Return to the Shadows

by Angie West

  “Puffing away again, I see.”

  “You want one?”

  “Yes,” I groaned in misery.

  “You sound like you’re having a rough day.”

  “Oh, you could say that.” I exhaled.

  “Where’s Ashley?”

  “I dropped her off with Mom and Dad so we could talk in private. Come on, let’s talk inside.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Sit down; I’ll make a pot, but thanks for offering.”

  “What happened today that’s got you so on edge?”

  “I went to the police station this afternoon,” I replied, measuring three scoops of ground coffee into the basket and depressing the switch. “Lance Jones—the officer who took our statements last week—called today with the lab results.”

  “Then why the trip to the station? What’s wrong?”

  “No, he only called to tell me that the results from the fingerprint analysis were in. He asked me to go to the station to discuss it. And everything is wrong.” I plunked myself down onto the stool across from Mike and reached for another cigarette.

  “Don’t keep me in suspense. Did they find anything?”

  “You could say that.” I blew out a thick stream of smoke and looked away. “The prints on the window belong to Earl T. Atkins.” I eyed my brother while he digested what I had just told him.

  “Earl Atkins….” He frowned. “Who is Earl Atkins?”

  “He was thirty-two. He died a year ago in the—”

  “Backyard!” Mike blurted. “Earl Thomas Atkins, right? You beat him to death with a garden shovel. I knew the name sounded familiar.”

  I glared at my brother across the table. “Yes, that would be the Earl Atkins to which I was referring. But he died in Bethesda Hospital, not in my backyard. And I did not beat him to death with my gardening shovel. I only hit him with it and he passed out…and, well, all right maybe he died after that, but if I hadn’t hit him, he would have done a whole lot worse to me.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Claire, that was insensitive of me. You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Oh God, I shot that man in the cave too.” I moaned and buried my head in my hands.

  “Yes, and he would have killed you too if you hadn’t.”

  “I know! So why doesn’t that make it any better?”

  “It makes it a hell of a lot better.” Mike was incredulous.

  “I’m a monster, Mike, that’s what it makes me.”

  “A monster? Claire, you brake for squirrels. You’re not a monster. And if anyone is to blame, it’s me for getting you mixed up in that mess to begin with. Now pull it together and tell me what the police said. Are you sure it was Earl Thomas Atkins’s prints that were found on that glass?”

  “Yes. They showed me two photographs of Earl when I went in. The first was an old mug shot. At first I really didn’t know who he was. He looked somehow familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Then Lance Jones pulls out this photo that, if I had to guess, came from the mortician.” I made a face and jumped up to pour two mugs of steaming coffee. “Cream and sugar?”

  Mike ignored the question. “Jones showed you a picture of a dead man?”

  “Yes, and it was definitely him. And then I remembered the name. That night, well, that night is hard to forget, if you know what I mean.”

  “I can imagine.” Mike scrubbed a hand over his face. “So what does this mean?”

  “That he’s not dead?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m in shock right now. Damn it, I thought this was over a long time ago.”

  “Are they sure it’s him?”

  “They seemed certain enough. As much as I would love to believe that this is all some horrible mistake.”

  “You don’t believe it’s a mistake.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “No, it’s not a mistake. He was here. Earl Atkins was in my yard again last week. He was at Ashley’s school. God, he went to Ashley’s school and all but gave her a message for me.”

  “Why now?” Mike’s face was drawn tight with anger. “How long has he been sneaking around and spying? Why is he trying to get to you after all this time?”

  “Revenge? I’ve been thinking about it all day, and it’s the only thing that makes any sense. Think about it. He’s not trying to get to me so much as he’s trying to get at me, for the moment at least. He’s showing that he can. He’s playing a game.”

  “For now.”

  “Yes, for now.” I took a deep breath. “But I can’t afford to assume he won’t take this thing all the way.”

  “He’s already taken it too far,” Mike declared with murder in his eyes. “He took it too damn far when he set foot on your property the first time.”

  “Well, the police are investigating now. Jones wouldn’t tell me what they planned on doing, just that a patrol car would make the rounds past my house once each night for the next few days. Stay inside, keep the doors locked. The usual, I guess you could say.”

  “I just thought of something, Claire.”

  “What’s that?” I added liberal portions of cream and sugar to my coffee cup and focused on my brother.

  “What if revenge isn’t the motive for Earl coming back here? Or at least, what if it isn’t the only thing motivating him?”

  “I don’t follow. What else is there?”

  “What else? Money. Who paid him to go after you before?”

  “Well, they weren’t able to prove it, but I think we all know who to thank for that one.”

  “John.”

  “Exactly. The worm. If you ask me, fifty years wasn’t a long enough prison sentence for that man.”

  “He will probably be out on parole in ten years,” Mike snorted.

  “That’s our luck lately, isn’t it?” I sighed. “Do you really think he is still trying to get to us, Mike?”

  “I don’t know, Claire, but it’s worth looking into, don’t you think? The prison where he’s serving his time is not all that far away. What do you think?”

