like a broken record, replying with the same statement.

  We stand for a long time, two sister-in-laws who are more strangers than family, thinking about what a messed-up situation we’re in. Wondering how this is all going to turn out. Wondering how Cody fits into the puzzle.

  ‘When’s the last time you saw him?’ I ask now that the tension has calmed.

  She sighs. ‘Two nights ago. I came home from my shift at the diner, and the sheriff’s car was here. He was just leaving when I showed up. Cody was agitated, so agitated. I asked him what was wrong, but he blew me off. That was two nights ago, and he hasn’t come home. Where could he be?’

  My blood runs cold. Sheriff Barkley talked to him. This can’t be good. What did they talk about? And why would Cody leave? My mind flashes back to the money in the garage.

  I want to ask Kimberly, but realizing she still has the gun in her hand, I don’t want to stir her again. I doubt she knows anything anyway. I’m guessing, though, that the talk with Sheriff Barkley incited some fear in Cody. Maybe he had to get things in order, whatever things they may be. Or maybe with Richard missing, their illicit plans are falling apart. Because I’m certain that whatever Richard was up to, Cody was involved too. I wonder if it’s just a matter of time until Cody reappears here, angry and on a war path, determined to find Richard’s secrets.

  I sigh. Richard’s not going to do any talking, that’s for sure. This just gets messier and messier. What have you done? What have you done?

  ‘Look, if Richard shows up, I’ll see if I can find anything out, okay?’ I say to Kimberly, who glares back at me, frustrated and hesitant.

  ‘Yeah. I’m sure Cody will come home. Who the hell knows anymore, though, you know?’

  ‘Hang in there,’ I say to her, meaning it. I look at the woman with long, black hair and think about how in another life, in another family, maybe we could’ve been friends. The sister-in-laws who go for manicures together or help prepare Thanksgiving dinner together for a big, jolly extended family. But life didn’t deal us that hand, not even close. I wonder if Kimberly is as lonely as I am most days. I wonder if she lives with the fear I do. I’m sure in some fashion, she does. She must. Then again, I really don’t know her at all.

  Kimberly nods at me before climbing into the Camaro, backing up, and driving off. I sink to the ground by the garage once she’s gone, thinking about how messy this all is. Where is Cody? What does he know about Richard? And what are the two of them caught up in? Secrets are never a good thing. I should know. But there’s no use in dwelling on it all now. I have to hope that wherever Cody is, he just stays far away and takes care of whatever problem he and Richard have created.

  The glass house I’m building is about to come crashing down anyway. I don’t need anyone giving it a kick, after all.

  Night Four

  Terror begs to escape from my body in shrill cries, but no sounds happen. I struggle and struggle, but my lips won’t part. My stomach drops as reality sets in. My mouth is sewn shut. The truth slams into me with the force of a train, but I can’t move. Someone must’ve sewn my mouth shut, I realize, as I try to wriggle my lips open. That’s got to be what’s happening.

  I squirm and squeal, but it’s no use. I can’t escape, my mouth feeling like it’s permanently glued shut. I need to scream. I need to get out of here.

  I wiggle free, the ropes that were holding me down weak and pointless. They’re no match for me. I jump off of the cold, metal table, terrified. I need to run out of here. Where am I? Am I in the hospital? I think I’m in the hospital.

  I run, the gown I’m wearing wrapping around my legs, threatening to trip me. Off I go, out the door, some faceless beings shouting at me on my way out. How are they shouting? Where are their mouths? It’s an eerie question I don’t have time to ponder as my legs carry me forward, into the darkness of the night. The moon shines down, lighting the way. I run through mud and muck, running, running, inhaling through my nose deeply. I worry that my nose will be plugged and then I will die. I try to free my mouth, jiggling my jaw, but it’s no use. I can’t get it open.

  I run and run for what seems like forever. On my way through the forest, raven’s caws resonate through the deadened trees, an unsettling symphony that stirs me even more. I trip on a rock on the lane, my face smashing against the ground. Dammit. Dammit all to hell.

