Blood Red Winter: A Thriller

by J. Conrad

  Since most of the emergency crew was inside the house and there was no longer anything happening near the door, I took a deep breath and looked around. The spectators were hanging on with dauntless interest, whispering and talking amongst themselves. About eight people had gathered, which was quite a crowd for this area. A middle-aged woman in a black jacket squinted at me, looking me up and down. My presence was in question, but I wasn’t giving her much to see. I was your run-of-the-mill, average white guy. With brown hair, brown eyes, and a medium build, there’s nothing particularly notable about me, good or bad. In this situation that’s probably a good thing.

  A little boy next to the woman followed her gaze. He pointed and asked, “Who’s that?” She gave him some answer which I couldn’t hear. Did she tell him I was a suspicious man the officers were questioning? It knew it would have been best to leave. There was no further reason to stay there, but something kept me. I guess I was no better than the spectators.

  The woman’s eyes were boring little red laser holes into my skull, so I turned to watch the house again. Time passed slowly. Some of the officers were still outside, talking near the cruiser Tim was cuffed in, but most everyone else was inside or somewhere else which I couldn’t see.

  The temperature was dropping as the daylight slipped away. It was going on 6 o’clock and the overcast sky smudged out the sunset with chalky gray clouds. Finally, I saw the back of a blue EMT jacket emerge from the doorway as the first body was steered out on a stretcher. I couldn’t help noticing that it wasn’t draped in a white sheet. My stomach twisted and I shivered. The fleeting light gave me just enough visibility. Just enough – I could see. And what I saw was a young woman’s pale, dirt-streaked face, half-covered by an oxygen mask. She was deathly still with closed eyes, her head rolling limply to the side as she was jostled by her carriers, but she was alive. An odd sensation smoldered in the middle of my chest and I stood there unblinking, watching until the woman was loaded into the ambulance.

  I couldn’t believe it. My mind couldn’t process what just happened or what it meant. I stared as the ambulance roared to life with its siren blaring and red lights blinding me. The driver steered it away from the derelict house and pulled past the small gathering, accelerating down narrow County Road 118 in the direction that led to the interstate.

  The minutes ticked by and I wondered where the other body was. The woman on the stretcher must have been the one that was chained to the wall. She was wearing the white dress covered in dark red blood – the most blood I’ve ever seen. The other body, which lay on the squalid wooden floor, looked too wasted away to be living. That being the case, there would be forensics procedure to deal with and it would take hours before they removed it from the crime scene. I was still agitated, keyed up on adrenaline and my heart was racing, but it was over. I had seen everything I needed to see.

  The sheriff’s cruiser holding Tim hadn’t budged. I felt bad for him, but there wasn’t much I could do. Feeling the many eyes on me, I turned to head home. I walked away from the flashing lights, the yellow police tape and the bewildered onlookers. As I trudged along in darkness, I couldn’t keep the question from my mind, even though I told myself it didn’t really concern me, not ultimately.

  Would she live?

  That Morning

  At about 10:30 a.m. I got out of bed and made my rounds to the toilet, the shower, and the sink. I don’t usually sleep that late, but it was Sunday, so I could justify it a little. I ran my hand over my jawline and the texture reminded me of pumice stone. 5 o’clock shadow is one thing, but this was just bad. And as bad as I looked, I felt worse.

  My blood shot eyes stared back at me in the mirror as I dabbed the shaving cream on my face. Still barely able to stay awake, I sloppily dragged the razor across my chin and watched as three little dots of blood sprang up. I tried to concentrate on the motions and ignore the splitting pain across my forehead. My temples were throbbing. Nausea rose from my stomach, but I swallowed it back down and finished the task in front of me. I didn’t give a crap. I didn’t feel like eating anyway.

  I stumbled into my tiny living room to find it littered with things: beer bottles, empty pizza boxes, soda cans, dirty napkins and various other debris. The place was like a garbage can. For the next hour I picked up my trash and put things away. I threw three full bags into the green dumpster outside and wiped down the kitchen. I pushed the vacuum over the carpet and bleached the bathtub and the commode.

  By the time I was done taking care of my mess, it was well after noon and the sun still hadn’t shown itself. Outside my window, a muted gray sky hovered over the barren mesquite trees. I looked past the barbed wire fence but the sheep hadn’t appeared in the neighboring pasture yet. They made their rounds to the field behind me several times a day. Since I’ve never lived near livestock before, I’ve always kept an interested eye out for them. It hasn’t been that long since I moved here from Austin.

  My stomach continued bubbling, threatening to burst into my esophagus at any moment. I knew a beer would help, but I didn’t want to drink today. It would be better to go take a walk and clear my head. I grabbed my coat and picked up my cell phone, stuffing it in my jacket pocket without checking my messages.

  Outside, even the diffused light managed to make me squint. It was chilly out, but not cold. The temperature was in the lower fifties. I got into my black Chevy Silverado pickup and started down the long gravel driveway. I pulled onto County Road 152 and headed into town.

