by Angie West
Chapter Two
Windfall
Three days later, the job was mine. I could hardly believe my good fortune. I would be writing a two-page spread for the monthly issues of Plant and Herb to start. The hours were flexible and the pay was obscene. What more could anyone possibly ask for? I would finally have more time to spend with Ashley, and I wouldn’t have to work so hard all of the time. Or in such a creepy environment, I added silently. Even though it made sense for laboratories to be located on the lower levels of buildings that housed them, working in a basement was still a gloomy existence.
The scene in the lab played through my mind again, and I wrapped the ends of my sweater around my waist and shook my head. I was beginning to get jumpy again, which was ridiculous. There was absolutely no reason to worry. John was serving a lengthy prison sentence, and our lives had been quiet and mostly uneventful for an entire year. Unheard of for the Roberts, I knew, but there it was. There was only one logical explanation for the way I was feeling now. I was becoming paranoid.
And who knew? Maybe a little case of the nerves now and then was normal after what I had been through, after seeing and hearing things that most people only dreamed of—both fantasy and nightmare.
Still, hearing footsteps in the lab the week before and automatically assuming I was being stalked for the kill? No, I was pretty sure I had gone to an extreme with that one. There was no real reason to believe I was in danger, I reminded myself as I finished loading the dishwasher. Just the dreams. But I knew that didn’t prove anything, only that I had a wild imagination. And the trip to Terlain had probably given me enough material to fuel that imagination for the next fifty or sixty years. I smiled wistfully and wondered what Marta would have to say about everything. She’d be sarcastic for sure and would toss in a wisecrack or two. That was her way. And Lord, how I missed her. I wanted to know what they were doing tonight—Bob and Marta…and Mark.
More often than not, I found my thoughts drifting to Mark. I imagined them all together, like they were the last time I had seen them, and the longing grew to painful proportions. I had always meant to see them again…to see Mark again. But life had a way of moving forward, and plans changed, sometimes whether we wished them to or not. It still shamed me to think that getting back to Mark had been put right next to “cleaning out the garage” on my list of priorities. Something I meant to do, but in all likelihood would never get around to.
Sure, I had plenty of good reasons to avoid Terlain like the plague. First of all, it was not safe for me to go there. I was on the equivalent of an America’s Most Wanted list over there since my last visit, having managed to piss off Kahn, the guards, the Shadow Man, and everything else I had somehow managed to evade. Going back would mean putting my life in danger, and I couldn’t put Ashley through that kind of torment. She had already lost one set of parents. She wouldn’t understand. Even if I somehow managed not to get myself killed, how could I possibly explain why I had to leave her for several weeks?
She would be devastated. I promised I would never leave her.
The alternative to that was obvious—I could take her with me. A laugh bubbled at the mere thought of that one. No. Things had to be the way they were and for good reason. My daughter had a life in Seattle and I had no right to jeopardize or disrupt that. Maybe later—some far off day when things were different—I would see them again, Mark and Aries and Faith. I thought about Aries almost as frequently as I thought of Mark. It was impossible not to hope that she was safe, to pray every day that the guards had not caught up with her that day.
I poured yogurt into a plain white bowl and took a seat at the kitchen island. It was just after nine in the evening, and Ashley was safe and sound in her bed for the night. I briefly thought about calling Mike, but just as quickly decided against it. If anyone was capable of understanding how I felt and what I had been through, it was my brother. After all, he had lived through it with me. But even a year later, I still knew better than to bring up Aries around him. She had remained a sore subject between the two of us. I suspected that he was in love with her, but—
“Hey, Claire, are you home?”
“Well speak of the devil. I’m in the kitchen, Mike!” I called out.
“You forgot to lock your front door again,” Mike admonished as he popped his head around the kitchen doorway.
“So? I’m still awake. What’s up?”
“I was just on my way home from the museum and figured I would stop in to see how you and Miss Ashley are faring.”
“We’re faring just fine.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Help yourself to a snack; I’m having one,” I offered, gesturing to my yogurt.
