Maybe it was because I was burned out, but a familiar annoyance rose within me at Bodhi’s words. I stepped away from him, pulling my hand out of his grasp. He swallowed hard as the distance between us increased.
“You think I won’t be able to handle something like this,” I said matter-of-factly.
“No, I—”
“No, it sounds like that’s exactly what you’re saying,” I cut in. “You think I won’t be able to deal with this because of Kali.” I lowered my voice to a dangerous tone. Behind Bodhi, Patrick and Alex watched our interaction apprehensively. “Here’s the thing, Bodhi. I’m not the only one with baggage. We’re both digging up the past. What makes you think you’re any stronger than me in this situation?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Bodhi insisted. “Caroline’s influence has really—”
“Don’t blame this on Caroline. I’m fine. I’m tired, but fine. And I’m doing this with you tonight. You can’t stop me.” I marched toward Patrick and Alex. “Well? What time are we getting started.”
Alex blissfully did not look at Bodhi to check for permission to answer me. “As soon as it’s completely dark.”
We ended up waiting until midnight to get started, paranoid about unwanted visitors. Until then, we gathered what we thought we might need. Shovels, tarps, an LED light to illuminate our work space. The four of us spoke easily, defining a plan, but Bodhi and I avoided each other’s glances. That was what we did best after all. I knew that we had to talk about this, but I just didn’t want to. Not now, anyway. Maybe this was our truth. Bodhi perceived me as weak, but I was so far from weak that I couldn’t even see it from where I stood.
When we were finally ready to get started, we assigned Patrick to patrol the area around the house. There was no guarantee that Ethan wouldn’t make another attempt to taunt us, and we couldn’t afford to unearth whatever was left of Patrick and Caroline without a lookout. Patrick gave a salute and jogged off, leaving us to follow Ethan’s disturbing photographs to the access point for the crawl space. It was easier said than done. We had limited trouble locating the opening. It was a tiny hatch in the corner of the basement, hidden by piles of the Winchesters’ leftover belongings. However, the real challenge was actually getting down to the crawl space. First off, the hatch opening was ridiculously small. Bodhi’s broad shoulders wouldn’t fit through it, and Alex’s lanky build was too difficult for him to maneuver in the space beyond. That left the actual exploration up to me. Second, the covering was bolted firmly to the floor.
“You can’t say Ethan wasn’t thorough,” Alex huffed. “Got a pair of bolt cutters?”
“Upstairs,” Bodhi answered.
“I’ll get them,” I volunteered, grateful to escape the stuffy basement even if it was only for a minute or two. I jogged up the steps and found the bolt cutters in Bodhi’s collection of tools. Through the glass doors, I saw Patrick making the rounds. From here, he actually looked like the ghost that he was. He was ethereal and incomplete beneath the moonlight, and his pale skin stood in frightening contrast against the wild darkness of the surrounding garden. But then he caught my eye and gave me the thumb’s up, which immediately killed the creepy vision of his ghostly existence. I waved in thanks and went back to the basement.
“Here,” I said, handing the bolt cutters to Bodhi.
He made sure our fingers didn’t touch when he took them from me. “Thanks. Here goes nothing.”
He closed the cutters around the massive bolt, and with a grunt, forced the handles together. I tried to ignore the way the muscles of his back and arms bulged. It was distracting, and moreover it reminded me that while we were silently fighting, I wasn’t allowed physical access to him.
The clang of the bolt springing free jarred me from my reverie. Together, Alex and Bodhi yanked the hatch open. The rusted hinges complained, creaking until they disintegrated entirely. Accidentally, Alex and Bodhi ripped the hatch clean out of the floor, stumbling backward at the abrupt lack of resistance. Bodhi bumped into me, and I steadied him by pressing my palms to the wings of his back. He looked over his shoulder but didn’t move away, and my touch lingered longer than necessary.
Alex swore as he peered into the opening. “You can’t be serious.”
“What is it?”
But as soon as we glanced over, it became apparent what Alex was vexed over. Mildewed, pink insulation blocked the entrance into the crawl space. I knew from past experience that it sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be there.
