Fall of Night, page 20
“But do they know why Gabby attacked you? What you did to that girl?”
Rich’s hands rose in fists. “I didn’t do anything, now get OUT!”
“You destroyed her,” Tom snarled. His eyes flicked to Lou then back to Rich. “She was already a stupid, broken girl and you made it worse!” What could have been mistaken for a smile crossed Tom’s face. “Her father knows what you did.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Rich, please!” Lou turned to Tom. “You need to leave.” Her voice rose as she tried to force him away, but there was no emotion to catch onto. Nothing to sway. It felt, she would think afterwards, like Tom Farrel was completely empty inside. A shell. “I’m going to call the police,” she said. “You’re a private investigator. You don’t have any right to be here.”
He laughed.
“Go,” Lou repeated, even though her voice shook. “Get out.”
Tom leaned in, and in that moment, the mask of civility dropped.
“I’m not done.” He caught hold of Lou’s hand. Waterton disappeared. A shadow pulled down, obscuring all light. Only Lou and Tom remained.
“Let go!” she cried.
His fingers tightened and the darkness bloomed into shapes. It was like being caught in the in-between with her mother, two years earlier. Death hung in the shadows. Snatches of memory floated forward, surrounding Tom—reaching for Louise—as they spread through the air like double-exposed film: image upon image upon image. A young man, screaming as Tom leaned forward… water, dark with blood… the moon overhead… a city skyline… Tom laughing.
Lou twisted in his grip and jerked her hand back, resurfacing.
“The boy’s head wouldn’t sink,” she choked. “His body went down right away, but the head… the head kept floating back up.”
Tom jerked back in surprise. “What did you say?”
“Th—the head,” Lou stammered. “You h—had to fish it back out of the river. It rolled around the bottom of the fishing boat. You kicked it, like a football, then—”
Tom staggered back off the steps. His face was the pale greenish gray of spoiled milk. “Who the hell are you?”
“You killed that boy,” Lou said. “You cut up his body. You—”
“Enough!” Tom bellowed. “I don’t know who the HELL you talked to, but I’ll mess you UP!”
“King sent you after the boy! And not just him,” Lou said. “Others too!” The veil of grey had returned. She could see Tom’s ghosts, waiting in the shadowlands around him. “They’re there now. The people you killed. Watching you. Waiting for you…”
“Leave!” Rich shouted.
“You’re making a mistake,” Tom hissed. He stepped backward. His eyes were slits, hands raised as if ready for attack.
“Go!” Rich barked. “Don’t come back!”
Tom turned and walked stiffly down the street. He didn’t look back. Lou stared at him, wondering if Tom Farrel was the same person she’d seen on the night-time street. If perhaps he’d been the person who’d chased her. He didn’t seem tall enough, but she couldn’t be sure. When he disappeared at the end of the street and Louise turned back to Rich.
“What the hell was that?” he said.
“That,” she said, “is the thing I’ve been worried about.”
Rich stared out the open door.
“I can’t believe that Gabby’s father would do anything to me, but…” He let the words hang. Finally, he swung the door closed. “I’m sorry, Lou. I’m sorry we’re caught up in any of this.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “You need to stay away from him, Rich. He is not normal… He’s empty inside. He feels… wrong.”
Under her hands, she felt Rich shudder.
***
Sadie crouched next to the body. She tightened her gloved hands into fists in a feeble attempt to stop their shaking.
Oh fuck, she thought. This is bad.
Ben’s face was unmarred, pale eyes staring blindly forward. If she only looked at his face, she could hold it together. But below his chin… Her eyes flicked down and the bile in her throat rose. Ben’s neck had been slashed from side to side. A black bib of blood poured down his neck, soaking his shirt. He’d been alive for a short time after his throat was cut. He’d been upright. He’d tried to get away.
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! I can’t DEAL with this!
Panic filled Sadie’s chest, tearing through her ribs. This was Ben! She could see his face, hear his laugh. She blinked and the moment in the cafe returned. He wasn’t a stranger. She knew him. Her fists tightened into rocks, but the palsied shaking of her fingers grew. Why Ben?! Jordan was taking photographs, but Sadie couldn’t move. Not yet. Not when it was Ben Grayden lying in the long grass.
Hold it together, Sadie. You can do this. You’ve seen worse.
Sadie’s chin bobbed and she turned, searching for the familiar voice before she even realized what she was doing. A cool breeze rippled past her cheek. She shivered. It felt like Jim was standing next to her shoulder. Her eyes peered into the trees, knowing that she was alone. Jim…? Indifferent cattle milled around the pasture. Jordan snapped pictures of Ben’s corpse. A little beyond that, Shawna Durnerin sat white-faced in the cab of the truck, staring out at the mountain range. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.
Sadie felt like she’d heard one.
You’ve got to figure this out, Jim’s voice interrupted. Walk away from this… Ignore it, and someone else dies. You know that.
Sadie hissed. She knew for a fact it wasn’t Jim Flagstone that she was hearing. The idea was goddamned crazy! This was her head, messing with her. She’d been carrying the weight of his death for two years, and right now her thoughts were a jumble. She took a slow breath and blew it out again. Took another.
