No problem.
He put the microphone back on its hook, just as the bus boy bought his bottle of whiskey out to him. Nathan took it. He wanted to go and tell Rachel what he knew straight away. But he doubted whether she would believe him. Not only that, but he didn’t think it would be a good idea to drive across town in his condition.
The bottle of whiskey sat on the dashboard, wrapped in a brown paper bag. He licked his top lip. The hatred for David, bubbled inside him. I’ll get you, he thought. I’ll ruin your life just like you ruined mine.
Chapter Seven
Nathan had been sitting around the corner in his squad car for ages. Waiting. His anger boiling like milk in a saucepan. Jumped up little prick, he thought. Who does he think he is? He wouldn't let anything happen. Not to Rachel. Not again.
He took a swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand. All he had been able to think about for the last few days was Rachel. He would do anything for her. He loved her. Ever since that first day at elementary school, when he had tripped over her in the sand pit, she’d held his heart. It almost killed him when he heard she was dating Justin back in High School. He was damned if he was going to lose out again.
A streak of lightning illuminated the interior of the car. A shotgun sat in the back seat. His hands shook. A clap of thunder startled him. This was a bad idea. Deep down, he knew it. But he couldn't let her get hurt.
Just then, David Cochrane came walking round the corner. He always parked his car here. He opened the car door and jumped out in one fluid motion. The rain was pouring. He lifted his jacket collar up around his neck. The doctor had spotted him.
“Evening, Nathan. I don't envy you being stuck out in this lousy weather,” David shouted over the pattering of the rain on his rooftop. “God knows where this came from!”
Nathan didn't stop. He shoved the other man up against the car.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” He pushed Nathan back.
“Stay away from her, you hear me, stay away.”
“What? I don't know what you're talking about. Let's go inside.”
Nathan could feel his body shaking. His hands clenched in tandem with his jaw. “Rachel’s been hurt enough. I won't let that happen again.”
The rain was pelting against them. They stood like two alpha males fighting over a scrap of meat. Nobody else is around, Nathan realised. He could get rid of this problem right now if he chose to. He blinked his eyes.
“Deputy, are you drunk?”
He ignored the question. “I know your secret. Don't care if you know mine. I never liked you. If it hadn't been for Pa forcing me, I never would’ve put up with your condescending looks and textbook diagnosis. I didn't need you. And neither does Rachel.”
He swung a wild fist in an arc towards David’s head. It missed by miles, as he stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet.
David bore down on him, causing him to fall in a puddle. “Nathan, you stupid idiot. What the hell do you think you're doing?” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was soaked through. “You’re drunk. Go home.” He turned back to his car.
Nathan dragged himself up. “You won't hurt her.” The image of the shotgun on the back seat of his squad car flew straight to the forefront of his mind. No, he thought. He was drunk. But not that drunk.
“Go home, Nathan,” David shouted over his shoulder, as he got into his car.
Deputy Sheriff Nathan Ross stood in the middle of the road, as the doctor drove off. It was hard to tell whether the moisture on his cheeks was pelting rain, or tears. He had failed again. He only hoped this time the consequences wouldn’t be as dire as before.
***
“Rach, do you really think you should be going?”
It was the fifth time Becky had asked her that question in the last hour. It was beginning to grate on Rachel’s nerves. She wasn’t going to explain again.
Clothes were strewn all over the tiny room. She hadn’t expected to be in town this long, so hadn’t packed the appropriate date wear. Not that she was going on a date, she reminded herself. Her stomach did another flip.
“You don’t even know the guy,”
Rachel turned away from the mirror to look at her friend sitting cross-legged on the bed, hugging a floral pillow. It was nice that she cared, but Rachel needed to do this. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure he’s a really nice guy. I just think it’s unprofessional to be going on a date.”
“It’s not a date.”
“Then why are you getting all dressed up?” Becky asked, raising an eyebrow.
It was a good question. Rachel had no idea why she was going through all this for a casual dinner. Date?
“Okay, so maybe it is. Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
For the first time since lunch, she felt that same oppressive cloud sweep over her. A flash of lightening filtered through the closed curtains. She could feel something wasn’t right. She turned back to the mirror. It was just nerves, she thought, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She stared hard at her image in the cracked surface. It would probably be best if she walked down the corridor and told David it was a bad idea. He would understand.
She slammed her fists down hard on the dresser.
Becky jumped. “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” She didn’t know what to say. A clap of thunder filled the empty void left by her silence. “I need to do this.”
“Okay,” Becky replied with a gentle smile. “If you’re going to do this, then that top is all wrong.”
***
It took another forty-five minutes for Rachel to finish getting ready. The two girls had turned it in to quite a jovial event, laughing and joking. It had lifted her spirits. Her stomach still churned and her palms were becoming damper with every passing minute. But she was smiling.
“How do I look?” she asked, giving a twirl.
“You look awesome,” Becky replied with an approving look. “Still sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure.”
Rachel sat down in the chair, her eyes checking the clock every thirty seconds.
A watched pot never boils.