“I’m going to kill Ethan,” I said darkly. “How much of it do you think there is?”
Bodhi rooted around in our supplies, unearthing three pairs of heavy duty gloves, safety goggles, and respirator masks. “Nothing to do but find out.”
So we got to work ripping the insulation out of the hatch. It was tough work. The basement was hot and humid, and the insulation made my skin itch. It expanded as we extracted it, and soon the already claustrophobic basement filled up with the pink fiberglass. Alex carried armfuls of it upstairs to throw into the dumpster, and as we continued to excavate, I wondered how much of the stuff Ethan had bothered to throw into the crawl space.
Finally, I aimed a flashlight into the opening, angling the beam to see if there was any more insulation ahead. For the moment, the passageway looked clear. “I think we’re good,” I said, lowering my shoulders into the small space to get a better look. “I don’t see any more of it.”
“Come out of there then,” said Bodhi, taking the back of my tank top to pull me back. “I’ll go down to check for Patrick and Caroline.”
I tried to shake free of his grip. “Like you’d fit.”
“If Ethan fit—”
“Twenty years ago, Ethan was nowhere near the size he is now,” I reminded him. “I’m going down.”
But Bodhi held me fast. The neckline of my shirt pressed against my throat. My airway was completely free, but between the stuffy air of the basement, the insulation, and the thought of inching through the limited space beneath the basement to find Patrick and Caroline’s bones, my lungs felt tight. Even so, I wasn’t going to admit that to Bodhi.
“Alex,” he said. “Tell her it’s better for me to go down.”
Once again, Alex stood his ground. “I actually think she’s right, Bodhi,” he said. “She’ll have an easier time than either one of us down there. God forbid you got stuck or something.”
Bodhi glared at Alex, but I could’ve kissed the taller man for his common sense. Before Bodhi could protest anymore, I slid out of Bodhi’s grip and lowered myself into the hatch.
“Hang on,” Alex said. He pulled a box of old clothes toward him and began rooting through it. “You shouldn’t go down there in short sleeves. I’ll bet there’s all kinds of bugs, among other stuff. Here.”
He handed me a sky-blue, long-sleeved scrimmage jersey. At first, I thought it was Patrick’s, but it was far too small for a teenaged boy. That and it was a soccer jersey rather than a football one.
“Who—?”
“Caroline played goalkeeper for the junior varsity women’s team her freshman year,” Alex said, letting the fabric slip through his fingers as if it were a memory. “She hated it. She was so good at it too. She only let one goal in the entire season and she was named MVP. But everyone already knew Patrick on the football field. No one bothered to know Caroline on the soccer pitch.”
I pulled the jersey on over my head. Beneath the must, I could’ve sworn I picked up the delicate hint of women’s perfume, but I figured it was just Alex’s recollection messing with my head. I made sure the fabric covered as much skin as possible then attempted to resume my way downward. Bodhi’s hot fist bunched in the jersey material, pressing against the small of my back. I looked up at him, ready to let loose, but his expression tempered my frustration. Bodhi’s golden eyes were practically invisible in the dim light of our flashlights, but I could see every emotion in them. Fear. Guilt. Loathing. Love. It was like looking into a kaleidoscope of feelings. He
needed something other than the tension between us.
“I’ll be okay,” I told him. “Really.”
And his fingers loosened just enough for me to pull out of his grasp. At long last, I lowered myself into the hatch, holding my flashlight between my teeth, and shimmied forward on my belly into the crawl space.
“Ugh,” I mumbled around the flashlight.
“What is it?” Alex called down. “What do you see?”
“Nothing much.”
The space was distasteful to say the least. It was eighteen inches high, if that, from top to bottom. Termites had made quick work of the supportive structures. Mildew and mold grew in every dingy corner. In hindsight, it was lucky we had found the crawl space before Bodhi and I sold the house. We would definitely have to come down here again to do some damage control.
At the far end, something shadowy and still lurked in the darkness. The flashlight’s beam reflected off the surface of the objects. They were trash bags. Big, black contractor bags like the ones Bodhi and I used for yard and hardware waste.
