Poison

by Jordyn Redwood

  To shelter him?

  Isn’t that what a good brother would do? Keep a family member from feeling the full weight of the police breathing down his neck? What about her safety? Sophia’s safety?

  The lights blanked out, and the house was draped in darkness. Her heart froze. Only the low flames of the fireplace provided any light. Keelyn set her coffee cup to the side and clicked her nails against the porcelain. It did little to dissipate the tightness in her neck. She rubbed at her muscles. The incoming snowstorm aggravated the unsettled feeling that crept into her mind. It’s just the power. Probably a transformer blew.

  Someone knocked on her door.

  Had she heard that right?

  Not at the front door, but the back door.

  Several times.

  Keelyn stood on shaky legs and considered bringing a weapon with her. The spoon in her tea seemed an inadequate choice. She mentally cursed the lack of fireplace utensils or anything large enough or heavy enough to use against an intruder. She walked with trepidation to the back of her home. As she neared the French doors that led to her gray, flagstone patio, vapors of snow whipped into the moonlight.

  Why were her neighbor’s lights on if the power had gone out?

  Had someone cut her power?

  She drew a bit of confidence from the fact that the dark house would allow her to see out more clearly than it would allow others to see in. Through the glass, she could see footprints up to the door. She pressed her nose into the cool glass and looked as far as she could to either side.

  Was that just a figure running along the back fence?

  Keelyn considered her options. Her hand rested on the lock. Wasn’t this the mistake of every horror movie heroine? Actually opening the door to the ax-wielding psychotic man waiting just out of sight?

  Keelyn eased her phone from her pocket and dialed the non-emergency number for police dispatch. Faint relief washed over her at hearing a familiar voice on the other end.

  “Gloria. Thank heavens it’s you.”

  “Keelyn? Looking for Lee?”

  Dread pulled at her heart. “Lee’s tied up at the hospital. Say, is there a car close by? Someone who could swing by and check my house?”

  Through the phone, Keelyn heard the rattle of her typing. “Need them emergent?”

  Wind fanned a sheet of snow and her sight of the backyard faded briefly. “It’s probably just me being silly but my power is out. Only one on the street. Footprints up to my back door. I think I saw someone running back there.”

  The silence on the phone caused her heart to stutter. Keelyn’s fingers ached as she held on to the device tighter.

  “I’m sending someone your way. Lee said you’d been having some strange experiences.”

  “To say the least.”

  “It’s going to be fine—”

  “Gloria?” Keelyn glanced at the phone.

  The call dropped. She dialed again. Busy signal.

  How long before they arrived?

  Chucking the phone to the counter, she grabbed a large knife from her butcher block, returned to the door, turned the lock, and swung the door open. Snow blasted her face. The icy crystals momentarily blinded her. After wiping them clear, she stepped onto the back porch, snow up to her mid calf. She leaned out.

  “Hello? Raven?”

  She noticed a rake knocked over onto a wooden bench. Could that have been the sound she heard? That would explain one knock but not several. Plus, it dropped away from the door. The snow seeped into her slippers as she walked the few steps to set the rake up against the siding. She turned back to the house, went inside, and locked the door.

  She leaned against the frame and watched the yard. A fallen rake didn’t explain footprints that stopped just outside her door. Sometime since the storm had started. The inside of the shoe impressions were barely dusted with crystals of fallen ice.

  As she turned back toward the living room, she noticed something different about the front door. When locked, the deadbolt was in a twelve-six position. Now it sat at three-nine.

  The door was not secured.

  Her lungs burned for oxygen because she’d held her breath so long. The knife fell from her hand and clattered to the floor. Her knees shook as she walked. The door was ajar. Wind whistled through the crack as she neared it. A thin line of snow formed on the carpet.

  Shoe prints. Inside her home. She followed their path with her eyes. They faded as they advanced to her staircase. Only small fragments of snow were visible on the bottom two risers. On the third step sat the smoke infested rabbit she’d thrown away a few days ago. A cool vibration swept through Keelyn’s body.