What an odd phrase to pop in to her head, she thought. She’d heard someone say it once, but couldn’t remember who? She pushed it from her thoughts. The clock said it was nine.
“What’re you doing tonight, Becca-Boo?
“I don’t know,” Becky replied. “I’ll probably stay here.”
“You could go down to Logan’s Bar. It’s pretty cool in there.”
“But I’d be alone.” She let out a sigh. “I’m better off here.”
“I tell you what.” Rachel hopped out the chair and went over to a pad on the bedside table. A couple of seconds later she handed Becky a piece of paper with a phone number on it.
Two minutes past nine.
“Ring that number,” She said, returning to her chair.
“What is it?” Becky asked.
“It’s Nathan’s phone number. Ask him out.”
“I can’t, we just met. Besides, I don’t think he’s interested in me.”
“I think you should give it a shot,” Rachel countered. She looked around the boring room. There wasn’t even a T.V. “It beats sitting around here all night.”
Five past nine.
“You really think I should?”
“Go for it.”
Becky pulled out her cell phone and dialled the numbers. Rachel waited in silence. Nothing was happening.
“He’s not answering.”
“Keep trying,” Rachel urged.
“But, what if he’s -“ She stopped. “Hello, is that Nathan Ross? It’s Becky.”
Rachel took herself off to the bathroom to give her friend some privacy. She felt good. If she could set those two up, then maybe Nathan would get back to his old self; the sweet, fun loving guy she had known in High School.
She glanced at her watch. It was
ten past nine. Where the hell was David? She wondered. She was certain he said he’d be by at nine. He was only down the corridor. Should she wander down the hall and see? What if he was stuck at work? He didn’t have her number, she realised. He would have no way of letting her know if he was going to be late.
Becky bounded in to the room, grabbing Rachel’s arms. “Nathan said yes, Nathan said yes, Nathan said yes.”
Rachel laughed at her friend’s antics. It was good to be laughing. “That’s awesome, honey. Are you going to Logan’s?”
“We sure are,” Becky replied, excitement sprawled all over her face. Her eyes suddenly opened wide. “Hey, maybe you and David could join us later? Make it a foursome?”
“That’s if he ever turns up.” Another two minutes had flown by. Something was amiss, she could feel it. “I’m going to go down to David’s room. He should be here by now.”
“Want me to come with?”
“Nah, it’s okay. You stay here and get ready. If I find him, I’ll pop back in before we leave.”
“Alright.”
Rachel took one last look at her watch. It was a quarter past nine. The storm was getting worse. Deep down, she silently preyed nothing was wrong.
***
The upstairs corridor of the bed and breakfast was long and dark. It went into a ‘T’ junction at either end; one way led to more rooms, the other, stairs and a storage cupboard. The décor was much the same as the ground floor. Old. The difference was that it didn’t have the same welcoming charm. It was more like a narrow tunnel screaming for people to turn back. Rachel on the other hand, couldn’t. Not if she wanted answers.
She made her way down the narrow passage, heading towards the end with more rooms. All she knew was David’s room was to the right. With any luck, she thought, he would be out of his room before she got there.
Dreary faces peered out of ominous grey portraits as she passed by. There was something about black and white pictures that had always unnerved her. She guessed it was because the people in them were usually dead. Ghosts. She shuddered at the thought. They seemed to be even more creepy in the muted, sulphurous yellow light of the hall.
She continued, one step at a time, down the long passage. She could hear the wind howling outside, as it rushed through the old cracks of the building. The sound reminded her of laughter. Maniacal laughter. The kind she had heard before.
There it was again. The image of a whitewashed wooden house in her mind’s eye. Her heart rate quickened. Blood pounded in her ears. A picture of Jesus on the crucifix glared at her with his condemning eyes.
You’ll burn, bitch!
The lights flickered. Howling. Laughter.
You’ll burn in hell!
Rachel’s breathing was coming in rapid bursts. The eyes. Oh my God, those eyes.
She groped her way along the cold wall, as she tried to turn back. Disorientated. Tiny beads of sweat had formed on her forehead. The corridor had started to spin. Her voice was stunted. She couldn’t call out. There was a face. His face.
“Rachel, are you alright?”
She screamed before the darkness took her. The last thing she saw was David catching her in his arms.
Then nothing.
Chapter Eight
Complete absence of light. The void. Gasping for air. Old faces stare back from the darkness. Submersion. Minutes pass. A watched pot never boils. Chelsea. Dark ominous windows. Heat. The family portrait. Fire all around. No, I don't love you. The swing. Lots of birds. Seconds. Blackbirds. Those eyes like cold steel. Burn in hell, bitch. The dolls. Tim. Blood. So much blood. Justin. Stop.
***
“Rach, oh my God, Rachel wake up.”
“Rachel, can you hear me?” It was David’s voice. “I think she's coming round. Can you hear me, Rachel?”
Rachel gave several rapid blinks, her mind still not fixed on the present. She was dimly aware of Becky and David hovering over her at the side of the bed. Her head was pounding. She felt as though the local marching band was playing its first gig in there.
