Something in the Dark

by Pamela Cowan

  “The Ames aren’t here. Maybe you didn’t hear about their daughter?”

  “Yes, I heard.”

  “Well then I guess you didn’t hear that they sent her body to the family burial plot in Maryland. Can you imagine that, sending her all the way to Maryland, a girl who was born and raised right here. Why, what in the world is she going to do there? Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?” The strange woman rushed on, barely pausing for air. “They took it hard, you know. She was their third girl; the baby. They spoiled her, of course. Let her do any damn thing she wanted. She had nice brown hair one day and the next that white blonde. It was shocking. Then the next thing you know she’s moved away, got her own place, with who, that’s what I wonder?”

  “Do you know when they’ll be coming back?” Austin interrupted.

  “Not a clue. But then they aren’t that friendly you know. Keep to themselves, mostly. Religious of course, regular worship group meets here every Saturday. Not sure what religion that would be, meeting on Saturday, but there you are.”

  Austin found herself backing away and moving around her truck to escape the nasty, gossipy neighbor.

  “Kind of late to be mowing. Going to be snowing soon.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Well, thank you.” Austin climbed into her truck and slammed the door. The woman, who had followed Austin step for step to the driver’s side appeared to be waiting for Austin to do the polite thing and roll the window down. Instead Austin started the pickup and threw it into reverse, practically squealing her tires in her desire to get away.

  As she drove home, the realization that Bunny had finally gotten her wish and escaped Spruce only added to the sense of loss. Austin hoped that the memory of Bunny’s open smile, her distinctive white-blond hair and the mischievous glint in her wide blue eyes would haunt her forever. As long as she was not forgotten, in a way, Bunny would still be there.

  Chapter 22

  Austin spent a restless night and in the morning called Muncie.

  “Is this going to be a daily thing?” he asked, once he realized who it was.

  “I’m just worried about you.”

  “You saw me yesterday. Nothing much has changed, honest.”

  “You said you were going out to the house,” Austin said.

  “I did. I went in a patrol car. It was sort of cool. They checked everything out. They had already been there earlier so it was more just asking me things, where did stuff happen? What did I remember?”

  “So it went OK?”

  “Sure.”

  “So why aren’t you at work?”

  “Because I have a tiny headache. Not a tumor. Not a brain bleed. Just a headache. But I decided it would be a good idea to take one more day off.”

  “Good.”

  “Is it?” he asked.

  “Yes, at least this way I have an idea where you are.”

  “Control freak. What are you doing today?”

  “I don’t know,” said Austin. “Pick up some groceries. I have an appointment with my therapist in a little while.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Yeah,” she said awkwardly, “It seems to be. Well, if you’re really okay.”

  “I am really okay,” he reassured her, not keeping the exasperation out of his voice. “Now would you go already, you’re interfering with “Days of Our Lives.”.

  “I had no idea,” she said, trying to sound serious but unable to keep a smile out of her voice as she thought of her brother watching soap operas.

  At one o’clock that afternoon she stepped into Mark’s office and sat in the brown chair just as she had the last two times, but this time she wasn’t nearly as nervous. She felt comfortable here now, she realized, in this chair and with Mark.

  She rarely felt easy with new people so quickly. Of course, the nature of therapy, talking openly with someone, was bound to cut through some of the usual social meandering, but she’d seen therapists before. This seemed different.

  She tried to analyze how Mark made her feel. In some way he seemed as close as her brother. No, she decided, that wasn’t quite right. It was more as if he were an old lover, someone she’d had a long and intense affair with, shared an unusual intimacy with, so that even though the affair ended what was left was a mutual respect, a type of caring. If I believed in reincarnation, she thought to herself, I’d almost think we’d known each other in a past life. Or maybe I’m really just attracted to him and don’t know how to deal with it, so I’m making up stories in my head.

  Just the sight of Mark’s green and gray Columbia jacket, tossed carelessly over the back of the monstrous coach, filled her with a sense of warmth. It was hard to deny that, whether or not they’d shared a past life, she was definitely affected by him in this one.

  When Mark sat down, she smiled at him sheepishly, glad he couldn’t read her mind. She dug through her purse for the insurance forms he’d given her at their first meeting. He took them from her, tucking them between the pages of the yellow legal pad on his lap.

  “Tough week,” he said emphatically.

  “Understatement,” she said, agreeing.

  He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

  “The police called,” she finally said. “Know what they told me? They wanted to know where we all were last Sunday night. I thought Bunny was killed on Monday but it turns out I was wrong. It was Sunday night. She was out there for two whole days. I was there. Did I tell you? I was there on Monday. I had to check on something, and I hung around and made some calls. All that time Bunny was out there, like that, in the potting shed. It makes me sick when I think about it.”

  “There was nothing you could have done for her.”

  “I know, and it isn’t going to make me go off the deep end or anything. But still, it bothers me. And there’s something else.”

  “Yes?”

  “I have to go back. To the start of it. To the beginning.”

  “Please,” he urged.

  “I told you about the bomb shelter, remember?”

