Broken Bayou

by Rhonda R. Dennis

“So, if I walk up to you and tell you that your hair looks nice up like that?”

  I smile. “I’d thank you for the compliment.”

  “It does, you know. It looks really pretty.”

  “Thank you.” I relax my guard some.

  “And that dress. Very nice.” He bites his lower lip.

  “Okay, we’re going back into creepy territory.”

  “Gotcha,” he says. “Guess that now’s not the right time to tell you I have fresh sheets on my bed?”

  “Ewww, no Richie.”

  “Can I get a do over?”

  “No.”

  “Please?”

  “No.” The waitress hands me my coffee and my bagged breakfast sandwich. “Have a good day, Richie,” I say, passing the waitress a bill and leaving the café as quickly as possible. He mumbles something as I’m leaving, but the jingling bell on the door prevents me from making it out.

  Once I get to the office, I take about five minutes to regroup. I leave my computer off, unplug the phone, and kick off my shoes as I recline the office chair back as far as I dare before reaching the tipping point. Cal barges into the room, and I find myself on the floor.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, helping me up.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I say, slowly standing.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s okay. You probably saved me from missing my class. I was just about to fall asleep.”

  “The dream?” he asks. I nod. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish there was something I could do to make it all go away.”

  “I know. The dream is disturbing, but it’s the why that keeps me on edge.”

  “Understandable. Have you thought of paying a visit to one of the psych professors?”

  “And let the entire school know I’m nuts? No thanks!”

  Cal laughs. “Just a suggestion, and you’re not nuts.”

  “Yeah, well that hasn’t been determined officially.”

  “As Felton would say, I know nuts, and nuts you ain’t,” Cal says doing a nearly spot on impersonation of his father. I laugh.

  “I appreciate the confidence.”

  “No problem. Okay, I came in for a little bit of lovin’ to get me through the day. You game?”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Heavy kissing, light petting. Although I want much, much more, I’m not going to be greedy.”

  “How about light kissing and heavy petting? That way my makeup doesn’t get smudged,” I playfully tease.

  “I like the way you think,” he says, pulling me in closely for a sweet and gentle kiss. My cell phone rings, and I let out a groan. “Well, that was fun,” Cal says with disappointment.

  “You know it was bound to happen,” I say, reaching for my phone.

  “I’m going to class. See you tonight?”

  I nod and wave as I answer the phone. “Hello.”

  “This is Felton. You got a second?”

  “Hi, yeah. I have a couple of minutes.”

  “I’m at the station poring through these files, and I haven’t found one picture that indicates that anything you’re seeing is accurate. No peacock feathers, no rings, nothing. I was giving your situation some thought, and I’m not sure if you’re a religious kind of person, but maybe you should consider paying Father Donnelly a visit. He told me he’d met you, and he’s pretty good at helping people figure out their problems.”

  “I’m really not religious…”

  “Just keep in mind that you don’t have to be to talk to a priest. All in all, he’s just a person.”

  “I suppose. Do you really think he can help?”

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “I’ll think about it. Thanks for looking through the pictures for me. I was going to go to the library this afternoon, but I guess there’s not much point now.”

  “Yeah, well if you have any more questions, just give me a call.”

  “Thanks, Felton.”

  “Anytime, darlin’.”

  I end the call and quickly gather my things for class. I’m a few minutes late, but the majority of the class is still seated. I’m told by one of the students that Billy refused to stay, so I make a note to talk to him about the fifteen minute policy. Class runs very smoothly, and I’m finally feeling more like myself once the workday is done.

  I think about stopping in at the library just for the hell of it, but knowing that Cal is coming for dinner changes my mind. I run to the grocery store to pick up a few things before heading home. I’m disheartened to catch a glimpse of the blue car with dark tinted windows behind me. I immediately search for Brant’s number and press dial.

  “Major Collins.”

  “Brant, this is Cheyenne. The blue car’s back.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Just leaving Frankie’s Supermarket. It’s about three cars back, but it’s definitely the same car.”

  “You’re not too far from where I’m at. Don’t go home. Do you know where Riverview Park is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Head this way, but don’t speed or do anything else to let this person know that you’re onto him. Just keep it as normal as possible.”

  “Okay. I’m turning down the street with the post office.”

  “Good. Keep coming this way.”

  I glance in the rearview; the car’s still there but about five car lengths back now. I relay the information to Brant, and he continues to encourage me in his direction. I’m making the turn into the park, but the car keeps going past the entry gates. Brant throws shells up as he takes off after the vehicle. “I’ve got it from here, Cheyenne. Go on home, and I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  After ending the call, I do as instructed, even though I really want to follow Brant to see what happens. Cal is in the driveway when I arrive.

  “Hey! Get lost?” he asks, opening the car’s back door to grab the grocery bags for me.

  “No. I was being followed again.”

  “What? Are you okay? What happened?” he asks, looking up and down the street.

  “Brant’s on it. I called him as soon as I noticed the car.”

  “Good because this is getting ridiculous.”

