by G. R. Lyons
“I thought I'd never hear you say that again,” Benash breathed, his eyes filling with tears.
Saira broke into sobs, hugging her father, then Benash pulled back a little, wiping his eyes while Saira did the same.
“How are you?” Benash asked.
“I'm alright,” Saira murmured, a short laugh breaking through her tears. “Gods, I thought I'd never get out.”
“Get out?” Benash asked, perching on the side of her bed while Charlie moved in closer, taking her hand.
Saira nodded, sniffing as she rubbed the back of her other hand across her eyes. “It was like…I was trapped. I was in there, and I knew it, but I couldn't get out. But, then I also wasn't there, since I didn't really know who I was…” She stopped and shook her head in frustration. “It's so confusing.”
“It's alright,” Benash murmured, patting her cheek. “You're back now. That's all that matters.”
Saira nodded again, then grabbed both their hands and hugged them to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut as she cried again.
“It's alright now,” Benash whispered. “It's alright.”
Saira lurched up off the bed, threw her arms around both of them, and the three of them sat there, holding one another, giving way to tears of joy.
* * *
CHARLIE STAYED at Saira's bedside while Benash came and went, running from the hospital to the office and back throughout the day. It was late in the evening before the doctors finished their tests, analyses, and questions, making sure Saira was stable and ready to leave.
“Charlie…” she whispered, blinking sleepily.
“Yes, honey?” he asked, taking her hand as the doctor left the room to sign Saira's release papers.
“Can we go home?”
Charlie blinked, then asked, “Do you want to go home?”
“Please?” she asked, her voice a bare whisper.
“Alright.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “We'll go home as soon as the doctor says it's alright.”
Saira nodded slowly, her eyes drooping closed. Charlie slipped his hand free and stepped out into the hallway to call Benash, telling him where they were going, then got Saira moved from the hospital to his car once the doctor closed out her file.
Charlie put the car on autopilot, letting it navigate the dark streets to their house. The car pulled itself into the driveway and powered down, Charlie reaching over blindly to shut it off before he got out of the car, hardly taking his eyes off his wife.
He darted around to the other side of the car, opened the door, unclipped Saira's restraint, and carefully lifted her from the seat.
“Mmmm, I can walk, you know,” she mumbled.
“Shhh,” he whispered, bumping the door shut behind him. “You rest. Besides, I never got to do this.”
Saira smiled softly and rested her head against his shoulder as he walked up to the front door.
Recognizing the key in his pocket, the door unlocked and opened itself, but Charlie hesitated as he saw the mess inside in the light of Garis shining behind him.
“Maybe we should go to your hotel instead,” he suggested.
Saira frowned. “Why?”
“Because the house is a mess, and–”
“Charlie, I'm tired, and we're already here.”
“I don't want it to bother you.”
She winced, but shook her head, blinking sleepily at him. “It'll be alright.”
He carried her inside, heard the door shut and lock itself behind him, and carried her up the stairs to the master bedroom. The sheets were a tangled mess and mostly hanging off the end, so he laid her down on the bed in the dark, tossed aside her shoes, covered her up, and quickly undressed so he could join her.
Saira was fast asleep by the time he climbed under the sheets, and though he was tired, Charlie forced his eyes to stay open for a long while, not wanting to fall asleep and then wake up only to find it had all been a dream.
* * *
SAIRA BLINKED against the sunslight streaming into the room as she woke. Hugging the blankets around her, she found herself alone.
But I'm home, she thought. Seven be thanked, I'm home.
She took a deep breath, stretched her arms, sat up, and froze.
The room was a mess: dirty laundry scattered on the floor, beer bottles on the nightstands, and old newspapers discarded in the corners. A thick layer of dust covered every surface, and through the open doorway, she saw that the attached washroom was even worse.
Taking another deep breath to steady herself, she got out of bed and slowly picked her way through the house, feeling herself tense up with each new room she observed. The floors were grimy, tabletops dusty, carpets stained, and the kitchen was worst of all.
In the midst of the mess on the counter, she found a note, a pile of cash, and the transmitter for Charlie's car.
Plucking the note with her thumb and forefinger, she read Charlie's messy scrawl.
Morning, honey. Didn't want to wake you. Dad drove me to work. Left you the car keys in case you need to go anywhere—it should still be programmed to recognize your voice. I'm so sorry the house is a mess. I'll get on that as soon as I get home. Dad said not to worry about work today. Just rest and we'll see you tonight.
I love you so much.
Charlie
Standing there in the midst of a filthy house, Saira read the last line over and over, tears of relief in her eyes.
Then she set the note aside and noticed the mess again.
Alright, she told herself, closing her eyes and steadying her breath. One thing at a time.
She took another deep breath, reaching in several directions while she tried to decide where to start, fighting anxiety all the while. Then she finally picked up the nearest item and got to work.
* * *
CHARLIE UNCLASPED his restraint as Benash pulled into the driveway, letting the car power down to idle mode.
“Are you coming in?” Charlie asked. “You should stay to dinner.”
Benash hesitated before answering, “I thought you'd want the time alone with her.”
