Blood Red Winter: A Thriller

by J. Conrad

  “Yes. Right. Yes,” I said. I formulated my next words carefully. What I said had to be correct but I couldn’t mess up anything else. “This was just a few days ago, after my surgery. I had been moved to another room. I was resting in bed and she walked by my room. She saw me and sat in the chair by the door and we spoke for a few minutes. She said she was glad to meet the person who saved her.”

  Reyes sat up straighter. “Okay. What hospital was this?”

  “Seton Southwest,” I said, and Reyes frowned, furiously scribbling on his paper. I continued. “She told me she had been moved from St. David’s.”

  “Okay. Did you have any physical contact with the victim?” Reyes asked.

  I glared at him, my mouth almost falling open. “What?”

  “Physical contact. You touch her, give her a hug, anything like that?”

  “What? No, of course not. Are you kidding me?” I said. My upper lip twitched in disgust.

  “Just checking. Did you exchange information at all?”

  My stomach did another dive. “She asked me for my phone number so I gave it to her. I didn’t want to, but she was crying and seemed upset.”

  He turned his head and almost rolled his eyes. “She asked you for your phone number?”

  I huffed. “Yes. She was crying, saying stuff that didn’t make sense. Saying she has trouble eating...” Korey had a dog. I hate dogs.

  Reyes was shaking his head, scribbling on his clipboard. “Okay Trent, so what you’re telling me is that this young woman who was kidnapped, raped, tortured and starved asks a man she doesn’t know for his phone number. That’s what you’re telling me?”

  In exasperation, I huffed and lifted both hands at Reyes. “Yes! That’s what happened!” This gesture naturally included my left hand, which was supporting my weight in the awkward sideways position. My backside slammed down on the metal chair, putting the full weight of my torso directly on my shattered tailbone. The ribbon of agony that carried up my spine made me scream in pain. I cried out, and steadying myself with the table, pushed myself to a standing position.

  Cursing and wincing as Reyes stared at me, I said, “I’m not sitting down again.”

  Reyes ignored my statement. “Did she call you?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Did you try to call her?”

  “No,” I said. “She said she didn’t have a phone, but I don’t want her to call me – and I didn’t ask her for her number. The only reason I gave her mine is because she was hysterical and crying, and I thought if I didn’t give it to her it would make her more upset.”

  Reyes snorted and kept writing. He wrote for a while with me alternately glaring at his face and the wall. I heard a squeak behind me and the heavy door slid open. Still standing, I turned my head to see Detective Menard walk in.

  “Were you listening to any of this?” Reyes asked.

  “Yeah,” Menard said, and he and Reyes exchanged glances. So were they both “bad cop” now? I’d lost track.

  Deputy Reyes stood up, grabbing his clipboard. “Okay Trent. You’re free to go. I’ll escort you to the front desk, and we’ll have someone drive you home.”

  I stared at him, narrowing my eyes. He had to tell me more than that.

  Reyes said, “Yes, you are still a suspect. So prepare to get called back in for questioning, and possibly even detained if we have enough evidence. As of right now, we don’t have enough to hold you. The biggest favor you could do yourself is to stop putting yourself in bad situations and start reporting anything – I mean anything – out of the ordinary that happens to you. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t sound believable or not. That’s not the point. If you report suspicious activity to us, then there’s a record of that. When you don’t report it, it looks doubly suspicious and it can even make it appear that you’re the perpetrator.”

  I nodded. “I understand. I’ll report everything from now on.”

  He and Menard glared at me, while Reyes lifted his right palm in the direction of the door. I slowly walked out, gritting my teeth against the stabs of pain, and they followed. Menard broke off into the one of the adjacent hallways, and Reyes took me to the lobby.

