Grave Refrain: A Love/Ghost Story

by Glover, Sarah M.

  A steady pair of footsteps stalked closer toward her. She pulled herself into a ball, slamming her hand over her mouth to silence her coughs. The footsteps slowed, then stopped directly in front of her. The only sound she could hear was that of labored and hoarse breathing. “Emily,” Vandin whispered, kneeling down to peer under the barrel. She whimpered, truly terrified. Her worst fears about this man had been realized. He had lost his mind after seeing Nora; he was insane.

  “Come out, Emily. Don’t make her mad. You don’t want her mad. He’s going to kill you. You have to run, you have to come with me, now!”

  A flashlight shone into her eyes, blinding her.

  Vandin lunged and seized her, dragging her to her feet. She screamed again. His hand slapped hard over her mouth, his fetid breath hot against her ear.

  “We need to get out of here. Emily, don’t fight me. He’ll hear you, he’ll break your neck. Do you understand me?”

  She shook her head vigorously.

  Abruptly, from faraway a clear voice rang out. “Emily!”

  “Andrew!” she screamed, wrestling to break free. Vandin slapped her hard across the face and yanked her by her hair.

  “Emily!” Andrew hollered. “Emily!”

  Vandin hauled her down toward the wall of bats, heading straight to the cave tunnels Clarence had warned them about. One hand was clamped over her mouth and his other pressed the gun into her side.

  “Faster! Run faster!”

  They were almost at the wall; it was like diving into a swarm of bats. Vandin didn’t care. He knew where he was going and where he would take her.

  “If you’d only listened. It’s all your fault, Emily. All your fault, all your fault. All your fault,” he whimpered, his face a twisted mask as he lurched forward.

  “Emily!” Andrew screamed. “Christ! Emily!”

  Vandin was grunting and growling as they neared a dark fissure in the rock. She knew what would be waiting inside; thousands of bats, and they would swarm them, tear their skin, devour them alive. She fought against him with all her strength.

  He slammed her body against a cask and shoved the muzzle of the gun against her breast. “If I shoot him, you’ll live. She told me.” His black eyes bore into hers, all sanity gone. “You are beautiful, so, so beautiful.” He trailed the cold barrel along her cheekbone. She turned away from him, unable to look at the horrible fascination in his eyes. “So, so soft.”

  She felt his body relax. The gun lowered slowly, and she could feel his eyes find hers. She forced her body to wait. She waited until he moved closer, and closer and closer…

  In one fierce move, she thrust her knee as hard as she could into his groin.

  He doubled over, writhing in agony. “No!” he spat out. “No!”

  She struggled out of his grip and catapulted herself into the darkness, running as fast as her legs could move.

  “Emily!” Andrew cried. “Emily!”

  “Andrew! Help!” She ran toward his voice. Footsteps thundered behind her. Grappling her hands in the dark like a blind man, she flung herself down another row.

  “Emily!” Simon’s voice cut through the darkness on her left.

  “Simon!” she yelled, praying he could find her, and groped frantically around another corner in the vain hope of reaching someone. She kept yelling Andrew’s name as she lumbered ahead, becoming more and more desperate with each step. She clawed at the darkness when suddenly a pair of hands reached out and snatched her. She screamed.

  Arms crushed her. A sweating, trembling body clenched her tight. “Oh God, Emily!”

  “Andrew!” She clung to him, panting. “Andrew!”

  Lips tore at her cheeks, her hair, and back to her lips. Gasping, he plastered her against a barrel and cupped her face in his hands. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Sweet girl, oh bloody hell.” He pressed his forehead against hers and fought to breathe.

  Amidst the mad swirl of passion and desire, the stark cold fear of reality shot through her. “Andrew—Vandin!”

  Andrew grasped her by the shoulders so hard that she could feel his pulse hammer inside his fingers. “Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

  With that, he took off into the darkness. They ran hand-in-hand down endless rows. All around people were shouting now, bats swooping down from overhead. Emily stumbled, but Andrew caught her and wrapped his arm around her before he sprinted ahead. They whipped around a corner. A body nearly crashed into them. Andrew threw her behind him.

