by Tara Meyers
“We’ll be calling you in for a deposition next week,” Carpenter said to Becky, his voice all business. “But if there’s anything you’d like to tell me now, I’d be happy to take a statement.”
Ember squeezed her aunt’s arm in warning.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
Ember exhaled slowly with relief, but it was short-lived as the reality of the situation came into focus. The history Sheriff Carpenter outlined was accurate. It could be misconstrued as both motive and opportunity, regardless of whether it was true or not. If the “evidence” recovered from Walker’s house was planted by the real killer, it might be enough to make things stick. Or at least muddy the waters so much that the real killer went unnoticed like they’d managed to for the past…how many years?
Ember glanced down at the old box at her feet without moving her head. She had a long night ahead of her.
TWENTY
“Shush, Butterscotch, it’s okay.” Ember did her best to calm the horse. Something had spooked him. A legitimate blizzard roared in the darkness around the barn, causing the old timbers to creak, but she wasn’t worried about its stability.
Daenerys’s barking had led Ember to open the front door so that she’d heard the horse’s cries. Figuring he was upset about the storm, she spent some time brushing him down while talking soothingly to him. It was absolutely freezing out, so she put the warmest horse blanket she had on him and placed extra chopped straw in for bedding. The larger-than-normal feeding of hay he’d had earlier would increase his internal body temperature due to the digestive process.
Feeling sure that Butterscotch was safe, Ember pulled her heavy coat up around her face before heading back out into the storm. Even with the front porch light on, she could barely make out the house, and the driveway disappeared into the blowing snow no more than twenty feet away. Her face was painfully cold by the time she slammed the heavy front door behind her.
Ember and Becky had parted ways at the police station after Ember once again assured her aunt that she wanted to stay at her own house that night. Now she was glad she had. The most recent forecast upgraded the storm to white-out blizzard conditions for at least twenty-four hours. Maybe longer. A predicted three feet of snow was supposed to fall by morning. It was around ten at night now, and already her tire tracks from earlier had disappeared under the fresh blanket of snow.
Mel informed Ember that afternoon via text messages that Cody was with her, having sought her out after his father was arrested. According to Mel, he was taking it pretty hard.
Daenerys was pacing around her as she fumbled with her ice-encased boots.
“Daenerys!” Ember cried out as the dog bumped into her legs and nearly made her fall. “Sit. Please give me a minute.”
Daenerys complied with the order but sat shifting her front paws anxiously against the hardwood floor, her claws ticking as she made an odd whining noise.
“What’s with you?” Ember knelt down to give the dog a hug. “It’s just a storm, Shappa. It’s okay.”
The soothing words and affectionate name worked to calm Daenerys, but only slightly. Still agitated, she jumped back up and began pacing again near the front door.
Ember kept an eye on her as she hung her coat up in the hall closet. She jumped when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Slipping it out as she made her way to the kitchen, she smiled when she saw it was a message from Nathan.
They’d spoken for over half an hour earlier after she’d finished eating a small dinner. He’d gotten her text about Walker being arrested but hadn’t been able to call her until he’d cleared from an accident scene. It was in such a remote location that State Patrol couldn’t respond because of the storm. He’d handled the report and arranged for the tow truck.
Nathan reacted to the arrest the way Ember figured he would. Calm and reasonable, he assured her that they would start making phone calls the next day to make sure Walker had solid representation. He was sure the charges wouldn’t be filed. Although she knew he was probably right, it was still a very disturbing situation.
My offer still stands. Two more hours until my shift is over. Happy to drive down. I think I can make it.
Ember read the message twice. Hesitating, she fought with the desire to see him versus the common sense that it wasn’t worth the dangerous drive. Huffing with frustration, she tapped out a response.
Thank you! But I’d feel horrible if something happened. I’m really okay.
She hung her head in defeat and set the phone on the kitchen counter. Ember savored the comforting smell of fresh coffee as she took a deep breath. She’d started it brewing before she went out to see Butterscotch. It’d been sitting for about half an hour now, but she wasn’t going to be picky.
After pouring a cup, she doctored it up before retrieving her phone. She smiled at the goodbye text from Nathan and headed for the family room. The box Walker gave her sat predominantly on the coffee table, the lid leaning off to one side. About three-quarters of its contents were strewn around the room, taking up nearly every empty space on the table and surrounding furniture.
Ember took a long sip of coffee and then closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of both the drink and the crackling fire in the huge river rock fireplace. She’d had a hard time getting warm all night. After getting back from the police station, she’d spent nearly two hours outside shoveling snow from in front of the house, as well as from off the porch and tool shed roofs. The greatest risk with the storm was the weight of the snow. Her house’s roof was metallic and at a steep enough angle to keep it from piling up too high, but the porch and shed were an exception.
Rolling her neck from side to side, Ember was suddenly exhausted. She took another big gulp of coffee, hoping the caffeine would help. She needed to finish going through the rest of the files. If there was something in there that could help them clear Walker, she wanted to find it before they started making phone calls the next day.
