Crashed

by Danielle A. Elwood

  "There isn't much you can do to scare me off," she said. "If the past few days have changed anything, they have made me more sure of our relationship and where we are going. Don't worry about going too fast or too slow. We don't need to worry about what everyone else thinks of our pace. Whatever is meant to be, will be. Let's just enjoy it.”

  “You are too good to me,” was all he could say.

  Emily's phone buzzed. It was from Becca.

  Becca: Holy fucking hot fireman. I swear to all that is holy on this Earth. I owe you my first-born for introducing me to this man.

  Emily couldn't help but let out a laugh. Typical Becca. Apparently her and Tom were getting along just perfectly. She flashed the text message into Avery's line-of-sight giving him a good laugh before she replied.

  “Wanna go to dinner Friday night with Becca and Tom?” she asked him.

  “Sure, whatever you want to do,” he replied pulling her close to him.

  Emily: We should be back in two days. Double-date?

  "Enough with the phone," he said with a playfully aggressive growl. He pressed his lips hard against hers and her phone clattered to the ground. It vibrated but Becca would just have to wait...

  BACK TO REALTY

  They spent the better part of two days packing Gran's belongings into the back of Avery's truck. The load was virtually bursting at the seams, but there was no way he was going to let her go without everything she insisted she just couldn't live without.

  “Y'all ready Gran?” Avery called from the dirt driveway as he packed the bags into the extended cab of his truck. Emily had graciously taken the back seat so Gran would be more comfortable during the three-hour drive back to Daytona.

  Gran walked out of the house for the last time, kissing her wrinkled fingertips and pressing them to the door. A single tear slipped out of her eye, tumbling down onto her sweater as she turned for the truck. She clutched her homemade purse, taking one step at a time to the truck.

  “How the hell do you expect me to get into this damn monstrosity of a damn vehicle, Avery?” she said, eyeing the lifted vehicle with skepticism.

  He helped her climb in, having to virtually lift her off the ground to get her in all the way.

  When they started down the dirt driveway, Gran turned in her seat eyeing Emily. “I hope you have normal-sized transportation down there in Florida.”

  Pulling into Daytona Beach everyone was exhausted. The ride wasn't long, but any extended period of time in a car was sleep-inducing. Avery pulled the truck into Starbucks jumping out to grab some coffee before they headed to his house.

  “What do you call that concoction?” Gran asked when Avery returned with Emily's Frappuccino. Emily explained the concept of a Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino to Gran, who insisted she could make one in Avery's kitchen when they arrived at his house.

  Avery's grandmother seemed satisfied with her new living-space. They unloaded her furniture and belongings within a few hours. By the time Avery left to take Emily home, Gran was already beginning the unpacking process.

  She stopped at her mailbox before making her way to the door. Bills, bills, crap, bills, more crap. She held up her keys to unlock the door but stumbled backward, dropping her mail.

  Her door was broken and splintered and across the white bevel was red paint... no... that smell...

  Blood.

  The lock was smashed and the door was not quite closed. Paralyzed by fear, she backed against the wall. Avery strong-armed her, keeping her steady. He took care of calling the police and reporting the break-in.

  The haunting images of her loss flashed through her mind, ending with the vision of her mother's mustang crumpled at the bridge's edge. Her eyes closed as Avery sat her down with her back up against the wall across the hall.

  How had no one noticed the door? Why had no one called her? When had this happened?

  Screeching sirens snapped her out of her trance. Her body tensed and she knew she couldn't stay there. There was only one alternative.

  The police asked her the usual questions. Avery knew one of the officers personally. The second officer opened the door, revealing the foyer. It was trashed.

  “It's gonna be okay. We'll take whatever you need and go back to my house for the night. We'll make a game plan and figure it all out, babe.” His voice helped to sooth her nerves.

  A detective came out of her apartment.

  "We're having a forensic team do a sweep. We found this," he said holding up a plastic bag with a large, bloody knife inside.

