Sleep Savannah Sleep

by Alistair Cross

  Jason got out of bed and went to check on Amber. She was curled up like a fetus, her arms wrapped around Ruby, her thumb corked in her mouth. It was a habit he thought she’d outgrown long ago. She senses something’s wrong, he thought. She feels insecure. He slipped into the room, brushed back her honey-colored hair, and kissed her on the head, leaving her thumb in place.

  He shut the door quietly, then headed toward Brent’s room, but paused at the door. Checking up on him now seemed like an invasion - an offense against Brent’s sense of adulthood. Jason turned around instead, tiptoeing down the creaking steps.

  In the kitchen, he poured a glass of milk, pointedly avoiding the window where he’d seen Savannah Sturgess. If the nightmares were still around, it stood to reason the hallucinations would be as well.

  He carried his glass into the living room where he sipped milk in the dark, listened to the ticking clock, and thought of Scott Sturgess. And Liam. And Savannah’s lover in the dream. Who was the man with the broad tanned back? Her murderer? If so, why wouldn’t Savannah show Jason the man’s face? He closed his eyes, sick of thinking about it - all of it. “Please stop,” he whispered to the empty room. “Just stop. I can’t help you anymore. Please … leave me alone.”

  The stairs answered with a deep, prolonged groan and for several seconds, the clock stopped ticking.

  14

  Affliction

  Ed Gregorio stood at least six-foot-six with hair as black as ink and large, long-fingered hands that swallowed Jason’s whole. After the bone-rattling handshake, the prosecutor closed his door and gestured to a leather chair at a polished cherrywood desk. Jason sat, nervous as a fornicator in a confessional. He’d received the summons this morning and had no idea what to expect. Aside from bad dreams, the days that followed the recovery of Savannah’s body had been quiet, peaceful almost, and Jason had hoped that perhaps he wouldn’t have to deal with any more of it, after all. But he’d known better. It was only a matter of time until someone contacted him, and in a sick way, it was a relief to get on with it.

  Gregorio took a seat, flipped through some paperwork in a manila envelope, then looked at Jason with piercing eyes the color of strong coffee. There was no threat in them and that should have been a comfort - but it wasn’t.

  “I don’t know if you’re aware, Mr. Crandall, but the DNA results have proven that the skin beneath the victim’s fingernails belongs to Travis Delgado.”

  Jason cleared his throat and tried to sound casual. “I’ve heard.” It had come as no surprise when Dottie had relayed the information. Jason recalled Marlee saying Travis had a woman on the side - it stood to reason that Savannah was the mistress - and by the time the news had filtered down to Jason, he’d already suspected as much. He was just glad it wasn’t Coop. Or Fred. The relief, though selfish, had been overpowering and Jason finally had hope that he wouldn’t come under suspicion himself. Until Gregorio called.

  “Delgado was taken into custody and will stand trial for the death of Savannah Sturgess.”

  Jason exhaled, glad to hear it.

  Gregorio leaned back. “Which is all fine and dandy, Mr. Crandall. It seems pretty clear-cut, but there’s one little problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You.” Gregorio stared at him, his eyes unreadable. “You’re the reason they found the body and the trouble with that, as you might imagine, is the way in which you received your information.” Gregorio paused. “It’s pretty unorthodox, Mr. Crandall.”

  Jason sat forward. “I realize it’s not usual, but … well, it’s the truth. I started having the dreams, and-”

  “Yes, I heard.” The attorney looked thoughtful. “You can tell me anything right now - anything - and I can handle it. But if there’s one thing that will ruin this case - any case - it’s a surprise revelation. So please, I need you to be very frank with me, Mr. Crandall. Is there anything you’re not telling me? Anything at all?”

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  Gregorio looked at the paperwork. “You weren’t involved with the victim in any capacity except professionally.”

  “Yes. I gave her a massage. Once. And it got cut short.”

  “And why is that?”

  Jason hesitated.

  Gregorio stared. “It will come out one way or another, Mr. Crandall.”

  “The truth is … she made me uncomfortable.”

  “How so?”

