Family Murders: A Thriller

by Carver, Henry

  "He did do it. But he's not invisible. I found him." His eyes were glowing now, and turned upward. He looked triumphant, but also blissful, like a burden had been removed.

  "After all these years," he said, "it was so easy. A simple coincidence. I don't believe in God, but sometimes little things like that make you wonder, you know?"

  Rocky leaned forward.

  "After all these years, I was reading the paper, an article off the wire. I think they picked it up as a human interest piece. An editor would probably call that a slow news day. For me, it was the biggest news day in a decade."

  "A human interest piece?"

  "About rose gardens."

  "Rose gardens?"

  Eric actually rubbed his hands together, jittery with an uncontainable kind of glee.

  "Rose gardens, Angela. One in particular. I can pull that picture up in my head any time, it's burned in there: that face, smiling and standing next to a bunch of prickly fucking bushes. Who cares? But they printed thousands of copies, and I saw one. I recognized him right away. I can't forget that face. I see it every night when I go to sleep."

  He seemed genuinely crazy now, pacing and rubbing his hands.

  "And the caption! It was all so easy—revenge as color-by-number. The world doesn't work like that, Angela, it must have been the hand of something bigger than you or me. Print a picture of a murderer, then put his name right underneath it."

  Rocky was getting upset, pulling at his collar, swinging left and right like a pendulum as Eric moved back and forth.

  "And do you know what the caption said?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Guess."

  "No."

  "Don't worry, I know it by heart. It said: Local gardener Ted Gray shows off his prize winning roses."

  Angela just looked at him.

  "Do you get it now? Do you understand? Your husband is a rapist and a murderer. He's a hunter, and his prey is little girls. How can you let your daughter live in the same house as him?"

  Angela took a deep breath, hoping there was a way to talk him down off the mental ledge he'd worked himself onto.

  "Listen, I get it. This…this thing happened, and now you're looking for someone to blame. I don't know why you picked my family, whether it's because of my daughter or something else, but you have to stop. Do you hear me? You have to stop, because we didn't do anything to you. My husband didn't do anything to you."

  She summoned the courage and took a step closer to him.

  "Come with me. We can go somewhere and get you some help."

  "Where does he go on all those trips?" Eric asked.

  "Those are for work."

  "Then why can't you contact him?"

  Angela wasn't sure how he knew about that. She had to stop herself from asking, prevent herself from playing into whatever fantasy he had constructed.

  "That doesn't matter. He's home now, so don't try anything."

  "Look at you, still protecting his every little move."

  "He's my husband."

  "That's the worst part. That's what makes me more sick than anything. You and the girl, you're a part of it. Without you, maybe he wouldn't be able to pull it off. Traveling the country, slicing up little girls and their families, people might get suspicious."

  "Listen to yourself; he wouldn't do that."

  "But no one ever does get suspicious. Why? Because when they look at him, all they see is Ted Gray, the gardener. Charming Ted, the guy down the street. Ted the husband. Ted the father."

  Eric clenched his fists into two tight, white little balls.

  "Don't you see? He's hiding in plain sight! And you're helping him! You're letting him do it! Without you, without Julie, he couldn't even exist!"

  Tears started to roll silently down his cheeks.

  "You were right—he is invisible, and you're his cover. You are. You."

  He was visibly shaking now, rocking back and forth, and filled with some smaller scale vibration that seemed to emanate from his core. He was a slow-motion explosion, with waves of danger rolling off him and towards Angela. Rocky felt it. His lips pulled back from his teeth and the low rumble of a growl started again, like someone had pull-started a leaf blower. But he didn't yank against his collar this time. He waited.

  For a second Eric did nothing. Then he screamed, and started forward.

  Angela meant for her next words to come out a yell, to be commanding. Instead, they barely escaped her lips. She rasped it, breathed it out into the world so quietly it was barely there. Just two words.

  "Get him."