  “Who could forget?”

  “I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t remember getting locked in. All my memories are really my family’s memories. Memories of a story they told me. They said after the boys closed the bomb shelter door they couldn’t get it open. Eventually they told my mother, but she couldn’t open it either. She managed to flag down some MPs, and finally they managed to pry it open.

  “They found me in a state of shock. At first they even thought I was dead. My respirations were slow, my skin glossy and pale. There was blood all over my hands from where I’d torn my nails trying to get the door open, and a big bruise on my forehead where they think I rammed my head into the door. They thought maybe I’d concussed myself and had brain damage. They took me to the hospital and injected me with something that brought me out of it. I was fine then. No memories, but fine.”

  “No physical damage?”

  “Nothing they could find. Mentally? Emotionally? I don’t know. How can you measure? They said I was maybe a little quieter than I had been, but kids change, you know?”

  Abruptly, Austin got to the point. “Do you believe in evil?” she asked. “I mean real evil. Not just people who do thoughtlessly cruel things, or crazy people who have no empathy, but evil as an entity, a spirit, if you wish. Something that can reach out and interact with us. Do you believe in that sort of evil?”

  Mark took a moment to consider. “I don’t think so. I think most of that comes out of our superstitions, things that we can’t explain any other way. Hurricanes, floods, fires, people have often blamed natural disasters on evil. Is that what you mean?”

  “I don’t know. I guess lately, with everything that’s been going on, I’ve been thinking a lot about good and evil.”

  “Yes?”

  “They say when I came out of it I insisted that someone, or something, was in the bomb shelter with me, that I could hear breathing. They explained it away as an echo. But what if the
y were wrong? What if there was something there? It was a bomb shelter after all, built to serve a purpose that everyone was terrified of. Think of the fear that generation was forced to live with. They had the Cuban missile crisis, their kids being put through those awful drills, the defense books and the sirens. Couldn’t all that terror come together and form some sort of – thing?“

  “Thing?”

  “Or entity, or shadow or some dark presence, something in the dark?”

  “It sounds very Stephen King, Dean Koontz to me.”

  “I know, or like The Outer Limits. Ooooh eeee ohhhh.”Austin tried unsuccessfully to imitate the show’s theme music.

  Mark grinned and asked, “Is there a reason that you’re wondering about this?”

  “I don’t know. No, I guess not really. It’s just easier to think that there’s some sort of curse or something evil that has decided to poke around in my life. I guess I’m looking for a reason when there may not be one. I suppose you think my concerns about an old evil are just a way of expressing my current fears?”

  “Hey, no self-diagnosis,” Mark joked. “I’m the therapist, remember?”

  Chapter 23

  After much debate, Austin checked in on Muncie one more time. When his voicemail picked up, immediately she hung up. He had probably left his phone off for a reason. No doubt he was taking the rest of the day to relax. Maybe she should do the same.

  She opened her front door just as the phone began to ring and managed to get to it before the answering machine took over.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello. Austin?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Blake.”

  Austin’s stomach dropped.

  “Austin?”

  “I’m here, sorry.”

  “Have you got any dinner plans?” he asked.

  “No, I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “I really don’t feel like going out. Besides, I just had lunch.”

  “We can make it whatever time you like. We need to talk.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Listen, I’m really sorry about what happened. It will never happen again, I promise. I was stupid. I thought…well I obviously misread what you wanted. Please. Let’s just get something to eat and talk. Just talk,” he promised.

  “I don’t know. I really just planned to stay home tonight.”

  “So how about me coming out there?”

  Austin knew if he did that, she was in trouble. Her emotions were shredded. She was feeling too lonely and vulnerable. What if she surrendered to her desire to have a warm body in her bed by encouraging Blake, who she didn’t really trust. She wasn’t in the habit of picking up strangers, no matter how much she and Janice joked about such things.

  “No. You’re right,” she gave in. “I have to eat anyway. Company would be nice. Why don’t you meet me at the Blue Dolphin around six thirty. We’ll have a quick dinner and talk. Does that sound okay?”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll see you there in an hour.”

  “Good.” She hung up and took a deep breath. Damn. What had she gotten herself into? Well, maybe she did owe him a second chance. She had acted like a tease, inviting him in, letting him touch her. Maybe she had earned some guilt, and going out, when all she really wanted was a nice warm bed and a book to read, was a penance of sorts.

  It would also give her the chance to explain that she didn’t believe in one-night stands, though given those first few minutes at the table that might be a tough sell.

  Having made up her mind to give Blake a second chance, Austin began to think of their dinner as a date. For a while she distracted herself with housework and a crossword puzzle, but finally she had to get ready.

  She showered and changed from her jeans and white linen work shirt into a long black suede skirt, knee-high boots, and an emerald green turtleneck. She let her hair down and brushed it out. It fell in loose waves to the middle of her back. She put on a touch of blush, lined her eyes with a kohl pencil, and began to get nervous. As she leaned into the mirror to put on lipstick she felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach and noticed that her hands were trembling, just like the first time she’d gone out with Blake.