“Don’t mind if I do. So I heard you quit your job at LanTech today.”
“Good news travels fast. Megan?”
“She called me earlier. Is it true? Did you really quit today? Without notice?”
“You bet I did. I got an offer that was too good to pass up. It’s a lot more money than I was making at LanTech.”
“Since when have you cared about money, Claire?”
“Hey, I like money,” I protested around a mouthful of vanilla yogurt. “No, I love money. So there.” I waved the spoon at him triumphantly.
“You don’t care about the money and we both know it.”
“No. You know it. Rather, you think you know. Which you don’t. In fact, you can leave now if all you’re going to do is stand here and criticize me in my own kitchen.”
Mike ignored the invitation to leave, just as I figured he would. Instead, he parked his rear end in one of my kitchen chairs and calmly lit a cigarette.
“You can’t smoke in here. When did you start smoking?”
“I don’t smoke,” he shrugged.
I shook my head, exasperated, and held his pack of cigarettes high in the air. “May I present Exhibit A? Really, Mike, I thought you had quit.”
“I did.”
“Well so did I. Mostly. Now get that thing out of here. I mean it. It’s not good for Ashley.”
“I’ll take it outside, calm down.”
I poured two cups of coffee, added liberal amounts of cream and sugar to both mugs, and followed him out to the front porch.
“Thanks.” He sipped his coffee and gazed at the star-strewn sky above my house. “You want to tell me what’s really going on?”
“Not really, no.”
“Smoke?”
“Why not?” I sighed, and shook a cigarette out of his pack, lit up, and leaned back to prop my feet on the porch rails.
“Claire, just tell me that you’re okay. Tell me that you’re happy. That this is what you want. That’s all I’m asking.”
“It’s the best thing for us. For me and for Ashley. She needs me at home more often.”
“Agreed. But what would have been wrong with cutting back on your hours at LanTech? You make a good salary there. And you had a lot of time on that job. You know we will help take care of Ashley. Me, and Mom and Dad, Megan and Juan. We are all here for the two of you.”
“Thank you, Mike.” I gave his knee a sisterly pat. “But I’ve made my decision. Writing for the magazine will be…fun, I think.” I shrugged and drained the last of my coffee. “Different at least. And I’ve been ready for a change for a long time. Despite what you may think, the money is a motivating factor for me. It’s never too early to start saving for Ashley’s future. I want to be able to send her to a good school.
Help her get a car and a house someday. This job can help me do all of that. And the hours are flexible. If Ashley gets sick or hurt at school, I can be available for her.”
“I just want you to be satisfied, Claire. You know that.”
“I know you do, Mike. And I will be. I am.”
“You really love her, don’t you?” he said softly.
“Yes. I love you too, little brother, just so you know.”
The wind blew in the distance and a movement at the edge of the yard
caught my eye.
“Mike, did you see that?” I leaned over the porch rail and peered into the darkness.
“Where?”
“Over there by the bushes. No, to the right. Do you see anyone?”
“I’ll check it out. Stay here.” He was up and moving in an instant.
“Wait—” But he was already heading across my well-manicured lawn. I hugged my arms to my chest and took a step forward, waiting.
“Claire, go get a flashlight, will you?”
“Oh, Lord. Okay, hang on.” I darted into the house and grabbed the light and my cell phone, stopping to check on Ashley before heading out the front door again.
“Here. What did you see?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s see…yes, right there. Look. The grass is smashed down.”
I knelt down to get a better look at the patch of lawn he had illuminated in a triangle of light.
“Does that look like a footprint to you?”
“I can’t tell, Claire. It could be. That or a large animal. What did you see when we were on the porch?”
“Just a shadow. I guess it could have been a dog. Maybe. But it looked tall to me.” I scratched my head and glanced down the deserted tree-lined street.
“I told you to have these hedges trimmed. Anybody could hide over here. It’s too good of a cover.”
“I’ve been meaning to get around to that,” I admitted. At his stern glance, I sighed. “Tomorrow. I’ll have them done first thing tomorrow. Scout’s honor.”