  I do a weak push-up, still unable to move my lips, to scream, to cry. My arms shake as I lift my body up, ready to keep running to a destination unknown. I just feel the need to keep moving. The ravens keep screaming. Are there more of them now? I think there are more of them.

  I run and run and run until finally, the trees clear and a pasture sits before me. I walk through it, slowing down, uncertain about my footing. It wouldn’t do to trip again. My breathing is labored as I march through the pasture. Suddenly, it appears.

  The house. The familiar house with its unfamiliar vibe, the red fog swirling around it. I know I should be afraid, the haunting aura around it repelling and demented in its own right. But I’m not fearful. I know this place. I do. I saunter up gingerly, my breath steadying. I hope I can find answers within. I need to figure this out. I need to speak up. I can’t be silenced anymore. Through the squeaking screen door I go, into the kitchen. The pictures on the walls are different this time, but they’re still not mine. The décor is off, and the floor plan is slightly skewed. Nothing is quite right yet. I take a deep breath in and out. Even though it’s unfamiliar, I feel comforted somehow. I feel at home, more and more each time.

  This time, I saunter to the white door in the back of the kitchen, the one that leads down those basement steps. The handle is glowing, and I’m mesmerized by it. Why is it glowing? I ache to touch it, even though I know it will burn. My fingers unfurl, stretching toward it. But before they can touch the steamy, hot brass, there’s a thud behind me, a stomp on the ground. Footsteps. I turn to see a sight I can’t even fathom, can’t begin to interpret.

  What is it? Who is this?

  The creature—for this does not seem human—is tall, faceless, and foreboding. He wears jeans and a T-shirt, but these familiar elements seem a ruse to distract me from its hovering nature. It walks toward me, methodically, menacingly. Step. Step. Step. I shake, backing up, careful not to lean against the hot doorknob. I can’t lean against the doorknob.

  ‘Please,’ I want to say, but my mouth is still sewn shut. I can only murmur. I can only make muffled noises, my lips unable to pull apart. This only seems to excite the creature even more. It tosses two huge, gangly limbs on either side of me, pinning me against the door. The hot doorknob sizzles against my robe. I might catch on fire. The thought terrifies me, this place going up in flames as I stand here, unable to scream.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trembling, as the faceless creature leans in. I open them in time to see it’s shapeless face contort. A mouth opens in the middle, its milky face literally parting down the center. Tears fall crazily, my whole body quaking violently. From the center of its face, a long, slender tongue emerges, creeping toward me, darting toward my eye. I shake. I slink back. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray.

  But no wet, sloppy sensation touches my face. I peek out from behind my eyelids when a sizzling, scalding noise beside me startles me. The creature’s tongue is wrapped around the doorknob, the hot metal scorching it. I shake, shimmying out from under its limbs, backing up slowly as to not draw at
tention. The creature doesn’t make a sound, standing there as its tongue burns, burns, burns.

  I sink to the floor, unable to move or scream or think.

  I am home now. This is home now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  My eyes throb, my heart thudding, as my hand rubs the cover of the good book. I trace patterns on it as my eyes leak, as the early morning light streams into the room.

  Have I been awake all night?

  No. I must’ve slept some because that was when the nightmare came. It jostled me awake, my chest throbbing as my lungs heaved for air. It was all just a bad dream, I reassure myself. Nothing to worry about. Still, I know there’s more to it. Sometimes, nightmares aren’t as distant, as fantastical, as we’d like to believe.

  I should be praying, I know that. I should be on my knees by the bed, rocking gently as I read the verses that outlined my childhood, my whole persona. I should be begging for a forgiveness that I know I don’t deserve. How have I abandoned it all? I pick at the skin around my fingernails, the guilt finally racking me. I’ve forsaken the one thing I can cling to, my God. How could I have abandoned him?

