by A.L. Crouch
Chapter 9
I could hear the screams and the crunching of metal as the car came to a smashing halt against the great oak. The panic that rose in my throat as Gary’s was sliced open, raced through my veins and threatened to consume me. And then the serpentine knife came for me.
Donovan was there. He was with me, telling me to sink into my seat. But this time I didn’t listen. I wanted to see. I needed to know who the man with the knife was.
I struggled against my confines and strained to get an arm free. I inched forward, staring through the dark into the front seat. When the lightning flashed I could see that the man was wearing a mask. I reached out. I could almost grab it.
“Who are you?” I screamed as the blade with the snake handle came at me over and over again.
I didn’t feel pain, only noticed the flesh wounds sliced into my arms. I didn’t care. I continued to reach forward, using all my strength to force myself free from my seat even as the gloved hands grabbed at me and hurled the knife into me over and over.
With the next lightening flash I saw my bloodied arm reaching for him. I forced out one last bone-chilling scream and lurched forward and clawed at his face. As the blade came down on my throat, I ripped off the mask.
I shot up in the bed, my face soaked in sweat, gasping for air.
“It’s okay Alexandra. It was just a dream. Sshhh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Donovan whispered.
I felt his warmth on my face and I took a deep breath and looked around. It was still dark. I glanced at the clock; only just past 4 am. Less than two hours since I laid my head down.
“The dream,” I panted. “I could almost see who he was.”
“It was just a dream.”
“I know, it was just . . .” I stopped short and listened. “What is that?”
I heard something coming from downstairs. It was music. Piano music.
“Your friend seems to have taken to the keys. He’s been playing for a while,” Donovan said.
“Will? I forgot he was even here,” I said rubbing my eyes.
I got up from the bed and straightened my robe, then turned on the light and ran a hand through my hair before going to the door.
“What are you doing?” Donovan asked.
“I’m going to see what he’s up to,” I answered and opened the door.
The music became more distinct as it traveled up the stairs, though he played lightly on the keys. I recognized Fur Elise.
“Please. You need to keep your distance from him,” Donovan pleaded.
I looked back in the mirror, into Donovan’s worried eyes. I knew that there was something he wasn’t telling me.
“What is it that you sense about him exactly?”
He shook his head, frustration evident on his face.
“I can’t . . . explain it to you,” he said. “But you don’t really know him. You shouldn’t trust him, Alexandra. Right now, you shouldn’t trust anyone.”
“I’ll keep my distance,” I said and left the room, not looking back into the mirror. I heard Donovan’s sigh of disapproval behind me.
Downstairs, a single lamp on the piano shone like a spotlight on Will who was focused on his hands at the keys. I stopped at the bottom of the steps and watched as he slid his fingers over them with tremendous focus, missing the occasional note as he played.
I watched the intensity on his face; his mind was somewhere else entirely. His eyes carried so much pain and anguish that it made me want to reach out to him. I was eager to know more about him. Donovan was right, I didn’t know him at all. I waited until he finished the song before I spoke up.
“I didn’t realize you still played,” I said.
Will whirled around, his sullen expression turned to a grin.
“Your mother was a great teacher. I bet you play beautifully,” he said.
“I’m okay I guess.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Not at all.” I shrugged. “Bad dream. Happens sometimes.”
Will sighed. “I know the feeling.”
He straightened and scooted to one side of the bench.
“I know what will cheer you up. There’s only one other song that I remember how to play.”
He started playing the melody to Chopsticks and patted the empty side of the bench with his free hand.
I shook my head. “No, I can’t.”
“Oh come on,” he said. “It would cheer ME up.”
I thought a moment and decided it was the least I could do. I mean, I did wreck his car and now he was forced to babysit me all night. It was a wonder he was nice to me at all. I took in a deep breath and sat next to him on the bench, placing my fingers on the keys. I waited for an entrance. When an opening came, I played the rhythm and Will smiled, bobbing his head up and down to the music.
“See? We’re pretty good,” he said and then hit a wrong note.
I laughed and Will concentrated, getting himself back on track. Mischievously, I sped up the rhythm, forcing him to go faster. Will’s fingers raced to keep up. I sped up again and tried not to lose focus when Will’s tongue poked out of his mouth as he bore down on the keys in utter determination.
“I got this!” he said, his fingers flying across the keys.
He was hitting more and more wrong notes and when I sped up again he lost his fingering and finally threw his hands up in surrender.
“Okay, you got me. I give. You are the Chopsticks master,” he said laughing.
I stopped playing, the laughter coming uncontrollably. It felt good to laugh.
