Dark Corners

by Liz Schulte

When I woke the next morning Gabriel and I were still holding hands which made me worry that I was getting too close to him and not protecting myself from further injury. I didn’t take my hand from his though—the security he offered was more addictive than any drug I could have taken. I stole a glance at the clock. It was nearly 6:30.

  Contemplating what I would do with my day after Gabriel left for work—the prospect of going back to the house and uncovering more heartbreaking knowledge about my husband—filled my mind like a black cloud.

  I’d lived in that house for over a year completely alone and oblivious to what was around me. The emotional minefields I navigated every day without knowing they existed now seemed as threatening as the ghost that haunted me. With an end in sight and a reason to get better, so much more was at stake. I had to push through to freedom—I had to.

  It was after seven when I finally couldn't stay still any longer. Climbing quietly out of bed was impossible. The quieter I tried to be, the louder I got. Gabriel looked at me through one eye, then stretched.

  “What time is it?”

  “Seven.”

  “I have to go to work.”

  Instead of getting up, however, he pulled me back towards himself, capturing me in a bear hug. I squirmed out of his arms and to his credit he didn’t try to stop me. Once I was safely on my feet, he sluggishly followed. I grabbed my overnight bag and dashed to the bathroom to avoid any awkward moments. What was I doing here? Heat rose to my cheeks while I dressed. I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I was still very married to my husband’s ghost.

  Despite my trepidation, the morning went smoothly. Gabriel showered and I made breakfast. If we ate quickly, he’d have time to drop me off at the house on his way to work. He came down the stairs humming a cheerful melody with a little skip in his step.

  “So what are your plans for today? Are you going to hang around here?” he asked brightly, identifying himself as a dreaded morning person.

  “No, I need to keep moving forward. I want to go back to the house and continue searching.”

  “Alone?”

  “I stayed there alone for a year. If whatever it is wanted to kill me, it’s had ample opportunity.”

  “I think you should wait.”

  “I need to keep at it or I'll give up. There are things I need to work through on my own. Right now I'm motivated and that’s a huge step for me—I can’t stop.” It would be a lie to say Gabriel didn't look disappointed, but he rallied fairly well. “You understand, right? I have your number. I'll call if I have any problems or anything strange happens.” I promised.

  He looked at me and nodded slowly. “I’m not sure this is the best course of action, but I understand what you’re saying. Promise, if anything scares you even remotely you'll leave, not try to find out what it is. If something is in the house, the closer we come to solving the case, the more dangerous it is to be there.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” I replied with a wink and a smile, but only received a long stare and a shake of his head in response.

  “I guess we should leave if I need to drop you off.”

  We chatted very little on the way to my house. Before I could get out of the car, Gabriel extracted another promise that I would call him if anything out of the ordinary happened. As I walked up the creaky porch steps, I considered whether he meant “anything out of the ordinary” for this house or for any house.

  That will have to be determined on a case-by-case basis, I thought as I unlocked the door. I walked inside with confidence, putting on a show for Gabriel who was still watching me from the car.

  I took a deep breath as I closed the door behind me. Now that I was standing in the house alone, I was less certain that this is what I wanted to do today. I looked around. The foyer was dark and spacious, leading directly into the large hallway that would take me to the kitchen once I was past the ornate staircase. The hallway was always dark, no matter how many lamps I put in it. The old polished wood floors and molding loomed in front of me, welcoming me back into the darkness.

  Wanting to delay my investigation as long as possible, I collected the mail and sorted it on the entrance table while I listened to my messages: one from my agent and a couple from Susan wanting to get together again. I knew she was feeling guilty about the scene in front of the police station and shirking her self-imposed “Ella duty.” Since Gabriel had been around more, I hadn't needed her help. I hadn’t even had any recent evenings at the bar that allowed her to be disapproving of my life choices. How was I supposed to explain to her that I wanted to move away from the past and seeing her was just a bitter reminder of all that I had lost? I couldn’t wait to be out of this house and out of this town, to be somewhere I could legitimately start over.

  I hadn't thought about if or how Gabriel fit into the picture of my new life that had begun to develop over the last couple of days. Strictly speaking, if I wanted to make a clean start, he didn't fit, period. I had a nagging feeling, however, that life would never be that easy for me.

  I made a conscious effort not to lose myself in memories or thoughts again and to stay focused. I wanted to begin in the attic and didn’t let not knowing how to open the door stop me. I decided to try Gabriel’s method and grabbed a hairpin on my way up so I could pick the lock. I knelt in front of the door to get down to work, but the handle turned freely in my hand.

  A shiver ran up my spine when, with just a little push, the door opened wide, displaying a dark, crowded room. I craned my neck to see further into the attic.

