Blood Red Winter: A Thriller

by J. Conrad

  At about noon I finally showered. When I opened the closet door to pull out a pair of jeans, I saw the row of Elizabeth’s clothes hanging there and I decided that today was the day. I was getting tired of looking at it.

  I started taking the clothes off the pole by their hangers and laying them on the bed. I would box them up, along with everything else, and drive to her mother’s house later. Since Elizabeth had finished the lease at her own apartment before moving in with me, this was a sensible location. As I removed items, one of Elizabeth’s coats was there, and on a swinish impulse I reached into the pockets, feeling around to see what I could find. How could she have nothing to hide, leaving so abruptly like that? I pulled out a gum wrapper and a paper clip. I snorted and threw them into the trash.

  After removing everything of hers from the closet, I went through the drawers. Since she had been living with me for five months, she had most of her things here and it was a mystery to me why she hadn’t come back for any of it. I opened the bottom drawer, revealing a pile of lacy bras and panties. Feeling like a was hit in the chest with a brick, I stuffed them into a garbage bag so I wouldn’t have to see them again. Then I got a box out of the garage and tossed the bag into it.

  Returning to the drawer, I noticed there were still a few things inside. I reached in and grasped two small pieces of paper, which I realized were movie ticket stubs. I was surprised by how that hurt, thinking it was something we had watched together – until I turned them over and saw they were for a movie I had never seen. She could have seen it with one of her friends, or at least that’s what Kyle would say. I wasn’t so sure anymore. I wished I could find something more damning. Furtively, I searched through the rest of her clothes before boxing them up, but no other evidence appeared.

  I removed all of Elizabeth’s hygiene products from the bathroom and placed them in a separate box. A bottle of nail polish remover started leaking onto the cardboard, so I took it out, emptied it in the sink and threw away the empty bottle. That crap wasn’t going to leak all over the inside of my truck just because she was too lazy to come get her stuff.

  Other odds and ends belonging to my ex-fiancée were scattered throughout the house, so I carried a bag with me and dropped things inside as I made my rounds in each room. At one point I was pretty sure I had everything, so I went back to the bedroom to tape the boxes shut. My eyes felt drawn to the dresser – maybe I had missed something – and I noticed Elizabeth’s small brown jewelry box, about the width of a post card, blending in unobtrusively with the wood beneath it. Annoyed, I grabbed it roughly and held it in one hand while I debated on which box to put it in. Then my suspicion returned and I set it back down on the dresser, a greedy desire to know its contents mingling with the anger I felt.

  The jewelry box couldn’t hold much because of its size. Most of what I found were things I had seen her wear before, among them, a necklace I had given her two Christmas’s ago. Disgusted, I clapped the wooden lid shut and put the jewelry box with her jeans.

  Elizabeth’s mom lived in South Austin, not far from Zilker Park. Once, a few months ago, I had found a rocky trail off in the woods I hadn’t known was there, and I had been looking forward to exploring it. Maybe after this unpleasant errand I’d seek it out.

  Traffic on 35 wasn’t too bad since it was Saturday, and I parked outside Ms. Reinhardt’s house a little before three o’clock. It was a small home, less than a thousand square feet, painted sage green with brown trim. The yard was sparse in grass, and was instead composed mostly of well-placed rocks, blue agave, cacti and a group of bushes with blue-gray leaves that surrounded a persimmon tree. I looked in the driveway and in the street, but didn’t see Elizabeth’s car.

  On the way there I had considered what I was going to say, which wasn’t much. I knocked on the door and waited. Ms. Reinhardt appeared a moment later, giving me a deer-in-the-headlights look, like I hadn’t chosen the best time to arrive.

  “Oh Trent, how are you? It’s so nice to see you.” Despite her effort to be cheerful, her face pulled into a frown. She lingered near the door frame, awkwardly placing her hand on it.

  Ms. Reinhardt was a pretty lady in her late forties with shoulder length hair died dark auburn. I used to wonder if that’s how Elizabeth would look when she was older, but presently the thought made me sick.

