Authors: Michelle Love
He got up and headed towards the bedroom. When she didn’t follow him, he turned to her. She looked at him, wary, nervous. He moved over and put his arms around her.
‘Are you frightened of me, Caroline?’
She
nodded
with tears in her eyes.
‘You have no reason to be.’ He smiled and kissed her, felt her relax.
‘Okay, now?’
She nodded and he kissed her, sliding a hand over her belly. ‘And then there’s this…our child...Caroline…’
She pulled him down onto the bed with her, kissing him deeply. This was what she had always wanted, real love, a man whose mind matched her own. She had loved him since the first moment she had seen him…and yes, she had disappointed him over the years but now, no more. He would kill that bitch Sarah and then he would finally be free of the obsession.
***
Sarah was already missing Isaac. He’d insisted on taking her back to the island himself before returning to the city, and to work. The coffee house had been busy, so
busy
she hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to Molly. She’d noticed her friend was subdued and, more concerning, was the faint and fading pattern of bruising on her cheek.
She finally got a chance to corral Molly into the kitchen to take a break when Nancy, the part-time barista came to work just after four. Molly protested but Sarah, having already spoken to Nancy,
threw her a grateful glance and scooted Molly out of the door before she could protest. Sarah took them around the side of the old movie
theater
, where they kept several benches, deck chairs, mostly for the smokers. The afternoon was cool, and there was only one man out there now, a regular, reading a book, chewing on a cheroot. He raised the book, a salute, a greeting and Sarah saw he was reading
Catch-22
. Sarah and Molly chatted with him for a few minutes before grabbing their own table.
Having settled, Nancy brought them hamburgers, fries and two Cokes. They sipped their sodas for a few minute in silence before Sarah nodded at her friend.
‘So, you going to tell me what’s wrong with you or not? I know there’s something. I saw the bruises, Mols…what’s going on?’
Please don’t be Mike
, she thought to herself,
please, not that.
Molly sighed, running her hand through her hair. ‘It was really nothing. Someone broke into the Varsity while you were away and…’
‘What the fuck?’ Sarah’s head shot up and she stared at her friend. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’
Molly sighed. ‘Finn and Isaac said not to, that it was too soon after George and…’
‘
Isaac
knew?’ Sarah’s voice rose in disbelief. Angry now, she tugged out her cell phone from her jeans pocket and dialed. Molly held up a hand.
‘No, wait, stop – ‘
‘Isaac? Call me back. We need to talk.’ Sarah didn’t hide her irritation. Molly shook her head.
‘It’s not his fault, really. Damn it, I shouldn’t have said anything,’ she fretted, ‘It’s just with the Dan thing, they thought I was making too much of it and – ‘
‘What ‘Dan’ thing’?’ interrupted Sarah, feeling the blood drain from her face, and her heart began to thump uncomfortably against her ribs.
Molly looked upset. ‘A few weeks ago, I could have sworn I saw him. It was just for a second, and it was dark but…and then, the other night, in the Varsity, I went to shut a window we’d left open – or so I thought. Someone was inside and attacked me. I don’t know, Sarah, more than likely it was a petty crook taking a chance, looking to steal from the register. But, there was a moment, I can’t describe it, a feeling. The guy’s build, the way he moved…he smelled of – ‘
‘Pine soap,’ said Sarah in a flat voice. She bent at the waist, trying to quell the panic,
nausea
that was rising in her throat. Dan was back. A million thoughts flood through her mind; why was he back? What did he want? And why hadn’t he just approached her instead of playing games?
‘Are you okay?’ Molly’s voice was small and Sarah shook her head.
‘No. I think I’ve seen him too. God, why now?’
Molly looked at her friend with sympathy. ‘Maybe he knows about Isaac? I just don’t know. What are you going to do?’
‘For now, go home, call Isaac and have a discussion with him on what he tells me and what he doesn’t. Then, nothing. If Dan comes back, I’ll hear him out if he wants to explain himself but that’s as far it goes. I don’t want him in my life.’
Molly was quiet for a time then said softly. ‘What if Dan sees things differently? What if he wants you back?’
Sarah looked at her friend evenly. ‘I’m in love with Isaac. He is my future, Dan is my past. He lost the right to want me when he left without explanation. Molly, I’m going to say this once to you. Dan Bailey is not the guy I married – and I’m not sure he ever was.’
***
A mile from home still, she heard only the
spatter
of rain against the tree canopy, its beat rhythmic and soothing. Sarah had begun to regret the decision to walk home after her shift at the coffee house. The rain had permeated her clothes, her hair, and was now dripping unpleasantly down the back of her neck. The lichen of the forest floor was slippery, the spike moss that hung from the maples and Sitka spruces were drenched and heavy.
Since her conversation with Molly, her mind had been a whirlwind of emotion. Sadness, trepidation…fear. Why was she afraid? That’s what she didn’t get, why the hell she was so afraid of Dan coming back. It wasn’t that she doubted herself, her love for Isaac – it was the nagging feeling that Dan meant her harm. No suspects had been found in George’s murder and no motive. Sarah herself was the recipient of George’s will so if anyone was suspect – and she’d gone through hours of questioning despite Isaac giving her all the alibi she needed. She hadn’t wanted to know about the will and the lawyer had graciously acquiesced to her request to postpone the reading of George’s will. He had no other family and she didn’t want that finality of his death confirmed because of any money or land or whatever. She didn’t want his money, she would give anything just to have him back in her life.
The trail led through the old trailer park and Sarah kept to its well-worn path. The mobile home her mom used to own was over to the left side, a shell now, burned out, no longer anything to gawp at for curious eyes. Sarah looked at it as she always had – out of the corner of her eye. She reasoned that counted. She’d only been to it once; with George on his urging.