  Jason shifted. “Well … she came onto me.”

  “Came onto you how?”

  How detailed did the man want him to get?

  “I’m not your enemy, Mr. Crandall. Believe me when I say that it’s in your best interest to tell me everything right now, because it will be brought up.”

  Jason’s cheeks burned. “She was … inappropriate.”

  Gregorio blew out a breath. “I’m a grown man, Mr. Crandall, and not a shy one at that. I need you to be very specific with me.”

  Feeling violated and embarrassed, Jason said, “Okay. During the massage, she began to, uh, masturbate, to rub herself, and, uh …”

  “Go on.”

  Jason sighed. “Well, to be blunt, she told me to take my cock out.”

  “Those were her words?”

  “Yes. Those were her exact words.”

  The attorney wrote something down. “And did you?”

  Heat flared in Jason’s throat and face. “No. Of course not. I mean, well, I thought about it, to be honest … but then I changed my mind. Before I even touched her, I changed my mind. Then I asked her to leave. I recently lost my wife, and I don’t feel right about-”

  “Was Ms. Sturgess upset when you rebuffed her?”

  “Well, no. I think she was more surprised than anything. I saw her once more after that, at the carnival, and she didn’t seem to be holding a grudge. I just don’t think she’s used to - or was used to - being told no.”

  “And you never saw her after the night at the carnival?”

  “No. Well, she was at my house one other time, but that was before the massage. She was with Flynn Garvey.” He felt like he was rambling. “They dropped off a bottle of champagne. A housewarming gift.” Jason swallowed hard. “And that’s all. That’s everything.”

  Gregorio nodded.

  “And there’s nothing else I can tell you about Savannah Sturgess. I didn’t really know her.”

  Gregorio wrote something down, then looked at Jason. “I think I should warn you … these dreams of yours … it’s a thin testimony at best and-”

  “But it’s the truth.”

  “But it’s still thin, and the point is, the defense is going to tear it apart. I want you to be prepared for that.”

  Jason had been right. This was going to be ugly. “But I didn’t have anything to do with Savannah Sturgess, Mr. Gregorio. And I certainly had no reason to kill her! Like I said, I hardly even knew her.”

  “No one’s accusing you of murder.”

  “But they might!”

  Gregorio’s face betrayed none of his thoughts. “My point is that the dreams are a weak spot and they’re going to go after it with hacksaws and machetes.” He leaned forward and spoke gravely. “Delgado has hired Jacqueline Winters as his defense attorney and she’s savage. I need you to know what you’re up against. I need you to be prepared.”

  It felt as if a metal band were slowly tightening around Jason’s lungs. He was humiliated. Terrified. “I understand.”

  For the hundredth time, he wished he’d just stayed out of the whole damned mess.

  Jason was shaking so badly he barely got the keys in the ignition. He felt like his eight-year-old self waiting for his father to come home after he’d spilled juice on the rug, broken a glass, or accidentally mixed the whites with the colors in the washer - but this was much worse than that. An ass-whooping from his father - even a bad one - would be over within an hour, tops. This Savannah bullshit, however, might go on for months. Years, even.

  He wished he’d lied about the whole thing. He
could have claimed he’d seen someone lingering around Tabitha Cooper’s gravesite the day before she was buried - or given the police an anonymous tip from a disposable cell phone, or …or something. He should have done anything but tell the truth; delusions and dreams weren’t going to hold up in court. There’s no way they’ll believe me. And what if they decide I killed her? Then I’ll go to prison. And then what will happen to the kids? It was a vicious cycle of malignant thoughts.

  He headed home, his chest tight, his stomach churning, his hands white fists as he hunched stiffly over the steering wheel. He drove quickly, checking the rearview as if he expected to see a maniac behind him - and the sour taste of dread worsened in his mouth as he pulled into the drive and looked up at the old Victorian. Its windows were like cold, haunted eyes, threatening him, taunting him with promises of more hell, more night terrors, and more horror waiting for him behind its doors.

