The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  Nick gave an exasperated laugh. ‘I don’t think we had as much choice as you seem to think. The guy had a shotgun within reach; I wasn’t about to tell him I didn’t trust him. And anyway, he wasn’t a stranger to Juliet.’

  ‘But Juliet accused him of murder … Or wait, was it of getting Aldrich to kill on his behalf?’

  ‘I know … And she also said he was in a relationship with her best friend. You heard what he was like; he sounded obsessed with the girl. I just don’t think he’s going to screw us over.’ Nick began to feel annoyed. What’s the point of worrying about it now? It’s done. Trying to reassure his brother, he added, ‘Wouldn’t you feel indebted to the people who freed you from someone like Aldrich?’

  Tom looked at him as if he were painfully gullible. ‘That’s if he did hate working for him. He could have been lying.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know.’ Nick threw up his arms in mock frustration. ‘We’ll just have to see what happens.’

  They talked for a while longer and eventually moved on to lighter subjects. Tom spoke about quitting college. He’d only picked construction because Tommy had, but now he couldn’t stand it. He mentioned that Michael was on the same course, but his boyfriend enjoyed it and wanted to continue.

  While Tom spoke of Michael, Nick could see the love in his eyes and chided himself for the jealousy that rose in him—jealousy over Tom having someone special, when somehow Nick had screwed up his chances with Juliet.

  His envy was pathetic, so he brushed it off. I’m happy for Tom and Michael.

  During the conversation, it began to rain outside. A heavy downpour. Nick hoped it would wash away any evidence they’d left on Aldrich’s land.

  It reached 10:00 p.m., and Nick stretched a look at the dusty kitchen clock. He yawned and apologised.

  ‘No, it’s my fault,’ said Tom. ‘I didn’t realise it was so late. I’ll get going.’

  Nick didn’t protest, but quickly reminded his brother that he would be coming over soon for the talk with their dad. Tom showed himself out while Nick waddled to his bedroom and slid into bed.

  Sleep took him fast.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  LUCKILY, IT WAS dark. Juliet didn’t want people to notice her stained clothes. Her walk was fast, the cold stinging her face. The day hadn’t been so harsh when the sun was up, but now it was bitterly cold.

  The lack of light was unwelcoming. If Juliet hadn’t been so proud, or so disgusted, she could have been dropped off closer, but now she felt vulnerable on her march towards Chanton. She clenched her fists at how much of the day she’d spent outdoors.

  After arriving home, she headed straight for the shower. As she undressed and turned the shower dial, she began to cry. Her chest heaved. She sank to the floor. Murder. The word danced wickedly in her mind. She’d begun to like Nicolas, had even wanted to go on a date with him, but now all she saw was murder, murder, murder—Aldrich’s bloodied body imprinted in her mind like a permanent scar.

  She punched her leg, thudding repeatedly and screaming in frustration, knowing it would bruise. When her arm ached and her thigh was numb, she stopped. The sound of running water began to calm her. She stood again, feeling the wounds and scrapes of the day, and struggled on the leg she’d just beaten. Her left shoulder had met the ground when the exploding portal threw her a few metres. Now it throbbed.

  Climbing into the shower, she sighed. The water was sweet on her body, caressing and comforting her. Harry Cracknel … I didn’t exactly help him. Her legs wobbled, and guilt soaked her up. Kim will be treated better now. Ryan is free to be a good person and support her financially. Maybe Harry would be content with that. Or did he want revenge?

  She shuddered. Revenge, like what Tommy got for his mother. Was that what Samantha Crystan had wanted? Juliet wasn’t sure, but felt satisfied that she’d done more than enough for Samantha.

  Then the worst thought came to her. What if Aldrich appeared as a spirit? Could he do that? Had he even been human? If not, then would he have left a spirit behind? Did he have a soul? The thoughts were enough to shiver bumps down her body. She got out of the shower fast and grabbed a towel.

  After drying herself, she put on a mocha silk dressing gown. It was blissful to be clean and feel the loving material on her skin. She walked across the upstairs hallway and stopped when a spirit appeared. The muscles of her abdomen contracted as she launched back a step.

