Something in the Dark

by Pamela Cowan

  “You said your friend drove you home because you were too upset to drive?” he asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “And were you?”

  “What?”

  “Were you too upset to drive?”

  “I think I would have managed. Janice worries too much.”

  She placed her soda on the end table and crossed her arms. “Everyone worries about me too much. Who we should be worrying about is Muncie.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Austin did. She started with being pushed into the basement and her escape. Then she talked about finding Muncie and thinking he was dead and later her fear that he might die on the way to the hospital.

  “I’ve never been so afraid in my life. I know that sounds funny, given that I’m afraid so often. But it’s different. When I find myself in darkness that’s a special kind of scary. I have these, what my family used to call “episodes.” The fear reaches a certain point, and I just shut down, black out, and later I don’t remember anything. With Muncie I was scared too, but I couldn’t just “go away.” I had to drive. I had to take care of him. You understand?”

  “I think so. In this case the fear was more enabling then crippling.”

  “I suppose you could put it that way. It gave me more energy or courage or something. You should have seen me helping Muncie to the truck. I was so angry and scared at the same time. Here I am with this skinny little screwdriver but just determined I’d use it on anyone who got in the way.” Austin smiled at the image this conjured.

  “It’s been pretty awful for you lately,” Mark said, making it a statement.

  “Yeah, pretty damn awful. First Bunny and now Muncie. What happened to them has to be tied together somehow, but I just don’t see it. Why would anyone want to hurt them? What could they possibly have in common?”

  “Well, I can think of one thing. You.”

  “Me?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. You told me you were locked in the potting shed. How do you know the attacker didn’t mean to kill you? How do you know Muncie didn’t scare him away before he had the chance? What about the attack on Bunny? Could that have been a case of mistaken identity?”

  “But why Muncie? Surely he couldn’t be mistaken for me.”

  “No, but you told me it was Muncie who found you in the shed and got you out. What if the killer was frustrated that Muncie got in the way? What if it was retribution for his interference?”

  “That’s a lot of “what ifs”, but it sort of makes sense. At least as much sense as any other theory I’ve heard. God, it’s such a nightmare,” Austin proclaimed. “I’m beginning to get spooked.”

  “Well I could be completely wrong. In fact, I’m probably way off. I just wanted to throw the idea out there, as crazy as it might be. I just want you to consider everything and be careful.”

  “I’ll be careful, believe me. I’m too nervous not to be careful. I wish I had a dog. A nice big Rottweiler would do, or maybe a Doberman. I hear they always go for the throat. I would really appreciate a dog like that right now.”

  “Well, I can’t help you there,” Mark said with a grin. “I’m not packing a Rottweiler, but I would be willing to stay here tonight, if it would make you feel safer.”

  “You have got to be the world’s best therapist,” Austin enthused, an edge of nervousness tightening her throat. “Are you this way with all your patients?”

  “No, but not all my patients have a couch as comfortable as yours looks, and most aren’t dealing with a homicidal maniac. And most importantly, I just bought a boat, and if something happens to you, how will I make the payments?”

  “Now that last thing sounds like a valid reason to me,” agreed Austin, “but I’m still going to turn you down. I have a good support system. My friend Janice can spend the night if I get the willies, and a couple of the guys from my landscaping crew live just minutes away. I’ll be fine.”

  “I guess you will be. You’re pretty resilient from what I’ve seen so far.”

  “Plus, I’ve got your number.”

  “And I want you to use it. If you are feeling anxious or if anything else happens, or even if you just need to talk, I want you to promise you’ll call.”

  “I promise,” Austin agreed. She had been a little anxious about his offer to stay. No doubt a side effect of her struggle with Blake. But Mark’s pointed comment about her couch had reassured her that there was no hidden purpose behind his offer to spend the night.

  “Well, then, I guess I’ll get out of here. Let you get some rest. We’ll talk more in a couple days. You’re still planning to keep your appointment, aren’t you?”

  “Are you kidding? How else are you going to make those boat payments? I can tell you from experience that the bank is not your friend. They are not going to wait for you to find someone even more unstable.”

  “I appreciate your advice,” said Mark, a smile lighting up his dark brown eyes.

  “Well why not, it’s free,” Austin joked playfully. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “It’s a date.”

  As Austin watched Mark’s jeep drive away, she remembered how exhausted she was. Too tired to even walk to her bedroom, she stretched out on the couch, pulled one of her mom’s hand-knit Afghans over her, and in moments was deeply asleep.

  Chapter 20

  Austin woke, completely disoriented by her nap. Her body seemed unhappy to find that instead of morning, it was late evening. She still felt tired and achy, as if she were coming down with the flu.

  She hoped her nap wasn’t going to set off a round of insomnia. In college she’d thrown off her sense of time on several occasions, pulling all night study marathons. Nights of insomnia had usually been the price.

  Austin made a quick call to the hospital to find that Muncie was doing well but was asleep. Deciding she didn’t want to spend the rest of the night in a sleepy haze, she took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and changed into pajamas.