  “It’s us!” Simon’s voice cried from the darkness. She barely made out the hulking outlines of Simon and Christian, their shoulders heaving in exertion.

  “He’s here,” Andrew hissed at them.

  “Was that his gun?” Simon asked.

  “Emily, luv, did he…did you see?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” said Christian. “We can’t take him if he has a gun. We need the cops.”

  “Miss Thomas!” Clarence yelled from behind them. “Are you there?”

  The shapes of Clarence and the others materialized from the dark.

  “We have her!” said Andrew. “Get out of here now!” They hesitated. “Go!”

  Andrew remained. She could feel his eyes on her, his body battling the desires to both protect her and capture Vandin. With a shuddering breath, he pulled her to his side as though he had finally made up his mind. “Come on,” he ordered. A tidal wave of relief washed over her, and she clasped Andrew’s hand as they raced with Christian and Simon to catch up with the others.

  They ran as fast as they could, the giant black masses of casks blurring by them. Unexpectedly Andrew pulled up short. Emily felt Simon and Christian panting around her. Someone was standing directly in front of them.

  “Emily?” a voice whispered.

  She screamed. With a growl, the three men launched themselves at the sound, descending on the body to tear it apart. Just then the lights flashed on, illuminating the space around them. On the ground, Simon and Christian had a petrified looking Buck in a death grip with Andrew towering over him, his fist raised to pummel his face in.

  Simon recognized him instantly and dropped him in a fit of disgust. Buck scuttled away, looking like he might have wet his pants.

  “Fuck!” Simon shouted. “Can’t we beat him up anyway?”

  The rest of the stoners rounded the corner, Clarence bringing up the rear. He looked mortified.

  In the faint light, Emily finally saw Andrew. His hair was wild, his sweaty face a study of determination. “We need to get back to the entrance. Now!” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers tightly together. He barked orders to Simon and Christian, and Emily could only make out every other word, like police, doors, and safe.

  They quickly made it back up to the tasting room and raced out the door. Andrew slammed it shut behind them. Simon launched himself toward the main house yelling for Margot and Zoey, who came flying out to meet them.

  Clarence staggered behind them along the path, looking as though he might have a heart attack. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Does this door have a lock?” Andrew demanded and pointed to the door.

  “Yes,” Clarence answered.

  “Then lock it the bloody hell up now!” Andrew ordered, and yanked a map from the pocket of the long leather coat he was wearing. “Shit!” he cried. “There are other entrances to the caves.”

  “Of course,” said Clarence, still clearly confused. “There are several. Why the hell is a man with a gun down there?”

  Margot and Zoey grabbed Emily in a hug. “The police just arrived,” they told Andrew.

  “Listen, I don’t have time to explain,” Andrew told Clarence. “I need you to lock up all the tasting rooms so no one can get out. Get the police to search the caves. That man’s a psychopath.”

  Clarence immediately sobered up and nodded his head vigorously.

  “Come on, we don’t have any time to lose,” yelled Andrew.

  They took off
for the main house. On the steps of the front porch, Andrew quickly informed the police of what had happened. He turned to Margot, Zoey, and Emily.

  “Stay here. And I mean it. Don’t move!” He turned to a Dia employee and glanced at his nametag. “Chris, you stay with them and do not let them leave your sight. Do you understand? Sit on top of them if necessary.”

  “No! We want to come!” the three women cried nearly in unison.

  Andrew glared at them, and they backed down. Something in his eyes told them they would never win this argument. He kissed Emily swiftly before joining the others as they went tearing off toward the tasting rooms.

  Chris cleared his throat and corralled them back through the doors and into the tasting room. “You ladies want to sit inside at the bar? Given the circumstances, the wine is on the house.”

  Margot and Zoey deposited Emily between them on a stool. Chris had begun to pour. He politely left the bottle and went to stand guard by the door.

  Emily turned to Margot and Zoey. “He was down there. How did he know we were here?” she asked them. They wouldn’t look her in the eyes. “What? What is it?”