“My mom and I used to play that song all the time. Now SHE was the Chopsticks master.”
Will nodded in agreement. “She was amazing on the piano, that’s for sure. I think you may have inherited her musical genius.”
“Yeah well,” I said bowing my head, “I haven’t really played much. Not at all actually, before I came back here.”
“Well then, I thank you for the privilege of that butt whooping you just gave me. I feel better now.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “You are very welcome. I figured I owed you for crashing your car into the side of a mountain and all. Think we’re even now?”
Will’s smile vanished and his features turned from laughter to concern in a half second. I immediately regretted the joke. Maybe he was finally getting upset about the loss of his prized car. I felt terrible all over again.
“Will, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”
Will shook his head. “No, it’s alright. But there’s something I have to tell you.”
I stared at him confused until he shifted in his seat and continued.
“That’s why I really came over here tonight. I wasn’t just taking a drive. I was keeping an eye on things, on you.”
I didn’t understand. “What do you mean you were keeping an eye on things? How could you have known–”
“Because I think someone wanted you to crash my car,” he interrupted and looked me in the eyes, taking me off guard.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I went to the shop today to see what the hold-up was on the brake report and it turns out that Hank, the mechanic, had a family emergency and left in a hurry for Charlotte. So I decided to take a look at the brakes myself,” he explained.
I stared at him, waiting for him to go on. The urgency in his voice made my heart start to race.
“Alex, it looks like someone cut the brake lines, but not all the way. It was a clean cut most of the way through. The rest must have snapped after you hit the brakes a few of times. Whoever did it wanted the car to be driven a little while before the brakes went out.”
I shook my head in disbelief. It took me a minute to process what he just said. None of it made any sense.
“But no one knew I was going to borrow your car.”
“Did you see anyone at the cemetery that afternoon?”
“No, no one was there except for Pastor James. But I was in the cemetery for a whil
e. You can’t see the parking lot from there. Someone could have gotten to the car then, I guess.”
Will shook his head. “I don’t think so though.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know my keys were in that drawer. They are always in the front of the drawer. When I went to hand them to you they were gone. I think someone took them from my drawer and then put them back later. They wanted the car to stay in the lot so they could cut the lines and be sure that you’d be the one driving it when they snapped.”
“But why? Who?” I asked, trying to remain calm.
Will shrugged. “It could have been anyone. All they would have had to do that day was wait until I was in the back office to snatch them. Even if they didn’t know where they were, I mean, they weren’t exactly hidden.”
“But like I said, no one knew about me borrowing your car.”
“I thought about that too. We were talking right beside the door, and those doors are like a hundred years old. You can hear right through them if you wanted to. Anyone could have heard us from out there.
“But I didn’t see anyone out there.”
“Doesn’t mean they weren’t there,” Will said.
I glared at him. That’s exactly what Donovan would have said, and they were both right. I thought back to a couple of days ago, and then it came to me. I covered my mouth with my hands, my eyes widening.
“What is it?”
“Rick! Rick was there.” I remembered. “I bumped into him when I left the station. Right after I talked to you, I opened the door and he was right there. I almost knocked him over.”
“That makes sense,” Will agreed. “But why would he want you dead? Or your parents? Over a house?”
“I don’t know,” I growled, “but I am sure as hell going to find out.”
Will furrowed his brow. “Maybe you should let me go up there tomorrow with Sulley. If it is him, he’ll be extremely dangerous.”
“Oh don’t you start now,” I snapped at him. “I am going with him. I’m the only one who’s seen this bastard.”
Will raised his hands and chuckled. “Okay, okay. At ease soldier. He wouldn’t dare try anything with the chief there, I’m sure.”
I took a deep breath. Anger broke away to fear as I thought about this new information. If all of it were true, I was in more danger than I thought. Donovan was right.
“So you really think someone cut the brake lines?” I asked again, hoping he would show some sign of doubt. I wanted him to be wrong.
“I know so,” he answered.
“I almost died. I could have gone off the mountain. The same way . . .” I collected myself. “Just like the message said, on the mirror.”
Will bowed his head. “I know.”
“Does Sulley know about this? Did you tell him?”
“No. I want to wait for the actual report from Hank. Sulley likes to have hard proof. AND because he would freak out. You’d be quarantined at the station or his place or sent back to Chicago on the next flight.”
“Yes,” I sighed, “he would freak out. Thanks for that. So what, you just decided to keep an eye on me yourself?”
That thought was more unnerving than comforting.
“Something like that,” Will said looking away.
“But why? Why do you even care?”