  Technically, I don’t live in Georgetown, I live in Williamson County between the cities of Georgetown and Weir. Residents call it Georgetown anyway and that’s how my mail is routed, because of the location of the nearest post office. Back in November of last year I started renting a small, weathered house out here, which barely consists of four rooms. That was only two months ago. I love Austin, but I needed to get away, and I managed to change my line of work while I was at it. I went from processing insurance claims at a chiropractic office to working part-time on a ranch, and part-time at the gas station near the 130 toll road and Interstate 35. So I have two jobs, but they’re different enough from one another that it’s not so bad. The work keeps my mind off things.

  I sped down the winding road at nearly 50 miles per hour. This was something I had to get used to, until I realized there’s nothing to hit when you live in the middle of nowhere. As I was rounding a bend next to a pasture of Black Angus cattle, my pocket rang. I hastily pulled off to the shoulder as far as I could, and with a little swearing, answered the call from my friend Kyle. Unfortunately my truck isn’t new enough for Bluetooth capability.

  “Hey,” I said. My voice creaked.

  “Hey, Trent! You up?” His enthusiasm hurt my head.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s one thirty in the afternoon. What’s up?”

  Kyle laughed. “I’m heading over there. The game is on. You wanna go?”

  He didn’t have to explain where “over there” was. We have a favorite bar in Austin, one named after an infamous Latin American goat sucker, that we like to haunt on the weekends. Their drinks are radioactive and the atmosphere is perfect for forgetting things.

  “No man, I’ve got a hangover.”

  That elicited more laughter from him. “Oh come on. You’ve gotta get out. You don’t need to drink anything.”

  “I am getting out. I’m in my truck and I’m driving. I’m going to take a walk. Anyway, I don’t want to drive into Austin today. I’m just going to hang around town, go to bed early,” I told him.

  “Okay, that’s cool. I can come up there. What about that place we went to last month? What was it, CJ’s? I can meet you, then you won’t have to go far.”

  I sighed and stared blankly out my windshield. One of the Blank Angus was grazing beside the wooden fence post nearest me. “All right. But I’m not gonna drink anything and I can’t stay long.”

  “No problem. I’ll see you there in about thirty minutes.”

  “Cool,” I said.<
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  * * * * *

  Our pitcher of beer was nearly empty. I drained what was left in my mug and without intending to, almost slammed it onto the table. The game droned on overhead, but I barely noticed it. I stared at the glossy finish of the wooden tabletop, watching as the condensation from the pitcher made a little puddle of water.

  “So?” Kyle asked.

  Realizing he was speaking to me, I looked up. Well, at least my headache was gone. “So what?”

  “Have you heard from her?” He raised his eyebrows and readjusted his UT cap over his short blond hair. Being that Kyle was a successful real estate agent, he didn’t have to work Sundays and usually didn’t.

  “Who?” I glared at him, even though I knew damn well who he meant.

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Tss. No. Don’t care,” I said. It had been a while since we broached this subject.

  “Oh, come on. You don’t know what happened. What do you think? What’s your take on it?”

  I poured the remaining contents of the pitcher into my mug. So much for not drinking today.

  “I think people shouldn’t lie. That’s what I think,” I said. My hand lost its grip on the glass handle and I nearly dropped it.

  “Well yeah, but you don’t know that she lied.”

  I didn’t reply. Honestly, I just wasn’t in the mood for this topic today. What difference did it make whether she lied or not, really? She was gone, so that was the outcome. If she had told the truth she probably wouldn’t be.

  “Don’t care,” I repeated.

  Kyle shook his head. “Geez.”

  At twenty-seven my best friend Kyle was three years younger than me. I knew that thirty wasn’t old, but I couldn’t help feeling jaded and sick of my life already. I didn’t share in his innate sense of optimism.

  “You ready to go?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m ready.” I pushed back against my chair and it made a harsh scraping sound against the floor. When I stood up, I felt dizzy. Besides part of a basket of fries, that was all I had eaten since yesterday, besides the half a pitcher of beer.

  We paid and walked out to the parking lot. The temperature had dropped slightly and the wind was picking up. It whined weakly through the trees and around the spaces between cars, tossing up dry, brown leaves at my feet. A cold, faint drizzle began to brush against my face.

  “You look like hell,” Kyle said. “Get some sleep or something.”

  “Yeah. I will. Thanks.”

  “Later,” he said, and I raised my hand in acknowledgment as he found his car.

  I slid back into the driver’s seat of my pickup. The sound of the door closing reverberated harshly inside the cabin. Determined to carry out my original plan of taking a walk to clear my head, I chose the easiest course of going back to my place and leaving the truck in my own driveway. Since Kyle had been kind enough to meet me in Georgetown, I wasn’t far away at all.

  I weaved my way out of the parking lot and pulled onto the 35 feeder, knowing that in about fifteen minutes I’d be home, and after getting some exercise I wouldn’t need to do a thing for the rest of the day. I often wonder what would have happened if I had went to Chupacabra in Austin, instead of being such a flat wheel and resisting the drive. Maybe I wouldn’t have taken that walk. Maybe my life wouldn’t have become worse than it was already. Maybe a lot of things. But the universe doesn’t care about “maybes.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  3 Months Earlier

  Elizabeth was perched on the couch with her feet tucked underneath her like a house cat. She brushed a strand of black hair away from her face, leaned over and started digging around in her purse, quickly producing a compact and lipstick tube.