  Wishing he’d never left LA, he killed the engine, got out, and slammed the door. On the veranda, he stooped to retrieve several packages. His books had arrived - the ones he’d ordered online. Embarrassed, he’d opted not to purchase them from the bookstore. He definitely didn’t want Fred De La Paz to peg him as a ghosts-and-hauntings type of guy.

  He tucked the books under his arm, took a deep relaxing breath, and let himself in.

  Amber sat on the floor in front of the television.

  “Hi, Daddy!”

  “Hi, sweetie.” He glanced around for Brent. “Where’s your brother?”

  Amber shrugged.

  With his foot, Jason pushed his son’s muddy shoes and dirty socks away from the door, set the books down on the side table, and headed upstairs where he knocked sharply on Brent’s door.

  “What do you want?” Brent’s indignant tone grated Jason’s already exposed nerves.

  “I asked you to watch Amber, Brent,” he said to the closed door. “Why aren’t you-”

  “She’s just watching TV, Dad! It’s not like she needs to be supervised while she sits in front of the tube!”

  “Come downstairs. I need to talk to you.”

  Brent sighed in exasperation. “Why? Can it wait?”

  “Nope. Downstairs. Now.” Jason turned and headed back to the living room, and shut off the television. “I need to talk to you and your brother,” he said to Amber.

  She watched Jason with wide eyes, nodded, and said nothing.

  Brent, in dire need of a shower and a shave, skulked down the stairs, his hair looking as if it had little more than a nodding acquaintance with a comb. After flopping down on the couch in an exaggerated show of inconvenience, he lay back, staring at the ceiling, and said, “What?”

  Jason cleared his throat. “I have to go to court about Savannah Sturgess.”

  “What?” Brent shot up. “Why? I can’t believe this! How can you do this to me? To us? Don’t you even care what people will say?”

  Jason had hoped he would have at least been able to explain before the fighting commenced. He was wrong. “Because they’re going to want to know how the body was found.”

  Brent exploded off the couch. “Why couldn’t you just stay out of it? This is so embarrassing! This is-”

  “That’s enough, Brent.”

  “But-”

  “Brent.” Jason threw him a warning glance.

  Brent paused, mouth open.

  “The reason I’m telling you this is because you’ll probably hear some things about me at school, and I want you to be prepared for that. In a town like this, people talk and-”

  “Of course they do!” shouted Brent. “And now we have to deal with the consequences of your actions!”

  “I said that’s enough.”

  But Brent continued hollering and pacing. “Your story’s so stupid, you’ll be lucky if they don’t throw you in jail for murder!”

  Amber’s eyes went wide. “You’re going to jail, Daddy?”

  Jason shot Brent another look. “Of course not, sweetie.”

  “Oh, of course not, sweetie, of course not!” Brent mocked. “What is wrong with you, Dad?”

  “That’s enough, Brent! Now sit down and shut up until I tell you otherwise.”

  Brent obeyed, but not without plenty of attitude.

  Jason took a deep breath. “I’m not going to jail. I’m going to court so they can charge the man who’s responsible for Savannah Sturgess’ death. But people are going to talk, and they’re probably not going to be very kind. I need you both to understand that it’s the lawyers’ jobs to go through everything with a fine-toothed comb, and-”

  “And by everything,” Brent said, “you mean our lives!”

  Jason nodded. “Possibly, yes.”

  “But why? Everybody knows Travis Delgado did it! Why can’t they just put him in jail and be done with it?” Brent’s face was red, his eyes hard and wide. “Do you know what this is going to do to us? Why couldn’t you stop and think before you opened your mouth? They’re all going to think you’re crazy.”

  Jason knew that - of course he knew.

  “I mean, we’re never going to fit in now! They’ll say you’re crazy and a murderer, and a goddamn psychic!”

  Amber gasped. “Brent swore, Daddy.”

  Brent balled his fists and made a move toward Amber. “Oh, shut up, you bratty little tattle tale!”

  “Daddy, Brent called me-”

  Jason shot to his feet. “Enough!” His voice boomed through the living room. Both children gaped. “Amber,” he said, lowering his voice and speaking through clenched teeth. “I want you to go upstairs to your room and play with Ruby and your bunny.” He pointed at his son. “And Brent - you stay right where you are.”