  While she performed these mundane tasks, her mind raced from one concern to another. Her first thought was that she had to find a way to get her truck from the hospital parking lot where she’d left it. She regretted having let Blake drive her home. Not only was she going to have to deal with the truck, but also there was that whole unpleasant scene with him. As she remembered, her feelings ranged back and forth, from righteous indignation to abject shame to guilt. The emotional overload made her nerves sizzle. As she brushed her hair she noticed her hands were trembling. If she could just find a resolution, know what was right.

  Would Blake have stopped if Mark hadn’t rang the doorbell? Had she overreacted? She had invited him in after all. She had encouraged him, at least she hadn’t discouraged him, not at first. How much had her phobia of being constrained, locked in, added to her reaction? And the most haunting thought of all, now that she was safe: had she just blown the possibility of the best relationship of her life?

  This had been a horrible day, she decided. She counted off the reasons. One, Muncie had been attacked. Two, she had almost slept with, and then had to fight off Blake, a virtual stranger. God, half the time she couldn’t even remember his last name. Three, she had discovered she was starting to like Mark, maybe a little too much. She made a face at herself in the mirror. Falling for her therapist. Just like every other lonely female on the planet. “Now isn’t that just typical,” she said, scolding her image. And four, she had no idea what to do about numbers 1 through 3.

  But Muncie was going to be fine, she reminded herself. At least that had turned out better than it might have. Blake was pretty secondary to that. She’d talk to him, on the phone at first, see how it went and whether she wanted see him again. Liking Mark wasn’t even really a problem, just something to be aware of. By the time she was finished with her nightly routine she had talked herself out of most of her anxiety and was suddenly hungry.

  Knowing she wouldn’t be ready for bed for some time she switched on the television on her way to the
kitchen. She’d make something nice and hot to eat, have some tea, take care of herself. By morning, everything would look better.

  Chapter 21

  In the morning Austin called the hospital and learned that Muncie had already been discharged. Relieved on one hand but annoyed that he hadn’t called, she tried his cell phone. Instead of ringing she went right into voice mail, so she suspected he hadn’t got around to charging it yet. She left a message for him to call her back, hung up, and called a cab.

  The cab dropped her off beside her pickup and she climbed in and drove straight to Muncie’s apartment. As she pulled into one of the guest slots she noticed a familiar blue Honda pulling out of her brother’s parking space. Before she could wave, Janice had turned onto the main street.

  She knocked on Muncie’s door, and when he opened it she was surprised to see that he looked as if nothing had ever happened. He was wearing a black T-shirt tucked into his usual washed out jeans and was barefoot. In his free hand he held a cup of coffee. His dark, reddish-brown hair was brushed neatly back out of his eyes and his smile was wide and immediate when he saw her.

  “Hey, it’s my hero,” he said. “Come in.”

  “You look great,” she said. “Where’s your bandage.”

  “Took it off once the bleeding stopped. Nothing to see but a couple stitches in the melon.” He lifted a section of hair and Austin winced at the sight of a shaved patch of skin and a trio of stitches.

  “That’s pretty.”

  “I bet. I still have a headache too, but hell, I’m alive. It’s sort of like coming out of a bad bout of the flu. You still feel a little crappy, but you know you’re getting better and the whole world looks good.”

  “I know what you mean”, she said, remembering a similar feeling after her nap the night before.

  “Coffee?” He asked, moving through his small studio toward the kitchenette.

  “Of course,” said Austin.

  “This is a special blend I picked up in Portland. You’re gonna love it.”

  Muncie’s apartment was small but neat. The kitchenette, basically a wall containing a mini fridge, two burner stove and oven, small sink and about three feet of counter space was to the right. He took a cup from a row of hooks under a cabinet and began to fill it with dark, rich coffee. The scent of it filled the air.

  Austin sat at the glass-topped table that had been designed, along with the ornate metal chairs, to be lawn furniture, but served as Muncie’s dining set. She glanced around the apartment casually, taking in the sparse furniture. There was a futon couch covered in dark blue, unfolded into a bed and covered with a blue and white quilt. A whitewashed entertainment center held a small television and a stereo system. A corner desk, also whitewashed, held a computer and a row of neatly aligned books and disks. Two orange buckets contained rolls of blueprints. The only thing out of place was a single coffee cup sitting in the sink.

  “So,” she asked. “Was that Janice I passed on my way in?”

  Without hesitation Muncie said, “Sure was. When she was leaving last night she offered to pick me up and bring me home this morning. Since she lives in town it seemed better than making you drive all the way out.”

  “Oh.” Austin said, unable to keep all traces of disappointment from her voice.

  “Hoping for a big fat secret? An affair maybe?” Muncie asked, handing her a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Austin admitted, taking a tentative sip of the coffee and then nodding her approval.

  “Thought you’d like it. Why wouldn’t it surprise you?”

  “You’ve always liked Janice, and she used to have a little crush on you in college.”

  “She did?”

  “Well, she thought you were cute anyway.”

  “Cute. Great. That’s what every guy wants to hear. That he’s cute.”

  “Handsome?”

  “Too late. So what’s up?”

  “Nothing’s up. I called the hospital and they told me you’d been discharged. I couldn’t reach you. By the way, charge your damn cell phone, will you?”