  The entire room was covered with enough dust that I was nearly positive that even Danny’s grandparents hadn’t gone up here much. I walked slowly into the gloom, choking on the heavy stale air that surrounded me. Antique furniture and trunks—all swathed in undisturbed blankets of dust—filled the large room like a tomb that had been locked for centuries. I looked around slowly and meticulously, but saw absolutely no sign that anyone had been up here.

  There also was no place where anyone could readily hide. I fumbled along the wall looking for the light switch. The bulb flickered to life and then with a pop immediately went out.

  Great.

  Rather than waste time replacing the bulb that was older than me, I worked by the tiny stream of light seeping through the window covered with decades of grime. I spent most of the morning searching through everything, discovering what had been so precious to keep tucked away up here for all of those years.

  A lot of old pictures, letters, and documents were mixed in among the odds and end pieces of furniture and stuffed in drawers, hat boxes, and between the pages in books. Nothing could be taken at face value. I put all I found to one side, intending to go through it later as useful research for my book­—preferably downstairs where I could breathe. An armoire that could have been from the Civil War begged for attention. I dusted it best I could, but even shrouded and gray, it was a beautiful piece of furniture, craved and crafted with an amazing attention to detail. It should have never been stored away in an attic. Despite the years of neglect, the door opened smoothly and easily. Agitated dust billowed with the force of the door opening. As the grit cleared from my eyes and lungs, I saw in front of me—as if it was waiting to be discovered—the pink argyle sock, dead center on the middle shelf.

  How had it gotten through a locked door, a dust covered room, and a closed armoire with absolutely no trace of disturbance? In the short time I was up here, I’d stirred so much dust and left so many footprints, my every step could be traced

  I heard a faint knock. At first I thought it was coming from the armoire, but moving closer to the door I realized it sounded like it was coming from downstairs. Once at the base of the stairs, I could tell it came from the front door. I ran down the stairs, calling that I was coming, because I assumed it was Gabriel and I didn't want him to worry.

  Grant stood before me on my doorstep, looking clean and well pressed. He smiled broadly as he waited for me to say something.

  “Surprised to see me?” />
  “You could say that,” I said. “How do you know where I live?”

  “You're rather famous, and it's a small community.”

  “Infamous is more like it.” I sighed, then added. “Would you like to come in?”

  “I’d love to.” He flashed another grin at me, then eyed my dusty clothing. “Have I interrupted you?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I was ready to take a break,” I mumbled, absently brushing at my clothes, not making much of a difference in their present state of filth. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Sure.”

  I waited, but he didn’t continue. “Anything in particular?”

  “Whatever you’re having would be fine.”

  “Right. Okay. Well, you can have a seat in the living room if you like. I'm sorry about the mess….”

  “Spring cleaning?”

  “Something like that.”

  “These old houses are lovely, aren’t they?”

  “Many believe so. I’ll be right back.”

  I walked into the kitchen, dazed by both the discovery of the sock and Grant’s surprise appearance. My refrigerator was almost completely bare. Other than orange juice and water, I didn’t have much to offer besides alcohol. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly one.

  Not too early for wine, I thought to myself. I opened a bottle and grabbed a couple glasses on my way back to the living room. Grant was not where I had left him. He was in the study, stewing over the blueprint Gabriel and I had uncovered the day before.

  “I thought we could have wine,” I said sternly, feeling very possessive of what he was snooping through. I didn't like him poking around on Danny’s desk—or being in my house for that matter. “You know, it's a lovely day.... Why don’t we sit on the porch?”

  “That would be nice,” he replied, looking back at me. “I hope you don’t mind that I wanted to see more of the house. How old is it?”

  “I'm not sure exactly. It was built by my husband’s great, great, great, great grandfather in Montgomery’s early days and remained in the family since then.”

  “Until now,” he said as he followed me back to the porch.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Now it’s your house. The bloodline has changed.”

  We took our seats on the big southern porch. “Yeah, I guess.” I could imagine no house in the world could have felt less like it was mine. I poured two modest glasses of wine and moved one towards Grant.

  “So, what brings you here?”

  “Well, it’s been a while since I’ve spoken with you. As my new friend I felt I should stop by for a social call. Is that all right?”

  “Oh ... I guess so.”

  “I came by last night, but you weren’t here.”

  “No, I was out.”

  “I’m sorry I missed you. There's something different about you now.”

  “Really?”

  “You seem more relaxed, and maybe even a little more polite than you have in the past.”

  A smile curled my lips. I guessed I had been rather short with Grant on many occasions. “Maybe it’s just the change of setting.”

  “Perhaps—or maybe you’re getting used to me. You seem like the type that has to warm up to things. I'm the same way.”

  “That I am... but I don't see that trait in you at all.”

  Grant gave me a charming smile. “Did they ever catch your husband’s killer?”

  I was slightly taken aback by the question. “No, they didn’t.”

  “That must be difficult.” He studied me for a moment. “You try very hard to not give away too much about yourself, but your eyes betray you. I can see pain with the mention of your husband, for that I'm sorry. You loved him very much?”