  “It really isn’t our news to tell,” hedged Zoey.

  “Fuck it!” Emily yelled at them. “Tell me.”

  Margot took Emily’s hand in hers and looked her right in the eyes. “This isn’t pretty.”

  She then proceeded to explain how the guys had arrived in a state fit to be tied. How Andrew had told them everything while he paced around the tasting room waiting for her to return. About Detective Kent’s findings, about the wall of pictures, her clothes, and the extensive collection of electronic equipment Vandin had used to stalk her. She explained that Vandin had been in their house, her room, in particular; how he knew the most intimate details of her life. How he had called Andrew and tortured him with the belief that he had kidnapped her. And how, when they heard the gunshot from the tunnel entrance, Andrew ordered them to summon the police, and the guys flew down into the caves.

  Emily paled. “But how did he trail us?” she asked. “I didn’t see anyone.”

  “He’s got a house full of expensive electronic equipment,” replied Margot with a large gulp of her wine. “He could have put something in our minivan for all we know. He was probably tracking us every step of the way.”

  It felt like a frigid hand had swept out and squeezed Emily’s heart. Vandin was insane; his crazed mutterings still rang in her ears—the way he spoke of himself in a disembodied third person, and the voices in his mind. “Don’t make her mad. You don’t want her mad. He’s going to kill you. Don’t fight me. He’ll hear you. He’ll break your neck.” The bottles on the shelves behind the bar seemed to wobble and go out of focus. Zoey’s arm steadied her.

  “You okay?”

  “Does she look okay?” asked Margot sarcastically. “Go ask that Chris person for some food. She needs more than wine in her stomach. And a lot of it.”

  Food was the last thing Emily wanted, with her mind starting to worry about why the men had been gone so long. A few minutes later, Zoey and Chris returned with a huge tray of bread, cheese, and fruit. She forced a bunch of grapes into Emily’s hands. “Eat.”

  They had no flavor, the tin taste of fear still rife in her mouth. Sitting there, she felt like she was holding up the world on her shoulders, and Margot and Zoey, sensing her imminent collapse, nestled closer to her, their shoulders bearing up hers.

  “Eat,” commanded Margot, and she shoved another grape into Emily’s mouth.

  “Where are they? It’s been a long time,” Emily asked, her voice paper thin.

  Just then a flurry of commotion sounded from outside. They raced out the door and rushed toward the three men who were jogging to meet them. Andrew looked at Emily and opened his mouth to say something but thought better. He took her in his arms and pulled her to him.

  “Dear God, thank you,” he whispered. His hand traced the curve of her cheek, his eyes full of worry and relief. He hugged her fiercely once more.

  “Did you find him?” Emily asked, nerves spiked in anticipation of what he would say.

  Simon nodded back but didn’t say a word. A row of cops were gathered at the door of one of the tasting rooms. From far off she heard another siren.

  “Where is he? Did you catch him?”

  Still no one replied; Christian and Simon stared at the ground.

  “Andrew, tell me what happened,” Emily demanded. “Did you find him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Hayes,” shouted the sheriff who had been speaking on his cell phone. The men raced over to him, Margot and Zoey at their heels. Emily walked slowly, not sure she could bear to be near Vandin. She wanted to hurt him, to kill him with her bare hands, but at the same time she was scared to death of him.

  The sheriff took Andrew aside. He was built like a Marine, and his voice reflected his demeanor. “Mr. Hayes, I just got off the phone with Detective Kent. He’s filled me in on the finer points of Dr. Vandin’s recent past. But I’ll still need you and your party to remain here for further questioning.” Andrew looked up at the sheriff and nodded. “We’ll remain here with the body until the coroner arrives. Why don’t you take a rest at the main house. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  Emily didn’t understand. Vandin was being held behind that door. Had he killed someone? She glanced at the police who seemed subdued, discussing matters among themselves. Andrew turned to face her.

  “I want to see the bastard.”

  “You can’t, Emily.”

  “No, I want to see him now.”