  She let go of Rocky's collar, and he understood perfectly, launched himself across the space. She had expected that to be louder too, but the growling had stopped. Rocky wasn't wasting any time or energy on sound. He was doing only what needed to be done, no bark, all bite. It scared her, just how silent a big animal with lethal intentions could be.

  And then Rocky was there there, across the space between them in a flash. At this distance his bad leg made no difference at all. Strangely, Eric was bowing, almost kneeling, coming down to meet the approaching teeth head on. At the last second, he offered his right forearm, pushing it out toward the dog's open jaws.

  Rocky's teeth snapped shut on the out-stretched arm. Angela expected a kind of crunch, but instead it sounded squishy, like flopping down on an over-stuffed pillow.

  She expected a scream and a yank from Eric as he tried to get away. Instead, he made no sound at all. Rocky started to pull back and forth, whipping his head from side to side, just like he would do to shake the life out of a squirrel or a rabbit. The new angles this created let Angela see the arm.

  It was thicker than it should be, wrapped in some kind of protective foam. But Rocky had latched on, and didn't look like he was going to let go any time soon. It was a comforting thought: Eric might not be injured, but he was trapped.

  "You know why I wanted to meet you out here?" Eric was smiling again.

  "Because we're miles from anywhere?"

  Eric laughed again. "Sure. That, and I knew you'd bring Rocky here along with you. He was really giving me trouble last time I visited. People I can deal with, but dogs are tough to handle." He smiled again. "At least without a plan."

  Rocky jerked back and forth and back, three times as hard as he could. It didn't seem to have any effect.

  "Now, I want you to watch this," Eric said.

  He turned his body and wrapped his untrapped arm tight around Rocky's midsection. It left them in a side-to-side embrace, with the other arm still firmly locked between canine incisors.

  "He isn't going to let go, you know," Angela said.

  "I know. In fact, that's what I'm counting on. You see, Rocky here is so very loyal to you that, no matter what, he won't let go. Without that loyalty—without that love—I could never do what I'm about to do. But his love is misplaced, just like yours. That's what makes everything else possible."

  Eric started doing the one thing neither she or Rocky had suspected. Still holding firmly, he started pushing his arm instead of pulling it, forcing himself further and further into the back of the dog's mouth. He reached the back, and kept pushing.

  Inch by inch, Rocky's head started to bend backwards.

  "Stop it."

  Another inch.

  "Stop it, Eric."

  Another.

  "Stop it. Stop it!" Then Angela put her hands to the side of her mouth and screamed.

  Rocky's ear fell flat. His eyes moved wildly. He started to whimper, but not for one second did he loosen his grip.

  Angela tried to scream again, but she felt empty of breath. All that came out was dry air, a whisper, and all she could whisper was one word.

  "Don't," she said.

  Rocky's neck cracked like one of his soup bones.

  He went limp and his eyes rolled back. Eric turned him over and stood up, brushing his hands together. Angela stood petrified, numb.

  "You better run," Eric said. "There's a storm coming."
/>   Angela looked one more time at Rocky, lying motionless, not even breathing.

  Then she turned, and ran.

  11

  It was mid-morning, the sun shining brightly from over-top the trees, when Angela Gray came rocketing out of the woods and across the lawn towards her house.

  She was sure no one could have followed her. No one could ever keep up with her, not when she went flat out, and that was as fast as she had ever run. So she was sure there was no human being behind her, just feet away, reaching for the back of her neck. But that's how she felt, and in the madness of the moment she hadn't actually turned and looked. At the edge of her deck she stopped, took a deep breath, and snapped around.

  No one.

  No one behind her. She bit down the urge to laugh, to laugh in the face of her stalker. Or fate. Or God. Whoever or whatever was driving the things happening to her, Angela suddenly felt, if only for a moment, that she had the upper hand. As quickly as the moment came, it left. He could be coming around the far bend in the trail at any moment, ready to finish the job he'd started on Rocky.