  He gestured to the counter where his cell phone sat in its charging unit.

  “Well, good. Anyway, I left my truck in town last night and since I had to come get it anyway, I thought I’d see how you were feeling. I know you’re hard-headed, but no one’s that hard-headed.”

  Her playful tone was at odds with the chill that swept through Austin at the memory of Muncie lying at her feet, blood soaking his hair. She put the coffee on the counter and rubbed her arms, but the chill went deep. It made goose flesh on her arms and made her bones feel like they were clanking under her skin, like icicles.

  “You okay?” Muncie asked.

  “Yeah, didn’t sleep well, that’s all. So, what are you doing today?”

  “I have to go to the police station this morning. They want to know if I remember anything else. Also, they’re sending an escort out with me to The Lake House, just to do some kind of safety check. Take a look around, you know.”

  “That’s good. It makes me feel better about you going out there. Actually, part of the reason I came over this morning was to ask you not to go there by yourself. But I guess I don't have to worry.”

  “Nope. Until they catch Will I’m playing it safe.”

  Austin bit back the reply that leapt to mind. She knew it would do no good to try to convince Muncie to give Will the benefit of the doubt. When it came to Will’s guilt, Muncie had no doubts whatsoever.

  “You know,” Muncie said, “I hate to bring this up but you were attacked at the house too.”

  Austin picked up her coffee and leaned against the counter. "I don’t know that I’d call it an attack,” she mused. “It was more like he was getting me out of the way, so he could go after you, or hide what he’d done to you. I’m not sure about the order of things. He didn’t try to hurt me and he couldn’t have known about how being in a dark basement would affect me.”

  “Maybe,” Muncie agreed reluctantly. “It’s sure a damn puzzle.”

  “Yeah, I keep wondering why I wasn’t hurt,” Austin agreed. “He didn’t hurt me, and somehow I didn’t hurt myself. If you saw how much damage I did to that door – you’d think I’d at least have a splinter or something.”

  “Or a broken nail,” Muncie teased.

  “You’d think,” Austin said, smiling at her big brother.

  “Then you’d really be pissed.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You still so sure Will is innocent?” Muncie asked, taking Austin by surprise.

  “I never said I was sure. I just thought we shouldn’t jump to conclusions about his guilt,” she replied. “You said you didn’t see him at The Lake House. Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I mean–I don’t know. How about you? Do you remember anything else about getting pushed into the basement, or after?”

  “Nothing clearly. I sort of have this sense that the guy was stronger, stockier than Will. You know Will is tall but pretty slender.”

  “Yeah, but you were scared, that could have made him seem bigger. Hell, how do we know he wasn’t a she?”

  “I suppose,” Austin sighed. She finished the last of her coffee and rinsed the mug, then set it in the sink next to its mate. “Next time you go to Portland, tell me and I’ll give you some money so you can pick up some of that for me.”

  “I thought you’d like it. But it might be some time before I get back to Portland. I’m not so sure I’m going to move back there. College? Come on. I’m too old.”

  “You’re thirty,” corrected Austin. “That’s not old. Besides, it’s a commuter college, half the students will be older than you are, and even if they aren’t, it didn’t seem to bother you before. What’s the real reason you don’t want to go?”

  “Money?”

  "Dad left you just as much as he left me, and from what I can tell you haven't touched a penny."

  "Well then, I guess I don't know the reason."

  �
�Well I do. You have some dumb idea that you have to hang around and hold my hand. I appreciate that you’ve helped me when I’ve needed it. I admit I’ve had a few rough times, but I’m better now and I need for you to see that, and to believe it.”

  “I do see it. You are doing great, just great,” he said facetiously. “One of your employees was just murdered. I found you unconscious not too long ago, and I know under your makeup you still have what was a pretty nasty black eye. Yep, you’re doing great.”

  “Ok, point taken, but you have to admit I’m handling all that pretty well. Haven’t even thought once about opening a vein.”

  “That’s not funny. Don’t joke about that.”

  “Ok. Ok,” Austin promised. Then she said, “I have to run. I have a lot of errands to take care of.”

  “Sure.”

  “And we’ll talk about this college thing some more soon.”

  “If we have to.”

  “We do.” Austin drew up the collar of her coat and stepped into the bright blue morning, shutting the door behind her.

  Her next stop would be Bunny’s parents' home. She dreaded the thought, but knew she had to do it.

  She pulled into the driveway of the ranch-style home on a quiet street in the suburbs. Its bright yellow walls and white trim was cheerful, its windows were gleaming, the lawn was well-maintained, with neatly edged flower beds and a row of rose bushes, their roots heavily mulched against the killing temperatures to come.

  She knocked on the door, waited, then rang the bell. There was no answer and no cars in the driveway, though that didn’t mean much. The family cars could have been inside the garage.

  After knocking one more time, Austin turned to go back to her truck and saw a middle-aged woman, with bright red hair and a jarringly purple sweater, hurrying toward her.

  “Are you here to mow the lawn?” she asked, shooting a glance at Austin’s truck and the sign on the door that read “Blue Spruce Landscaping” in large letters and in smaller script her phone and license numbers.