“I think I found them,” I called up.
Bodhi’s voice was muffled as he replied. “You think?”
“Give me a minute.”
I shuffled forward, using my elbows and knees to propel myself across the damp, dirty ground as I tried not to think about what lay waiting for me at the other end of the crawl space. I closed my eyes and navigated by feel. The cramped space was already getting to me. The walls seemed to shrink inward, pressing against me on all sides. I took a deep breath and reached forward. My fingers connected with plastic, and I opened my eyes to find myself within inches of the garbage bags. With shaking hands, I dragged the first one toward me. It was heavy and zip tied shut. I heaved a sigh of relief. I did not want to have to open the bags on my own.
“Bailey?”
“Working on it.”
With some trouble, I flipped over so that I was on my back, seized the first bag, and used my heels to scoot toward the open hatch. The walking boot scuffed across the dirt, but my method worked well enough, even if it was tedious work. Caroline’s goalkeeper jersey snagged on the rough floor of the crawl space. My breaths came in short gasps as my triceps strained to keep pulling the bag toward me. After what felt like an hour, I reached the hatch.
“Number one,” I announced. Bodhi and Alex heaved the bag upward. “I’m going back for number two.”
“Take a sip of water first,” Bodhi said. He tilted the bottle so that the cold water dribbled into my mouth and over my chin.
I coughed, but the chilly water soothed my heated nerves. “Be right back.”
And before I lost my motivation, I dove back into the crawl space and worked my way to the second bag. This one was heavier than the first. At first, it wouldn’t budge. I planted my feet on the walls of the crawl space on either side of the bag and yanked it out of place.
It ripped.
“Shit.”
A foul odor seeped through the crawl space, so fetid and profound that I immediately turned my head away and violently gagged. Bodhi’s panicked voice echoed around me as my eyes watered.
“Bailey. Bailey! What’s going on?”
But I was having trouble pulling enough air into my lungs to form words. I hacked and dry-retched, pulling the collar of Caroline’s soccer jersey up over my nose and mouth. It didn’t do much, but I was finally able to take a breath in through my mouth that didn’t make me want to vomit. I examined the bag, taking care not to look too closely. It had gotten stuck on a protruding nail. Carefully, I detached the plastic and gave the bag an experimental tug. It released. Keeping an eye on the tear, I dragged it toward the hatch.
Three quarters of the way there, my muscles cramped up. I released the bag as my whole body tightened, letting my head drop to the dirt below me. I panted through the fabric of Caroline’s jersey and tried to relax as my arms and hamstrings convulsed. To my annoyance, tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.
“Bailey?” Bodhi called. Another flashlight beam illuminated the crawl space. I tilted my head back to see Bodhi’s face peering at me from the hatch. When the smell hit him, he swallowed hard but didn’t falter. “Baby, it’s okay. Come on. You can do this.”
I shook my head and closed my eyes, hating the way my lips quivered as the moment tried to overwhelm me.
“Bailey, look at me.”
I did. My vision was blurry, clouded with tears, but Bodhi’s golden irises were like beacons in the darkness.
“It’s just a few more feet, baby. You can do it. On three. Ready?”
I gripped the black plastic again and nodded.
“One. Two. Three.”
I heaved myself and the bag backward again. A feral groan of effort, anguish, and defeat ripped from my lips. It echoed back to me between the cramped walls, and I took strength from it, thrusting myself another foot in the direction of the hatch. Bodhi forced his shoulders through the opening and reached in as far as possible. With one last push, I got the bag close enough for him to grab on to.
“It’s torn,” I gasped, narrowly avoiding the aforementioned rip as Bodhi dragged the bag up out of the hatch. Some kind of residue remained in the dirt, but I didn’t want to look at it too closely.
“I don’t care about the bag,” said Bodhi. Overhead, I heard Alex’s heavy footsteps as he relieved Bodhi of his burden. Bodhi reappeared in the hatch opening. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you out of there.”
But I couldn’t move anymore. My limbs trembled and shook. I was spent, sweating, and dirty, and the three feet between me and the hatch looked more like a mile.
“Give me your hands.”