  With tears in her eyes, Amber got to her feet. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” She ran toward him, flinging her arms around his neck. “Please don’t go to jail! Please!”

  “I won’t, sweetie, I promise.” He crouched and squeezed her. “Now go upstairs and play.”

  Sniffling, she collected her toys and creaked up the stairs.

  When Jason heard her bedroom door shut, he sat down and looked at Brent, clasping his hands together in front of him. “I give up. What do you want from me?”

  Brent sat stiffly on the couch, refusing to look at Jason, his face tense with disdain.

  “You sit in your bedroom all day and all night, and when you do grace us with your presence, it’s only to make everyone miserable. Do you have any idea how much it upsets your sister when you say things like that?”

  “Like what?” Brent spat the words.

  “That I’m going to jail! Do you care how much it upsets Amber?”

  Brent’s glare could have cut glass. “Maybe I don’t care! Maybe you should think of me for a change!”

  “I do, Brent! Believe me, I do! I walk around on eggshells so I don’t upset you, and it’s never good enough!”

  “Oh, get off the cross, Dad! Jesus whined less!”

  “You watch your mouth, Brent.” Jason jabbed a finger at his son. “I’ve had it with you! Do you hear me? I. Have. Had. It. This is bad enough without you making it worse. I’m doing the best I can.”

  Brent was on his feet again, back in Jason’s face. “By getting involved in murder cases? By getting your ass kicked in a bar like some teenager? By getting yourself thrown into prison for something for the rest of your life because you can’t stay out of other people’s business? Is that really the best you can do? Really?”

  It stung, hard, and Jason was about to lash out when he saw the fear in his son’s eyes. He hadn’t caught it before, but it was obvious now. He’s worried about me. And Jason couldn’t blame him. He took a slow breath, steadied his voice, and held up his hand. “I’m not going to prison.”

  “How do you know?” For a moment, Brent looked like he might cry, then - with renewed indignation, he said, “How do you know, Dad?”

  “Because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But you did do something wrong. This is wrong - all of it.” He lifted his
chin, his nostrils flaring as fury rose to full volume in his eyes.

  “I realize that, Brent. I do. And I’m sorry. But there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

  “You should have listened to me, Dad!” Without warning, Brent kicked the side of the coffee table, and involuntarily, Jason fell two steps back. “I told you to stay out of it!”

  Jason had expected a fit, but this was getting out of hand. “Calm down, Brent.”

  “No!” Brent kicked the table again. “If Mom was here, this wouldn’t be happening!”

  Jason’s chest tightened and his nerve endings lit with rage. “Leave her out of this, Brent.”

  “No! It’s true! Things were better when she was here - before you went … crazy!” Brent gave the table one more hard kick, winced, and grabbed his foot.

  “Are you done?”

  Brent glared. His breath came hard and fast and his hands curled into fists at his side. “Maybe I am and maybe I’m not.”

  Jason had had enough. “Listen to me and listen good.” He stood and stepped closer, using his height. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your mom and I’m not going to allow you to drag her into it. This is about you and me and it’s going to change right now. Your days of moping around and back talking and bickering are over. You need to grow up, Brent. Life isn’t-”

  “Oh, spare me the lectures about life. Obviously, you don’t have it figured out any more than anyone else!”

  Jason ground his teeth. “What did I just say about back talking?”

  “I don’t care what you said. I hate you!”

  The thread that held Jason’s temper snapped. He grabbed his son by the collar, yanking him so close their noses almost touched. “You can hate me till you’re blue in the face, that’s fine, but you will respect me. And if you can’t find it in yourself to show some respect, I’ll settle for fear.” It was his own father’s words coming out of his mouth - and he hated it - but that did nothing to stifle his rage. “Do you understand me? Am I perfectly clear?” Their eyes locked like sabers.

  Brent raised his chin and gave him an indignant smirk. “You can’t talk to me like that anymore, Dad. I’m almost eight-”