  “Of course.”

  He gave a slight smirk. “Is that always given?”

  “It should be.” I couldn't explain why, but suddenly I felt like telling him about my recent discoveries. I felt that he of all people could understand. “Lately, I've not been so certain that Danny was the man I thought he was.”

  Grant considered this statement carefully. “It's hard to make judgments about someone who isn’t here to defend himself.”

  “I have my reasons and a growing pile of evidence.”

  “I'm sure you do,” he said gently, but didn’t inquire about them which I found irritating.

  “I think he was having an affair.”

  Grant nodded. “Does that mean he loved you any less?”

  “That's given, isn’t it?”

  “No. He could still have loved you and just made a mistake. Without being able to talk to him, I wouldn't read too much into it. Maybe he just needed to something you weren't able to give. Of course never having met him I'm just hypothesizing.”

  I shook my head. “It changes everything. My life was dedicated to that man. I moved here because of him. I've mourned him for over a year, hardly able to breathe for my grief—” My hand clenched around the stem of my glass so hard that my knuckles whitened. “And you sit here telling me that if the man I devoted myself to had an affair and broke that trust, it doesn’t change anything—and not only that, but that it’s my fault. His behavior should be excused because I couldn't give him what he needed.” Anger was bubbling inside like lava. I slammed my glass down on the table before I broke it in my fist.

  “You were completely devoted to him? What about your writing?”

  “What?—of all the chauvinistic, asshole things to say!”

  “How many books did you write while you were married?”

  “I don’t know. A few. It's my job.” I said defensively

  Grant ignored my tone and continued gently, “Writing takes a lot of your time, does it not?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “How can you be a good wife while you’re caught up in your gruesome, grisly stories? Now if someone came along that could look at him adoringly as I imagine you once did…”

  “That doesn’t excuse anything.” I said, but I stumbled over the words, consumed by fury at his antiquated attitude. “If he was unhappy, he should have said so. He should have communicated, not slept with the first tramp he could find.”

  “Did you speak to him about how unhappy you were?”

  “He knew.”

  “Really? Did he know the depths of your unhappiness?”

  "I can’t believe you're blaming me for the fact he had an affair with some floozy.”

  “I'm not excusing anything, just presenting you with another point of view. I'm sure if he were still alive he would regret what transpired greatly.”

  “If he were still alive, I’d probably still have no idea and he’d still be having an affair—or he would have left me by now.”

  “Perhaps. I believe, however, that these things have a way of coming to the forefront. They’re hard to keep secret for very long. I think your husband loved you very much despite his actions.”

  “You didn’t even know him.” I snapped.

  “You did. What do you think? Do you believe he loved you or did he lie every time he uttered those words?”

  I clicked my teeth. Who the hell did he think he was? And to think I’d called Gabriel Dr. Phil. My mind flashed back to Danny’s planner and the circle drawn around the date I got home. All the happy memories I had of us together ... could they all have been fake? Maybe, maybe not—but there was no way I was going to let this man, this stranger, manipulate my feelings any further.

  “You sound experienced. Cheated on a lot of girls, have you?”

  “No.”

  “Not that you would tell me if you had.”

  “Why would I hide it from you?”

  “Why would you share it with me?” I countered.

  The tension was thick in the air. I could almost feel static building. Then what I least expected to happen did; Grant's laughter spilled out cracking the air. Whether he was laughing at me or the conversation was unclear, as was how I should react.

  “I'm sorry. I shouldn'
t be so hard on you. I have the very bad habit of playing devil’s advocate with people. Do you forgive me?”

  “I'm not sure. What have you said that requires my forgiveness?”

  “You were confiding in me and I made you doubt yourself. Truly deplorable of me.” A suppressed grin twinkled in his eyes, and for a minute he reminded me very much of Danny.

  “I imagine I’ll survive. Besides, I didn’t doubt myself so much as I was frustrated with you.”

  “I'm glad to hear that....” He seemed to want to say more, but my phone rang and I moved to answer it in case it was Gabriel. I started to excuse myself, but before I could get in the door Grant stood up. “I should go. It was lovely seeing you. We should do it again soon.”

  “Oh, you’re leaving?”

  “Yes, I feel I must. I've stayed longer than I intended. You’d better be quick or you’ll miss that call,” he said with a wink and started down the steps. I watched him turn the corner round the house, then raced inside to grab the phone.

  “Hello,” I said a bit breathlessly.

  “Ella?”

  “Yes?”

  “You're out of breath.” It was Susan.

  “Yeah, I had to run in from outside.”

  “Oh.” There was an uncomfortable pause.

  “Do you need something, Susan?”

  “Just wanted to check on you.”

  “I’m fine. Really—you don't have to take care of me. I'm making discoveries about myself and about Danny, sorting through stuff right now, trying to move on with life.”