  Her laughter dissolved into nausea. She bent over, ready to throw up. Instead, she forced herself up the steps and over the deck, through the sliding door and into the house. The deadbolt slid shut with a satisfying thump. She turned around and pressed her face to the window. Breath came ragged and often, momentarily frosting the glass in front of her nose before letting it dissolve, rhythmically hiding then revealing the woods in the distance.

  No one there.

  She turned and headed up the stairs, trying desperately to organize her thoughts into something that would make sense. She should never have gone out, should never have given in to relief just because Ted was home. In the clear light of morning, everything had seemed over.

  Now, it was just getting started.

  Angela pushed open the door to the master bedroom, walked over to the bed, and put her hand the bulk in the center of the bed. She sank in up to the elbow. The mound was just tangled sheets and blankets. It wasn't Ted. Ted was gone.

  "Ted!" She yelled in as loud as she could.

  "In here, honey." The answer came from nearby. She took two steps down hall and went into Julie's room. The scene inside was a balm, soothing her with the knowledge that her family was safe and together again.

  Ted was sitting on the rocking chair with Julie balanced on his knee. He looked up and smiled as Angela came into the room.

  "There she is. There's Mommy," Ted said, and pointed across the room.

  "Mommy!" Julie bounced down to the ground and ran over for a hug.

  "She got dropped off this morning while you were out," Ted said. "I never even knew she was gone. I think I just fell into bed last night."

  Angela squeezed her daughter tight and fought back tears, resisting the urge to spit everything out. No, if she had her way, Julie would never know that any of this had happened.

  "What's wrong, Mommy?"

  "I'm just happy to see you, baby." Angela pulled her face across her daughters jumper, wiping away the evidence of tears.

  "Go play, sweetie, right here in your room. Mommy and Daddy need to talk."

  They stopped right outside the room. As long as she was here, in front of the door, nothing could happen to Julie. Air poured into her lungs and she tried to find the right words. All that came out was: "He killed Rocky."

  Ted's face screwed up a little bit. "What?"

  "He killed Rocky. He's dead, he broke his neck." It took everything she had to control her voice, to keep it low enough that Julie couldn't hear.

  "Who did? One of these assholes who race down the street? God damn it, I—"

  But she cut him off as the story came pouring out, all of it, haphazard and disconnected.

  "No, no, no, no, no, no, there's a man, he's been following me, following Julie, but really he's obsessed with you, he was at the supermarket and the soccer field and he was outside our house and maybe in our house."

  "Slow down, what are you taking about?"

  "And he's here—he's here, right now! He's out there in the woods, and he killed Rocky and I think he wants to kill all of us. We need to hide. We need to call the police."

  "Jesus, Angela," Ted broke into a crooked smile, "is this some kind of joke?"

  She took another deep breath, and for once hoped that she looked as scared as she felt. "It's no joke."

  "Why would someone kill our dog? Why, for fuck's sake, why would someone be obsessed with me?" he said with a smile. There he was, the master of self-deprecating charm, unable to comprehend why someone would be so interested in him.

  "Because he thinks, he thinks…it's a long story. But he's crazy. He's always wearing these ridiculous pink sunglasses and he said it was supposed to be some kind of message. And he was very clear on the fact that he wants to kill you."

  Ted's face went pale. People use idioms like 'he went white as a sheet,' but seeing it in real life was shocking. Starting at the top of his head, all the pinks and reds of his face took an elevator trip straight down as blood drained into his neck and torso.

  "Pink sunglasses?"

  "Yes."

  "And he's outside right now?"

  "Yes!"

  Ted thought for a second. "Okay, you go downstairs and call the police. I'm going to go talk to Julie and get her to hide. I'll tell her it's a game of hide-and-seek or something. Then I'm going to come down and check the doors and windows."

  He took her by both shoulders. "If we're careful, no one should be able to get in, and then the police will he here. Okay?"