  Sophia screamed.

  Keelyn’s heart slammed against her ribs, and she leapt toward the stairs and jolted up them two at a time. The normally closed door was open. Sophia stood in her bed, hands clenched around the slatted headboard as she bounced up and down, screaming.

  Wary to approach, Keelyn eyed either side of the room before nearing the terrified child.

  Sophia continued to scream. A shrill so high it pained Keelyn’s ears. “Sophia, shh, it’s all right.”

  As she went to scoop the child up, she noticed several shiny orbs crawling on the mattress. She leaned forward.

  Spiders.

  Keelyn yanked Sophia up. One of the arachnids dropped from the child’s neck onto Keelyn’s hand. In one motion, she pivoted Sophia to one arm and slapped the back of her hand on her thigh to kill the vile creature. Dropping to the floor, she laid Sophia down and unzipped her sleeper and more spiders crawled from the opening. Quickly, she worked to remove the garment as more creatures scampered over her.

  Several red welts rose from Sophia’s fair skin.

  In throes of pain, Sophia flipped side to side and rolled away from her. Keelyn grabbed her leg to pull her back onto her lap. Tears welled in Keelyn’s eyes. Her heart tore at the child’s screams of agony.

  “Sophia!”

  The bedroom door slammed behind Keelyn. She jumped to her feet and tried the knob. It opened only a crack.

  Something held the door closed from the outside.

  She pulled with all her might. “Let me out!”

  Again and again. Over and over. Nothing would give.

  Keelyn grabbed Sophia from the floor and clutched her to her chest. It was like holding a crazed animal. Every effort Keelyn made to calm her screaming only seemed to intensify the effects of the venom.

  Was the intruder still out there? Why did he want to hurt Sophia?

  Keelyn groped for her cell. Her stomach plummeted. She’d thrown it on the kitchen counter.

  Clearly, a nest of spiders didn’t appear out of thin air on a child’s bed. Someone had deliberately placed the creatures there.

  Keelyn tried rocking Sophia to calm her. The child pushed and squirmed to be set free, her skin drenched, her face blanched. Keelyn held her tighter and buried her face in her neck and wept. There was no phone in Sophia’s room. How could she call for help?

  If I stay in this room, Sophia is going to die.

  Keelyn eyed the sippy cup left on the dresser. She set Sophia down and grabbed the future prison for the wayward spiders. Taking the top off, she scooped several up, including her homicide victim that lay eight legs up on the carpet, and screwed the lid in place. Once some of the venomous bunch were secured, she placed Sophia back in the bed and double-checked to ensure there weren’t any stragglers still remaining in the sheets. The girl sat and banged her back against her headboard. Her screams caused Keelyn’s body to shake with desperate anxiety.

  At the window, she saw a car drive fast down her street and fishtail as it rounded the corner. Her knuckles knocked against the glass as she released the lock. Now free, the window slid up. She pulled the pins to release the screen, pushed it out, and watched it cartwheel down the roof and off the ledge.

  The wind grabbed and knotted her hair as she stepped out onto the roof into the biting wind and snow. Keelyn eased onto her belly, slid to
the edge, and let her legs fall off the side.

  Now she dangled from the side of the roof.

  Sophia’s screams echoed like a wild banshee through the night air, even louder than the howling wind. Keelyn’s pulse pounded at her fingertips, and she imagined each wave pushed at her apprehension, a steady drum of encouragement to let go.

  Oh, God, please . . .

  Keelyn released her grip.

  She landed flat on her back onto the uneven ground, air exploding from her lungs. A sharp rock cut into her left side. Her initial breaths were weak and ineffective. Her vision clouded at the periphery.

  Through the tunnel, she saw an aperture of light dance like a wayward fairy across her yard and illuminate her chest. In great pain, Keelyn rolled over onto her stomach and ducked her head down, trying to coax the frigid air back into her vacant lungs.

  It was then she saw the blood that dripped onto her hands. She brought up her fingers and felt the warm stickiness at the tips. Her breath coalesced in staggered puffs.