  “What kind of discoveries?”

  “All kinds.”

  “Oh, I see. You don’t need me now that you have that cop following you around at beck and call.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That's what you are doing, Ella. You're trying to get rid of me since you’ve made a new “friend,” the good detective.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, but I might as well have saved my breath. Susan battled on.

  “As much as you don’t like to hear it, this isn’t all about you. You refuse to acknowledge other people have lost something too.”

  “I’m not refusing to acknowledge anything—I’m moving on. Like you insisted I should, actually. And as for Gabriel—yeah, he helps me a lot. He’s trying to solve the case. Our goals are the same. He doesn’t constantly tell me to let it go—he’s helping me find closure.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he is.”

  “What does that mean?” You could feel the bristling we were both doing through the phone.

  Again, there was silence on the other end. “I’m sorry. I don't know what’s gotten into me. I just I miss hanging out with you, I guess.”

  “Honestly, I don’t see why. I haven’t been pleasant the last year and we haven’t spent much time together.”

  “I know, but I'd gotten used to what little we had. It was part of my routine. It sort of feels like we lost you again.”

  Guilt about neglecting Susan gnawed at me. Even if she was a fair weather friend, she was still a friend.... “We could have dinner the day after tomorrow. Why don’t you and Doug come over to the house? You guys can meet Gabriel as a person and not a cop. We can talk about all the things our investigation has dug up.”

  She hesitated.

  “Look, Susan. If you want to be in my life I need you guys to all get along. The last thing I'll put up with is squabbling.”

  “Is he really going to be around that long?”

  “I don’t know, but right now his belief in me is a big part of what keeps me going, so I’d appreciate if you would at least try.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “What?”

  “That he investigated you. That he pulled your name through the mud and caused all of this animosity the town has for you.”

  “Susan, we have talked about this. I don’t blame him. He was doing his job. I don’t care if they camp outside of my house with pitchforks and torches. If he catches the killer, it's worth it to me. This town’s opinion doesn’t mean all that much in the grand scheme of things.”

  Susan sighed, hopefully understanding she would never win this argument. “Okay, we’ll be there. What time?”

  “How about eight?”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll see you then. I should get back to work, bye.”

  “Bye,” she echoed as I hung up. All that had transpired in the last hour wove through my mind like the beginning of a new tapestry. I wondered if this is what starting over felt like. I took a deep breath before picking the receiver back up to call Gabriel.

  “Yeah?” He answered the phone very gruffly, very cop like which made me smile.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Just a moment,” he said much softer. I could hear him moving around. Then a few seconds later, he asked, “Is everything all right? Has anything happened?”

  “Everything's fine. Did you switch rooms?”

  “Yeah, I went into my office; I was in the bullpen with the guys.”

  The mental image I had threatened to make me laugh, but I pushed through and got to my reason for calling. “I searched the attic this morning.”

  “Did you find anything?”

  “I found the sock.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. It was in a wardrobe. It was very strange. Judging from all the dust no one appears to have been up there in years. I don’t know how it got there.”

  “Was it dusty?”

  I had to think back to when I found it. “No.” I answered with some certainty.

  “Where is it now?”

  “I left it on the shelf. I figured I’d be less likely to lose it that way and I probably shouldn’t touch it.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “You don’t have to come now; you can get it tonight.”

  “It’s not a problem. With our track record of losing things, sooner is definitely better.”

  “Okay. I’ll be here.”

  “See you in a bit."

  I considered going back to the attic to get the sock, but decided it was best to leave it where it was. I cleaned some of the mess I had left in the study. As I was clearing random crap from the floor and top of the desk I realized something was missing. The blueprints. I knew Grant had just been looking at them, but where did they go? He hadn’t carried them away and they were too large to fold into a pocket.

  I put everything that was out away, except for a few of the files we hadn’t looked through yet. Those I left stacked as neatly as possible on the desk. Going into the kitchen, not sure what else to do to waste time, I stood by the sink looking at the wall where I found Danny. There was no longer a trace of the horrific murder, but if I closed my eyes I could still see the brutal scene I stumbled upon that tragic morning.

  So much had changed in the last couple of weeks, however, it was like it had been years since I floundered aimlessly in my guilt, pain, and self-pity. It was hard to look back at myself without cringing from embarrassment. And it seemed even longer since I’d been with Danny. The beginning of our marriage was but a dream—and the end a nightmare I was still trying to wake up from. I walked slowly over to the wall and reached out with a trembling hand to touch the smooth repaired and repainted surface. As my fingers met the wall, I heard a loud thump.