  It’s been a trying few days, for certain. But that’s no excuse. Now, more than ever, I need to pray for my soul, for his soul. For all of us, really. Still, as my fingers trace the cover in methodical patterns, my fingertips dancing over the crusty leather cover, I can’t bring myself to crack it open. My mind dances and darts through the memories of the nightmare, the faceless creature and the burning tongue creeping into every fiber of my being.

  How did I let it all go so wrong? How did I let it go this far? What’s happened to me?

  I should’ve got in the truck, taken the money, and left. I should’ve used this as an opportunity to do something different. But a nagging thought inserts itself into my brain, twirling around and dancing with the truth.

  I had needs within that I had to take care of. It wasn’t just Richard keeping me hostage here. No, it was something more menacing at play. Years of torment, after all, change a person. Or maybe, just maybe, they help the truth of the person finally emerge, a truth that would have been repressed in other circumstances.

  I don’t know how much time passes, or how long I stare from the bed at the window, thinking about it all as a fatigue pounds against my skull. But eventually, tires on the gravel road and Henry’s incessant barking stir me. My heart thuds once more. I hear the car door.

  It’s too late. I’m too late. There will be no penance, no forgiveness now.

  He has come at last.

  I squeeze my eyes shut through the salty tears. This is where it ends. I’ve ended it all, and my own version of darkness will now consume every dream, every hope, every prayer for redemption left.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Mrs. Connor, I’m sorry to bother you at this early hour. But I need to talk to you,’ Sheriff Barkley says when I finally parade to the door, steadying my breath. My fingers shake, but I tell myself to breath. Just breathe. Don’t think about it.

  ‘What is it, Sheriff?’ I ask, rubbing faux sleep from my eyes to mask my trembling fingers.

  He stands outside the screen door, as if waiting to be invited in. Richard would’ve never let him in. He didn’t trust anyone with the law. I step outside, closing the door behind me as I wrap my arms to cover my chest.

  ‘Cody Connor. Have you heard from him?’

  ‘A while ago. A few days ago. Not anytime lately. Why?’ I ask, taking a deep breath.

  ‘Kimberly reported him missing yesterday. Said she wondered if Richard had something to do with the whole situation.’

  ‘Oh,’ I reply calmly as I focus on Henry’s barking in the background.

  ‘Crystal?’ he asks, readjusting his hat as I focus my eyes back on him. ‘Anything at all you can offer? When did you see him last?’

  ‘Before he went missing, I’m sure. He stopped to see Richard. But he’s still missing, too, as you know.’

  ‘Hm,’ Sheriff Barkley murmurs, nodding. ‘Was he acting strange?’

  ‘He was acting like a Connor,’ I reply, and I feel the sheriff soften at the familiarity of the phrase.

  ‘Well, it’s alarming, in truth. Two brothers now missing. It complicates the investigation a bit.’

  ‘I hope they aren’t wrapped up in something,’ I reply, saying what he certainly must be thinking.

  ‘You don’t mind if I have a look around, do you? See if maybe there are some hints as to where Richard might’ve gone? It’s been a few days, and I don’t know, with Cody missing, things just don’t quite seem right.’

  ‘Is this official?’ I ask, my heart pounding. Richard wouldn’t like him looking around. He doesn’t trust the law.

  ‘No, no. No search warrant or anything. Mrs. Connor, you know I’m still skeptical about all this. I’m sure those two are just up to no good. Got themselves into some crazy dealings or something. But if that’s the case, well, my priority is looking out for you. Would hate for an innocent to get wrapped up in something messy.’

  I smile sweetly, leaning on the screen door. ‘Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate that. But I’m sure Kimberly’s just overreacting. Those two have been known to take off together. I’m sure they’ll turn up.’

  I do my best to stay calm. I need to convince him all is okay, which isn’t going to be easy now that I’ve been to the station twice. What was I thinking reporting him missing? I should’ve left it all alone. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. The last thing I need is the sheriff lurking about, creeping around Richard’s things. That won’t do. I need to turn this around.

  Sheriff Barkley eyes me suspiciously.

  ‘Everything okay, Mrs. Connor? You look mighty tired. Something keeping you up?’