  She fisted her hand into her chest and forced herself to inhale deeply. It was as if a ball with hidden spikes suddenly released inside her lungs. Her teeth clenched against the pain.

  “Help me!”

  No voice. Just steps crunched toward her.

  Looking up Keelyn saw the ghostly outline of a person walking, a pinpoint of light bouncing toward her. As she squinted into the moonlit snow, Keelyn could see the outline of a gun aimed at her.

  Instinctively, she covered her head with her hands. Through one squinted eye, she could see the eerie glow of another flashlight dance beside her, flickering over the snow until it found its target.

  The man who stood in front of her had his weapon raised.

  But his face was suddenly lit up like a beacon, and his armed hand rose up to shield his eyes from the onslaught of blinding light in the darkness.

  A fine whine raced passed Keelyn’s left ear, and then tree bark splintered into the air just at her attacker’s side. He turned and ran.

  Keelyn pulled herself to her knees and looked behind her for her savior. The other figure had disappeared. Blood dripped into her eyes. She set one foot onto the snowy turf and heaved up then trudged around to the corner of her house. The pain in her chest was so great she couldn’t bear to stand, and she dropped back down to the ground.

  In desperation, she began to pray. The words spilled from her lips in silence. She closed her eyes and turned her face up. Lord, I need you to give me the strength to stand, to get back into my house, to help Sophia. Her fingers tingled as the wind sapped her strength. I know you are here. You haven’t deserted me. Please . . .

  Keelyn opened her eyes. The front door to her home remained open. She settled back onto her knees and fought to cull air into her lungs, her hand rubbed at the sharp pains, and she dared again to inhale as deeply as she could. A racking cough swelled up, and the more she hacked, the more it felt like a hot poker stabbed between her left ribs.

  Red and blue lights pulsated against the facade of her neighbor’s home. Someone nosed a curtain aside to peek at the mayhem, but no one stepped out to offer any help.

  Keelyn bit her lips to suppress the cough. The move did little to stop the paroxysms. As she leaned on all fours, the unrelenting spasms spewed fine red mist into the snow and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  A strange, yellow glow pulsated from her home. The crackle of wood snapped from inside and confusion clouded her mind as to what these elements could possibly mean.

  She looked up just as her curtains were consumed in a ball of fire.

  A squeal of air breaks behind her split the night. She grappled in the snow to get some traction.

  Keelyn half crawled, half stumbled up the concrete porch.

  Heavy boots on her walkway thumped in her ears. Fright for Sophia’s life overrode any anxiety for her own.

  A claw-like grasp on her calves yanked her off the step. Keelyn screamed as the pain flared in her side. She flipped onto her back and began to kick to break free.

  A firefighter pulled her closer. “Who’s in there?”

  Keelyn inhaled with all her might. She needed her voice to be strong to break through his helmet and breathing apparatus. “My niece is trapped!”

  “Where?”

  She pointed up.

  “Second floor?”

  She nodded desperately. “There’s something . . . blocking the door.”

  “What?”

  Two EMS workers were at her side. “Was she in the fire?”

  “Dave! We’ve got a child inside!”

  A rush of three men tore through the open door. Glass exploded from the second floor and rained like hail down onto the front lawn. One of the men pushed her down and lay on top of her to shield her body. Pain seared through her chest and her vision blackened. A sharp scream hung light and airy above the roar of the fire, and Keelyn prayed it was from Sophia.

  At least it would mean she was alive.

  The paramedic eased off her chest. A red-lit probe was slapped onto her finger. The fast beep of her heart was echoed by the machine.

  “Pulse ox 88 percent.”

  The oxygen mask over her face felt more like a smothering hand than a lifesaving measure, and she reached to pull it off.

  “Keep it on. I need to listen to your chest.”

  The cool metal ring of the stethoscope further chilled her bones. Her teeth rattled.

  He shook his head. “We’ve got problems. I can’t hear anything on her left side.”

  “Her head is bleeding,” the other remarked.

  “Bad?”

  “She’ll need staples.”