  I pulled my hand back startled, with a feeling of fear and shame like I’d been caught doing something wrong. The noise could have come from anywhere. I stood very still listening, my heart beating thickly in my ears. The thump came again, this time from behind me. I turned, able to see all the windows from where I was standing. I couldn’t spot a thing. I went to the nearest window and peered outside. Nothing was out of place. I stuck my head out of the backdoor to see if anything had been thrown against the house from the cover of the trees. Still no obvious sign of anything awry. I shut the door, locking it against the ghosts in my mind.

  “Keep it together, El,” I said to myself just a
s a hand touched my shoulder, sending chills through my body and my heart into my throat blocking my scream. I flung around prepared to fight. Gabriel was behind me already braced for my normal reaction.

  “You said nothing strange was happening.” His eyes narrowed as he studied the panic written all over my face.

  “And nothing was until you snuck up behind me. I just heard a thump and was looking to see what it was. Christ!” I had a hand on my heart and one still on Gabriel’s chest in what would’ve been a vain effort to block an intruder.

  Gabriel couldn’t hold back his smile. “I’m sorry I frightened you. Are you okay?”

  “I think you enjoy doing that. I’m fine, just a little spooked. I was thinking about when I found Danny and I worked myself up. I didn’t expect you here so fast. The sock is upstairs,” I said, letting my arms fall to my sides.

  “I’m not worried about it. I’m more concerned with how you’re doing. Has anything else strange happened today?”

  “No, not really.” I started up the stairs and then I remembered. “Well, the blue prints have gone missing.”

  Gabriel flinched. “When did you last see them?”

  “Today. Grant came over to visit and he was looking at them before we went out on the porch, but when I came back in they were gone.”

  “That explains the wine glasses. Do you know his last name yet?” I could hear mistrust in his voice.

  “No, I forgot to ask. I offered him a drink before I realized my selection of beverages is a little limited.”

  “What kind of car does he drive?”

  “Um, I’m not sure. I don't think I saw one, but then again, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “How did he know where you live?”

  “He said something about it being a small town. What’s with all the questions? Why don't you trust him? That's rather cynical, isn't it? You don’t even know him.”

  “It’s not that small,” he mumbled then added in a normal voice, “Just curious why this complete stranger keeps popping up in your life. Aren’t you the least bit suspicious about that? Besides no one seems to know him and as he said it’s a small town. He shouldn't be that hard to find.”

  “You've been asking about him? I'm a little curious, especially when you put it like that. He just seems so familiar. And he doesn’t give me a creepy feeling. Maybe he’s a bit unsettling, and he does seem to be wherever I am a lot—no, not even. Just the hospital, and it makes sense for him to be there.”

  “I’ve asked around the station. No one knows him. Promise me next time you see this man, you’ll get a last name, license plate, whatever. Something I can use to run a background check.”

  “Would it help if I stole his license?”

  “That would be perfect. How do you plan on doing it?”

  “My seduction skills, of course.” I hoped teasing Gabriel would get him to ease off the questions I couldn’t answer.

  “You have those?” he asked dryly.

  “I’ve never heard any complaints.” I tried to be pouty, but couldn’t maintain the farce. I began snickering at the ridiculousness. “How about I get him good and drunk— then he will be like putty in my hands.”

  “Women and their sneaky tricks.”

  “It works on all the boys.” I smiled at Gabriel and he smiled back. “You ready to see the attic?”

  “Sure.” He seemed more relaxed as we headed up. I opened the attic door and led him to the wardrobe, while his eyes fluttered over the room, assessing the dangers and hiding places. I opened the door and there was the sock. Gabriel pulled out rubber gloves and evidence bags and collected the item with care, before briefly walking around the room.

  “I think you’re right,” he said when we were back in the study. “From what I could see, it doesn’t look like anyone’s been up there in quite some time. The only disturbances are most likely what you left up there.”

  “How does that make sense?”

  “It doesn’t, but what’s new.” He raked his fingers through his hair frustrated at our inability to suss this out. “We'll talk about it more later. I need to get this to evidence before it disappears again.”

  “Right, good thinking.”

  He waved as he walked out the door which I locked behind him. I knew I should start going through the paperwork I found in Danny’s desk, not to mention the old letters and photographs I found in the attic, but I had little desire to do so. I made myself a cup of tea and went into the study, grabbing the stack from the desk. I sat it next to me on the couch and picked up the first piece of paper. I couldn’t even look at it. Everything that happened over the last couple of days started flooding over me. I leaned my head back against the couch and closed my eyes, telling myself it would only be for a minute or two.

  “Ella. Ellllla wake up.”

  A hand lightly brushed my cheek and jawbone. I opened my eyes to look into Danny’s calm blue eyes—they always reminded me of a peaceful lake, deep and liquid, hardly ever a ripple.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost ten.”

  I became aware that I was in a strange place. Looking around I saw a lot of white and many cords. Nothing that was familiar to me.

  “Where am I?”

  “The hospital.”

  “What am I doing here?”

  “You fell.”

  “I fell?”

  “Down the stairs. Don’t you remember?”

