Behind Closed Doors

by Carla Cassidy

  She stood up and kicked off her shoes. Weariness tugged at her shoulders. It had been a long day and with the gentle rain pattering against the windows, she hoped to get a good night’s sleep.

  It took her only minutes to change from her day clothes into her nightgown. As the sleek blue silk caressed her body, she thought again of Clay.

  Despite the fact that their bodies had seemed made for each other, that he made her smile and she enjoyed his company, the fact that he had apparently lived his life so far solely for the purpose of following some dream to live every day as an adventure spoke of how different their goals were in life.

  She’d had all the adventure she wanted as a child and what she needed and wanted now more than anything was the security of her home, the knowledge that every morning she’d wake up in the same safe place.

  She started to get into bed, then remembered she needed to put out food for Twilight. She left her bedroom and padded into the kitchen.

  She turned on the kitchen light, surprised to see Tina’s cleaning supplies in the center of the table. That’s odd, she thought. Why would Tina leave her things here?

  As she started around the corner of the island, she saw feet. Tina’s familiar red-and-white sneakers. Ann froze. She blinked rapidly, the significance of what she stared at not making sense, refusing to pull into comprehensive focus.

  Dread...deep abiding dread she’d never felt before surged inside her. She didn’t want to look any further, yet knew she had to.

  “Tina?” The name croaked out of her, a whispered plea, an anguished cry. Maybe Tina had passed out, Ann thought. Perhaps she needed help.

  The moment Ann stepped around the island, she knew Tina was beyond help. Sprawled stomach down on the floor, the back of her head was bloodied and her face was turned toward Ann. Her eyes were wide open, her features frozen in eternal surprise.

  Ann backed away, bile rising in the back of her throat. The sound of harsh breathing and deep moans filled the kitchen and it took a moment for Ann to realize the noises came from her.

  Stumbling backward, she ran into the bedroom and grabbed the phone. It wasn’t until after she’d made the emergency call that she allowed her screams to escape. And once she started, she wondered if she’d ever stop.

  Clay was on his way home from work when he heard the call. Adrenaline pumped through him as he turned around and headed toward Ann’s place.

  “No,” he exclaimed as he screeched around a corner. The call had been a homicide code. It couldn’t be Ann. There had to be some sort of mistake. It had to be a mistake, any other thought was unacceptable.

  He felt his heartbeat pounding at his temples as he remembered her relaxed features as they’d eaten the sandwiches in the student union. She’d thought it might be over, that the crazy person haunting her might have moved on. Her eyes had shone with a compelling hope, a need to believe that the past three days of silence was a good sign.

  “Dammit.” He hit the steering wheel, stinging his palm with the force of the blow. It had to be a mistake. Ann had to be safe.

  When he pulled up to her house, the tension increased as he saw the bevy of patrol cars that had already arrived. His heart banged painfully against his ribs as he recognized one of the cars as belonging to the medical examiner.

  In one swift motion he parked, left his car and raced to the front door. An officer from his division met him there. “What have you got?” Clay asked tersely.

  “Some lady got smacked in the back of the head with a blunt instrument. The medical examiner is in there with her now.”

  Visceral pain rocked through Clay as he shoved past the officer and into the house. Police officers were everywhere, the sound of their voices aching in Clay’s head. He ignored those who greeted him, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

  Instead, on legs that trembled he walked through the living room and into the kitchen. He smelled death before he saw it. The acrid, coppery scent of spilled blood, the odor of life departed, once smelled the odors stayed with you forever.

  Her face was turned away from him, but as he saw the spill of blond hair now matted with blood, a moan issued from deep inside him. At that moment he realized just how much he’d grown to care about Ann.

  “Clay?”

  He turned at the sound of the achingly familiar voice, shock riveting through him as he saw Ann standing in the doorway. “Ann?” Her name came out on a choked, hoarse breath.

  “Oh, Clay.”

