by Willow Rose
Except me. I could take it. I could continue for the rest of my life.
Chapter 41
August 2018
"You were on fire last night."
Jack sounded excited on the phone. Shannon had called him an hour before tonight's show to hear his voice.
"I just watched a piece on TV about you and about the concert," he said. "They said you're better than ever."
Shannon smiled. It felt good to talk to him again. She had been upset about the fact that he had given all that furniture to that Diane woman he used to date, but now it was like it didn't matter so much anymore. Shannon felt so much better, and she didn't really want to be mad at Jack. She wanted to be happy and dance and sing. Boy, how she wanted to sing.
"It was really good. I had tons of fun."
"How are you?" he asked.
"Great! Never better," she said, almost laughing. It was the truth. She couldn't remember feeling this good since before she had Angela. She felt so strong and like she had the energy of her twenty-year-old self. Like she used to be.
"That's awesome, Shannon," he said. "You're greatly missed, though. Tyler has been crying a lot today. He says he misses you."
"Oh, poor baby," she said. "He'll be fine, though."
Jack went quiet on the other end. "Are you sure you're okay?" he said after a little pause.
"I told you. I’m great. Like the tiger in the cereal commercial," she said and laughed. "GRRREAT!"
Another silence and Shannon looked at her makeup in the mirror. Her vision was a little blurry, so she blinked a couple of times till her face finally cleared. She even looked great. And best of all, her hand wasn't hurting at all. Not even one little eensy teensy bit.
Eensy teensy bit? Was that even a saying? It should be, she thought to herself. It really should.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Jack asked again.
Shannon turned away from the mirror. "Yes, Jack. You've asked me that three times. I’m fine. Really. I’m just very, very happy; that's all."
"That's…great," Jack said. "Listen…I have an issue with the twins. I have to go. Talk to you later. Have a wonderful concert."
"Oh, I will," Shannon said. "It'll be the best one yet."
They hung up, and Shannon put the phone down. She stared at it on the make-up counter in front of her, wondering if Jack had always been so boring. It was almost depressing to talk to him. He had kind of gotten her a little down, and that wasn't good right before a concert. Maybe she shouldn't call him so close to her concerts anymore. He used to make her feel good about herself, but today it seemed to have the opposite effect.
There was a light knock on the door, and her manager peeked inside. Shannon smiled blissfully.
"You ready to knock them out of the park once again?"
Shannon giggled. "Never been more ready in my life."
Chapter 42
August 2018
She was sitting in her kitchen, staring at the cabinets, drumming her fingers impatiently on the table that Jack had given her. Misty had lost interest in her and what she was doing long ago and was now strolling happily around like nothing had happened. Diane, on the other hand, couldn't find rest. Ever since Jean had told her what happened in her house, she had found it hard to find peace there.
She had even been stupid enough to research the murder. Online, she had found old articles with pictures from the scene, and it had made her even more uneasy when staying in the house alone.
Diane turned her head and looked at the floor. She had removed the wooden floors, and she could no longer see the blood, but that didn't matter. She still knew it was there; she knew that was where the father of the family had been murdered. It was the police's theory that he had been fighting the killer as he entered the house, that the dad had tried to protect his family, and that was why there had been so much blood. The killer had cut him with a knife, according to the autopsy report. He had bruises that signaled he had fought for his life. And for the lives of his loved ones.
Diane shuddered and looked away. Her eyes fell on the back door leading to the yard. The killer had come through that door when he entered. He had surprised the mother, who was in the middle of making lunches for her children before school.
Diane imagined her standing in her kitchen, making peanut butter sandwiches, then yelling at the kids that it was soon time to go. Had the kids been upstairs when the killer entered? They didn't know, but they were found up there, plastic bags wrapped around their small necks. Both the mom and dad were found up in their bedroom too. Staged, according to the police. Like they were on display. They didn't know for sure if the mother had been killed upstairs or in the kitchen before she was dragged up there along with her dead husband. Diane looked at the stairs where she had seen the blood. She could almost hear the father's head slam against the steps as he was dragged up there. Was he already dead or did he die upstairs? No one knew. Only the killer himself knew, and he was never caught.
The Monday Morning Killer, they had named him.
What a silly name.
Silly as it might be, it still brought goosebumps to Diane's neck, and she rose to her feet. She walked to the cabinet and grabbed herself a glass, then poured some water from the fridge and drank some. She looked at the cabinet door and wondered who in their right mind would lock her cat inside one of these cabinets.
Diane had a pretty good idea who it might be.
She emptied the glass, then walked toward the living room with the intention of going to bed, when the lights in her house suddenly went out. Diane let out a small scream as she realized she was now in total darkness. She ran to the counter and grabbed a knife from the block. With it firmly grasped in her hand, she looked around, reacting to a movement she detected coming from the living room.
She waited, panting and sweating for a few seconds till the movement approached her, then as she got ready to jump forward, she realized it was just her cat.
It was just Misty.
"Silly cat."