“It’s my job to care, and like I said. I owe it to your mom.”
I studied him closely. The muscles in his sharp jaw were clenched. There was something more he was hiding.
“There’s more to it though, isn’t there? Not about me at all, but about you,” I pried.
Will took a minute and then looked back at me. His eyes, brimming with red, were haunted.
“I couldn’t let it happen again,” he whispered.
I moved my hand to cover his on the bench, but my fingers bumped into something hard that clanged to the floor with a metallic thud. Will rushed to pick it up, but I reached the object first. I held the cool metal flask in my hand and stared in shock into Will’s horrified face.
“What is this?” I asked and then sniffed the lid. “Whiskey? What happened to being on duty?”
“You’re not the only one who likes to calm their nerves,” he spat and grabbed the flask.
I got up from the bench disgusted. “Some protector you are. What were you going to do if the guy came back to attack me again? Breathe on him?”
Will grabbed my arm and forced me to face him. I tried to yank my arm free, but his grip was too strong.
“I only had a few sips. Sometimes, my head gets away with me,” he pleaded, the desperation on his face made me stop struggling. “Can you understand that? Can you understand having thoughts . . . memories that constantly haunt you? That threaten to drive you crazy? Sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore . . .”
The pain in his eyes tore at my heart, and although their intensity made me uneasy, I felt compelled to listen. I did know what it felt like. I knew exactly what it felt like to lose yourself in the pain of the past. I lowered myself back onto the bench, keeping my eyes glued to his. He removed his grip on my arm as I sat.
“You said you couldn’t let it happen again. Let what happen? What happened to you Will?”
Will looked away. He seemed to contemplate telling me. He took a deep breath to collect himself and turned back to me.
“It was an accident, about five years ago. My wife and I were living up in New York. We had a nice little place right outside the city. Our son, Tristan, was only four years old. We had just thrown him his first real birthday party. We got him his first big-boy bed, one of those car beds. My wife made him this cute little football cake. He loved watching football with his old man.” Will smiled joylessly.
“It was my fault,” he continued, his face glazing over into a mask of sorrow. “I had gotten home late that night. My partner and I spent all night staking out a suspected drug shipment. I wasn’t thinking. I just put my holster on the kitchen table and grabbed something to eat.”
I closed my eyes, afraid of where the story was heading; not wanting to hear more, but listening anyway.
“I didn’t even remember I had left it there until we heard the shot go off in the morning,” Will’s voice broke.
I looked into his face as tears streamed down my own. Will just stared into the room with a blank expression, lost in that moment five years ago.
“I killed my baby boy. It was my fault,” he said between clenched teeth.
He looked into my eyes, searching for some kind of empathy in them. I knew his pain; the guilt, the loss, the anger. How much more must he feel though, to have lost a child through his own mistake? I felt terrible; I didn’t even known he’d been married. I wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t blame himself, that accidents happen, but I knew all too well how little comfort those words would be.
I thought about all of the things that Donovan had said to me about purpose and plans, but for the life of me I could not see the purpose in the loss of a child. I prayed silently for the right words. What I heard in return was a gentle strumming.
I looked into the glossy finish of the piano and saw Donovan. He was sitting on the base of the stairs, facing away from us, his hands folded across his knees.
“Right now, he just needs you to listen,” he said to me.
I reached for Will’s hand. Will looked down at our joined hands and then up into my face.
“Melissa left me shortly after. I couldn’t blame her. Every time she looked at me, she saw the one responsible for our son’s death. So I came back here to Saluda, the only other place I’d ever called home.”
Will sat up, trying to shake the demons from his head.
“Sulley was looking for someone with some experience and was kind enough to give me a chance.” He laughed suddenly. “I don’t even know why I am telling you all of this.”
I wiped a tear from my cheek and squeezed his hand.
“Because I’m listening. And because you know that I have lived in t
hat same dark place, the place where you question why you weren’t the one who had died instead.”
Will’s face brightened with recognition. “That’s it exactly. There are so many evil people in this world who deserve to have their life taken from them, me included. But he died because I was careless. An innocent child. I can’t wrap my mind around it. I’m the one who deserved to die. I’ve done so many horrible things in my lifetime. He was the one thing I did right. He made me feel like I could start over, as a father. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I would have been killed in that stakeout. If I had never come home, Tristan would still be alive.”
“I get that, I do. I often wish that I would have died in the crash with Mom and Gary, or that I could have died instead of them. I saw the car coming, the one that ran us off the road. I could have warned them sooner. If I hadn’t been so afraid, I might have saved their lives.”