  I tried to remember, but it was like watching for water to boil. “I don’t—what happened?” Danny looked up at someone. That was when I noticed I wasn’t alone with him. A man in a white coat stood next to my bed. He looked familiar. Where did I know him from?

  “You remember Dr. Livingston, Ella?”

  Dr. Livingston, Dr. Livingston. How did I know that name? “He’s familiar.”

  “That’s normal with head trauma. Ella, who is the President?” Dr Livingston asked.

  “George Bush.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a writer.”

  “What is your husband’s name?”

  “Daniel Thomas Reynolds.”

  “You can tell her a bit of what happened—see if anything comes back to her,” Dr Livingston said to Danny.

  “Did I hit my head? That would explain this massive headache.” I was starting to feel woozy from the pain.

  Danny squeezed my hand “We think so—when you fell....” I nodded for him to go on. “I left yesterday to go to the Daniel’s hardware store, then I called you because they didn’t have my part. I needed to drive to Springfield to get it. I said I wouldn't be home until later. You said that was fine, that you were writing.”

  Yes, I remembered writing yesterday. I didn't remember the phone call, but that was normal. Often times I lost myself in a story and forget about everything else. It was actually surprising I’d even answered the phone.

  “I got home pretty late—found you at the bottom of the stairs.”

  No wonder it felt like I’d been hit by a truck. My entire body ached. “How did I get there?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t home. We were hoping you could tell us.”

  I thought about it. I was writing. My character had reached his breaking point—lots of blood and gore. Then the phone rang. I answered it, worried Danny had run into some problem, because it was so late and he should have been home before now—but it wasn't Danny. It was a hang up call. Another one.

  My skin tingled like someone was watching me. I checked that the doors were locked and shut down my computer. I went upstairs to change for bed—and then I heard voices from the kitchen. I went to the stairs, but my memory came up blank after that.

  At some point, I must have started speaking aloud because Danny was nodding encouragingly and Dr Livingston looked smug.

  “Did you take any pills or medications? Cold pills, sleeping pills, narcotics?”

  “No—and why are you in here?” I asked indignantly.

  “Ella, Dr Livi
ngston is the psychiatrist you were supposed to see today. You didn’t go to your appointment.”

  “Well, if I didn’t go, why is he here?”

  “To help you, Mrs. Reynolds.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “Ella, your computer was on and the last page—well, it read like a suicide note.” Danny shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting back and forth between me and Dr. Livingston.

  “My character's in a bad place. And I specifically remember shutting down my computer—why was it on? More importantly it's fiction. Fiction. You know that.”

  “I understand, but you have to have an evaluation. Since Dr. Livingston is going to be your doctor, I thought he would be best suited for that.”

  “And why do I have to have an evaluation?”

  “Everyone is worried about your well-being, Mrs. Reynolds. We need to know this wasn’t a suicide attempt.”

  “If I wanted to kill myself I think I could come up with a much better way than throwing myself down some stairs. This is ludicrous.”

  “Regardless, it is hospital policy.”

  “Hospital policy can kiss my ass.”

  “Well, it's either this or the psychiatric ward. Your choice.”

  I glared at him, then looked to Danny for help.

  “There's nothing else I can do. You're going to have to cooperate, El.”

  “I hate shrinks.” I looked back at Dr. Livingston and gave him the bitchiest smile I could muster through the pain. “Did I break anything?”

  “No, you're pretty beat up though,” Danny said.

  “You should rest for now Mrs. Reynolds. We will meet tomorrow to work on your evaluation.”

  “Is there absolutely no way I can get out of this?” I asked once he was out of the room.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Who called the cops?”

  “I did. I was worried you were attacked.”

  “How do you know I wasn’t?”

  “They didn’t find any signs of forced entry.”

  “I heard voices.”

  “The TV was on when I got home.”

  I sighed. “Why does it feel like you’re fighting against me?”

  “Because you’re grumpy. Don’t worry, I still love you.”

  “I'm tired.”

  “It’s okay. Rest. I'll be here when you wake up,” he said softly and took my hand. As he did, his eyes filled with tears. “Ella ... Did you know? You lost the baby.”

  “The what? I was ... No, that’s not possible, no—Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick.”

  I woke up, shivering and huddled into a ball. It was dark outside. I sat for a moment remembering my dream, only it wasn't a dream—it had all happened. I did fall down the stairs; that was when I started seeing Dr. Livingston. I didn't like him any more now than I did then.

  I sat in the dark on my couch, letting tears slide down my cheeks. I’d never thought of myself as the type of person who couldn’t be alone. I’d always been very secure by myself, but now that I literally had no one, it was different. I had no emergency contact person. I didn't have someone that I wanted to call with all news, good or bad. There were no permanent fixtures in my life. I thought of Susan, but for a year’s worth of reasons, she didn’t fit the bill. Gabriel was too new. I wasn't sure if he would stay around.