  The air fizzled around the spirit as if it didn’t belong in this universe. It was Samantha, and this time she was smiling, not bloody and covered in wounds. ‘Thank you, Juliet.’ She flickered like static.

  Juliet’s organs were caught in her throat; she had expected Aldrich to appear and maybe push her down the stairs. My heart can’t take this on a regular basis. She found a breath, reassuring herself. ‘You’re welcome.’ She nodded. But there were things she had to know. ‘Was all of this worth it? Will your family be better off now?’

  The spirit’s eyes stared in the same vacant way they had before, except there appeared to be a peaceful undertone to them now. ‘I … I can see fragments of what is, and what will be.’ She disappeared for a second, then flashed back into existence. ‘I see that my husband will put his life back together. The news will be hard for him to take at first, but he will move on … and love again.’

  Although she hadn’t realised her shoulders were raised, Juliet felt some relief as they sank back down. At least Nicolas’s father will benefit from this.

  ‘But Tommy …’ Samantha continued. ‘I fear he will take it the hardest. He will cope as long as my family support him, but I can’t see everything.’ Again, she vanished and swiftly returned. ‘It’s all glimpses and different outcomes … There are many variables. What Tommy has done …’ The peaceful tinge left her eyes. ‘It might change him.’

  The words had an ominous weight to them, stealing some of Juliet’s strength. One of the last people she wanted to think of was Tommy. And, begrudgingly, she was about to ask about the other people on that list. ‘Will Ryan keep his promise?’

  ‘Yes … in his own way.’

  That doesn’t sound promising. Then Samantha said, ‘I must go soon. I’m struggling to remain here.’ She didn’t look like she was struggling, though; her ghostly face was slack and the empty-but-peaceful stare had returned to her eyes.

  ‘Okay,’ said Juliet, ‘but I need to know before you disappear, did Aldrich leave a spirit behind?’ She held her breath.

  ‘No, he didn’t leave a ghost. I checked when he died. He was never … entirely human. And in the end, I think he wanted to die.’

  Juliet released the breath with a sigh. ‘Thank you.’ More questions nagged her. ‘So is this what you wanted? Are you able to move on now?’

  The air buzzed around Samantha, seeming to glow. ‘You’ve brought the truth to my family. That’s what I wanted. But I can’t move on yet. There are too many possible outcomes for the future. I will watch over my family for a while longer.’

  All Juliet seemed able to give in response was a smile. I wonder if any spirits watch over me.

  ‘Juliet,’ said Samantha, ‘please don’t be so hard on Nicolas.’ She vanished.

  Although happy to have helped, Juliet desperately hoped that would be the last time she saw the spirit of Nick’s mum. It was unfair of Samantha, telling Juliet to be less hard on Nicolas. It wasn’t him who frightened her. But how could she be with him and not think of what his brother had done? Not only that, choices she had made also led to Aldrich’s murder. The Crystan family would be a reminder of her stupidity.

  An acidic grumble erupted in her stomach, but the thought of having a full meal right now nauseated her. Downstairs, she cautiously ate a breakfast bar.

  After walking to the living room and curling up on the sofa, she thought of when the redecorating of Chanton Hillview would be complete, wondered how much of the diet and nutrition home-study course she had left, stressed over how little Spanish she’d learnt, remembered how she’d cance
lled her Sunday shift at the charity shop last minute, and imagined keeping up her exercise routine. Then she huffed, gazing around at the size of her house and mentally picturing the scale of the garden. So much maintenance. Knowing she’d taken all of it on by choice further irritated her.

  It’s too much.

  Under her skin, it was like thousands of tiny screaming worms were wriggling about, pushing and pulling her in different directions. She wanted so badly to get away, go somewhere, anywhere. It seemed as if the room were crushing down upon her, treating her as a small, helpless, and pitiful thing.

  With a new determination, she stood up, returned to the bathroom, searched the filthy jeans she’d left on the floor, and found her mobile. About to tap out a text to her mother, she realised she had a message from Roy. The text read:

  Some1 came 2 work 2day. Looking 4 u. They r going 2 visit u later.