  “I agree,” I say, following him up the stairs then unlocking the door. One glass of wine is down, and supper is almost ready to be served when there is a knock at the door. Cal opens it to find Brant on the other side. The two men introduce themselves quickly before Brant makes his way over to sit at the kitchen counter.

  “Here’s the deal. I followed him for a while, and then he took off. I kept up with him the entire time, but he double backed then went into a pond. By the time I got there, he’d already jumped from the car and was spotted in the tree line. If he’d still be out there in the woods, we could send some dogs after him, but right on the other side of the tree line is a highway. We lost him. I don’t know if someone picked him up, or what, but there was no trace of him.”

  “Do you know who he is?”

  “No. He’s a white male who was wearing bulky clothes. That’s all I could make out before he got into the tree line.”

  “What about the car? Can’t you run the plates?” Cal asks.

  “We did. It’s stolen.”

  I sigh. “Any chance it was just a coincidence? I have no clue why someone in a stolen car would have any interest in me.”

  “Possibly, I suppose. Stranger things have happened, but I lean more towards the fact that you were being followed. Have you been honest with me about all of your interests?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Anything illegal going on that you might be scared to report to me? Drugs? Anything of the sort.”

  I rapidly shake my head. “No. Never.”

  “Well, we really don’t have much to go on. You’ve got a security system; use it. You have my number in case you notice anything off; call. What about the secret admirer? Still getting surprises?”

  “They’ve slacked off a lot, but I do ge
t them occasionally.”

  “Keep me posted on all of that,” Brant says. I nod.

  “Thank you for all of your help,” I reply.

  “Well, it wasn’t much help. I was hoping to get this mystery solved.”

  “I know the feeling. Say, would you like to stay for dinner? I’m just finishing up some shrimp linguine.”

  “I wouldn’t want to impose…”

  “No imposition. Please, I insist.”

  “I’m not one to turn down a home cooked meal. I’ve been eating out or microwaving dinners since my wife left a few months ago,” Brant says.

  “Well, we have plenty. Would you like something to drink?” I ask, topping off my wine glass.

  He starts to unbutton his shirt. “I’m off duty, so I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re having, if it’s okay.”

  “Of course,” I say, reaching for a wine glass while he removes his vest. He’s left in a t-shirt and uniform pants once he takes off his gun belt. I offer to put them in the bedroom, but Brant insists that he can do it. I’m stirring in a bit of freshly chopped parsley into the linguine when he calls from the bedroom.

  I look to where he’s pointing and notice that gently swaying in a slight breeze is balloon bouquet. “How in the hell did that get on the bedroom balcony? Please don’t tell me someone climbed the wall, because I don’t even see how a superhero could scale that sucker without a ladder.”

  “My guess is that it was tossed up. See how one of the balloons is tangled in the rail?”

  I sigh. “Do you think this has anything to do with the person who was following me?”

  “I think your theory about a love sick student is more in line with this,” he says, pulling some of the balloons close for inspecting. “I doubt the guy who crashed into a pond to evade arrest would go out of his way to leave you sappy balloons. Seriously?” He holds up a Mylar that is shaped like an owl. “You’re a hoot?”

  “Yeah, they’ve all been equally cheesy,” I mention, pulling the bouquet inside so I can pop the balloons and get them into the garbage. Once that’s done, we sit at the dinette to enjoy our meal. The conversation is mostly small talk, but towards the end of the evening, after several glasses of wine, the topic shifts to my nightmares. Brant offers to research the case for me, but once I tell him about Felton already doing so he nods.

  “That’s probably the best person to talk to about it all, especially since he was one of the responding officers.” He looks to Cal. “I didn’t get to know your dad very well because he retired not long after I entered the department, but I’ve heard lots of stories.”

  “Good ones, I hope.”

  “For the most part. I heard that even though he liked people to think he was a bad ass, he was quite the prankster.”

  Cal nods. “That’s the truth.”

  “Yeah, they used to be able to get away with a lot more stuff back then. Things weren’t so freaking PC. You could cut loose and not give a shit about offending someone else.”

  “You’re right. A lot of that stuff would be frowned upon at the very least. He’d probably be on the receiving end of quite a few law suits now days.”

  My eyes widen. “What kind of things did your dad do?”

  “Nothing that would truly hurt anyone, but many would whine about now—like scaring the crap out of prisoners. Lord knows they probably deserved it, and who knows, maybe it actually scared some of them enough that they didn’t commit crimes again. But criminals have more rights than anyone else these days, so things like that can cost you your job now.”

  “Ah, I see. It’s the same in every profession now. We have to walk on eggshells sometimes with our students because everyone’s quick to file a grievance. It’s really sad,” I say.

  Brant raises his wine glass. “To the old days.” Cal and I clank our glasses against his before we all drink. The meal wraps with Brant offering to help with the dishes, but Cal and I insist it’s unnecessary. I’m showing him out when he mumbles, “What the fu…. you saw that, right?” he asks, pointing to the small red blur dashing through the darkness. We’re no longer able to see it, but from the sound of rustling leaves, it’s clear that it’s near the far corner of the fenced-in yard. The sounds grow fainter until silence once again fills the night.

  “That’s another issue I’ve been having ,” I mention.