“I appreciate that, Dad, but I'm sure she'll want to see you–” He cut off, and grimaced. “On second thought, maybe we should go out. I don't know that she'll want company with the house a mess.”
Benash laughed. “My little girl. That's fine. I'll head to the hotel and change, and come back to pick you up.”
Charlie nodded, reached for the door handle, and added, “We could…go somewhere with a private booth if you want…you know…to bring…”
He paused, and Benash looked over his shoulder toward the back seat, saying, “Yes, he's talking about you.”
Charlie jumped. “Has she been here all along?”
“Pretty much,” Benash said with a chuckle. “Just assume that she's always around.” He paused and looked over his shoulder again. “No, I didn't mean that as a slight.” Another pause, and then Benash groaned. “Woman, I swear–” He cut off, and a longer pause followed before Benash burst out laughing.
Charlie stared at him, wide-eyed, and inched toward the door.
“Alright,” he said, getting out. “See you later.”
Benash waved at him and drove off while Charlie walked up to the front door, shaking his head.
I'm not going mad, I'm not going mad. There really is a ghost. I'm not going mad.
The front door opened, and Charlie rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the unsettled feeling of watching people talk to thin air, then dropped his briefcase as he took in the sight before him.
The foyer sparkled with shining floors and no piles of junk mail and newspapers shoved into the corners. Taking a few slow steps forward, he glanced into the living room at the left, and saw all the mess of pizza boxes and beer bottles missing, while the carpet stains were gone and the furniture was neatly arranged. To the right, the dining room was an elegant display right out of a magazine, with not a speck of dirt to be seen, all the scattered debris gone, and the surface neatly laid for di
nner for two.
In a daze, Charlie climbed the stairs and looked into the master bedroom, finding the bed made, the carpet clean, the dirty laundry missing from the floor, and the clothes all neatly put away—pressed, folded, or hung—in the closet. The master bathroom shone, with all the stains gone, clean towels hanging or folded in place, and cabinets neatly arranged.
I think I'm in the wrong house, Charlie thought with amazement as he went back downstairs and down the hall to the back of the house. The breakfast room to the left was neat and tidy, and to the right, the sight of the kitchen brought him to a standstill.
The pile of dishes was gone, the counters shone, the floors were clean, and there was Saira, bent over the stove, a crisp apron over her clothes as she expertly moved from stove to oven to cutting board and back.
She looked up and gave him a winning smile.
“I thought I heard you come in!”
Turning from the stove, she whisked a glass off the counter and came toward him, pressing the chilled drink into his hand as she stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.
“How was your day?” she asked, loosening his tie, and nodded at the drink. “I hope you still like Bergunds.”
“I–” He stared at her.
After a moment she asked, “What's wrong?”
Charlie blinked, at a loss for words, so he set the drink aside and crushed her in an embrace.
“Gods, I've missed you,” he whispered. “You didn't have to do all this.”
Saira looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Never mind,” he said with a laugh. “Of course you did. But I'm sorry you had to.”
“It's alright,” she said, then gave him a kiss and laughed. “I lived through it.” She paused, and winked at him as she added, “Barely. Oh! Here.” She reached into her pocket and handed him a stack of bank notes and a receipt. “I didn't get much in the way of groceries since I wasn't sure how much longer we were all going to be in town, but I couldn't find a single bottle of soap or cleaner anywhere in the house.”
She went back to the stove, and Charlie stared at her, lost in wonder as she pulled a sheet of fresh rolls from the oven and added a pinch of seasoning to whatever was cooking in the pot.
Shaking his head, Charlie looked from her to the change in his hand to the drink sitting on the counter.
He pinched himself hard on the arm, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
“What?” Saira asked, glancing up at him while she deftly arranged an assortment of sliced vegetables onto a serving tray.
Charlie shook his head. “I'm just trying to figure out what I did right to deserve you. All the men in the world, and you picked me.” He waited until she set the tray aside and slipped his arms around her. “I'm still not sure why.”
Saira glanced over her shoulder at him, giving him a soft smile. “Well, just the fact that you're here right now, when anyone else might have given up and walked away…” She hugged his arms against her. “Gods, Charlie, how did you do it? All this time…living that lie…”
He shrugged. “I had to. Well, it was sort of easy at first, since Dad told me to stay away, so I just kept myself busy, trying to find clues, trying to find answers. But then I just couldn't take it anymore. The waiting. The distance. But…we did what we had to, to keep you safe. I just…I couldn't stop hoping that someday you would come back to me. You were alive, and that was enough to keep me going, but…I never stopped hoping.” He paused, smiling to himself. “Never stopped opening doors.”
“What's that?” Saira asked with a laugh, slipping out of his arms as she finished up her cooking.
“Just…something the priest told me when I was on Jadu'n,” he said, picking up his drink and taking a sip. “Something about never giving up. Never stop trying. Seeing a door as an opportunity and taking it, no matter how difficult that door might be to open.”
“How so?”