“Has anything unusual been happening lately?”
“Like what? Perverts casing the house?”
“Sure, like that.”
“No.” I didn’t tell him about the dreams, or the feelings of being watched that had persisted since our return from Terlain. It was most likely nothing, and would only give him cause to worry. Mike worrying was not a pretty sight. He had a tendency to go over the top and straight into paranoia-land.
“Well, why don’t you go on inside and check on the baby? I’ll take a look around out here. Check for footsteps around the house.”
I smiled in the darkness. “Fine, but don’t let Ashley hear you refer to her as ‘the baby.’”
“Oh right, I keep forgetting she goes to school now.” He grinned.
“Exactly, and don’t you forget it.”
“I’ll be in soon, okay? Don’t worry.”
“You want me to put on a fresh pot of coffee?”
“No, that’s all right. I can’t stay much longer.”
I shook my head, knowing full well how the rest of the night would play out. Mike would find a twig out of place and come bursting through the front door in roughly ten minutes and announce that he was calling the police. If I was able to talk him out of it—or wrestle the phone away from him—the family would at least be spared some embarrassment. If I couldn’t, he would call 911 and they would laugh at him all the while telling him to call back once a real crime had been committed. After that, Mike would insist on spending the night. I headed into the kitchen to make the coffee Mike had declined. Because he couldn’t stay, of course. Yeah, right.
Nine minutes later, I dried my hands on a dishtowel and began the countdown. “Five, four, three, two—”
“Claire, I’m calling the police!”
“And there it is.”
“Claire!”
“In the kitchen! And keep your voice down, Ashley is sleeping.”
“We have to call the police.” He was already reaching for the phone.
“Wait! Why do we have to call the police? What’s wrong?”
“Come look. No, wait. I have to check the house first. Lock the door and get your gun.”
“Mike, what the hell?”
“Just trust me please. Where’s the gun?”
“In my room, but—”
“Go get it.”
“Fine. Just…fine. But you had better have a damned good reason for this,” I warned as we strode down the hallway where the bedrooms were located.
“I do.”
“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what it is,” I grumbled.
“In a minute. First, let’s secure the house.”
“You first.” I waved him out of my bedroom doorway. He started at the back of the house, methodically checking each room, Rambo-style. Next he checked the living room and the den, and finally, the bedrooms, saving Ashley’s room for last.
“Oh, no. You are not going in her room.”
“I need to check her bedroom,” he argued with a hard edge to his voice.
“Well, I don’t want you taking that gun in there. If she wakes up and sees that, it will terrify her.”
“You’re right. You take it. Keep it where you can get to it quickly.”
I took the weapon and tucked it into the waistband of my jeans as we crept into her room. We peered into the closet and behind the door. Mike even looked under her bed.
“Mommy?”
“Shh…go back to sleep,” I whispered.
“What’s going on?”
“Everything is fine, sweetie. Your uncle Mike is just acting like a nut-job. Go back to sleep.”
“Okay. Hi, Uncle Mike,” she murmured sleepily.
“Hi, honey. Go to sleep now, you’re safe.” He need not have worried, her eyes were already drifting closed as we shut the door.
“Okay, we’ve checked out the entire house. Now what in the hell is going on?” I demanded.
“Come outside and take a look for yourself.” He led the way out the front door and around the side of the house, stopping just outside of Ashley’s window.
“Look at the grass by the hedges.”
“Mike, you said yourself that could have been an animal.”
“And look up here, at her window.” He swung the flashlight up to about chest level to the windowsill. The blood rushed to my head and a metallic taste filled my mouth. Scratches bore into the smooth white trim of the window, around the bottom, and halfway up the windowpane near the lock.
“What…?”
“Look at the glass, Claire. Right there.” The light switched to both sides of the window in turn, and I gasped when I noticed the handprints.
“Oh my God.”
“Someone tried to get into this window.”
Long moments ticked by as the implications struck home. We stared at each other; anger and dread met and held.
“I’m calling the police,” I announced.