I realized in that moment that I had never admitted that to anyone. It was a release in a way, having the words free from my mind’s prison.
“But what I’ve come to realize since coming back here,” I continued, “is that there’s a bigger picture than what I can see. I’m still here for a reason, and so are you. You’re not an evil person Will.”
Will’s head dropped. “I am so sorry Alex.”
“I know,” was all I could think to say.
I was at a loss, wanting so badly to say something that would give him hope, the way Donovan had done for me.
“Tell him that his son forgives him, and that he needs to forgive himself,” Donovan said from where he still sat on the stairs, head downcast.
I cleared my throat and shook my head, looking at him through the piano. I couldn’t say that to Will. Who was I to tell him that his dead son forgave him? Why would he even believe me?
“You need to tell him Alexandra, because it’s the truth and he needs to hear it. You know it because I know it. This is your gift. If he cannot forgive himself, he will always be lost.”
I looked back at Will and took a deep breath.
“I know that it’s not my place to say, but you need to know that your son forgives you,” I said. “He would want you to forgive yourself.”
Will looked at me and stared blankly into my eyes, tears coming to his. He grinned and blinked them away, then cleared his throat.
“I don’t think I can. That’s why I came over here tonight. I almost did it again. I let you borrow that damned car, and it almost got you killed.”
“There was no way you could have known a crazed lunatic was trying to kill . . .” I stopped short, unable to say the words.
They didn’t seem real. I felt like I was quoting lines from a cheesy horror movie. Will gently took hold of my chin and forced my eyes back up to his.
“Still, it was my car, and nothing like that is going to happen on my watch. Never again, I promise you that.”
I felt my face flush, the intensity of his eyes burned into mine.
“You don’t have to take responsibility for me; this has nothing to do with you, Will.”
Will kept a firm hold on my chin and drew my face close to his. My heart sputtered and raced inside my chest at the proximity. I breathed in his sent; mixed with the pungent tinge of whiskey was a hint of leather and fresh rain.
“I’m making you my responsibility,” he said softly.
“Why?” I whispered, lost in the darkness of his eyes.
He gently swept the hair from my cheek with his free hand.
“Because you make me feel something that I haven’t felt in a long, long time,” he whispered and then closed the space between us.
I closed my eyes as he brushed his lips against mine. My breath caught in my chest and I parted my lips, aching for more of him. He found my lips again and let his hand fall from my chin as he took my mouth with his. I felt the heat between us boil in my blood, threatening to carry me away, if only for a little while. Away from the fear and pain, away from the loss and darkness. I wanted to lose myself in him completely, but I could hear the strumming behind me, and a solemn, pleading voice.
“Alexandra, please. You can’t,” Donovan whispered, his voice full of angst and desperation.
I jolted back from Will, taking a breath to clear my head.
“We can’t do this.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry . . . that’s not why I’m here.” Will looked at me, worried. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . .”
“WE shouldn’t have,” I corrected. “It’s not that I don’t want . . . I guess I just need this whole thing to be over.”
“No, I totally get it. I completely agree. I have a feeling it will all be over soon,” he said giving me a reassuring smile.
I smiled back, wanting to believe that he was right, that this whole nightmare would end soon. Then I remembered what Donovan had said. Tonight was only the beginning.
“I hope you’re right, but I’m not so sure,” I said.
“Trust me.” He stretched his long arms. “But in the meantime, I feel like crap all over again. Your fault, by the way. So, I demand a rematch.”
Will poised his fingers above the piano keys and smirked at me with a twisted grin.
“Oh no, you couldn’t possibly be suggesting that you can keep up with me,” I laughed, grateful for this change of mood.
Will started to play the Chopsticks melody again, concentrating on his fingers against the keys. “I’ve seriously got this now.”
“So you think.” I smiled and began the rhythm, matching his tempo. “But you know? You really should feel like crap.”
I sped up the rhythm and Will’s tongue poked back out of his mouth as he focused.
“Why is that?”
I sped up the rhythm even more. “Because you are a terrible kisser.”
Will lost his focus, hitting a throng of wrong keys and the music fell apart. He turned to me horrified, mouth agape.
“I am not, you cheater, and you know it!” He placed his fingers back on the keys and smiled. “Rematch! And no distracting me with your obvious and outrageous lies.”
I laughed and started the rhythm again. We played again and again and let the piano distract us from the rest of the world while the sun began to peek above the horizon. As the dim light seeped into the room, I looked into the piano and saw that Donovan never budged from where he sat at the base of the stairs, facing away from us, his gaze lost in thought. Waiting.