Stay out of my goddamned head, Jim! she thought angrily. I can handle this. She could imagine his rumbling laughter.
Sadie put her hands against her knees and pushed herself upright. She scanned the scene.
“Look for clues,” she muttered. “Got to find this bastard.”
That’s my girl.
Sadie flinched. If this kept up, she’d need to talk to someone about hearing voices, but she had no idea who would believe her. With her panic receding, she found herself tugged back into the clarity of police work. She walked through the crime scene, making mental notes. There was a splash of blood that drew a jagged half-circle around the body. Arterial spray. Ben had been alive for at least a short time after his throat had been slashed. She crouched next to it. Around her the grass was down-trodden by cattle, but she could also see that a few small shrubs had been crushed by a car or truck turning around. Sadie looked up, forcing herself to see the distance between the turn-around, and the body.
“Ben was brought here to be killed.”
Once the idea arrived, she couldn’t put aside the idea. And it made sense. Ben’s throat had to have been cut at the scene, otherwise he’d have bled to death long before he arrived, leaving plenty of evidence wherever that had been. That’s not what had happened. The footprints she’d found led from the end of the road over to the trees. He’d been butchered on site. Whoever had killed him knew what they were doing. And they hadn’t botched the wound either. It was ear to ear, the way a hunter would slice the throat of a deer. Ben bled out in a matter of minutes. His killer knew this would happen.
Sadie looked down at the broken twigs and grass. She walked back to the road, then frowned.
“Why would you get in someone’s car, Ben?” she whispered.
“I’m done with the body,” Jordan said.
Sadie turned. “What’s that?”
“I’ve got all the photos I need,” he said. “I’m going to look through the trees. You ready to check Ben? Uh… the body I mean? It’s all yours.”
“Got it.”
Sadie came back around the other side of the corpse—a position which left Ben’s face hidden—and squatted down once more.
“Alright,” she muttered. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
She waited for the panic she’d felt before to return, but it had faded into the buzzing of a mosquito. Faint, but annoying. She took a slow breath. Just see the details, she thought. Look for patterns later. She snapped the wrists of each latex glove, then patted down the body, checking for clues. There were no wounds on his back that she could see, nor any bruising around his neck. Reaching Ben’s arms, she checked his wrists. No ligature marks.
“Not tied up then,” she muttered. “Maybe the guy had a gun on him.”
Done with Ben’s back, she moved to his jacket. She lifted back the open front, seeing just how far the black cape of blood had spread. She blinked. The holster was there, but Ben’s gun was gone. She moved onto his pockets. Ben’s I.D. was missing too. As she worked, the calm inside her spread. Sadie went through his jacket, putting items into evidence bags. Finally, she reached the breast pocket of his shirt. Sadie moved around in front of the body. Ben’s eyes stared forward, pleading with her, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Instead she tipped him back so she could reach into his shirt. The gaping black mouth under his chin yawned. The cut was so deep she could see the back of his trachea. With a shudder, she reached into his inside breast pocket.
A piece of paper brushed her gloved fingers.
Sadie jerked in surprise, almost losing her grip on Ben’s shoulder. She grunted as she tipped the body back a second time. Her fingers dug through the pocket, finally catching on the edge of the paper. She carefully pulled it out.
It was a piece of beige paper with a print pattern along one edge that Sadie found oddly familiar. She frowned, staring at it. She knew those small flowers, the line of twined vines. A memory of the lunch meeting with Ben surfaced.
“It’s part of the restaurant’s menu,” she said. She ran one latex-clad finger along the edge, then flipped it open.
A message was written inside:
LRH Nurses
Porters / Staff / Shift change
Pincher or Waterton police
Data collection? Who’d have access? Parents?
Underneath it was a new note, scribbled in pencil rather than pen. It simply read:
Call Sadie.
She took a shaky breath and folded the paper closed, then put it in the plastic bag. Her gaze rose. Out near the highway, a plume of dust appeared as the ambulance trundled slowly up the gravel road. She sealed the bag and stood.
No calling me now, she thought, and walked back to the police car, leaving the remains of Ben Grayden behind.
***
Lou backed away from the door. The emotion that had built since the investigator’s arrival had yet to dissipate. It roiled around her, a storm about to break.
“You saw a head?” Rich said.
“Yes.”
“Like… an actual head? You saw it here?”
“No… not here.” The room felt ten degrees too cold and Lou crossed her arms. “It was a memory, I think. Or maybe a flash of something.” She frowned. “Not another life. Not a dream… but real.”
“Shit.”
“That man carries darkness around him. There’s… something there.” She shuddered.
“A sociopath?”
“Maybe. It feels like all his human emotions have been pushed aside,” she said. “He brings danger.”
“What kind of danger? And to who?”
“Everything… everyone. I can’t describe it other than he’s got ghosts. Real ones. I heard them when I was chased home, but I didn’t know what I was hearing. I need to talk to Sadie and Jordan about him, but I don’t know what to say.”
“Say he yelled at you. That’s true.”
“I guess.”
Rich pulled Lou into a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Are you okay?”
“I am now. I want to get out of here… go for a walk or something.” She snuggled closer. “Feel like a drive?”