  I was miles on in my pity parade when Gabriel arrived. I don't know how long he stood in the doorway before I noticed him.

  “When did you get here?” I asked wiping the evidence of my tears from my cheeks.

  “A couple minutes ago.”

  “You didn’t say anything?”

  “You looked like you were deep into something. I didn’t want to interrupt.” He turned on the light.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head though it didn’t make sense to disagree; he was absolutely right. “How did you get in?”

  “The door was unlocked.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I locked it right after you left.”

  “I just turned the handle and it opened. I assumed you forgot.”

  “No, I specifically remember locking it.” I felt defensive.

  “It’s okay, I believe you. It’s the house.”

  “I’m sorry. I'm not used to…” I trailed off, realizing how pathetic it would sound.

  “Not used to what?”

  “To people believing me.” I laughed bitterly. “God, how lame is that?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, I'm feeling sorry for myself. Misery loves company.”

  “It'll pass.” I couldn’t tell if he was asking me or telling me this.

  “It usually does.” I took a moment or two more, then I stood up having mostly collected myself. “How was your day?”

  “Not too bad.” Gabriel had a look like he was up to something. “I have a gift for you.”

  “Really?” I wasn't sure how to take this. Dread crept in as visions of all the terrible things he could have brought me—things that would only cause awkwardness—flooded into my mind. I had the desire to make him leave at once and never mention this present giving business again.

  “Do you want to know what it is?”

  “Yeah. Of course.” I didn't even convince myself. He had me trapped. There was no polite way out of this, and I had too few people who believed in me to ruin this with rudeness. Gabriel looked at me curiously, as if he were trying to decipher my emotions.

  “I’ll go get it,” he said carefully.

  I smiled and nodded, trying my best to look enthused. While he was gone, I paced about, mentally preparing myself to act thrilled about whatever the present was. I’d deal with the consequences of my reaction later. I desperately wanted a drink and I looked longingly over at the bar. I could see Gabriel through the window carrying something large and awkward. I had no idea what it could be; it was too dark to tell. I was glad it wasn't flowers, jewelry, or anything else potentially embarrassing. Sincere curiosity finally started to sink in, so I met him at the door.

  “Ta da,” he said as I opened the door.

  “My computer! Yay!” I smiled, genuinely thrilled to have my computer back from the police. “How did you get it back so soon?”

  “I figured you were probably missing it, so I pulled a few strings.”

  “That's amazing. Thank you so much.”

  “What did you think I had gotten you?”

  “I honestly had no idea.”

  “You looked nervous,” he said as he sat the computer back in its spot, amused by my discomfort.

  “Only a little. Is the monitor in the car? I'll go get it.”

  “No, I’ll get it, you better set this up. It really isn’t my strength.”

  I started to work on reconnecting all the cords and plugging everything in. Gabriel returned shortly with my monitor and dinner.

  “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”

  “A man whose mysteriousness is only surpassed by his handsomeness,” he agreed.

  I laughed. “Did they find any clues on my hard drive?”

  “No, nothing of use.”

  I finished with the computer while Gabriel put our dinner—Chicken Tikka Masala—on plates and brought them back into the room. After we ate, my mind dove into more pressing matters.

  “Have you heard anything about the shirt or sock yet?”

  “Nothing back from the sock. All they found on the shirt was the hair—and yeah, it’s a woman’s.”

  “Blonde?” I just wanted to confirm one more time.

  “Yes.”

  I tried not to dwell on this. I replayed the day we found the items in my head. How could I have forgotten there was something else in the jar besides blood? “What else was in the jar? You said there was something metal, but never told me what it was.”

  “I don't know for sure, but it looked like a ring.”

  “Danny still had his ring on when he died. Why would anyone leave a ring behind? This just gets more confusing each day.”

  Gabriel grunted
in agreement. “We'll figure this out and hopefully make sense of all it. Look at it this way, even our questions are all things we didn't know last year at this time. Maybe if we press on, there’ll be one less cold case on the books— and you can start living again.”

  “You’re right. I know you're right. It doesn’t make it any less frustrating though.”

  “You’re doing fine. You’ll make it through. You are proving to be stronger than I would have given you credit for just six months ago.”

  “This may seem odd, but can you get me a copy of the police report from when I fell down the stairs?”

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t you want to know when it happened?”

  “It's in the case file. We reviewed it as a possible sign of abuse which would have been motive for you.”

  “Danny never abused me.”

  “Yeah, your psychiatrist agrees.”

  “Really,” I said more coldly than I intended. I hadn't realized Gabriel had spoken with Dr. Livingston, though I should have. “What did he have to say about the incident?”

  “It’s in the file.”

  “You've read it. Tell me.”

  Gabriel look uncomfortable, but he didn't try to soften the blow. “He thinks it was a suicide attempt.”