  Emily didn't do blood. With the smallest glimpse of the knife, she fell to the floor and passed out.

  When she woke up, paramedics had an oxygen mask over her face. She motioned it away and they removed it.

  "I'm fine," she said, breathing the fresh air. Avery looked down at her with fear in his eyes. She smiled up at him and his care seemed to melt away.

  "We're going home," he said, picking her up effortlessly in his arms. He packed her into the truck and drove back to the house. He wouldn't let her walk into the house on her own, though she insisted she was fine.

  "Is that you, Avery?" Gran called from the kitchen as they entered. He laid Emily down on the futon.

  "Yes Gran, it's me," he confirmed.

  "No wonder you're so danged skinny!" she complained. "There ain't nothin' in the fridge!" She marched in and immediately abandoned her scolding when she saw Emily. "My goodness, what's wrong? What happened?"

  "Someone broke into Emily's apartment. She's staying here until the mess gets sorted out," he said, going back out the front door for Emily's bags.

  "But who would have hurt you Suga'?" Gran asked, taking Emily's hand.

  "I don't know, Gran," Emily said leaning back against the cushions. "I just don't know."

  Gran ushered Emily into the master bedroom and lay down with her, running her soft hands over Emily's head until the majority of her tension melted away. She hadn't had that type of motherly care since long before her mother's death. She never realized just how much she missed it.

  Gran didn't leave until Emily had fallen asleep. Gran closed the door quietly behind her as she crept down the hall to the living room. Avery sat on the futon surrounded by two large suitcases.

  "What's all this?" Gran asked, taking a seat beside her grandson.

  "Some of Emily's clothes."

  "I tell you what, Gran, her place was torn apart from top to bottom. All of the dishes in the kitchen cabinets had been smashed into pieces on her kitchen floor. Pictures had been pulled off the walls and shattered on the floor. Canvas prints had been impaled, torn. Clothes had been thrown around her bedroom. Her bathroom mirror had been shattered into a million pieces. Both TVs were busted."

  "The crazy part is, whoever this sicko was left blood all over her bed," he said, raking his fingers through his hair.

  She gasped. "Heavens preserve us."

  "I'm so glad she didn't see that place. It was disturbing, even to me and I've seen some shit!" he exclaimed.

  Gran slapped his hand—alarmingly hard. "Language, boy!" she chided.

  "Sorry, Gran."

  "I'm glad she's here," she said, fiddling with the handle on one of the large suitcases. "Now we just have to get you both fed. We can't live on beer and cheese!" she declared. "We've got to get to the market soon!"

  Bright and early the next morning, the couple woke to Gran humming along to Johnny Cash in the kitchen as she knit a light pink blanket. Emily bent down, offering a hug to her as she passed heading straight for the coffee pot.

  “Mornin' Suga',” Gran said while giving Emily an extra tight squeeze. “Market today kids, this home needs some food. Gotta give an ol' lady somethin' to do all day,” she smiled sweetly.

  In a lot of ways, Gran reminded Emily of her own mother. Emily had been a late-in-life baby, arriving just before her mother should have hit menopause. The age difference also became a stress factor in the relationship between her and Amelia. Especially learning she lost t
he vast majority of her inheritance to Emily when her parents passed. Something she always questioned.

  “I wanted to go get my car today,” Emily mentioned to Avery noticing her pile of stuff in the living room. She walked over to her plush pink robe, picked it up and immediately put it on. Ahhhh! The comforts of home, she thought to herself. It would be these little comfort items that would get her through this transition.

  “Already done. Becca and Tom took care of it last night while I was picking up your things.” Avery said pouring his own cup of coffee. Leaning in to take a sip. Taking everyone off guard, he spit the coffee all over the place.

  “What the heck? Who made this?” Gran smiled as she nodded taking ownership of the freshly made coffee. There was no way Avery would be drinking Gran's mud in a cup brew.

  “Starbucks, Emily?”