  "Okay. It's a good plan," she said. Ted looked at her strangely for a second. Angela guessed it was because she used to just take plans like this at face value. Now she found herself unable to stop reviewing and double-checking. He disappeared into Julie's bedroom, and she could hear him starting a game of hide and seek.

  It was terrifying to head back downstairs alone. If Eric was anywhere he would be down there, but Angela steeled herself for the descent. There was a plan now, a plan to save her family, and they were counting on her.

  One foot fell in front of the other, silently in sneakers. She turned down the hall at the bottom of the stairs and walked into the kitchen. Through the sliding glass door she could see the woods and most of the yard.

  Empty.

  She kept her eyes directed out through the glass as she reached out with her arm, picked up the phone, and pressed it to her ear. A finger was already in motion heading for the nine button, when she realized there was a problem.

  Nothing.

  No dial tone. It wasn't a bad connection or anything like that. Instead, there was only silence. It might as well have been unplugged from the wall. There's an energy to a piece of working technology, like it lives and breathes. Life had been extinguished here. Now all she had was a piece of heavy plastic, and the knowledge of exactly what someone means when they say their phone is dead.

  "The phone isn't working!" She yelled it as loud as she could, but no one yelled back. She was about to turn and head upstairs again when something managed to catch her eye.

  The light on the answering machine was blinking. She looked down the hall. Didn't see anyone. Looked over her shoulder and out through the glass door. Didn't see anyone. Hesitated, then pressed the button marked play. The tape started turning with a crackle and spit out a voice roughened and then sanded smooth by years of cigarettes.

  "Hello, this is Detective Cooper. This message is for Angela Gray. Angela, please call me back as soon as you get this. I guess—" He paused. "I guess I'll go ahead and tell you on here that I got someone to take a closer look at the locket from your yard."

  The tape grated and hissed.

  "They compared the soil, and as far as we can tell it's the soil from the surrounding area, like from the area it was buried in. And since this case is important, we brought someone else in. Someone from the college who does digs and stuff, recovers old objects. The locket had started to oxidize, rust, and
we found the by-products there in the bag with it. It was sealed, but there was probably some moisture sealed in there with it, so we're—"

  A sharp hiss of static.

  "—says the amount of rust is what you would expect after about ten years. And it's not just on the locket, it's in the bag too. I know this sounds crazy, but we're pretty sure that locket has been in the same place, without being moved, for the last decade. It's been in your back yard this whole time." He paused again. "He wasn't burying it, Angela. He was digging it up."

  Angela watched the as the two spinning loops exchanged tape, one growing, one shrinking.

  "I don't know what it means, but can you think of—"

  The tape ran out, the red light turned off, the world turned sideways.

  Like a jump-cut in a movie, she found herself upstairs, unsure of how she got there. She pushed open the door to Julie's room.

  No one was there. She looked under the bed, in the closet, behind the drapes. She should be feeling something, she understood that much, but numbness reigned. Her heart rate didn't even feel elevated. A systematic search of the house came next. It was logical. She may not be feeling anything, but Angela was sure she needed to find her daughter. There was no one in the master bedroom or the office, no one upstairs at all.

  Down on the first floor, she already knew that the kitchen and foyer and hall were all empty. Searching the dining room and living room only took a moment, but there was no one there. Her mouth opened to call out for Ted. She stopped herself.

  Could it really be that…no, she stopped that train of thought too. Whatever she felt, whatever she thought, it could all be worked out once Julie was pressed against her chest.

  Only at the head of the basement steps did she hesitate. The area down there was unfinished and low, less than five feet high. It wasn't designed for people, just storage. The hesitation didn't last long; she flicked the switch and started down. At the the base of the stairs, access to the rest of the space was around a ninety-degree turn. Angela put her back to the wall, took a deep breath, and peered around the edge.

  A very limited number of bare bulbs cast the basement into relief, creating about equal area of light and darkness. Nothing in the light, unknowns in the shadows. She steeled herself again, then she was around the corner and out into the basement proper, lancing out in all directions, charging into corners, checking behind boxes.