  I bite my lip on the inside, the salty taste of blood seeping through. I see a growing hint of something—suspicion, maybe? —growing. I can’t have that.

  ‘I’m okay. Just a lot going on. Trying to figure out how to pay the bills and everything. Wondering when Richard will come home, and what he’s been doing. But I’m fine. I’ll manage.’

  He nods, crossing his arms. ‘Well, listen, I haven’t given up. I’ll get to the bottom of this. I’m going to go do some digging, see where Cody was last seen. If you hear anything from either of them, be sure to give me a call. And if it’s okay, I’m just going to peek in the garage since that’s where you put on the missing report as the last place you saw him.’

  ‘Of course, Sheriff. Take a look. Take your time. Can I bring you some coffee while you work? Something cold?’ I relax into the side of the house as Sheriff Barkley says no thanks to the drink. He tucks his hands into his pockets, glances at me for a long moment as if deciding whether or not to believe me, and then finally ambles away toward the garage. I think about accompanying him, but I don’t know if I can play this part anymore. It’s too nerve-racking. I think about the money I swiped from the garage that’s tucked safely away. There will be no trace of it, though. What am I worried about? There’s nothing for Sheriff Barkley to find in the garage, after all. I’ve cleaned up the hammer. The money is stowed away, just waiting for me to use it.

  But what if there’s something else? What if Richard has other unknown surprises hidden? I should’ve taken the time to investigate. I ball my hands into fists, squeezing them tightly. I’m not cut out for this, not smart enough. I should have thought to look. I should’ve been faster, should’ve been gone by now.

  Focus, Crystal. Focus. You’re going to be fine. Sheriff Barkley’s on your side, I remind myself as I watch him walk to the garage, take a look around. I hold my breath, wiping my palms on my dress. After what seems to be an eternity, Sheriff Barkley emerges. He walks calmly, stoically toward me. I wonder what he’s found.

  But when he gets closer, he just nods. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary, but I only had a quick look around. I’m going to look into some other potential leads, but I might be back to have a closer look,’ he says. I paint on a sweet smile, turning the corners of my lips
up too far. He’ll be back. And what will he find when he returns? Will it be too late?

  Will I already be gone, in one way or another? I squeeze my fingers back into balls again, nodding at Sheriff Barkley.

  ‘Okay, then, Sheriff. Thank you. I’m sorry to be such a bother over what’s probably nothing.’

  He tips his hat at me. ‘It’s no bother. And I don’t mean to concern you, but I have an odd feeling about this, with Cody missing too. Could be foul play.’

  My heart thuds at the words as Henry’s barking and snarling continue to echo in the background. Mixed with my fears, the noise from him shreds my nerves. Sheriff Barkley stares at me, his dark eyes shimmering. He stares a little longer than feels comfortable, but I keep my forced smile on. He tips his hat again and turns, slinking down the front lawn to the driveway. Just as I’m ready to breathe a sigh of relief, though, he stops and turns. Panic rises.

  ‘Mrs. Connor?’

  ‘Yes?’ I ask as steadily as possible.

  He eyes me for a moment before nodding toward Henry. ‘Be careful. That dog looks a little vicious. Wouldn’t want to hear about something happening to you.’ And something in the way he looks at me sends a shiver through my spine. My head whirls so fast I think I might pass out.

  What does he think he knows? What did that all mean? Why did he say that? And is he really on my side?

  I nod meekly and stay, frozen, until Sheriff Barkley gets in his car and peels out. Even after I can’t see his car anymore, I stand, staring into the vast wilderness that has been forced to bear witness to the unraveling scene around it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I drag the scrub brush back and forth, over and over. So much dirt to get rid of. It needs to be clean for when he comes. Dammit, it just has to be clean. At least I have some more time now. My knees ache as the hard, gritty texture of the floor grinds into them. I keep scrubbing, the smell of bleach intoxicating and hypnotizing. It settles my fraying thoughts and steadies my shaking hands.

 

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