“With you? Always.” He stepped back. “I’ll finish getting dressed. I’ll be back down in a second.”
Lou puttered around the kitchen for fifteen minutes. She was at the sink, rinsing dishes, when the phone rang. She dried her hands on a dishtowel, heading to the phone.
“Hello?”
There was a staticky crackle. “Is this Louise Newman?” a man’s cultured voice asked.
“Yes, this is Lou. Who is—?”
“How DARE you refuse to talk to Mr. Farrel?”
Lou jerked like she’d been slapped. “I’m sorry. Who is—?”
“I need to know what happened to my daughter!” The sound of strangled breathing echoed through the earpiece.
“Mr. Rice? I’m sorry, I—”
“My daughter’s gone, Miss Newman! Do you understand that?! She’s DEAD and no one can bring her back to me!”
“I—I’m sorry.”
“I need to know what happened to Gabby! I need her killer brought to justice…”
His words rolled on and on, rage and pain tangling together. A footfall interrupted and she turned. Rich trotted down the stairs, his hair combed back, face calm. Lou covered the receiver.
“Rich! You need to come here.”
He frowned. “Who’s on the phone?”
“Gabby’s father.”
Under her fingers, the muffled shouts continued: “…and I’ve been trying to find out what happened! She cut us out of her life. Just up and disappeared! You can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a child! The pain at not knowing what happened!”
Lou put the handset to her ear. “I’m sorry, sir, but the private investigator you sent was—”
“How DARE you say you’re sorry when you refused to help him!”
Lou flinched. “I—I’m sorry. It must be awful—”
“Give me the phone,” Rich said.
“Don’t apologize to ME!” Mr. Rice bellowed. “You’re the one who destroyed Gabby and Rich’s relationship!”
“Me? What do you mean?” Lou stared at Rich. He waited, hand outstretched. Gabby’s father’s voice roared over top of her thoughts, drowning everything else out.
“The phone, Lou,” Rich repeated. “Give me the phone.”
“I—I’m sorry, Mr. Rice. I have to go.”
“Don’t you DARE hang up on me! Gabby is DEAD because of you! If you—”
“Rich is here,” Lou said. “I can’t talk anymore.”
“—hang up this phone and I warn you, I’ll—”
With shaking hands, Louise passed the receiver to Rich. She swallowed convulsively. Edward Rice blamed her for Gabby’s death. The anger came from the other side of the continent, but it was a palpable force drowning her.
“Mr. Rice,” Rich said. “I need you to calm down. I can explain—”
A man’s furious roar came through the phone. Lou stepped back, the pounding of her heart so fast she felt faint.
“Sir, you need to calm down,” Rich said. “I know you’re upset but—”
Another bellow of pain. The words were incoherent, but the emotion was clear. Lou’s eyes filled with tears. The man’s fury-filled anguish tore through her.
“You don’t understand sir. It… It wasn’t like that…” Rich’s gaze flicked to Lou and then back. “No! She had nothing to do with our break-up… I understand but—” His mouth pursed. “No. No! That’s not what happened, I—” There was another lengthy pause. “Mr. Rice, if you’ll just listen to me, I—”
Rich suddenly looked down at the receiver. He frowned as he put it back to his ear. “Hello?” He tapped the cradle. “Mr. Rice?”
The sound of a telephone’s hum echoed from the earpiece. Rich stared down at it for a few seconds longs as if it contained an answer to a question. With a heavy sigh, he replaced it and looked up.
“He blames me.”
“For what?”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug.
“For leading her on when I left New York in 1999 and came here.”
There was a long moment when the question was caught in her throat. Lou’s gaze slid down to the ring on her hand. “Did you lead her on?”
Rich sighed. “Not on purpose, but I didn’t make a clean break either.” He cleared his throat. “I just kind of walked away from my life and picked up here.”
Lou nodded. She remembered that summer, the sparks that had flared into flame the moment they’d met. She felt the intensity of the attraction even now, years later. Rich pulled Lou into his arms and she sighed. She was his and he was hers. That fact wouldn’t change, no matter what.
Lou forced herself to say the words: “Do you need to go back to New York and talk to Gabby’s father? Do you need to make it right?”
Pain crossed Rich’s face. “Do you want me to go talk to Gabby’s father?”
“No. God no!” She let out a pained laugh. “I want you to stay here in Waterton with me, but…”
“But what, Lou? What is it?”
She pressed herself closer, looking up into his eyes, blue and bright and earnest.
“Having you stay in Waterton is what I want. What do you want to do, Rich? You have choices too.”
He leaned in until his mouth was almost on hers.
“I want to marry you, I want to start our life here, to live and breathe and not always be looking behind me when I walk down the street.”
She looped her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him down to meet her lips. “Then stay here, love…”
Chapter thirteen
The kiss was the push both Rich and Lou needed. The day had been a tangle of emotion, but that tension had finally broken. Lou moaned. Rich pulled her closer and stepped back one step… two… until he leaned against the kitchen counter.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Love you so much, Lou.”
“Love you too.”
He pulled back, holding her gaze. “I would have gone back to New York if you’d asked me to. You know that right?”