  “I’m counting on you, Trent. Don’t make me have to do this again,” Reyes said. I nodded, and Reyes left me at the front desk. An officer about my age told me he’d be driving me home.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  February 16th

  From the back of Kyle’s silver Audi sedan, I stared out the window as we headed down County Road 152 toward the Interstate 35 access road, where we could board the freeway. The sky was overcast and drizzling, and the cattle in the field on the left were huddled together in a black clump between prickly pear and tall brown grass. I put my fingers under the blue tie around my neck, loosening it slightly. Sitting wasn’t as painful as last week, but then again I was still taking the meds. On the seat underneath me was a small doughnut cushion. My hands rested numbly in my lap.

  “Thanks again for offering to drive me to the funeral,” I said.

  Laney was in the passenger seat next to her husband, so pregnant I wondered if the seat belt was pinching her stomach. I was seated behind Kyle, and Laney turned her head slightly to look at me. She smiled brightly under her blonde hair, which was curled today and pulled together in the back.

  “Of course, Trent.” Her smile faded and her eyes drooped a little, her eyebrows pinching slightly in the middle. “We just can’t imagine what you’re going through and we’re so sorry. We’re happy to help in any way we can.”

  “That’s very kind of you both,” I said. Kyle nodded, but was silent.

  Laney and I made small talk on the drive into Austin. We pulled up to the white cathedral on Burnet Road, the church appearing towering, white and immense, holding its fortress-like position under the wintry gray sky. Kyle let Laney and me out at the door. I carried the cushion under my arm. I never thought I would return to St. Louis Catholic Church again, and definitely not like this.

  Laney frowned as we waited for Kyle to park and come meet us. “Did you choose not to be a part of the funeral procession?”

  “No, I wanted to be. But Ms. Reinhardt didn’t seem to want that,” I said.

  Laney sighed and put her hand on my shoulder, shaking her head. “That’s not right. We know it wasn’t your fault. You should have been allowed to be there for Elizabeth. I’m so sorry, Trent.”

  I tried to smile. “Thanks, Laney. I appreciate it.” I couldn’t say that Kyle wholly shared in her viewpoint, but that was all right.

  “How’s your injury?” she asked.

  “It’s better. I brought this so that I can tolerate the wooden pews,” I said. I indicated the cushion.

  “Good,” she said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Kyle joined us and we made our way to the front of the church, where Elizabeth’s closed casket rested on the warm yellow marble tiles at the foot of the altar. We were some of the first people to arrive, even ahead of the funeral procession. He and Laney took their seats in the third row on the right side. I set my cushion in the front row at the end, to save my seat. Ms. Reinhardt and the rest of Elizabeth’s family had not arrived yet, but as Elizabeth’s fiancé, I would be damned if anyone was going to tell me I couldn’t sit in the first row. Anyone who dissented would have to remove me themselves.

  I walked up to the casket, noticing the arrangement of red roses and white delphinium slightly off to the left. I was glad the arrangement I’d sent had arrived properly. It was pretty, but didn’t do Elizabeth justice. I had offered to pay for the casket spray, but as with the funeral procession, Ms. Reinhardt didn’t seem to want that either.

  My vision started to blur as I saw the blue orchids and other blue flora spilling over the sides of the polished, caramel-colored rustic oak casket. Blue was Elizabeth’s favorite color, hence my blue tie. Hence the blue flowers which I would have happily paid for – and should have been allowed to pay for.

  I put my hand over my mouth an
d stifled a sob that threatened to consume the mostly empty church. Nothing could repair this black hole in my heart, this immeasurable well of never-ending grief. Just because we had our rough spots didn’t mean this hurt any less, didn’t mean I loved her any less. She was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it. Elizabeth had been taken from me.

  I tugged a tissue out of the pocket of my black suit jacket and wiped my eyes, then took my seat on my cushion at the end of the first pew. I cried quietly as the church slowly filled up with Elizabeth’s mourners. I heard Ms. Reinhardt’s voice and knew she had taken a seat at the other end of the pew, near the aisle. An older woman with short gray hair and glasses pushed past the others to come sit beside me. I looked up and recognized my fiancée’s grandmother – Ms. Reinhardt’s mother.