  “Lung’s going to be a bigger problem.” He waved to another firefighter for the gurney, then turned back to her. “Were you in the fire?”

  Keelyn shook her head.

  “What happened?”

  “I jumped . . . off the roof.”

  “To get away from the fire?”

  Again, no! How could she make them understand what was really happening? Someone was trying to kill her and Sophia.

  Just then, Sophia emerged in the protective grasp of the firefighter. Two additional EMS workers ran to meet him as soon as he cleared to a safe distance. Plumes of water shot up and added to the flying snow as the sprays iced in the frigid air.

  Keelyn yanked the oxygen mask off her face, shoved at the two fire-fighters, and stood, staggering her way across the yard. She fell just short of Sophia.

  The fireman yanked off his breathing apparatus and threw it to the side. He laid Sophia in her arms.

  “She’s okay. She’s not burned.”

  The pressure in Keelyn’s chest intensified. She reached into her pocket and pulled the sippy cup out.

  The fireman pushed it away. “She shouldn’t have anything to drink right now. Not until the doctors take a look at her.”

  “Crying . . .”

  “She’s just scared.”

  “She was bitten.” Keelyn shook the cup in front of the paramedic who listened to Sophia’s heart. She leaned forward. Sophia tumbled off her lap into the snow. A strong hand gripped her wrist as she pushed the cup into the man’s stomach.

  “Inside. These . . . made . . .”

  The pressure was too great. She could feel death groping for her.

  “her . . . sick.”

  Keelyn tried to pull Sophia from the snow but she didn’t have the strength to lift her. She held her face in her shaky hands, trying to burn the image of her features into her mind.

  Strong hands clasped her shoulders. “I need you to lie down so I can help you.”

  Keelyn shook her head as she began to cry, the tears freezing and sticking her lashes together. It wasn’t the fear of death that consumed her. Heaven would be a welcome relief from the pain that racked her body. What plagued her spirit was the sense of loss at not being there for Sophia. Of the life she could have had with Lee. Of the love she was letting slip away.

  Hot fire e
xploded in her chest.

  Her body fell beside Sophia.

  A flash of bright light.

  Then darkness.

  Chapter 32

  DERRICK’S OFFICE WAS THE picture of East Coast Ivy League prestige, if you discounted the set of skis and surfboard in the corner.

  “Where do you even use that?” Lee asked, pointing to the over-decorated piece of fiberglass.

  “Sometimes on the west coast. Don’t get to travel very much these days.”

  “Boulder keeping you busy?” Lee asked.

  “Something like that.”

  Lee and Nathan settled into chairs across from the psychiatrist. Vanhise pulled his manila folder open.

  Nathan thumbed for a clear page in his notebook. “Not like you to call me so late, on a Sunday even, for a psych consult.”

  “I knew I wasn’t going to sleep unless we chatted. Are you familiar with how brainwashing works?”

  Lee’s elbow slid off the arm of his chair. “Brainwashing?”

  “They don’t let us use that anymore.” Nathan poised a pen.

  “Always the one with the dry sense of humor.”

  “Isn’t that fairly controversial? Whether or not you can truly brainwash someone?”

  “You’re right, Lee. Theories abound as to whether or not you can forcibly impart a belief on an unwilling participant.”

  “Why bring this up in relation to Gavin Donnely?” Nathan asked.

  “Let me just say that, at first, Donnely’s treatment seemed to be on the up-and-up. Very standard cognitive-behavioral therapeutic approach to Raven’s complaints. Early in her treatment, she suffered from basically depressive-type symptoms related to her feelings of abandonment by her remaining family members.”

  Lee squirmed in his seat. There was only one who was old enough to have cared for the orphaned child.

  “Keelyn,” Nathan said.

  Vanhise nodded and turned his attention to Lee. “Nathan has told me you have a relationship with this woman. As I’m talking, I want you to be aware these are mainly Raven’s feelings. We all know from our work that feelings can be significantly based on an individual’s distorted view of reality. They are just subjective impressions.”