  She shook her head at his lazy text. Her first thought was ridiculous but caused a panic: Is it the police looking for me? But how could it be? Roy would have said, and also, they couldn’t have known about Aldrich’s death before it even happened. Stupid. Thinking of the authorities, she put her stained clothes in the wash in case the dirt was somehow evidence.

  Whoever was looking for her was apparently going to visit tonight, so she decided to just wait and see. She opened a new text and added her mother as the recipient:

  Hi, Mum. I’m going to come to Spain for a few weeks. I need to get away from this island, just for now.

  Can you book me flights for Wednesday please, and can I stay with you and Dad?

  Wednesday would be fine. It was short notice, but she could close Chanton Hillview if Roy didn’t want to cover her for that long. She’d pay the staff whether it was kept open or not, and she could always wait until she got back to see the new décor.

  There was a knock at the front door. Her thumb hovered over the send button, but then she placed her mobile on the sofa and anxiously advanced on the door. She half opened it.

  A woman stood outside. Her hair was silvery-grey, thin, and shoulder-length. She was short and wore a thick brown winter coat, a grey scarf, and matching gloves. Juliet recognised her features, but the lady’s skin was too leathery, too wrinkled. The resemblance was uncanny. It can’t be.

  The woman’s eyes glistened with delight as she smiled. Her teeth were uneven and had the yellow sheen of age, but her grin was beautiful and genuine. It is.

  Juliet swung the door open fully. Her jaw dropped into a shocked yawn and her eyes stirred with tears. ‘Gran?’

  Her grandmother lookalike had a warm smile on her face. ‘Juliet,’ the old lady said wistfully, then stepped forward for an embrace. Juliet took a sharp step back.

  The air around the woman wasn’t twitching. It looked normal. Juliet cautiously extended her right arm and touched the lady’s shoulder. She was solid. ‘You’re not dead,’ she confirmed aloud.

  ‘Dead? Sweetheart, why would you think that?’ The aged version of her grandmother asked.

  Even as the woman spoke, Juliet nostalgically recognised her voice. ‘You died when I was thirteen.’

  With a bewildered expression, the lady said, ‘Is that what your mother told you? That I was dead? I knew my daughter could be spiteful, but I never expected she would tell such a lie.’

  ‘It really is you, Gran. Isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, sweetheart.’ The way she said ‘sweetheart’ was gentle and authentic.

  In her head, Juliet heard the stark contrast between her mother’s false, mechanical manner of speech and how genuine this elderly woman sounded. Gran … She’s my Gran. ‘I don’t understand,’ said Juliet. But then she did understand. The sudden realisation hauled along with itself a mountain of anger. Why? Why would Mum do that? ‘Where have you been for the past twelve years?’

  ‘May I come inside, please? I’m letting the cold into your home.’

  Juliet stepped aside. Her grandmother walked prudently in her age, then paused to admire the house. ‘It looks so different from how I remember it,’ she said expressively. ‘Although, I can still see you standing right there, Juliet.’ She pointed at a spot in the hallway. ‘It’s a funny memory; you ran up to me and asked if my hair was a wig. Oh, I had to laugh!’ And she laughed again now, a genial hoot. ‘Your father always told you little fibs about me. Do you remember?’

  It took a moment, but Juliet recalled the memory and how awkward she had felt at her gran’s reaction. ‘I remember, yes.’

  Her gran laughed some more. ‘And now, years later, I still have my hair. It may be grey, but at least it’s mine.’

  ‘You look wonderful, Gran. But I … I need to know why you haven’t come to see me for all these years.’

  ‘Of course. I know. I would love to sit down. Do you have tea? I can make it myself.’

  Juliet nodded towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll make it. How do you have it?’

  Soon they were in the kitchen, and Juliet motioned a hand towards the dining table. Her gran sat down.

  While the tea brewed, so did Juliet’s mind. Why did Mum lie to me? In her thoughts, she stirred the moment when she’d told her mother about the car incident. The way her mum had showed so little concern, Juliet might as well have talked about the weather.

  Startling herself, Juliet unintentionally slammed the drawer shut when she got out a teaspoon.

  ‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ asked her gran.