Daenerys followed Ember into the room and crouched next to her, whining.
“Why are you acting so strange?” Ember asked, her voice slurring with the last word. She sat down hard on the couch, crunching a file under her.
Blinking rapidly, she tried to concentrate on the task at hand. What was she doing?
The files. I have to read the rest of the files.
Reaching into the box, Ember randomly selected a folder. She struggled to read the name on the file and frowned when it proved too difficult. Looking at the mug still in her other hand, she realized she’d spilled some of its contents when she sat down. Taking one last sip, she carelessly dropped the cup onto the floor, making Daenerys jump.
The file.
Ember opened the folder. The words on the old browning paper swam in and out of focus. The report was filed on December 15th, 1971.
Ember knew the date was important, but she couldn’t remember why. Putting a hand to her forehead, she pressed against a sudden swelling pain.
Her dad. Walker. Someone killed them. No. Someone killed her dad.
Looking again at the report, Ember sought out the identity of the deceased. The last trace of clarity flickered across her consciousness, and she gasped as she read the name.
Then everything went black.
TWENTY-ONE
Footsteps.
Barking.
Movement.
Someone stood over her. Who was it? Where was she?
Flashes of intense light as files landed on the burning wood of the fireplace, the edges curling as they turned black.
Rough hands grabbed at her arms, urging her to stand. A heaviness in her head that robbed her of the ability to think.
Daenerys growled and then whined.
Barking.
A cold wind blew into her face as Ember stumbled down the front steps, briefly reviving her enough to be conscious of where she was.
My front steps? Where am I going?
Cold. Darkness.
***
“Up,
Daenerys! Get into the truck!”
The voice was full of urgency. Strained. Familiar.
Distant barking.
A rumbling sound, and warm air blew on her bare arms.
Movement.
A swaying motion that welcomed the surging gray wave of oblivion.
***
More cold air. This time it was accompanied by a howling sound that made Ember think of a faceless ghoul rising from a grave, reaching out for her.
Fear compelled her to open her eyes, but she was met by a swirling darkness.
Ember’s legs felt detached from her body. No. She felt detached from her body. Watching from a distance as she blindly stumbled forward, led by someone with a vise-like grip on her arm.
“Wherrrrr,” Ember tried to ask, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. Her brain wouldn’t connect properly with the muscles that were needed.
“Shhh,” a voice cooed. “We’re almost there.”
The inky blackness around her was alive, surging and breathing. Ember surrendered to it.
***
Shadows.
Her world was a landscape of countless shadows colliding, merging, and then breaking apart to meet and collide again.
There was no up or down.
“Ember.”
She was Ember.
“Ember, my dear.”
A cat mewed pitifully from nearby, to be answered by the whine of a dog.
“Ember!”
Who was Ember?
***
Her head snapped upward, and Ember woke with a start.
A pressure unlike anything she’d ever experienced before throbbed in her temples. Groaning at the pain, she fought through it to force her eyes open. It felt like sandpaper lined the inside of her eyelids, and her eyes watered, causing her vision to blur even more.
Having gone through eight years of college, Ember had experienced her fair share of parties, but this wasn’t like any hangover she’d ever been through. It felt as if hours had passed, and the snapshots of memory gave the impression of her having moved around, but she couldn’t make sense of any of it.
Where was she?
She turned her head to look to the side and was rewarded with a severe wave of nausea. Gagging, she squeezed her eyes shut against it until it passed.
A chair creaked.
Sensing movement, Ember reacted instinctively to the fear it evoked by trying to shuffle away from it. While her feet responded by kicking out, her arms wouldn’t move. Opening her eyes again, she looked up to discover both of her hands bound by a rope over her head. Following the rope, her head continued to fall back until she stared up into the rafters of a barn. The floor threatened to spin again.
As her senses slowly returned, Ember again heard a cat from somewhere behind her. It was almost drowned out by the storm raging around the old decrepit structure. Goosebumps rose on her bare arms, and she wasn’t sure what was worse, the cold or the smell of stale urine and feces.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Her head felt incredibly heavy, but Ember somehow managed to move it. Slowly, she looked away from the rope hanging above her, and the dim space swam into view as her chin hit her chest.
Standing in front of her, holding a long leafy stem topped with white flowers, was Marissa Thomas.
TWENTY-TWO
“Hemlock.” Marissa waved the branch like a palm frond. “It grows natively around here. You just have to know where to look.”
Ember struggled to follow what the older woman was saying. Marissa’s casual tone made it difficult to grasp what was happening. The throbbing was beginning to recede, much like the tide at the beach, but it was leaving behind a thin film that obscured everything. It was hard to think.
“Is that what you gave me?”
Chuckling, Marissa tsk-tsked like Ember had gotten a test question wrong. “No, my dear. You would be dead. I gave you a strong dose of something else. You’d be amazed at what’s available in the very plants growing all around us!”
Ember recalled the massive greenhouse in Marissa’s backyard. It was next to an old barn. She latched onto that thought as it drifted by.