  In an instant she filled his arms, warmly alive, sobbing against his chest as her arms clung tightly around his neck. For a moment Clay didn’t respond, couldn’t make the transition from grief to joy, felt as if he were functioning in a euphoric dream and when he awakened Ann would be dead on the floor.

  If it was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up. He enfolded her close against his chest, absorbing her sobs into his soul, feeling the warmth of her body that radiated through the nightgown and robe she wore. The sweet scent of her hair filled his senses and he wanted to tangle his hands in it, bury himself in her very aliveness.

  A touch on his shoulder brought him back to reality. Ann might be alive and well, but there was a dead woman on her kitchen floor. He disentangled her arms from around his neck and turned to see Ray, face drawn with the familiar look of a cop who had seen too much death.

  “Ms. Carson, why don’t you come into the bedroom? We need to talk,” Ray suggested.

  Together Clay and Ann followed Ray to the master bedroom. “Who’s the victim?” Clay asked once they were inside the quiet room.

  “The cleaning lady,” Ray answered.

  “Tina. Her name is Tina Mathews.” Ann sat down on the edge of the bed and pressed a fist against her mouth. She drew in an audible breath and released it on a tremulous sigh.

  “Time of death?” Clay asked his partner.

  “The ME says she’s been dead at least three to four hours, possibly as long as six,” Ray explained. He looked at Ann. “You up to some questions?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. Clay sat down next to her. He took her hand in his, unsurprised to find it icy cold. She clung to his hand desperately, as if it were her lifeline to sanity. “I...I’m fine. What do you want to know?”

  “What time did you get home this evening?”

  “About eight-fifteen...right after my class at the college.”

  “And what did you do when you got home?”

  Ann frowned, as if her memories had all been wiped clean in the moment she’d seen Tina’s lifeless body. “I came into the bedroom...changed clothes and got ready for bed. Then I remembered I needed to put some food out for Twilight and I went into the kitchen. That’s...that’s when I saw her.” She closed her eyes, as if to ward off the horror of the vision.

  “Did Tina have any relatives?” Ray asked gently.

  “An ex-husband, no children. I don’t know whether she had a boyfriend or parents.” Ann looked at Clay, her eyes hollow and dark. “He thought it was me. He killed her because he thought she was me.”

  Clay looked at Ray for confirmation. Ray nodded. “He left a message on the answering machine. Called from a pay phone not far from here.”

  “I want to hear the message,” Clay said. His fear for Ann’s safety had left him, as had the joy in discovering her alive. Now a simmering rage filled him, a rage directed at a nameless, faceless man who’d stolen a life.

  “Why don’t you wait here while I play the message for Clay?” Ray suggested. “We’ll be back in just a minute or two.”

  Clay followed his partner back into the living room. “Clay, you’ve got to help us out here,” Ray said. “I think your lady knows more than she’s telling.”

  “What makes you think so?” Clay asked curiously.

  “Listen to the message.” Ray punched the Play button on the answering machine.

  The voice that filled the room could barely be described as human. Deep, crazed with rage, it sent chills up Clay’s spine as he listened.


  “It’s your fault, bitch. I thought she was you. It was supposed to be you. I owe you, and I’ll get you. You deserve to die for what you did to me. You hear me? You’re going to die. You destroyed my life...now I’m going to take yours.”

  “See what I mean?” Ray asked as he pushed the Stop button. “This isn’t some nut fixated on a stranger. This is a man seeking revenge against Ann because of something she did to him. I’m telling you Ann has the answer to who this guy is, but for some reason she’s not telling.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Clay said. “Give us a few minutes alone.”

  Ray nodded and Clay walked back toward the bedroom, wondering exactly what Ann knew and why she was reluctant to tell.

  Chapter 11

  Alone in the bedroom, Ann got up from the bed and walked over to the window. She pulled back the curtain and stared into the blackness of the night, a blackness as deep, as profound as her despair.

  Tina is dead. Tina is dead. The words reverberated in her head in sharp tones of outrage. How had this happened? Why had this happened?