  “I think if he could be trusted to tell us the truth, it might be worth our time. But John is a liar and has been from day one when he was married to Megan.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right on this, Mike. As tempting as it might be, seeing John would accomplish nothing.”

  “Actually, it’s not all that tempting.”

  “Yeah, I don’t relish the thought of spending my Friday night in a prison either.”

  “We still have to do something.”

  “Like what? Investigate ourselves? Amateur sleuth work?” I shook my head. “No, let the police handle it. That’s their job. Besides, we already know what happened. Obviously someone made a mistake last year. Earl Atkins didn’t die at that hospital. And apparently he is holding a grudge. But who makes a mistake like that? The police were involved in that case too.”

  “They investigated his death as a homicide. I remember.”

  “That’s right, but the case was closed without ever having been solved. The best they could figure was that Earl was killed when the other men who were in my house with him turned on him for some unknown reason. My name was never mentioned, thank God.”

  “What about the other one? The one you shot.”

  “They never found him. No blood. No gun. Nothing. But there were two other sets of prints found in the house besides Earl’s.” I frowned.

  “No, not that. I meant the man that you shot, where is he? Where has he been all this time?”

  “What am I, clairvoyant?”

  “Funny. But don’t you ever wonder where he is?” Mike leaned forward anxiously.

  “No,” I was quick to assure him. “I try not to think of him at all.”

  “What if he is a part of this thing that’s happening now?”

  “I don’t know. And short of him knocking on the door and announcing ‘here I am,’ I don’t see how we could ever find that out. But we know that Earl was definitely here. As for the third man,
well, I never even saw him. So I doubt that he has any reason to be angry with me. At least, not angry enough to want to harm me or Ashley.”

  “Unless he was Earl’s brother. Either one of them, half-brother, maybe. Or gay lover.”

  I very nearly choked on my coffee and quickly shoved the mug aside. “Gay lover?” I wheezed, trying to remember if I’d ever heard of a pair of assassins that would match that description.

  “Okay, so maybe that is a stretch.” Mike interrupted my thought. “But you have to consider the possibility that the two, or three, of them were connected somehow, which would lend itself to our motive for revenge theory.”

  “Oh!” I pressed cool fingers to my temples. “No, I do not. You’re giving me a headache.”

  “Sorry. I’m just trying to figure this whole mess out. I want you and Ashley to be safe.”

  “I know you do, I’m sorry. It’s just that this has me a bit on edge.”

  “Understandable.”

  “I’m worried about you too, Mike,” I told him in a quiet tone.

  “Why?” His brow furrowed.

  “You were in this too. Last year. Maybe you didn’t attack anyone like I had to, but you found that place. You found the key to Terlain. What if they’re not just after me?” I asked pointedly.

  “It’s possible but not likely. We told John that we destroyed both halves of the key. What point would there be to sending someone after me now? He never cared about the historical implications of a find like Terlain. He wanted nothing more than to pilfer the land.”

  “True. Anyway, I’m the reason he is doing hard time. As far as he knows.”

  “Claire.” Mike was wary. “I still wish you had let me clear that up with the police.”

  “There was no point in the police questioning both of us. It was easier to let them think that John tried to have me hurt because he was angry I had found evidence of his corruption through his position at LanTech.”

  “Between you and me, I half expected him to spill the whole sordid tale when they arrested him.

  How I found the artifact and the old legend. All of it.”

  “Hah. Well if nothing else, it would have made for a fabulous insanity defense. Personally, I’m a little relieved that he kept his mouth shut.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered either way,” Mike shrugged. “They never would have believed him.”

  “Some days I can hardly believe it myself.” I toyed with the handle on my coffee mug. “Do you ever think about it?”

  “We’re talking about it right now.” He was ever evasive.

  “No. Do you ever think about Terlain? About being there?”

  “No. It was a mistake.”

  “Was it? Do you honestly believe that it was all just a big mistake?” I searched his face for the truth.

  “Claire, how can you even ask me that? Because of me, because of that place, you and your daughter are in danger. And how many times did you cheat death last year? All because I didn’t leave it alone. I should have walked away, but I didn’t. Even worse, I dragged you right into the middle of it. And you’re still paying for it. You and Ashley. So, yes, I do honestly believe that it was a mistake.”

  “I don’t.” My quiet admission stunned Mike into silence. “At first maybe I did. And most of the time that I spent searching for you, all that I could think about was getting back home.” I felt as though the words were being dragged from me and I sounded forced even to my own ears. I pressed on anyway, needing to finally get the words out. “I know you don’t like to talk about it. But something happened to me over there. Something good, and I can’t just pretend it was all a dream. Maybe you can, but I can’t, God knows I have been trying. Partially out of respect for your feelings, but mostly for Ashley’s sake, because she deserves a normal, stable life. But I can’t make it any less real. Terlain gave me my daughter. Terlain gave me a lot.” I looked away.

  “What was his name?”

  “Mark,” I murmured. “His name was Mark.”

  “Is he…?”

  “No, he’s alive. At least he was when I left.”