The barn! I have to be in Marissa’s barn.
“The flowers provide the most toxin, but a very small dose of any part of this plant brings on a rapid succession of rather…unpleasant symptoms.” Marissa dropped the branch onto the chair she’d been sitting in and removed her gardening gloves. “Muscle weakness, paralysis, inability to swallow, followed by respiratory failure and―death.”
The taste of bile rose in Ember’s throat. Not because of whatever Marissa had drugged her with, but from a raw fury. “You killed my dad.” The accusation came out as a whisper.
“Yes.”
There was no hint of remorse on Marissa’s face. No pause in her reply or hitch in her step as she began to walk around where Ember stood awkwardly suspended.
“You killed Doug, Delilah’s husband.”
“Yes.”
Ember watched warily as Marissa continued past her, and she forced her legs to move so she could twist around. The thought of having the woman out of sight behind her was very compelling.
“Why?”
Shrugging, Marissa grabbed the end of a large green tarp and lifted it, revealing several crates underneath. They were filled with different animals, including a Persian cat and shivering Samoyed dog.
Ember closed her eyes against the truth. Marissa had used her position of working at the previous animal clinic to target expensive pets. It was so obvious now.
Her eyes snapped back open. As Ember’s thoughts continued to clear, her situation also became more apparent. Marissa had no intention of ever letting her leave the barn alive.
Ember pulled down against the rope, testing it. Her hands were already numb, but the increased pressure made it feel as though her fingers were going to burst. Trying not to whimper from the unexpected pain, she stretched out in an attempt to plant her feet more firmly on the ground so she could push up and ease the weight.
Marissa turned back around and observed Ember’s struggle, tilting her head slightly as if curious at what would happen. Raising her eyebrows, she pointed up at the rafters. The rope was looped over a center beam and then tied off to a pole anchored to the floor. The pulley system was effectively holding Ember so that her toes barely touched the ground. “I’m afraid you’re in a bit of a pickle.”
“A pickle?” Ember spat. “Listen, you crazy―”
Marissa unexpectedly stepped in close. Gone was the grandmotherly air, replaced with a cold indifference.
“You want to know why I killed them?”
Ember remembered what Sheriff Carpenter had said about sociopaths. That they were impulsive and didn’t have a reason. She had a feeling that whatever the motive, it would only make sense to Marissa.
Ember’s mind raced. She needed to be more careful. Stall. Someone would find her, but she had to avoid triggering Marissa. It was still dark out, but it had to be well past midnight When she didn’t answer any calls or texts, someone would come looking.
Right?
Suddenly, more memories from the night before came into focus, and she remembered hearing Daenerys’s frantic barking. Her stomach grew cold.
“Where’s Daenerys?”
Marissa blinked and stepped back. It clearly wasn’t the response she’d expected from Ember.
“She ran off.” Marissa walked back to the chair which was next to a small table. On the table was a file folder. “Oh, I tried to get her to come, but she refused to obey, even for a dog treat.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Probably won’t last long in this weather.”
Ember clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to lash out. Daenerys was smart. She’d be okay.
Concentrate. Keep her talking.
“Tell me why.”
“I don’t think there ever really was a reason.” Marissa picked up the file folder. “Other than I…wanted to.” She turned cold, calculating eyes o
n Ember. “I’d get…urges. Urges that demanded action. It would consume me. The only way to free myself was to…satisfy it.”
The bile was back in Ember’s throat, but she ignored it. “Why that day? Why December fifteenth?”
“Because it’s a special day,” Marissa said with uncanny ease. She hugged the file to her chest. “It marked the first time I killed.”
“You mean your husband?” Ember nodded toward the file folder. The same one she’d been looking at when she’d blacked out. The unattended death report for Edward Thomas.
A slow smile spread across Marissa’s face, looking macabre in the dim light.
“No,” Ember whispered. “He wasn’t your first.”
Looking proud, Marissa tipped her face forward and widened her eyes as she pursed her lips, like they were sharing a special secret.
“No. He wasn’t. But that was a long time ago.” Dropping the folder, Marissa stepped in front of a propane heater Ember had yet to notice. It was sitting on another chair, the type you can get at most hardware stores that attach to the top of a propane bottle. She held her hands toward it to warm them.
Ember shook her head in an attempt to clear the lingering effects of the drug. The heater was too far away to be of any benefit to her, and the cold was sapping what little strength she had. The only thing Ember was sure of in that moment was that she’d been robbed of a lifetime of memories with a father she never knew.
“You killed my dad. You murdered him, and you’re telling me there wasn’t a reason? It was all random?”
Marissa rubbed her hands together as they warmed. “Opportunity. I knew Brodie had been sick and was within walking distance. I knew he was alone. It was―fate. He was chosen for me. Once that was clear, I didn’t have a choice.” Her voice trailed off, and her face became blank.
“I haven’t had a desire to kill for a very, very long time. When Delilah returned and started digging around, I’d hoped to avoid taking any action. Really, I did. But then Allen got greedy.”