  He didn't have to ask her twice, she eagerly nodded in agreement.

  “How about I go, and I will bring some back to you in a bit? I need to take Gran to the grocery store this morning.” Avery nodded in acceptance.

  “I got a couple things I need to take care of anyway,” He explained while pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket and thumbing through his e-mail.

  “Why don't you go get all made up, Gran? We got a date with the grocery store.” Emily said.

  A Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino and two hours later Emily and Gran walked back into the house with more grocery bags than she ever had the pleasure of lugging into a house in all her years.

  “Ladies,” Avery said, helping them with the bags. “I have bad news,” he continued while Emily's heart fell into her stomach. “I have to go back to work tomorrow.”

  She recovered quick. "Compared to what's happened to me lately, that is not bad news." She heaved a sigh of relief.

  "I'm scheduled for twenty-four hour shifts for now. Twenty-four on and twenty-four off until everything is settled.”

  “Well that will help you ease back into work. I think I am going to go visit my grandpa this afternoon. She beamed. "I can't start my new business without starting somewhere."

  Everything was set hard against her. She was virtually homeless. She was definitely uncomfortable and yet she was moving forward. He admired her courage.

  Emily finished her phone call with her grandfather. It had proven beneficial. Soon she would move forward and start up her LLC. She heard Avery and his grandmother talking quietly as she came back into the living room.

  "It's just too small," Gran said.

  "I know! I know," he agreed. "There's nothing I can do about that right this second. I promise I'll start looking for a new house right away, Gran. I promise."

  "No need!" Emily interjected. "I have just the perfect solution! We'll live in my parents' old house."

  "The beach house? But Emily you said—"

  "I said there would be a time to go back. Now is that time," she said decidedly. "The house has sat unoccupied for too long. Plus, it's paid for, there's tons of space and it only needs minor repairs."

  Avery looked unsure.

  "I won't take no for an answer," she said.

  "A big house on the beach!" Gran chuckled. "I got to see this for myself!"

  MOVING DAY

  Ten days had gone by since Emily walked Gran and Avery inside the abandoned beach house. Amelia had managed to sell most of the furniture in the house, but much of it was still left on the ground floor. The garage was jam-packed with photo albums, dishes— anything and everything that hadn't been dealt with. Emily had found a new reason to tackle the difficult task before her. Closing the book on her past and healing old wounds was high on her priority list.

  Paranoia had set into her daily routine. She looked in her rear-view mirror as she drove along, she repeatedly checked the locks on the doors when she was home, and looked over her shoulder as she walked anywhere. Until the police discovered who the crime-scene blood belonged to, her guard would remain sky-high. Emily sent up a silent prayer that it wouldn't be much longer until she could go back to living a normal life.

  She had two business meetings and secured a lawyer and a business manager for her new venture, thanks to her grandpa. Paperwork had been filed to start Taylor Interior Decorating. Her letter of resignation had been brought in to Mark at the firm. Being that she was one of the most valuable planners the company had on its staff, her boss was sad to see her go.

  Instead of looking for commercial space, she would work from her new home. They had six bedrooms and were occupying only two. Picking the back-corner bedroom on the second floor seemed ideal. The bedroom was lined with four bay-windows which faced the Atlantic Ocean. At one time it had been her mother's sewing-room.

  Her phone rang. She was happy to see it was Avery calling.

  “Hey, you,” she greeted.

  "Have you picked what color you want for our bedroom walls?" he asked. “Gran picked hers. I am still undecided.”

  Our bedroom. She couldn't help but gush a little at the thought of sharing a room with him.

  Behind Avery's voice the firehouse alarms sounded.

  "I've got go to!" he called over them.

  "Okay! I'll talk to you tonight," she said, hanging up. She shook her head and smiled. Well, I'd better nip this paint-choice issue in the bud, she thought to herself.