  ‘I will be in a minute.’ With a deep breath, she finished preparing the tea, then realised she didn’t know her gran’s name. It had always been ‘Gran’ to her when she was younger. And after her grandmother had ‘died’, she never asked her parents questions about her, or if she had she didn’t remember. ‘What’s your name, Gran?’

  ‘I go by Lillian Kitchener now.’

  ‘Kitchener? That’s not my mother’s maiden name.’

  Lillian smiled in an almost sad way. ‘No, it’s not. I’ll explain.’

  Juliet handed over the mug and offered to hang up her gran’s coat. Lillian took off her gloves, put them in a pocket, then removed her scarf and coat and passed them to Juliet. After hanging the items near the front door, Juliet returned. She sat with a straight spine and waited.

  ‘I’ve been living in England,’ Lillian began. ‘In fact, I’ve always lived in England, in Bath. I used to visit here to stay with your parents, so that I could see you.’

  Juliet remembered now, recalling the excitement she’d felt each time she knew her gran was coming to stay … and then the sudden news that Lillian wouldn’t be visiting again. She clenched her teeth. How heartless had her mother been to tell a thirteen-year-old girl that her living gran was dead?

  ‘You were about eight, I believe, when your parents won the lottery,’ said Lillian. ‘You must recall moving into this house, suddenly going on more holidays, and having everything you wanted bought for you.’

  She did, although the memories of where she used to live were faint. It had been a small townhouse in Amiton, and that was all she cared to remember. But she did have strong images of the first time she’d seen this place. The size of it was like nothing she’d ever dreamed of at that age.

  ‘How did you know Mum and Dad weren’t still living here now?’

  ‘I didn’t. Not until today. I just wanted to see you. If your mother or father had answered the door … Well, then I certainly wouldn’t have left until they told me where I could find you.’ Lillian nodded as if affirming to herself that she really would have stood her ground. ‘I came here this morning but no one was home, so I knocked at the house across the road. The gentleman there told me you lived here alone and that you owned the Chanton Hillview. He reckoned you’d be working today. I headed over to find that it was closed, but I knocked away on the door anyway, and a lovely black man came to talk to me. He told me you weren’t working today, so I resolved to come back here this evening. I’ve been on quite the adventure!’

  Not compared to what I’ve been through. Juliet had a
lmost brushed aside the events of her day. For now, it was easier to ignore it all, especially with this new discovery. ‘Why wouldn’t my mum or dad let you see me?’

  ‘Your mother and I had a disagreement. It was her decision that I couldn’t see you anymore.’

  ‘What did you disagree over? And why would you listen to her? You could have disobeyed her and let me know you were alive.’ Juliet’s voice rose steadily.

  ‘I didn’t know of the lie she told you I. I thought that maybe you would seek me out when you were older.’ Softly, she began to cry, shaking her head guiltily.

  ‘No, don’t cry, Gran. I didn’t mean to shout at you. I’ll get you a tissue, one moment.’ Juliet found her handbag and passed over an open pack of Kleenex.

  ‘Thank you, sweetheart. It’s not your fault that I’m upset. I do blame myself for not coming to see you.’ Lillian’s voice faltered occasionally through her sniffling, but it grew in strength as she went on. ‘It was my pride that stopped me.’

  ‘I still don’t know what you two argued over.’

  ‘I should give you some understanding first. Your mother was a single child and she was always a daddy’s girl. My relationship with her was never stable. When your grandfather died, before you were born, your mother and I struggled to get on. But then when she had you, we started to get along again. For a while.’

  Juliet listened attentively. She’d always taken her mother’s reticence regarding Lillian to mean nothing, and would never have thought it was because of long-lasting relationship problems.

  ‘We had a few arguments when you were very little.’ Lillian shook her head. ‘Your mother thought I was interfering, trying to tell her how to bring you up, but these were never significant arguments. It was when your parents won the lottery that it became worse. I couldn’t stand the way they treated you, sweetheart. Everything became about money. They spoilt you, but that wasn’t the problem. What I didn’t agree with was that when all you needed was a hug, a kiss, a simple bit of attention, they didn’t know how to give that to you. They would just buy you needless gifts.’