It took all of my concentrated willpower to reach toward Bodhi. He strained through the opening to wrap his fingers around my wrist. I tightened my grip. Then, like pulling a drowning child out of a swimming pool, Bodhi towed me out of the crawl space and into his lap.
I gasped for air, but Caroline’s jersey still covered my mouth. Bodhi tugged it away from my face, cradling me on the floor of the basement. Alex was gone, as were the two bags. He must’ve already carried them upstairs. What an immense relief.
Bodhi pushed my sweaty hair away from the nape of my neck. He pulled his T-shirt off, poured cold water over it, and pressed the cool fabric to my flushed forehead. My eyelids drifted shut. God, the stench lingered. It invaded my nostrils. My very being had filled up with the scent of rot and decay. I turned my head and pressed my face into Bodhi’s torso, but even his musky sweat combined with his lemony body soap couldn’t combat the smell of dead bodies.
He didn’t say anything. There wasn’t much of anything to say. We just sat there, my head and shoulders in Bodhi’s lap and my legs still in the hatch. I stared into the darkness below and pulled my feet out of the opening. Even though I knew the crawl space was now empty, I half-expected dead fingers to wrap around my ankles and draw me back under.
“Alex?” I muttered.
“He’s all right,” Bodhi assured me, wiping my face clean with the damp shirt. “Very stoic. He took the bags outside.”
“Through the house?”
“Yes.”
“But the new flooring!”
Bodhi chuckled. I understood why. We had just found two murdered bodies beneath our house, and I was worried about ruining the flooring. Nevertheless, I had my priorities.
“He found some of the old carpet in the dumpster,” Bodhi explained. “He used that to keep everything clean.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Hmm.”
He caressed my hair, smoothing it away from my face. I closed my eyes as the rough pads of his calloused fingers danced across my skin. He trailed down my neck and shoulders, rubbing my arms and hands between his own to calm me down.
“For the record,” Bodhi murmured as he concentrated on kneading my shoulders again, “I never thought you were weak. You’re the strongest person I know, Bailey. And yet there is still something incredibly difficult about letting your wife
crawl underground to retrieve bags of bodies.”
“I had to,” I mumbled.
“I know. I’m proud of you.”
I let that sink in for a moment, loving the way Bodhi’s fingers separated the matted hair at the nape of my neck. “Where’s Patrick?”
“I’m not sure. Outside with Alex, I think. Why?”
I shifted, experimentally stretching my limbs out. My hamstrings shook with the effort. I was going to be sore tomorrow. “We should ask him where he wants to be buried.”
There was a note of surprise in Bodhi’s voice. “Oh.”
I pushed myself up into a sitting position with Bodhi’s house. “What? Is that weird?”
“No.” Bodhi pulled me to my feet. My aching legs nearly gave out under my weight, but Bodhi looped my arm around his shoulders as we headed for the stairs. “Well, yes. But that’s not what I was thinking. For some reason, I automatically assumed that we were burying them beneath Caroline’s plumeria tree.”
It was my turn to be surprised. “Oh. You know what? I quite like that idea.”
“Let’s run it by Patrick, just to make sure.”
33
Old Love
Patrick was outside, kneeling in the dirt of the backyard next to Alex, whose shoulders shook with grief. Nearby, the plastic contractor bags waited for someone to tend to them. Apparently, Alex wasn’t quite as stoic as Bodhi originally assumed. Bodhi helped me down the steps of the deck so that we could join Alex. Patrick stared at us wide-eyed, as if he didn’t know how to calm down the man who once used to be his best friend. I knelt beside Alex, fighting to keep control of my aching joints, and gathered him into a silent hug.
“I can’t do it,” he said. “I don’t know how you pulled them out of there, Bailey. I just… I looked inside the bags. It’s horrible. Worse than horrible.”
“It’s them?” Bodhi asked. It was a terrible question, but we needed the confirmation. Otherwise, what was the point?
Alex nodded as he drew away from me and wiped his eyes. “It’s them. God, you can’t even tell, but it’s obvious.”
The Haunting of Winchester Mansion Omnibus Page 36