“Well…it's like…Alright, so, when he was telling me all this, it got me thinking about a kid I was in jail with, right before your dad brought me home. You'd probably remember him, actually,” he said as Saira reached for another serving plate. “What was his name? That guy who kept asking you out even after you said no half a dozen–”
The plate slipped out of Saira's hand and shattered on the floor. Charlie jumped back and saw Saira staring at the ceramic pieces, her chest heaving.
“Saira, honey?” he asked, stepping around the mess and reaching toward her. “What's wrong?”
She collapsed against him, sobbing, “That was him. Oh, gods, Charlie…”
Charlie held her, tightening his arms around her as she burrowed closer and cried.
“It's alright,” he whispered. “It's gonna be alright.”
While Saira cried, Charlie's mobile rang. Keeping one arm around her, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the phone, and read Benash's name on the screen.
“Chief?” he answered.
“Charlie, just letting you know we're on our–” Benash began, then cut off and asked, “Wait, what's wrong?”
Charlie looked down at his trembling wife and took a deep breath. “I think we've got an ID for our killer.”
* * *
AFTER A strained dinner, Benash tucked his daughter into bed and went back downstairs. Charlie handed him a beer, and the two of them sat down on the couch, staring into nothingness.
“I'll put in a call to the New Haven office first thing in the morning,” Benash murmured. “See if we can't track this guy down.”
Beside him, Charlie nodded.
“She didn't happen to mention his name, did she?”
“No.” Charlie shook his head. “And I can't remember…Thayeron something? Gods, I don't know.”
“It's alright. We'll ask her tomorrow. Figure something out.”
They sat in silence, their beers rapidly disappearing, until Vorena appeared out of nowhere and perched on the edge of the coffee table.
“She's fast asleep,” she said.
“Good.”
“What?” Charlie asked.
“Oh, sorry.” Benash gestured toward the table. “Vorena says Saira is sleeping.”
Charlie went still.
“She won't hurt you,” Benash said with a laugh.
“I just don't think I'll ever get used to this,” Charlie said, looking around the room. “Kinda freaks me out.” He paused before adding, “No offense.”
“Can I tease him?” Vorena asked.
“No.”
Charlie opened his mouth to say something, then picked up his beer instead. “Never mind.”
Vorena reached out and absentmindedly flipped through a magazine resting on the table beside her. Charlie froze, staring at it, and Vorena snapped it shut.
“Shit. Sorry.”
Benash just laughed and shook his head.
“You said this guy was someone Saira knew from school?” Benash asked.
“What?” Charlie tore his eyes away from the magazine and looked at him. “Oh, yeah. He asked her out a bunch of times. Wouldn't take no for an answer.”
In his peripheral vision, Benash saw Vorena start.
“What?” he asked her.
“Is that the same guy who came by the house one night,” she began, “and knocked on the door so many times you had to threaten him? Remember, you wanted me to follow him but I couldn't.”
Benash frowned. “I'd forgotten about that.”
“Forgotten what?” Charlie asked.
Benash shook his head, thinking. “Years back. Someone from one of her classes came to the house one night to ask her out. I turned him away because it was late and she was busy…doing something, I can't remember–”
“Studying,” Charlie muttered, nodding to himself. “I remember that. We were upstairs, studying for a final exam. She was helping me with math and his knocking kept distracting me. Then he called her a few times before she finally shut off her phone so we wouldn't get interrupted. I still don't know how he managed to get her n
umber because she certainly didn't give it to him.”
Benash stared at him. “She never told me that part.”
Charlie shrugged, though his expression was troubled. “She didn't seem concerned by it. It irritated her, but other than that, she didn't think much of it. She just let it go. I wanted to throttle the guy.”
“So was that his motivation?” Vorena asked. “Revenge, maybe?”
“Could be,” Benash said.
“Could be what?” Charlie asked.
Benash nodded toward Vorena. “Talking about motives. If he was getting revenge on her for turning him down…but then how does that come into play with the others? What were his motives there?”
Charlie frowned, looking thoughtful, and shrugged. “No way to know until we figure out his connection to the other victims. Friends? Family? Strangers?” He paused, then added, “You know, one of the victims' names sounded vaguely familiar. Someone else we went to school with, I think. And Thayeron was picked on a lot because he was small and sickly all the time, now that I think of it. Could that be it? He's getting revenge on anyone who ever hurt him?”
“Certainly possible,” Benash said with a nod. “Makes sense. Especially if Saira's theory about the intensity of each crime holds true. Like, he's scaling his revenge to match the hurt.” Benash shook his head and finished his beer. “Gods, I can't wait to catch this bastard.”
Vorena reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Chapter 23
CHARLIE WATCHED Benash drive away, then locked up the house and went upstairs, moving quietly as he undressed and climbed into bed beside his wife.
Saira was sleeping peacefully, lying on her side, facing him. Charlie reached out and brushed his thumb across her cheek, then slid his hand down her neck to her shoulder, tracing patterns on her skin as he watched her sleep in the moonlight.
Her breath caught as she tensed, and Charlie gave her shoulder a squeeze, meaning to comfort her, but she woke with a gasp and curled into a ball, hugging her legs as she burst into tears.
Charlie took his hand away and pulled the blankets up over her shoulder instead, cringing as she started to tremble.