  “There you are,” Ms. Bouchard said. “It’s so nice to see you. It’s a shame that it’s under these circumstances. But I’m so happy to see your face.” She wrapped her arms around me in a warm hug and sobbed softly as she tightly held on to me. Ms. Bouchard didn’t think I was a murderer. She didn’t think I murdered my Elizabeth.

  I managed a “thank you,” and sat back down. I listened as the priest performed the service. I listened to the eulogies, one given by Elizabeth’s sister and one by her father, who I didn’t know very well, since my fiancée’s parents had been divorced for some time and she and her dad weren’t that close. I half-expected one of them to glare at me accusingly when things like “her life was cut short” or “she was taken from us” were mentioned, but nobody did. It wouldn’t have mattered if they did, I guess. At the end of the service, I stood up to exit at the right side, to avoid Ms. Reinhardt’s eyes. Ms. Bouchard grabbed my arm.

  “Trent, she knows,” she said.

  I blinked, a vice grip constricting my stomach. I was ready to turn my back on her if needed. “What?”

  “She knows. Tiffany knows you didn’t do it,” Ms. Bouchard said. “She’s in a lot of pain right now and this is her way of dealing with losing Elizabeth so suddenly. I just wanted to tell you.” She dabbed at her cheeks with a handkerchief and peered up at me.

  I let out the breath I was holding. “I’m glad of that. Thank you.” She squeezed my hand and we said our goodbyes.

  I left the pew, turning to meet up with Kyle and Laney two rows back. Laney’s eyes were red and puffy. Kyle was rather peaked, his eyes dry and his lips drawn together tightly.

  “That was a really beautiful service,” Laney said as I approached. “I’m so glad you sat in the front row. Elizabeth would have wanted you there.”

  I nodded. “I agree, it was a nice service.”

  Kyle’s hard eyes alighted on me. He looked at the floor, then looked back at me and forced a purse-lipped smile. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into a hug, patting me hard a few times on the back. He spoke to me for real for the first time since they picked me up at my house this morning. “Do you want to go up one last time before we go? We don’t mind waiting a few minutes.”

  I paused and thought about it. “No. I’ve said everything to her silently, during the service. Thanks, though.”

  “Okay.” Kyle nodded, studying my face a moment before we began weaving our way down the aisle to the door.

  We walked through the first set of doors, shaking the Father’s hand and thanking him for the ceremony honoring Elizabeth. I dipped my fingers in holy water and made the sign of the cross as we entered the lobby area. As we headed to the wide glass doors that opened to the outside, I noticed a man standing alone, almost off in the corner, staring at me. More funeral attendees streamed into the entrance hall, obscuring my view as the man briskly turned his back. I didn’t get a good look at him beyond seeing a dark hair color. He must have been another of Elizabeth’s relatives and it was only natural that he’d stare at me.

  I held the door open for Laney and Kyle and the whistling wind bit into our faces. An odd discomfort followed me out into the cold, misty morning.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  February 20th

  The first time the sun appeared since Elizabeth’s funeral, I decided to drive into town. There was a coffee shop called Cianfrani on 7th street, right across from the historic Williamson County Courthouse. I had been there only once before. Kyle had been speaking to me again and we’d been texting some, but I didn’t think he’d want to come along. Maybe in time.

  I went inside with the doughnut cushion under my arm, glancing around at the burnt orange walls and little round tables. Reality didn’t feel very real, since this was the first time I’d left the house in four days. It was also the first time I’d shaved or taken a shower. There were a few other people in the shop, but for the most part it looked like a slow business day.

  I shuffled to the counter and ordered a fancy coffee drink. I gathered up a few sugar packets and looked around for a good place to sit. It might be nice to sit up front where I could see the courthouse. The dark brown leather couch faced the front of the store and I chose it as my vantage point, when I noticed the space was already occupied.

  I halted and stood frozen, uncertain of what to do. I decided to turn and walk out the door before she looked up. I no sooner raised my right foot than the young woman sitting there spoke.

  “Trent?” She halfway stood up, waiting for me to acknowledge her.

  I hesitated, every nerve in my body telling me to bolt. There was no way my luck could be this bad. There was no way that anybody’s luck could be this bad. Slowly, like a kid getting called back into school from recess, I turned my head and looked at her.