  “Sweet girl, please.”

  “Andrew, let me go.”

  The sheriff and Andrew traded a serious glance. Andrew took Emily by the shoulders and pulled her aside. He took a deep breath and looked her directly in the eyes. “You don’t want to see Vandin, Emily. He’s dead.”

  25

  * * *

  ANDREW’S CELL PHONE RANG. Without so much as a taciturn hello, Detective Kent demanded to speak to Emily. Having done his best to control his temper up to now, Andrew exploded, and he launched into the detective about the hell they had been subjected to in the past hours. “If you people had done your job in the first place,” he barked into the phone, “we wouldn’t have had to face any of this.”

  “Andrew. Please, let me talk to him.”

  It was then that he felt a soft hand pull at his sleeve and looked down to see Emily staring up at him. She kept her voice low while she explained to the detective how Vandin had found her in the caves. “Yes, he had a gun,” she answered to a question Andrew could not hear. “Yes, he was acting erratically. He kept muttering—muttering awful things, something about a woman making him do things. No, I don’t know who she was.”

  The longer Emily listened, however, the more still she became, and in time she slipped from Andrew’s side and walked toward the far end of the parking lot. He went to follow her, but she gently held up her hand, as if to say “two minutes,” leaving him to swelter in the waves of heat rising from the macadam. He watched her turn her back to him and retreat into the house as Margot rushed to catch up with her.

  “I don’t know about you, mate,” Simon remarked, having walked over to his side, his hand fanning his face, “but this is turning out to be one lovely weekend.”

  Andrew chuckled, albeit despairingly, and moments later Christian appeared. All three made an attempt to talk about anything except how Dr. Vandin had been found, crumbled at the foot of a cask of 1991 cabernet, the splatter of blood and gray matter thick on the dirt floor below his head.

  Finally Christian could no longer avoid the subject. “When I heard the gunshot I was positive he’d taken someone down. And when we found him…the way he was lying there…Jesus.”

  Each man became lost in the memory of how Vandin’s body looked almost fetal in death, except for the expression of absolute terror on the remaining pieces of his face.

  “But it doesn’t make sense. Something doesn’t add up
,” Andrew said. “He was near an exit, he could have easily escaped, and we would never have found him if he hadn’t fired the gun.”

  “He was insane,” Simon scoffed. “Who knows what was passing on in that fucked up mind of his. All I know is it would have been Emily if we hadn’t gotten to her in time, or anyone else down there if he’d been close enough. A sick, twisted mother is what he was, and he got what he deserved.”

  “At least they didn’t see the body. Christ, all that blood.”

  Zoey had joined them unaware, her face perspiring and her hair stuck to the sides of her cheeks. “Is he really dead?”

  Andrew nodded, wondering how she would react. Zoey was tough as nails, but this was pushing the limit of anyone’s tolerance. She blinked as she took in the fact. Her eyes were softer than he remembered, and the sun highlighted the green outline of her irises.

  “So you saw the body, then?”

  “I’m afraid so, yes.”

  “Well…” She seemed to be struggling to compose herself. “Well, for what it’s worth, death isn’t without its benefits,” she said dryly and gestured to the complimentary Dia Vineyard water bottles and tray of sandwiches on a nearby table that Dwayne and his crew had already fallen upon. Christian nearly laughed, and she did as well, wiping her brow in exhaustion.

  The need to dissect the details of all that had transpired proved too great for them, and they fell into the obsessed rehashing of the information they knew. When at last Zoey began to tell them what Emily had related about her time in the caves with Vandin, Andrew’s nerves were near the breaking point. “He kept saying it was her fault, all her fault.”

  Andrew wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed in an attempt to steady them both. She looked up at him, her eyes now bright. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to start bawling…it’s just that, well, she’s been through hell. Do you think we should turn back and forget all this?”

  More than anything, Andrew wanted to say yes. Pack up and never deal with any of this shit again, let Nick and Nora rot for all he cared. But he knew Emily would see this through to the end, with or without him. And after what she had suffered through today, he could not contemplate leaving her.