  “And why exactly would I want to kill myself?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I don’t! I never have. There have been times I wouldn't have minded dying, but I’d never have taken my own life.”

  Gabriel looked like he wanted to believe, but still needed to be convinced. “And like I told him, if I intended to kill myself, I would have come up with something much better than throwing myself down a few stupid stairs—I mean give me some credit. Besides if I was really suicidal don't you think all of this would have pushed over the edge by now?”

  He shook his head, “Why do you still go to this doctor?”

  “No one has ever asked me that. I've always been told I had to see him. First, I had to see him to be evaluated, then Danny encouraged me to keep going. Now, I guess, I go out of habit—my meds habit.”

  “Which, by all of your accounts, don’t help.”

  I shrugged. “Can’t tell. All the same noises and voices and incidents happen. But if these things were never in my head, then why would the medication make them stop? I already told Dr. Livingston I wanted to quit taking them, but he wasn't receptive to the idea."

  “Hmmm, well, let’s just take one thing at a time. We'll deal with that after this.”

  I smiled at the way Gabriel spoke like he was a piece of my life that wasn't going to disappear, then stifled a yawn.

  “Tired?”

  I nodded

  “Do you want to go back to my house?”

  I sighed. I really did want to. “No ... I think I should stay here. The better connected I am with the house, the easier it'll be to figure things out.”

  “Okay. I’ll sleep on the couch down here. If you hear or see anything weird, shout. I’ll be right there.”

  I doubted the wisdom of this. The last thing I needed was to come downstairs to another massacre.

  “What if something happens to you while I'm asleep?”

  “I’ll be fine. I'm here to protect you, remember.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know.”

  “Ella, I will be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Completely. Go upstairs.”

  “All right.” I headed up, not liking the situation at all, but he left me little choice in the matter. I couldn't sleep a wink. I kept worrying about what I would find the next morning. Every couple of minutes I got up and crept downstairs to check that Gabriel wasn't dead, waking him up in the process.

  “You're killing me, Ella. Go to sleep.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered loudly. Even though we were the only people in the house, it seemed inappropriate to talk normally when we should be sleeping.

  “Why are you whispering? I’m tired. I want to sleep. You have to stop coming down here.”

  “I don’t know—I’ll try.”

  “Not another time.”

  “What if I come down here tomorrow and you're dead. How am I going to live with that?”

  Gabriel looked at me, visibly trying to muster up patience. “You want to sleep with me?”

  “No,” I said too quickly.

  “Then go to bed. I won’t die. I promise.”

  “There's no way you can keep that promise, but fine.” I went back to bed and didn’t check on him again.

  I slept a little, but was up bright and early the next morning. Gabriel was not on the couch. A bad feeling crept into my stomach. I looked in the study and the hallway, calling his name timidly, not wanting to seem panicked if there was a practical explanation. I waited for a reply, anything. The looming stillness and silence made my heart quicken.

  I walked slowly towards the kitchen, fighting a serious case of déjà vu. My hands shook, my breathing shallow. Not again, I prayed to anything that would listen as I peeked around the corner into a blissfully empty kitchen. He wasn’t there. I breathed a sigh of relief. No dead bodies in the kitchen felt like Christmas morning.

  “Holy shit!” I nearly shouted as I swung around to find a person in doorway.

  “You’re up early,” Gabriel said lazily.

  “Damn it. You have to stop scaring me. Why didn’t you answer?”

  “How did I scare you? You knew I was here. My car’s in the driveway.” He seemed genuinely perplexed.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to explain the emotional roller coaster I had just been on. “I'm not used to having anyone else around. I was trying to find you, but couldn’t. I came into the kitchen and...” I trailed off glancing at the wall.

  “Oh,” he nodded, finally understanding. “I was on the porch. I had a call from the station and I didn’t want to wake you,” he said apologetically.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, but I need to go in.”

  Remembering about the dinner I had planned with Susan, I asked “Hey, do you have plans tomorrow night?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like to come over for dinner? Susan and Doug are coming and...” My stomach twisted; why was this so hard? “I’d like you to come too. You can get to know them, in a non-police environment.”

  “Are you asking me out?” he teased.

  “Well. Umm…” My cheeks burned. “I'm not really sure. It's just dinner—you and I have had dinner every night this week. I’m just making sure you were going to be here tomorrow.”

  Gabriel seemed even more amused by my discomfort, but the chiming of the clock in the hallway brought him back. “I’d love to get to know your friends, and now I need to go.” He kissed my cheek before I could pull away or object.

  “Okay... Have a good day,” I called after him.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” he responded.

  “Don’t miss me too much.”

  “Do you always have to have the last word?”

  “Don’t you need to get to work?”

  “Yeah.” He waved as he walked out.

  “Bye,” I said just before the door shut and laughed.

  Chapter Twelve