  Tina was dead because she was approximately the same size and shape and had the same shade of hair color as Ann. “It should have been me,” she whispered, a new colder breath of horror whispering up her back.

  She turned as the door to the bedroom opened and Clay came in alone. “I thought it was over,” she said, her voice scratchy from her initial screams and subsequent tears. “I came home so happy because I actually thought it was over. God, how stupid.”

  He took her hand and led her to the bed where they sat down once again. “Did you listen to the answering machine message?”

  She nodded. “I heard it. I’ll never forget it. There’s so much hatred in his voice.” She shivered and drew a deep breath.

  “Ann, he says he’s paying you back for something you did to him. This is not a stranger fixation or obsession stalking. He’s doing these things for revenge. You must know who he is.”

  She shook her head first slowly, then more vehemently. “But I don’t know...I can’t imagine.” She closed her eyes and drew in a another shuddering breath.

  “Ann.” He took her hand once again and she looked at him. “You’ve got to think, you’ve got to remember anyone in your past who might have some sort of vendetta against you. It could have happened a year ago, five years ago... ten. You might have been a child, a teenager...whatever happened, you have to remember.”

  She pulled her hand from his and stood up. Belting her robe more tightly around her waist, she walked once again to the window. He had no idea what he was asking.

  She’d spent most of her adult life shoving childhood memories to the back recesses of her mind where they could no longer be recalled without enormous effort. Was it possible that buried someplace beneath the dark mist of those memories was the motive for her murder?

  Pressing two fingers to her forehead, she turned back to Clay. “If I remembered anything, I’d tell you. I just can’t think of anything right now. Every time I close my eyes to think, all I see is Tina sprawled on the floor, staring at me. Her eyes...her eyes...” She swallowed a sob, knowing if she gave in to the despair she’d be lost, would go stark, raving mad.

  Clay walked over to her and pulled her to his chest, as if sensing the tenuous grasp she had on sanity. For a long moment she stood in his embrace, her head resting against his broad chest. Neither of them spoke; it was as if both knew no words of comfort could ease the horror.

  Ann was vaguely aware of her bedroom door opening, then closing once again. When she finally pulled away from Clay’s arms, she saw Raymond standing just inside the door. Dread coursed through her as she saw the tautness of his blunt features.

  “Ms. Carson, I’ve got a dead young woman out there in your kitchen and a message from a man who believes he owes you for something you did to him. I need some answers from you.” Raymond’s eyes held none of the empathetic light that Clay’s did.

  “I don’t have any answers for you,” Ann said, wrapping her arms around herself, wishing herself far, far away from this place.

  “Maybe you’d better try harder.” Raymond’s voice held an edge of harshness. “Somewhere along the line, you’ve made somebody very angry with you...angry enough to commit murder. You hold the keys to the lock.”

  Ann closed her eyes, wanting to remember, needing to remember. She owed it to Tina, owed it to the officers who had no other clues but what might be shrouded in the darkness of her past.

  She concentrated as hard as she could, but gasped as once again the only image that came to mind was Tina’s lifeless body and her wide, staring eyes.

  Tears once again burned and oozed down her cheeks. She looked first at Raymond, then at Clay. “I can’t...I just can’t do this right now. I...I can’t think. ...”

  “That’s enough for now,” Clay said. He placed an arm around Ann once again. “She’s had enough for one day,” he said firmly to Raymond. “Ann, change your clothes and gather up some things. You can’t stay here tonight.”

  Once again Ann had the feeling she was swimming in a sea of thick, deep liquid, functioning in a foggy landscape where reality was slightly skewed. Nothing seemed real. Nothing felt real. She knew it was shock flirting with her, but she fought against it as she packed a suitcase.

  Clay and Raymond left the room and she changed from her nightgown and robe into a pair of slacks and a blouse, then threw the nightgown into the awaiting suitcase.