  “Was it serious?”

  “Yes. He was a good person. I hope he still is.”

  “I don’t mean to be insensitive, Claire, but what’s this about? Why are you thinking about all of this now?”

  “I think about it all the time,” I replied with a trace of bitterness. “I’ve been having these dreams lately. They started a couple of months back. Dreams of Terlain and danger. I think they’re in trouble over there. Or they will be. I know I’m in trouble again....” I trailed off.

  “And?”

  “Maybe it’s not a coincidence. Maybe someone is trying to tell me something.”

  “I think you have an overactive imagination.”

  “Me?” I sat back hard against the seat, astounded. “You dig up a relic in another country and go realm hunting and I’m the one with the overactive imagination?”

  “Point taken,” he grumbled. “The fact remains, I don’t see how the two can possibly have a connection. The dreams are from stress, Claire. Stress and anxiety over leaving your…Mark. There was no closure.”

  “No, there wasn’t,” I agreed wistfully.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He wanted me to stay, you know. He was willing to follow me here.” I peeked from beneath the bangs that had fallen into my eyes to gauge his reaction.

  “We can’t go back,” he gently reminded me.

  “Aries would have come back too. She was waiting for you.”

  “Claire—” He exhaled sharply and walked to the window above the sink. I waited. “Don’t think I don’t miss her. Don’t think that I didn’t care about her.”

  “What if you could go back? Would you do it? Or would that be a mistake too?” I grilled.

  “That would be pointless to think about. What’s done is done.”

  “What happened to you over there?”

  “It’s done, Claire. We can’t go back. No one can ever go there again. It’s just a story now, as it should be.”

  “Right,” I snorted. “And you still haven’t answered the question. What if there was a way that you could go back?”

  He turned slowly to pin me with a wary eye. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying....” I cleared my throat. “I’m saying, maybe there’s a way.”

  “There was only one key,” he stated flatly.

  “So the story goes.”

  “We destroyed both halves of that one key. We burned them to ashes.”

  “Yes.”

  “Claire.”

  “Yes, we destroyed them,” I hedged, hating that I had to lie to him. “I’m simply saying maybe there’s another way in.”

  “Well, there isn’t.” He started for the door with purposeful strides.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the hardware store. I want to get some alarms for the windows.”

  “We have a security system. What do we need with window alarms?”

  “You can never be too careful, especially in light of recent developments. I want to stop off and pick up some surveillance equipment too.”

  “Cameras.” I nodded. “Now that’s a good idea.”

  “Are you picking up Ashley?”

  “At nine,” I confirmed.

  “I’ll be back before then.”

  “Do you need money?”

  “No, I got it,” he tossed over his shoulder.

  “Thanks.” I winced as the front door shut behind him. “That went well.” I exhaled. Actually, I had to admit, it had gone exceptionally smooth. But I knew my brother enough to know he wasn’t thrilled to think of Terlain and other access points to the land. I thought of the key tucked safely away in my bedroom, and wondered what Mike’s reaction would have been had I told him the whole truth about what really happened to the key. The phrase “worried to death” popped into my head.

  There was no need for Mike to worry, though. Not really. My initial re
asons for keeping the key hidden at the bottom of a drawer were still valid. I would put my daughter first at all costs. Not to mention she still had three weeks of school left before break. The adoption process had been a grueling ordeal, and it was nothing short of a miracle that we managed to finalize in a matter of months. No way would I do anything to jeopardize that. No, I conceded, the key would stay where it was…for now.

  Chapter Four

  Hunted

  The thin, shrill cry split the silence of night, jerking me from a sound sleep. Ashley.

  “Mom...” she whimpered from across the hall.

  I was on my feet and trudging into her room immediately, groggy but steady and coming more awake by the minute. She must have had another nightmare, I realized, taking a deep breath and entering the room slowly so as not to startle the child in her already distressed state.

  “Hey, baby doll. Is that you making all the noise in here?” I gently teased.

  “I had a bad dream.” Her voice wavered in the dim room, her Dora the Explorer nightlight doing little to banish the deep midnight shadows that clung to the room.

  “We’ve got to get you a brighter nightlight,” I muttered, more to myself than Ashley. “I’m turning the big light on, okay?”

  “I’ll close my eyes,” she replied, her tiny little voice growing a bit stronger.

  “There we go. Goodbye darkness. Now,” I began, moving her small form over and squeezing into the pink ruffled twin bed with her, “do you want to talk about your bad dream?” I steeled myself against the disappointment I knew was coming when she would refuse to discuss the monsters that sometimes ran through her dreams in the night. I was determined not to press her to talk about it if she didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help but feel the sharp sting of disappointment and the feelings of helplessness that went along with that rejection. I was sure that if we could just talk about the dreams, we could make them go away, together. But as I was constantly forced to remind myself, Ashley was her own person. Sometimes she was willing to talk about them, but sometimes she preferred not to drag her fears out into the open. Me forcing her to open up wouldn’t do anyone any good. Tonight, however, was one of those rare nights when she chose to open up a bit.