  “I’m doing well,” I said. I forced a smile. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. I’d ask you to come in but I have some guests today. What can I do for you?”

  “I just came to drop off Elizabeth’s things. I have a few boxes in the truck.”

  She pulled a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Oh. Sure. You can just bring them up to the porch. I’ll take them in.” She flashed another nervous smile.

  “Who is it, Mom?”

  My stomach somersaulted when I heard Elizabeth’s voice. Ms. Reinhardt turned briefly. “It’s Trent.”

  I heard Elizabeth reply to her mother, but couldn’t make out the words. This was echoed by faint laughter, barely audible, which I could have sworn to be male. I still didn’t see Elizabeth’s car anywhere and wondered if someone had brought her. Maybe she got a new apartment and had left it there, but it seemed weird.

  In spite of the need to be polite, I glared at Ms. Reinhardt before turning to go to the truck. Did no one have the decency to tell me anything? In silence, I deposited the four boxes on the porch. Ms. Reinhardt stood there with her arms crossed, now tight-lipped and unapologetic. She mostly stared at the greenery or out at the street. She wasn’t responsible for our problems, but she could have told me something.

  “Well, I guess that’s it,” I said. I waited, giving her a chance to make conversation if she wanted.

  “Okay. Thanks, Trent. Take care.” Her expression softened and she tried a smile again.

  “Yep,” I said. I turned curtly and left.

  An unwelcome, dull pain swelled inside my chest and my eyes ached, but I smothered how much this whole thing hurt. I gritted my teeth and wished I could tell Elizabeth to go straight to hell. I walked away from the perfect little South Austin house, with its perfect little eco-friendly, low maintenance yard, and got into my pickup.

  As I pulled away from the curb, I realized I had neglected one of the most important reasons I had come. I had forgotten to ask for the engagement ring back.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  January 6th

  The Silverado bumped erratically along the dirt road to Tim’s house, as I steered with my left hand and called Brenda with my right.

  “Trent, is –”

  “Brenda, I need you to call the sheriff. Someone just shot at me. Right now I’m driving through the cattle field, headed your way. Don’t worry, I’m not coming to the house, I just need the driveway to get back on County Road 152. You need to be careful. Lock your doors, keep your gun by you.”

  She gasped and said something I couldn’t hear. “Oh my God, Trent. Are you hurt?”

  “No, he missed. I’ll call you later to check on you. Call the sheriff right now, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, swearing as she took the phone away from her ear.

  The next gated fence loomed into view and I had to stop. Looking back, I didn’t see him. My stomach plummeted as I wondered what I would do if this guy was waiting for me at the end of Brenda’s driveway. I undid the latch like before and pulled my truck through, securing the gate before continuing. As I sped up, I slammed on the brakes just as quickly. The cattle in this field were on the move and crossing directly in front of me.

  “Son of a –” I swerved to the left off the dirt road, the tires hitting a rock and making me come off the seat. I bounced along as I steered past the herd, finally straightening out and getting back on the path. Pretty soon I could see Tim’s yellow house coming in view at the end of the pasture.

  There was another gated fence and my heart was pounding harder than ever. My hands felt numb as they gripped the steering wheel. He could be there, hiding somewhere, maybe by the
house, maybe in the drainage ditch by the county road. I had to be ready, but had to get out of here as fast as possible so that Brenda wouldn’t get hurt.

  I worked the latch of the gate, my hands shaking, my breathing loud and irregular as I fumbled with the chain. I glanced around every which way but didn’t see him. I didn’t see the white car. When I pulled my truck through, I heard Brenda’s voice above me. I looked to see her at the upper story window.

  “Just go,” she yelled. “I’ll get the gate.”

  “No way,” I said. I’m sure that would be the perfect opportunity for this psycho to come over and shoot her, just because he could. Watching down the driveway, I latched the gate – gate number three – and got back into the truck. I drove toward the road as fast as I could without inviting an accident. I glanced both ways, seeing nothing, and pulled onto County Road 152 where I turned right.