  “What time will you be ready?” I asked. We’d been planning this dinner for a couple weeks, on the basis that we didn’t do enough romantic things. It was almost 5 o’clock and I was worried about getting a table.

  “Uh, pretty soon,” she mumbled. I could swear her voice was shaking. Still wearing her faded jeans and cami top, she wasn’t even dressed to go out, which I couldn’t help but notice when she bent down. Elizabeth was on the slender side, but I had always liked her figure. There was a leanness about her, an elegance.

  I thought about asking if something was wrong, but there wasn’t any reason to. I was ready and waiting and we hadn’t disagreed about anything today. But I did perceive that she was unusually quiet. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well.

  Elizabeth pulled a brush through her long hair and gathered it back into a ponytail. She swung her feet to the floor and sat with her legs together. She put her hands on her knees, staring at her fingers awkwardly for a few seconds.

  “Trent,” she said, not looking up right away. “I was wondering if we could talk about something before we go.”

  I got a twinge at the top of my stomach. “Sure.”

  Instead of speaking, she went into the bedroom and came back out with a dark blue top, which she pulled hastily over her head. She crammed her arms through the sleeves and pulled down on the shirt, straightening it out too many times.

  “So?” I asked. Whatever it was, I’d have to listen to what she had to say.

  “Um.” She was about to sit back down on the couch, but I think she realized she was being a coward and came to sit across from me at the kitchen table. Her eyes were wide and watery. They were the same color as the shirt she had just forced onto her body like war gear. “Well, last weekend when I was at the company picnic, I was talking to a friend. She told me about what happened with Mary, and I realized a few things.”

  I leaned back and looked at her, folding my arms. A dark cloud fell over the room and the proceeding silence was stark in my ears.

  “I thought you were at your mom’s last weekend. You never told me about a company picnic. And who’s Mary? You mean my Mary?” I blinked and ran my hand across my chin. That sounded bad. Really bad. I didn’t mean to be as defensive as I sounded, I was just surprised. Not only had she never told me anything about a company picnic – something I should have been invited to – but the way I had referred to a girl from my past as “my” could be catastrophic.

  “Oh yeah, I did visit my mom’s, that’s true,” Elizabeth said. She nodded rapidly and straightened her back. I could see the flash of hurt in her eyes over the Mary comment, but she didn’t mention it. “But I also went to the picnic. We have one every year. And yeah, it was Mary, the same Mary. Anyway, I was talking to a friend and I just think – I think she’s right. I think we’re moving way too fast, and maybe this isn’t what either of us really wanted.”

  I frowned and waited. I didn’t see how those sentences even related to one another. There was something I wasn’t grasping.

  “Who told you about Mary?” I asked.

  She hesitated. “My friend Brittany. She told me what happened.”

  I didn’t know Brittany and had never heard of her before. “What did she tell you?”

  “She told me about the party and what you did after that,” Elizabeth said. “The bad stuff.” She sat staring at me and the look in her eyes told me things were different now. Whatever this conversation behind my back had been about, our relationship was permanently altered.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “I was wondering if you’d be okay with some time apart. You know, just to think things over, get our heads straight.”

  It wasn’t my head that needed straightening, that was for sure. I placed my folded hands on the table and considered them, carefully gathering my words.

  “I’m confused,” I said as calmly as I could. “You wanted a proposal and five months ago I proposed. You wanted us to live together to make sure we can do it, and we’ve been doing that. Now you have cold feet, but I wasn’t the one pushing. I thought I was doing what you wanted to make you happy. Now you’re upset when you find out about something from my distant past? I don’t even see how that’s relevant. And this Brittany person has nothing to do with us.”

  Elizabeth looked down, n
arrowing her eyes. She pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows ever so slightly. “She told me what happened. Is it true?”

  My stomach was tightening into a knot. I wanted to slam my fist down on the table, but I didn’t. “She told you what happened?” I repeated, unable to completely keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  “Yeah, she told me all of it. Is it true? Did you really do that? And if so, how come you never told me about it?”

  I shook my head and let my breath out in exasperation. “About the stupid mistakes I made when I was a punk kid? Elizabeth, that was twelve years ago! I didn’t even know you.”

  Her eyes flinched with the hurt doe look again, like I was the one creating the problem and she was the victim.

  “I know it was twelve years ago, but how could you not tell me about something like that? Don’t you think it’s pretty important? I mean, after what happened to her. Especially if we’re getting married –” Her voice broke into a sob, pink blotches blooming across her cheeks. Two little wrinkles sprang up between her eyebrows.

  So this Brittany person had bad-mouthed me for my adolescent screw ups and Elizabeth thought I might do the same to her. Was that what this was about?

  “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. It was just so long ago. I was young and stupid then. I’m not that person anymore. I grew up. I didn’t think it mattered now.”

  The tears which had filled her blue eyes spilled over and rolled down her face. One made it all the way to her shirt and splattered on the fabric.

  “You didn’t think it mattered that you cheated on the girl you were with right before me? And then what you did to her after? Is it true?”