She opened her eyes. “Wh-what happened? I was just in the hallway, looking for David.”
“I’m here," David replied. “It seems to me as though you fainted. Do you remember anything?"
“No, not really," Rachel replied. "All I can remember is walking down the hallway. I must’ve had a dizzy spell."
“Can you sit?" Becky asked, her face full of anxiety.
She sat up on the bed. Her eyes hadn't quite focused properly yet, but she could feel herself slowly coming back to normal. The storm outside seemed to have subsided.
"The colour seems to be coming back to your cheeks."
"Thank God," Becky exclaimed. "Do you feel better?"
“Much…” She still felt woozy. “Thank you.”
“I think maybe we should give dinner a miss tonight," David said. "It's probably best you stay in bed and rest.”
“I’m fine. I just need a few minutes to tidy myself up.”
“I don't think that's a good idea, Rach. You should listen to David, he's a doctor."
Rachel turned to look at him. She still couldn't work out what it was that was drawing her ever closer to him. Like a moth to a flame. His face was grave. It had a familiar look even though she had never met him before. “I’ll be fine." She looked at her watch. “If we hurry we can still make the reservation."
“Rachy-Bear -“
“Becky, I'm all right. Please, stop fussing over me." She took her friend’s hand in hers. "Besides, you have your date to think about.”
“I know that look," Becky replied with a grin. “But only if you're positive?"
“I am.”
"In that case doc, she's all yours."
“This is against my better judgement, but…” He took one look at Rachel, her eyes bursting with hope. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
David left the room, closing the white door behind him. Rachel moved with caution, as she got out of bed feeling strange. It was a mixture of relief and anxiety. Her image looked back at her from the cracked mirror. She was at a crossroads. She could feel it. If she got everything off of her chest tonight, everything that had built up over the last three years, then she would be cleansed. Her demons would be gone and it wouldn't matter if the house was still out there, or not.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Positive."
She said goodbye to Becky and left, telling her to not wait up.
The corridor seemed less oppressive, but Rachel still didn’t feel like hanging around. She fixed her eyes forward and made her way done the stairs, as quickly as she could without showing any outward signs of fear. Her feet slowed at the bottom. Mrs Ryan was standing there, her brow furrowed in to a deep scowl.
“I hope you’re not planning to return late tonight. The door will be locked at eleven.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs Ryan,” Rachel replied, walking straight past.
The old lady grabbed her by the wrist.
“I warned you,” she spat. “I’m not having any of your trouble disturbing the other guests.”
Rachel snatched her arm back and rubbed at the finger marks around her wrists. Her eyes were cold with hatred, as she starred hard at the woman.
“Look, you spiteful old bitch, I don’t know what I’ve ever done to deserve your scorn, but I’ve had enough. You have no idea what happened to me, or my friends, only what the damn gossips have told you.” She leant forward to within an inch of the trembling woman’s face. “Now back off!”
Feeling satisfied she spun on her heels and walked out, leaving Mrs Ryan standing there, one hand holding the banister. Her other hand was clutching at a cross around her neck.
***
Rachel was glad the storm had subsided. She hated night driving at the best of times, let alone in the rain. It was still spitting a light drizzle; the kind that was more refreshing than a hindrance. Especially, after the high temperature. Grey clouds still hung in the air,
sliding across the sky. The soft sounds of Lynyrd Skynyrd playing Freebird drifted lazily out of the stereo speakers. She found herself dropping off to sleep.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” David asked, never removing his eyes from the road. “It’s not too late to turn back.”
“Honestly, I’m fine.”
She forced herself to stare out of the window in order to stay awake, as the black Toyota Camry cruised down Main Street. More familiar sights streamed past her vision, just like the night she and Becky arrived in town. Fred's Milkshake Bar, where they used to hang out as teenagers, sipping on thick chocolate shakes, or root beer floats; the Fifties style diner, where she had her tenth birthday; Annette’s Boudoir. Her prom dress came from there. All the memories flooded her mind. It was as if she had stepped back in time. The time before everything changed.
An unfamiliar sensation came over her. Deep down, she missed this place. The sleepy little town of Willows Peak was her home. She had grown up here. She belonged here.
Just before they broke through the outskirts of town, David turned into the car park adjacent to Costello’s Authentic Italian Bistro. He brought the car to a halt.
“Well, here we are. Have you eaten here before?"
“No, I haven't,” Rachel replied, looking around at the squat brick building. “I don't think it was here when I left.”
“Shall we go in?”
“Let’s.”
The two of them got out of the car, a small beep announced it was locked. The chilled drops of rain washed away Rachel's sleepiness, as she walked towards the entrance of the restaurant. David offered her his arm and she gladly took it. He's such a gentleman, she realised, a small smile pulling back the corners of her lips. He had even offered to give Becky a lift, but she insisted on getting a cab. Rachel hoped that her friend had found Logan’s and not got lost. The thought of her out on the streets late at night, was worrying. Especially in this town. No, she thought. Becky would be fine.
As they walked through the entrance, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was it, she thought. There was no going back now.
The House of Wood Page 6