  I was going in the direction opposite my house. I didn’t peel out or let the tires squeal, but I did push it to fifty-five in a swift hurry. It would only take about ten minutes to get to the 35 feeder road. I’d drive south on the interstate and find a gas station somewhere. I kept glancing in the rear view, but the man’s white car wasn’t back there.

  I drove into Georgetown proper and stopped at a Chevron. There was a free space which allowed me to park fairly close to the door. I waited several minutes, searching for any sign of the car or the man. Had he really given up pursuit? I wiped my hands on my jeans, dug the business card out of my wallet, and called Deputy Reyes.

  I was lucky enough to actually get him on the phone. He must have been between crime scenes or speeders or whatever you call those moments during the day when cops aren’t doing anything.

  Reyes told me, “Sit tight. Don’t touch anything else in or on the truck. I’ll have it photographed and if we find the bullet that will be fingerprinted. You’ll also need to wait until we’re done to clean any broken glass out of the cabin.”

  “There’s not much glass,” I said. That wasn’t relevant. I guess I only said it because I was stressed.

  “Well, good,” said Reyes. “Just stay put until I get there. I’m on my way.”

  Deputy Reyes pulled into the Chevron in his black and white cruiser not fifteen minutes later. He was soon joined by the criminal investigations team, two men who arrived in a van. While they ran through their checklist on my Silverado, I got out of my truck to speak to Reyes. I explained what happened, giving him my best description of the man from what little I saw of his face. I had no proof, no evidence either, that the man was in some way connected to what happened at Tim’s old house, but I couldn’t help feeling like he was.

  “How could this guy know where I work?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Did anyone at the crime scene yesterday look suspicious? Or was there anyone there you might know, or you’ve seen before?” asked Reyes. Apparently Reyes couldn’t help but think he might have a connection too.

  “Suspicious?” I thought back and shook my head. “No, not really. A lady in a black jacket kept giving me weird looks, but other than that, no. No one there looked like the guy who shot at me and there was definitely no one I knew, other than Tim. I wondered if anyone would take a photo of me – because they might have overhead I was the one who reported the crime – but no one did that I saw. People had their phones out, but that was it.”

  Reyes nodded and took notes. I thought of Brenda and wondered how she made out after I left.

  “Do you happen to know if Brenda Corbin’s okay? She was at the house alone.”

  Reyes looked up and nodded. “She’s okay. I heard that call not long before you and I spoke. We sent some officers over there, but it seemed our boy was long gone.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Do you have any enemies that you know of?” Reyes asked, squinting slightly. My gut twisted. Did I?

  I considered, shaking my head slowly as I mentally flipped through my past and people I knew. “No. I can’t think of any.”

  “You’re lucky to be alive. It’s good that you reacted the way you did. If you’d have waited a second longer, you’d probably be dead right now.”

  I nodded.

  Reyes continued. “Is there anywhere you can go for a while? A friend’s house out of town, a family member’s house, somewhere like that? Are you able to hide out for a while?”

  “Yeah, I guess I could. But I’d rather not. I just moved here from Austin a few months ago and if I can’t work at the ranch anymore I’m down to one part-time job which is close to my house. Do you really think the guy will come after me again?” I asked. It was hard to believe anyone would be that bold – or stupid – but if he was criminal enough to shoot at me at work, I suppose it wasn’t far-fetched to think he might try again tomorrow or another day.

  “We should assume he will,” Reyes said.

  I regretted that I couldn’t see the car’s plate number, and I wondered if the shooter was able to get mine when I drove off.

  “What do I do if the guy follows me home?” I asked. “He might even know where I live already.”

  “Well, that’s my point, which is why I’d rather you stay somewhere else. If you absolutely must go home, you need to be prepared. If you have a gun, keep it with you. Be extremely careful. If you see anything out of the ordinary give us a call,” Reyes said.