  “I looked up the history of this place. That,” he says, pointing in direction of the red blur, “combined with that…” He points to the shadow of Agnes in the window above. “Combined with all of the other stuff… I’m surprised you’re still living here.”

  “Everything is great as long as I stay inside,” I answer.

  “What was it?”

  I shrug. “I wish I knew.”

  “I don’t believe in ghosts,” Brant states.

  “I don’t either.”

  “I’m going home,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “Call if you need anything. Wait. Are you playing a joke on me?”

  “Sorry to say, no. It’s just another one of those unexplained issues that seem to be plaguing me lately. I’ll call if I need anything. Thanks again,” I say, smiling because I remember being right in his confused frame of mind about the red blur not that long ago. The shock has pretty much worn off for me. I still have no clue what’s haunting the courtyard, but at least it doesn’t scare me anymore. I wave goodbye to him, but it’s lost because he doesn’t bother looking back. I join Cal on the sofa, plopping heavily onto the cushion beside him. He puts his hand on my knee.

  “Been one hell of a day, huh?” he asks.

  “That’s an understatement,” I answer.

  “Ready for bed?” he asks.

  “You’re staying the night?”

  “I thought I might. You okay with it?”

  “Are you staying because you want to, or because you feel an overwhelming urge to try to protect me?”

  “Both.”

  “Cal, I’m okay. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can, but it’s a guy thing. Tell you what—you let me stay, and I’ll give you first whack at any intruder stupid enough to come here.”

  “Deal,” I say with a grin. I dash from the sofa. “I call the shower first.”

  “First?” he calls after me. “Isn’t showering a tandem sport?”

  “Not tonight, honey,” I tease, practically shutting the door in his face. He bangs on the door. “I hear that ghosts and crazy stalkers like to attack in bathrooms. It’s really a matter of safety. The buddy system saves lives, Cheyenne.”

  I crack the door. “Cute, but not funny. Come on in here,” I say. He smiles broadly once he’s in the room.

  “Want me to strip for you?” he asks, gyrating his hips as he pulls off his belt.

  I laugh. “No! We have an early day tomorrow. Shower. Bed. Sleep.”

  “You’re no fun,” he teases, dejectedly tossing his belt onto the floor.

  “But you still love me, don’t you?” I ask.

  “Always.” He pulls me near. His tone gets very serious. “Please stay safe. I need you in my life.”

  “I’m trying. Hopefully, we’ll get some answers and these incidents will soon be distant memories.”

  He kisses me. “Let’s hope so.”

  I’d been asleep for hours when my body seizes from fright while the dream plays out once again. The emotions are more intense because sound is finally incorporated into my dream. A song plays in the background as I make my way through the house, but it’s not a full song. It’s just a snippet that keeps repeating over and over—like a record player that keeps skipping to the same spot. The piece is classical, and something I can’t identify, but an intense feeling of dread comes over me when I hear it. The composition is beautiful, and not really ominous, but it stirs a lot of negative feelings within me.

  I’m sweaty and panting when I lurch from the bed. I fight with the bed sheet that’s tangled around my legs and upper arm for a bit before carelessly casting it in Cal’s direction. Tears fall
before I can stop them, and Cal pulls my trembling body into his arms.

  “Why won’t the dreams stop?” I plead.

  “They seem to be getting worse.”

  “They are. With each one, the scene becomes more vivid. This time I heard music.”

  “Music? Anything familiar?”

  “It’s something I’ve heard before—classical, but I don’t know the name or composer.” I shake my head in an effort to clear the mental fog enveloping my brain.

  “Do you want me to help you try to identify it? We can listen to some classical clips…”

  “Not right now. Maybe some other time.” I wipe my face with my hands and move to the window. “Oh, freaking great! The girl in red is back.” Cal joins me at the window, and we watch as the red dress falls from one of the trees and scampers across the yard. The darkness and shadows make it too difficult to make out any features other than a silhouette. Into the back corner and out of view she goes. “That’s it. I’m losing my mind.”

  “If you’re losing your mind, I am, too. I witnessed the same thing you did.”

  “Maybe my insanity is rubbing off on you.”

  “I doubt it. I think you’re stressed, confused, and afraid. You should talk to someone.”

  “I don’t want to go back to therapy. It would be like going back to high school once you’ve graduated.”

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s an accurate analogy…”

  “I feel as though I’d be taking a step backwards.”

  “I understand that, but sweetheart, you can’t keep this up.” Cal stands behind me rubbing my shoulders. “What about Father Donnelly?”

  I shrug. “Maybe so. He’s a priest, not a therapist, but I’m not joining his congregation. If this becomes a sales pitch to convert me, I’m gone.”

  “Fair enough. Father Donnelly will respect your wishes. He’s been a family friend for a long time. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you make some sense of these dreams.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’ll call him a little later—after the sun comes up,” I say sardonically.

  “Come on. I’ll hold you until you fall asleep.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I was going to fix a cup of coffee and watch some TV, but I like your idea better.”

  “Good. If you tell anyone I said this, I’ll disown you. Let’s get our snuggle on.”