  She convinced Gran to accompany her to the home improvement store to go over paint swatches. Once in the car, she was asked for the juicy details of her and Avery's relationship. She explained how he'd pulled her from a wreck and they'd shared burgers in a hospital room.

  “How long ago was that?” Gran questioned.

  Emily flushed. What would his grandmother think of the short time they had been together? “Almost a month.”

  “I think true love happens fast sometimes. I knew my late husband for ten days before we got married. That was in 1957. I was sixteen. Things have changed, but not by much.” If Gran, with all of her life experience, didn't care how long she and Avery been together, why should anyone else?

  “Let's go get us some paint, Gran,” Emily said while they strolled into Home Depot. They waited in the paint color department for an employee. Her body suddenly jolted forward as someone fell into her back.

  “Oh, I am so sorry miss,” was all she heard as she began to turn around to meet the man behind the deep voice. She stopped in shock staring back at Jared.

  “Dr. Hart?” Emily questioned, remembering the last time she had seen him. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up.

  “Emily, I told you, call me Jared,” he flashed her a smile. “Painting something?” He questioned looking down at her mass of paint samples scattered on the counter. With hesitation she eyed Gran, and then brought herself to answer Jared.

  “Yeah, moving into a new house. Lots of painting to do.” As she spoke the words, a young, full-bearded employee approached.

  “I should run,” he said while he started to shift nervously on the balls of his feet, “it was nice to see you again, Emily. Enjoy your new house in Ponce.” As quickly as he'd appeared, he was gone.

  Gran had chosen a beautiful pale yellow for her walls called Yellow Whisper. To go along with it, she chose a perfect shade of cream for the accents. Emily finally decided on Watermark, a light blue for the master bedroom and the same cream color for the room accents. All the other colors would have to wait for another day, one when Emily was feeling less creeped out.

  She whizzed down the paint supply aisles grabbing paint trays, and brushes, filling their shopping cart up to the brim with speed. Once they made it through the check out and back to the safety of the car she was able to relax a bit.

  She pulled her iPhone from her purse to shoot Avery a quick text before heading to the new house. He would be worried if he came home and they were missing.

  Emily: Going 2 the beach house. Meet you there?

  Her phone quickly beeped and buzzed signaling his speedy reply.

  Avery: Emily go directly there. I will talk to you when I get
there. Don't go anywhere else.

  Her heart sank to her stomach reading his words. She nervously chewed on her bottom lip as she started the car and set off for her new safe haven.

  Avery walked into the front door of the beach house after his shift. He searched through the kitchen, living room, study and back deck before peering in the last room left on the first floor of the home, Gran's. She was standing next to the window watching the waves in a daze.

  Before he could announce himself, she acknowledged him with a few simple words. “She's upstairs.” He took off for the stairs.

  “Hey Em,” he said, snapping her out of her project. She had begun painting, a single tray of light blue paint laid on the floor, painter's tape marking off the baseboards and casements. When she turned, she had a spot of paint on the tip of her nose. He held up a finger and she froze as he stepped close. He swept his thumb over the spot until it was gone.

  “I wanted to tell you earlier that Detective Denton called me this afternoon. The lab is backed up. It could be months before they get the blood-sample tested. But they got a description from your neighbor, that bigger fella. He had seen someone leaving the apartment. The person he saw leaving was tall, dark-haired with dark features. His description matches Dr. Hart's.”

  The paint-roller fell from her hands and smashed onto the floor, splashing paint all over the shiny hardwood floor. She slowly turned to face Avery. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.

  "Jared?" she asked, her eyes glazing over with the frightening possibilities. She eased to the floor and sat there listlessly.

  “I think it is Emily. I think seeing you in the hospital triggered something with him.” Avery admitted. He took a few steps toward her, and sat down on the floor next to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her head to rest on his shoulder.

  “It's okay, Emily. I'll do everything I can to protect you. And Denton is working hard to figure all this out. He is on their radar in a big way, he can't sneeze without an officer following him right now.” Avery finished with a sigh.