  She’d bought this condo wanting a home to call her own, a place where she’d always feel safe and secure. Now the safety had been breached, the ugliness and insanity of the world had crept in and she knew this place would never be home again.

  A soft knock fell on the door. “That it?” Clay asked as he came back in.

  “Except Twilight.” She snapped the suitcase closed. “It might take me a minute or two to get him out from under the bed.” She bent down and tried to coax the cat out from his hiding place, but Twilight refused to budge.

  . “Let me try,” Clay suggested. He leaned down and talked softly to the cat. To Ann’s surprise, within minutes he had Twilight out from beneath the bed and in his arms. He handed her the cat, then picked up her suitcase and looked at Raymond. “I’ll let you know in the morning where she is,” he said.

  Raymond nodded curtly. “We need some answers, Clay. This isn’t just about nasty notes anymore.”

  “He’s angry with you,” Ann said as they left the house.

  “Nah, he’s frustrated and when Raymond gets frustrated he gets a little testy.”

  “Clay, I want to help. I really do...I just can’t think right now. Everything is muddled in my head.”

  He took her arm and guided her toward his car. “It’s okay, Ann. You’ve had a bad shock. Give yourself a little time.”

  He opened the passenger car door and ushered her in, then went around to the driver door. “Where are you taking me? A hotel?” she asked once he was behind the wheel and had started the engine.

  He turned and looked at her. “How about my mother’s? You’ll be safe there, and you won’t be alone.”

  “Oh, Clay, I don’t want to intrude on your mother’s life.”

  . “Ann, trust me on this. At least for the next day or two, it’s the best place for you to be. She won’t mind and I don’t want you to be alone.”

  Nor did she want to be alone. It felt as if she’d been alone from the moment of birth and she ached with the need to be held, to be nurtured, to feel safe. She hugged Twilight against her breast, her fingers curling in the soft fur.

  “You okay?”

  She gave him a shaky smile. “Not really, but I will be.”

  His hand found hers on the seat between them and he squeezed it gently. She curled her fingers around his and closed her eyes. She knew why Twilight had come to Clay from beneath the bed. It was the same reason she was so drawn to him.

  He was attractive physically, but that had little to do with the attraction. He had the spirit of
a healer, the soul of the pure and good. Twilight had recognized it, and so did Ann.

  Clay relinquished his hold on her hand to navigate the turn into the apartment complex where his mother lived. He pulled up against the curb, then got out and walked around to open the door for Ann.

  The apartment door flew open as they approached. “Mom, I’ve got a favor to ask you,” Clay began. “Ann needs a place to stay.”

  Rosemary opened the door and ushered them inside. “Well, of course she can stay here. What a fine kitty.” She scratched Twilight behind his ear, then touched Ann’s cheek gently. “You’re welcome in my home as long as you need to stay.”

  Within minutes Rosemary had shown Ann to the spare bedroom. Ann remained in the room, unpacking a few things and giving Clay some time alone to explain the situation to his mother.

  Twilight prowled the perimeters of the small room, then as if giving it his stamp of approval, he jumped up on the bed and curled into a ball.

  “I see Twilight is settling in just fine,” Clay said from the doorway. “Mom went next door to borrow some kitty litter from Mrs. Talbot. Mrs. Talbot has cats.”

  “I can’t thank you or your mother enough. It’s so kind of her to open her house for me.”

  Clay grinned. “Mom loves company. She should be thanking you.” His smile faded. “As soon as Mom gets back I’m going to take off.”

  “You’re going back to my house?”

  He nodded. “You should cancel classes for a while,” he suggested.

  “I can’t do that,” she protested. “I won’t do that. My students depend on me, they’ve paid money for their courses. We’re almost halfway through the semester. If I cancel classes now they get stuck with a substitute who has no idea what I’ve been doing.” More than that, Ann couldn’t imagine sitting day after day with nothing to do but think.

  “At least cancel them for tomorrow,” Clay urged. “We’ll need you for more questioning and that will put us into the weekend. We’ll figure out where to go from there later.”