  “Yes?” I said. I wished I could play it off. I wished there was some way out, some way to say I didn’t recognize her or couldn’t talk to her, or that I could throw out some lame excuse which would work.

  “Trent, it’s me. Aria. Don’t you recognize me?” she said, her huge brown eyes drinking up my entire face.

  I sniffed awkwardly, shifting my weight as I’d practically stopped mid-step. I cocked my head. “Oh. Aria. Oh, hi. Yeah, you look…” What the hell was I supposed to say? “…a little different than when we met. How are you?” God, what the hell was wrong with me?

  Aria smiled. “Yeah, I know.” She gestured for me to sit down.

  “Aria,” I began, as I stepped over to the couch. I kept my voice low. “This isn’t easy for me to say, but I don’t think the sheriff’s office wants me to associate with you.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, her face fell, her mouth hanging open like she was extremely insulted. But I couldn’t be careless anymore. I had to think my way through everything. I had to think about results and consequences. If I’d done that sooner in my life, Elizabeth would still be alive.

  “No, I didn’t mean that I don’t want to associate with you,” I said, still keeping my voice barely above a whisper. I dropped the cushion on the couch and sat down – but not too close. “Deputy Sheriff Reyes seemed to find it odd that we met in the hospital. I think he just wants to make sure that you’re safe. I mean, since you don’t know me.” I looked around for somewhere to set my coffee cup. There was a small side table, but it was on the side opposite Aria. I held my cup and sugar packets, having no free hands to mix them.

  Aria’s face softened and she smiled, shaking her head. “Oh, that’s ridiculous. He’s worried about the man who found me and saved my life? Geez. Well, I guess cops have to think of everything, right?”

  I forced a laugh. “I guess they do.”

  For the first time I allowed myself to look at her – really look at her. Recognizing her and actually looking at her were not the same thing. She did indeed look different than when I first saw the emaciated girl with hollows under her eyes. Her straight dark hair was parted on the side, neatly brushed and flowing down her shoulders. Her large brown eyes weren’t so stricken. Her skin was still fair, but not sickly, and her face had filled out more. I couldn’t see her cheekbones now.

  I thought back to the news article which mentioned that she was twenty-four, but studying this
woman, her age would have been difficult to place if I hadn’t known that. I suppose the living nightmare she’d survived had bestowed upon her visage some indiscernible, unnameable quality that may never go away.

  Aria turned her body to face mine and rested her clasped hands in her lap. “So, how have you been?”

  I opened my mouth and shut it again. I couldn’t tell her what happened. That would probably be violating some rule or endangering her, or something else I couldn’t imagine. I didn’t even want to talk to her, not because of anything against her, but because the involvement I’d already had with her had completely ruined my life. Not her fault, just the way it was. I stared blankly at the floor, shaking my head.

  “That good, huh?” she asked, trying to laugh.

  “Yeah,” I said. “How about you?”

  Aria’s eyes flicked to the front of the shop, though there was no one sitting in that area. “Did you know? Korey got arrested.” She blinked and looked briefly at her cup before she took a sip of coffee.

  I nodded. “Yeah, Reyes told me. I’m glad – really glad.” I forced another closed-mouth smile. I was genuinely glad, but it was still hard to smile.

  She nodded. “I’ve been able to sleep ever since I found out. Eating is harder, but I’ve been eating too.”

  “That’s great,” I said. Korey had a dog. I hate dogs.

  Aria looked at me again, this time tilting her head slightly to the other side. “Trent, I’m sorry but you don’t look well. Are you not recovering quickly from that fall you had?”

  I sniffed. I still held the coffee and sugar packets in my lap. I finally decided to just drink it black.

  “I – I lost my fiancée. It was pretty sudden. We just had the funeral a few days ago,” I told her. I probably wasn’t supposed to tell her that for some reason. Then again, I wasn’t supposed to meet her at the hospital, and I wasn’t supposed to be sitting here next to her now.