Diane bent down and grabbed the cat in her arm when she thought she heard another sound, like someone bigger coming toward her. She screamed loudly and held out the knife in front of her.
"W-who is there?"
Diane took a step forward when there was another sound. She gasped and looked to the side but couldn't see anything. Then she turned and looked to her left when she thought she spotted someone. Diane shrieked, then stormed for the back door. She slammed it open and ran into the yard, panting and without looking where she was going.
She ran straight into someone.
"Hey, hey, hey," the voice said. He grabbed her by the shoulders. "Diane, what's going on?"
Panting, Diane looked up, and in the light from his flashlight, she could see Dennis's face.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "You look awful."
Diane gazed back toward her house, then up at him again. "I…I thought, th-there was someone…the lights went out…w-what are you doing in my yard?"
"I was just…wait…you don't think that…I…? Oh, that's rich. No. I was just over here to check on the power lines. They run through your yard, see?" he said and shone his flashlight at them. "One of them came down. That’s what caused the power outage on the entire street. You thought I was…that I would…"
She shook her head. "No, no, of course not."
"The lights went out in all the houses in the street," he said. "That's why I came into your yard. A power line went down in your yard and caused it. I’m going back to call FPL now."
"I…I…Okay. So, it wasn't just my house?"
Dennis shook his head. "No, silly. Paranoid much, are we?"
Diane chuckled. "Yeah, well. When you live alone, sometimes your imagination can run away with you, right?"
He nodded with a skeptical look. "Right. Well, I'll get back and call them. Camille and the kids are playing hide and go seek with flashlights. They love the stuff. Say, are you going to be all right?"
She nodded.
Dennis smiled. "All right. Let me know if you're not. I’m right across the street, okay?"
"O-okay."
"You don't have a flashlight in your house?" he asked just as he was about to leave.
She shook her head. "No."
"Here. Have mine. You’re in Florida now. You need a flashlight. Power outages are almost an everyday thing during thunderstorm season. Not to mention when the hurricanes come. You've got to stay prepared in these parts. Prepared for anything to happen."
He said the last part with a wink and Diane took the flashlight, her hands still shaking.
Dennis then turned around and walked out of her yard. Watching him leave, Diane found her cell phone in her pocket and dialed a number that she had sworn she wasn't going to dial again.
Chapter 43
August 2018
"Tyler is such a pain in the a…"
I raised my finger in front of Abigail. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."
Next to her, her brother closed his eyes and I knew he was wishing she would. He loved it when Abigail got herself in trouble and often would do anything he could to make her. Meanwhile, he had that innocent act going on, but I was on to him.
Abigail stopped. "But he is. He took my favorite slime and poured it in the toilet. It was my favorite, Dad."
"He's a kid, Abigail. He doesn’t know what he's doing half the time. Can't you just make something new?"
She looked disappointed. "I could, but…"
"But what?"
"Colin made it for me."
"Colin?" I asked.
"Yes, Colin. The kid who lives next door," Abigail said, annoyed that I didn't know who he was. "Don't you ever keep up?"
"I’m sorry I don't know who Colin is," I said, “but in case you haven't noticed, I’ve been quite busy around here."
"He's Abigail's bo-o-yfriend," Austin said, mocking her.
"He's not."
"He so is."
"Is not."
"Okay, stop," I finally broke in. If I didn't stop them, they could go on like that for hours, and I was—to be perfectly honest—completely worn out. I was done listening to the kids argue.
"Go get ready for bed," I told them.
"But, Daaa-a-d, we still have half an hour. We never go to bed till nine o'clock."
I bent over and looked my daughter in the eye. "Make an exception."
"Ah, man," she said and walked off, shoulders slumped.
The two other A's followed her up the stairs. Meanwhile, I picked up seven different toys that Tyler had placed in strange places. I had put Tyler down right before his sister had discovered the slime in the toilet, luckily. Otherwise, I wasn't sure he would still be alive. It always amazed me how great a difference there was between my own kids and the children I met in my line of work. I often wanted to tell my kids about them, teach them to be more grateful, but I also had to realize I couldn't blame them for being normal, for not knowing the evil that lurked out there, for not knowing that their life could change forever in less than a second. That was, after all, the difference between being a child and an adult. The belief that nothing bad could ever hit you. It was an innocence I wanted my kids to keep. An innocence I so often saw being ripped out of children when meeting them at work.
I threw Tyler's toys in the basket in the living room and closed the lid. I stared out at the ocean. It was so dark out there, and I couldn't even see the beach. I sighed and missed Shannon more than ever. I kept worrying about her, especially after I had spoken to her earlier. She had sounded so off. Something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. She wasn't herself; that was for sure. I was wondering if this tour was getting to her, if it was becoming too much.
I didn't get to finish the thought before my phone rang. It was Diane. She spoke without breathing.
"Jack. It's Diane. I had promised myself I wouldn't call, and I was certain I wouldn't because I didn't want you to think that I, I mean I don't, I really don't, but I think I might…"
"Diane, calm down," I said. "You're not making much sense here. What's going on?"