  She smiled at her image in the mirror. “What is this, high school? Grow up.” She made a face at herself.

  She expected to find Blake sitting at a table or booth but he was standing outside the diner leaning, as if posed, against the wall near the door. He couldn’t have dressed more to her liking if he had been handed a script. He wore a black cowboy hat, skin-tight jeans, and black boots. He had on a denim sheep’s wool-lined jacket and a fleece muffler wrapped loosely around his neck. He looked every inch a cowboy dressed up for town. She’d had a thing about cowboys since she’d read her first Zane Grey. But the cowboys she’d met since mostly wore dirty caps with tractor or feed store insignias, chewed and spit tobacco, and smelled like sweat and cows. She had yet to meet one who lived up to their full-blown, media-fed fantasy, until now.

  She looked up and smiled at him.

  “Come on. We’re going to a real place. I’m not taking you into this dive.”

  “What?”

  “I want to take you to a real restaurant. I can afford it, and you are way too beautiful for this place. You’d clash with the wallpaper.

  Austin couldn’t suppress her grin. “I was getting ready to tell you I would buy you dinner.”

  “And then say it’s been nice and goodbye?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Let’s try maybe not. I promise to be good. Can we please start over?”

  “We can try.”

  “Great, and let’s start somewhere memorable.”

  “What’s more memorable than a giant, neon blue dolphin?” she asked.

  “Yes, and maybe you can fill me in on that,” he said, leading the way to his car.

  He drove to a bistro on the lake and had them seated so they had a view of the water, the small dock and the sailboats moored there.

  Austin had to agree it provided a nicer atmosphere. After two glasses of wine and an hour of amiable talk she was convinced she had overreacted to Blake’s advances.

  “Someday I’ll be supplying good beef like this to restaurants,” he said, stabbing his fork into a piece of fillet mignon.

  Austin toyed with her food, nervously rearranging the green beans and swirling butter through the middle of her baked potato.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I don’t mean to be such bad company.”

  “You’re not. I’m glad you’re here. You just seem miles away.”

  “Just a lot of things going on lately.”

  “I know, first your employee, now your brother. It’s awful. You must be scared all the time.”

  “No. I’m fine, really. I think I’m pretty safe. Everyone seems to think it was Will, another of my employees, who’s responsible for all of this. Everyone is looking for him, and of course that means they are keeping an eye on my house and the nursery, so I feel pretty safe. Besides, now that we know there’s a problem we are more on guard. You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, you’re vigilant. I just hope it doesn’t last too long.”

  “Me too. Now can we talk about something else?”

  “Of course. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Well, you were asking me about Spruce.”

  “That’s right, I was. How about you try to convince me why I want to live here?”

  “I thought you already hired a realtor and were looking at property?”

  “I am, but so far I haven’t had much luck. Maybe I should go somewhere else. Or maybe you can convince me I should stay.”

  “Do you mean for me or for Spruce?”

  “Well, let’s start with Spruce and then see where it ends.”

  “Ok. Well, I’ve given this some thought, since you asked me the first time. Let’s start with why you wouldn’t want to stay here.”


  “Seems like a bad idea for a sales job, but go ahead.”

  “I will. Well, to start, there’s no nightlife to speak of, unless you count the concerts we hold on Tuesday nights. "

  Blake smiled as she rolled her eyes.

  "Then there’s the weather," she continued. "Which is generally lousy. Half the time you freeze, the rest of the time you burn, there is no spring or fall, just summer and winter, often in the same day. The roads are slippery and the snow plows rip them up. And since there’s never enough money to get them fixed the pot holes get bigger and bigger. I guess that’s pretty much it. Oh, did I mention mosquitoes the size of house flies? ”

  “You’re doing a lovely job. I’m almost convinced to cut and run, but keep going. Tell me why you stay here. Family obligation?”

  “Family? No, not me. I came here about five years ago to spend summer break with a friend from college. I guess I always thought it was a beautiful part of the country, but then I realized it was sort of, well, special.”

  “How so?”

  “You’ll think I’m making this up, but I can prove it. It’s actually well known that if you look at the valley from the air it forms an almost perfect hand. Most maps don’t show it. You have to look at one that shows the elevations, a -- what’s it called -- a topographical map. Anyway, it’s very odd-looking, like a Babe The Blue Ox story come to life. Or like some powerful old Olympian god reached across the Cascade Mountains and patted his hand hard into the ground and said ‘Here, this place.’ The rivers are even sort of like the lines in your palm.”

  “So because Spruce is in this valley that’s shaped like a hand it makes you feel safe? Like maybe the town is sitting in the hand of God?”

  Austin smiled sheepishly. “I never thought of it quite like that but yes, maybe. Of course, that’s just one interesting feature. There are other good things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Mountains, hills, trees, rivers, forests, the whole nature thing. If you love camping and hiking, getting away from people, then you’ll love it here. Besides, all that bad stuff I told you about…it can all be positive too.”

  “How?”