You need closure.
She’d needed a paper bag. The panic attack that followed scared even the unflappable George. He hadn’t encouraged any further excursions. Since his
death
though, she wanted to try, wanted to at least
try,
for him.
She gave the skeleton of the trailer a wide berth and sped up, eager to get home now. She scooted past the trailer belonging to the island’s shipwright, Buddy Harte, a sour-faced misanthrope who hated everyone – especially people of color. Sarah despised the old man and avoided him but they’d often come to words when Sarah had seen him abusing people in the town square.
She walked past then stopped, her heart thudding. She heard a man’s voice, singing, low and discordant. It wasn’t the singing which made her stomach twist, her breath freeze in her lungs. It was the song. The song her mother sang to her when she was attempting to kill her.
I got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart…
Her breath hitched, her skin aflame with a creeping horror, Sarah turned and stared into the dark window of the trailer. Something banged against the window and she skittered
backward
. Someone laughed. It was the same laugh she’d heard a few nights ago outside her house.
‘Run, whore, while you can. Go spread your legs for the billionaire, you fucking slut.’
The horror was replaced by a wild anger, the blood roaring in her ears. She strode up to the door and banged on it.
‘Get out here now. Now!’
‘I got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart…’cos I’m a hooker like
ma
dear auld
maaaaaaaa
!’ He was singing now, cackling to himself.
Red spots of rage in her eyes, Sarah yanked at the locked door, kicking at it wildly.
‘You bastard!’ She was screaming now, pummeling the trailer’s door, its walls. ‘Come out and face me, you asshole.’ Somewhere in the back of her
mind,
she
realized
a switch had been flipped in her. Sarah stopped, breathing heavily, calming herself.
‘Buddy Harte…come out here and face me, you coward.’
Something heavy crashed against the inside of the trailer, making her jump.
Suddenly there was silence, stillness. All Sarah could hear was her own breathing. She heard him laugh softly to himself.
‘Run, run, pretty baby girl, before I stick my knife in your belly. Before I gut you…
go now!
’
At his roar, Sarah skittered back and ran. She ran until she felt her lungs would explode, and then, as she stopped and bent double, dragging air into her lungs. She listened for a pursuer. Silence. Utter silence.
A swishing, a crackling of bracken underfoot. Something moving in the trees. With a shock, Sarah stopped, her eyes raking the tree line for movement. She felt every nerve in her body
jangle
, her limbs felt like formless, without strength Whatever it was had stopped too, but she felt eyes on her, imagined she could hear breathing. She turned and started to walk
again,
her ears alert. She heard the sound again and swung around, catching the movement out of the corner of her eye. A flash of something, something that jarred against the woody
colors
of the forest. A figure in
gray
. Sarah started to run, trying to catch her breath as she sprinted towards home. Every second she expected hands grabbing her, pulling her down, a knife slicing into her skin. Almost home, she snagged her foot in a tree root and fell, slamming her ear hard against a rock, slicing into it. She could feel the blood pouring down the side of her neck as she pulled herself up.
She sobbed with relief as her home came into view. She’d skittered up the porch stairs before she
realized
her bag was gone. Casting panicked glances around her, she scrambled around to the back of the house, running her hands over the top of the back door. The key she kept there was gone. Sarah rammed her elbow repeatedly into the glass of the window, ignoring the searing pain. The glass shattered finally and, as she let herself in, she could feel blood dripping down her arm. She dragged the heavy oak table over and wedged the door shut, bracing herself back against it as she grabbed her cell phone and called Finn.
***
Finn arrived with Steve and a very worried Molly in tow. She let them in and, still trembling, offered them coffee. Finn made her sit down, his dark eyes concerned. Molly used around Sarah, cleaning up her ear and her elbow.
‘Bubba, what happened?’
‘Buddy…’ She couldn’t breathe.
‘Buddy did this?’ Molly and Finn exchanged a worried look.
‘No,’ Sarah said, ‘I fell. Buddy…he screamed at me, he was insane. He was singing…’ her voice trailed off as she met Finn’s gaze. ‘He was singing ‘Down in my Heart’.’ She quickly told them the rest of the story.
‘He threatened you?’
She nodded. ‘I know he doesn’t like me; he was Dan’s friend but he never liked me. But Steve, he’s never been aggressive or…I cannot believe what just happened.’ She looked dazed. Finn turned to Steve, spoke in a soft undertone.
‘Buddy’s a nut-job but I doubt he means what he says.’
Steve’s eyes narrowed. ‘Still, it’s technically assault, in the State’s eyes anyway…’ He and Finn followed as Molly took Sarah back to the Varsity. Molly made Sarah sit on one of the couches.
‘Don’t move. I’ll get you some ice for that ear.’
Steve sat down next to Sarah. ‘Sarah – do you want to press charges?’
She shook her head. ‘No. No, I think…he was probably drunk and I may have riled him up.’ She coughed, flushing. ‘I got pretty mad at him.’ She looked at Finn, relaxed at his reassuring smile.
‘I don’t blame you, kiddo. Why don’t you let Steve have a word with him, see what his problem was?’
Sarah looked at Steve. ‘Would you?’ He smiled at her.
‘Of course.’ He nodded at Finn.
‘I’ll stay with Sarah,’ Molly interrupted, appearing from the
back room
holding a dishcloth filled with ice. She handed it to Sarah. ‘I just tried to call him.’
Finn patted Sarah gently on the shoulder. ‘Feel better, bubba. Don’t worry, we got this.’
***
Isaac Quinn looked up from his laptop when someone knocked
on
his office door. It was his private detective, Stan. Isaac motioned for him to sit.