There was a pause, and I realized she was crying on the other end.
"Diane?"
"I’m scared, Jack. I’m so scared."
Chapter 44
August 2018
"I’m so sorry to call you out here like this. I really am. Dragging you away from your kids and everything."
Diane showed me inside her beach house and locked the door behind me. She stared at me with almost mad eyes.
I grabbed a chair and sat down in her kitchen.
"That's okay, Diane, my mom came over to put them to bed. She'll stay with them till I get back. What's going on? You said you were scared?"
She sat down across from me. I could see her hands trembling when she bit her nails.
"What's going on, Diane?" I asked.
"It's this house," she said, shaking her head. "It's driving me crazy."
"Take it from the beginning, would you?"
"You know the blood, right? On the floors?"
"Yes, you showed me."
"There was someone killed here," she said. "An entire family. Father, mother, and two children. Massacred in this house. Right over there. That's where the dad was killed, murdered."
I nodded. "I know, Diane. I’ve recently…come across this news as well. They called him the Monday Morning Killer. He raged this town back in the seventies and eighties. But no one has heard from him since. His last killing—that we know of was in nineteen-eighty-four, ten years after he began, he suddenly stopped. No one knows what happened to him then. He might have died in a car accident or gotten himself killed somehow. He might also have been in jail, or maybe he just stopped. It's been known to happen."
"And the new killings?" she asked. "Is that him too? Has he come back?"
I shrugged. "He could have. Might have resurfaced somehow. Or maybe someone is copying him. We don't know yet. It's been known to happen. You know, in sort of a weird way to honor him."
Diane swallowed. "Should I be afraid?"
"I can't see why you would be more scared than anyone else."
"Because I live in the house where he killed his first victims?" she asked.
"He has no history of returning to his crime scenes, so I don't think there is any need to be afraid of that," I said, trying to sound as reassuring as I was capable. Fact was, I was nervous for her since I feared that the fact that she had moved into this particular house was the reason why this killer had resurfaced. But I didn't want to frighten her. There was no reason why this killer should return to this house.
Unless he wants to relive his first thrill.
"I’m sure you'll be fine," I said. "Now, tell me what scared you so much tonight?"
She stared at me for a few seconds. "Today, when I came back home, all the cabinet doors in my kitchen were open, except one. Inside that one, I found my cat. Later on, all the lights went out. My neighbor said it was a power outage."
I leaned back in my chair.
"It scared me, Jack."
"All the cabinets were open? And you're certain you didn't leave them that way when you left and just forgot about it?"
She looked at me like I was an idiot. She had lit a bunch of candles everywhere, and I was slightly nervous she might end up burning the entire house down, but she had told me she needed there to be as much light as possible till FPL managed to get the power back on.
"And leave my cat inside one of them so he couldn't get out and eat? How crazy do you think I am?" Diane asked.
"Of course not. I don't think you're crazy at all, just making sure. And the power?"
"I met my neighbor Dennis in my yard."
I wrinkled my forehead. "What was he doing in your yard?"
"He said the power line fell in my yard and caused the power outage."
"And this happened right after the lights went out? You ran into your yard? How did he know so quickly that the problem was in your yard?" I asked. "It co
uld have been anywhere in the street?"
"That's what I want to know," she said.
"Sounds a little off to me," I said. "Can I take a look at that power line?"
"Sure," she said and stood up. She grabbed a flashlight and turned it on. "I'll show you."
Chapter 45
August 2018
"It's been cut."
I looked at Diane and shined the light at the dangling power line so she could see for herself.
"With a knife," I said. "This was no accident. There's even a ladder over there, see?"
"That's my ladder," she said. "Or…it belongs to the house. It was in the shed when I moved in."
"I see," I said and shone the light around me to see if I could find any traces or even a footprint in the grass, but there was nothing. It had been unusually dry for the season, and we hadn't had any thunderstorms for at least a week.
Diane looked at me. She grabbed my arm. "I'm scared, Jack."
I nodded. "I understand, but…"
She shook her head. "Not of him. I mean, yes, I’m scared of the killer too, but I think it might be someone else who did these things."
I stared at her. "What do you mean?"
"I haven't really told you why I moved here, have I?" she asked rhetorically. "I haven't told anyone."
"I’m listening."
"I have sort of…run away. I mean, I’m trying to get a divorce; I will eventually, but I just couldn't…he just wouldn't…he wouldn't stop, you know?"
"I’m assuming you're talking about your ex-husband?" I said, sensing a piece of the puzzle falling into place.
"Yes. He was…"
"Abusive?"
She nodded her head. "Not in a physical way. It was more in that he dominated me and told me what to do and when to do it and, little by little, isolated me from the world and the people who loved me. Once I realized what he was doing, it was too late. He controlled every little detail of my life like when I woke up in the morning, what I wore to work, who I spoke to, what I ate for lunch and with whom. He even controlled when I showered. I can't tell you when it all started; it sort of snuck up on me. I wanted to please him; I wanted to keep him happy, and soon I had completely lost myself."