  I guess there was no perfect way for him to tell me he doesn’t know what to do. We didn’t know the shooter’s game, his motive or who he was. If he returned, it would be in a way I didn’t expect, and that was the part I had to somehow prepare for.

  I realized despite my many layers of clothing, my body was shivering uncontrollably. I’d been doing that since I began talking to Reyes and hadn’t even noticed it. Though I’m no gun expert, I owned firearms and practiced using them sometimes, but I’ve never been shot at. It was hard to shake off the shock from fleeing for my life. My sense of reality had been jarred, and now I stood there, slammed into the present moment. The keenness of my vision was painfully sharp, while my body felt slightly numb.

  I turned to look toward my truck when I overheard one of the investigators say, “Found the bullet.” I would have been more curious to inspect it myself had I not been spinning. I’d like to know the caliber and get an idea of what type of gun was used.

  Reyes completed his questioning of me for his report. This was the second one in which I was a part, occurring less than 24 hours after the first. “Stay in touch with us. I’m glad you’re okay.” He smiled the kindest smile his hard face would allow, nodded and shook my hand. If he harbored suspicions of me before, his doubt must have passed.

  A shrill wind blasted my face as I looked over the fingerprint dust on my truck’s paint. The man hadn’t touched my pickup that I knew of, but I guess the team wanted to be thorough. From the corner of my eye, I saw the cruiser and investigation van pull out of the Chevron parking lot and onto the 35 feeder road. People were filling their tanks, walking in or out of the gas station or getting into their cars. Life carried on beneath the ash gray sky in a world that seemed cold and hostile to me. Today was business as usual for everyone else.

  The round hadn’t left much glass inside the cab of the truck, but I removed what I found. I’d need to get the back window replaced, but until then I taped over the bullet hole to keep the cold out. Searching my pockets for my phone, I realized I must have dropped it when I hit that rock in the cattle field. I finally found it underneath the passenger side seat. I called Brenda and she was rattled, but okay, just like Reyes said. She wasn’t disappointed that I wouldn’t be coming back to work, not when a gunman followed me onto her property. I asked her to let me know when Tim was released, and she said she would.

  I needed to look for another day job, but couldn’t think about that yet. I’d do it tomorrow or the next day. Before I went home, I’d take the opportunity to have my broken window replaced.

  * * * * *

  I sat in the lobby of QuickGlass, watching one of the r
epairmen take an old beat up Jeep with mud-encrusted tires into the garage. It was the vehicle ahead of mine. Trying to get my mind off what had just happened, my thoughts wandered to Elizabeth and lingered there like a bad hangover. She used to have a common gripe about how I wasn’t going anywhere in life and it was unfortunate that this was mostly true.

  Before I worked for Tim on his ranch, I lived in Austin, doing insurance billing for a chiropractic office. That was by no means my chosen career, but I got the job through a friend of mine, who insisted it was worth it. I had done that for years and the pay wasn’t bad at all – definitely better than the pay for feeding goats and mending broken barbed wire. They also provided an insurance plan, which I was allowed to keep when I changed jobs, as long as I paid my monthly premiums. But at my age, although I wasn’t a slacker, always had steady work and had squirreled away some money in savings, I didn’t have a real profession like Elizabeth did at the accounting firm. This, I feel, happened mostly because of a series of events after high school, rather than an actual lack of direction on my part, but there’s no point in dwelling on that now. Either way she wound up being right.

  To Elizabeth’s credit, she never actually said I wasn’t going anyplace, she just hinted at it, and suggested I should go to school. That would have been brilliant advice had it not been for the fact that I couldn’t afford it and I worked full time at my going-no-where jobs. It’s always convenient to tell someone how easy something is when you’re not the one who has to do it.

  I dialed Kyle’s number on my cell and hoped he’d pick up.

  “Trent! Hey, aren’t you at work?” I have never known someone to be so happy for no reason at all. I laughed in spite of day two of my miserable week.