The Darkness to Come (35 page)

“How long has this house been standing? It doesn’t look that old.”

“An awful hurricane came through here in the late seventies. It destroyed a lot of homes, including ours. Aunt Betty and Uncle Sammy took the insurance money and built a new house, the one we’re sitting in now.”

A frightening thought occurred to Joshua. “Does Dexter know anything about this place?”

“Are you kidding? I never dared to tell him a word about it.”

“But you were married to him. How did you hide . . . well, never mind.”

“It’s a fair question. I kept it secret from Dexter because I realized on some level, even then, that he didn’t have my best interests at heart. This house has always been a very personal, important place for me and my family.”

“You never told me about it, either.”

She touched his hand. “But I was planning to tell you, baby, sometime after the business with Dexter settled down. I felt it wasn’t a good idea for anyone to know about it, not when he could’ve popped up at any time. This is the one place in the world where I’ve always felt safe.”

“I understand,” he said. “You’ve got your own private little hideaway.”

She frowned. “Now let me tell you about Dexter. If I’d told him about this house when we were married, he would have demanded that I try to take it out of trust, and sell it. That man didn’t want me to have anything that I cherished—outside of him, that is.”

“What a nutcase,” Joshua said. “Did you ever love him?”

“Never,” she said plainly. “But I was only twenty-three when we got married, naïve, and Dexter is ruthless about getting what he wants. He wanted a trophy wife, and he decided I was the one. When I met him, it was like getting swept away by a tidal wave. We got married within three months of our first date.”

“Three months? We got engaged after six months, and some people told me that was too fast.”

“Every relationship is different. In the case of you and me, we’d developed so much chemistry that after a few months, it was a given that we were going to get married.”

“True,” he said. “Actually, by the third date, I had a pretty good idea.”

“With Dexter, though, it was like being forced into a corner. He started talking about marriage on the first date, and he went all out with the flowers, chocolates, jewelry, designer clothes, expensive dinners. He wanted to see me every single day. He would tell me, ‘My mission is to make you marry me.’”

“His mission?”

“Right, his mission. Nuts. But he wore me down. Like I said, I was young and dumb then. I looked at him, saw that he was this successful attorney, handsome, ambitious, a take-charge kind of guy, and figured I could grow to love him, over time.”

“But you never had a child with him,” he said, which was both a statement and a question.

“Lord, no. Dexter can’t have kids, Josh. He tried to get me pregnant almost immediately after we tied the knot—I think he wanted me to have a baby so he could have another way to pin me down, control me. But we did some fertility testing, and the doctors told us that he had a low sperm count.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yeah. Dexter was pissed, let me tell you. I thought he was going to tear apart the doctor’s office. He went to two more doctors, and both of them told him the same thing. So of course, Dexter turned it all around and laid the blame at my feet. He said that the doctors who tested him were jealous of him, and that I was the one who had a fertility problem.”

“Damn. He’s a real piece of work.”

“It’s all part of the nutty package that’s Dexter.”

Joshua shook his head. It was still a struggle to believe that Rachel had once been married to such a certifiable madman.

“There’s another thing I’ve wanted to ask you,” he said. “After you left Dexter, how did you go about starting over?”

“After Dexter went to prison—for trying to kill me and
almost
succeeding—I got an uncontested divorce. Then I went to court for a legal name change—I changed my middle name to my first name, and then took my mom’s maiden name, Hall. I knew Dexter would get out of prison one day and come after me, and I wanted to have a last name that I didn’t think he would know, or remember. At the same time, I didn’t want to totally cut my family ties, you know?”

“Makes sense,” he said. “Although something tells me he probably figured it out.”

“Yeah, he probably did—he’s got a mind like a steel trap.” She chewed her lip. “Anyway, because I was a victim of domestic violence, I was able to get a new SSN, tied to my new name. I bought Coco—he never allowed me to have a dog—and moved down here for a little while, to get my affairs in order. I’d been to Atlanta several times before, for hair shows and whatnot, so . . .”

“You relocated to ATL,” he said. “And started working at a hair salon in College Park.”

“Yep. And after a while, we bumped into each other at an art museum.”

“I bumped into you, actually,” Joshua said. “You know how clumsy I am sometimes.”

“Maybe. But how do you know I didn’t make sure that I happened to be in your way?”

They smiled at each other. Hearing her story, Joshua was amazed at how life worked, at how it could bring together two people from such disparate backgrounds, and give them an opportunity to build something lasting together.

“Now.” She set her mug on the table. “I’ve got a question for you that’s been burning a hole in my brain. How the heck did you find me here?”

Joshua pushed up his glasses on his nose. “This might sound kinda crazy, but . . . I dreamed about this place.”

“You did? That doesn’t sound crazy—not to someone like me. Dreams can be visions of the future.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t look at it that way. I’ve never been someone to have visions, or whatever. For me, it was more of a . . . a fantasy of the kind of life we could have. I dreamed about it every night after you left. It made me want to find you.”

“What exactly happened in this dream?”

“We were walking on the beach out there.” He pointed toward the shore, a slice of which was visible through a nearby window. “I was holding our son, Justin, too. He was maybe a year old.”

Rachel was grinning. She rubbed her belly. “Wow. A son.”

“And our lives, in the dream, seemed just perfect. Our lives probably weren’t really perfect, but they sure felt perfect because we were together, a family . . . just enjoying each other.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” she said.

“I was pretty broken up when you left. But the dream motivated me to start doing research, to find out where you were. I found out that you’d hired a property management company. I found their number in your cell phone.”

“How’d you get into my cell? I always kept it locked.”

“You know my boy Eddie’s got hacking skills.”

“Oh, I forgot,” she said. “Go on.”

“I met the woman at the property management place, LaVosha. She didn’t really tell me anything, except that you’d gone somewhere that was very dear to you. She was pretty adamant about preserving your privacy.”

“Go, LaVosha. She’s good people. She sends a crew here to do upkeep on everything.”

“After she gave me that hint, it finally hit me: all the photos of the beach that you kept in our house. You were
here
.”

She was nodding. “Every time I look at them, I think of being here, and I feel at peace.”

“Eddie magnified one of the photos on a scanner, we deciphered the words on the ferry, Hyde Island Queen or something, and we did a search online . . . and voila. Here I am.”

“Bravo. I would clap if I wasn’t worried.”

“What’re you worried about?”

“Eddie knows that you’re here.”

“But he’s the only one who knows. I had to leave Coco with him.” Joshua paused, and then added: “You can trust Eddie. He won’t tell anyone.”

“He’ll tell Dexter.”

“No, he won’t,” Joshua said, but he was thinking about how he hadn’t received a text message from Eddie, and had been unable to contact him via telephone. “Do you have a landline in the house?”

“It’s not in service. One of the main reasons I come here is to be isolated—from everything.”

“What if you have an emergency?”

“Some of my neighbors have phones in their houses,” she said. “Anyway, remember, we’re on an island. Nothing gets here fast. It would take even an emergency helicopter a while to reach us here.”

“There are no cops, no hospitals?”

“None. Any emergency services would have to come from the other side. Some people here have boats, but they’re not exactly rapid transit.”

“I tried to use my cell after I got off the ferry,” he said. “It didn’t work.”

“I bought a prepaid cell on the way here, and that one doesn’t work, either. We’re out of area.” She studied his face. “Are you worried about Eddie?”

“I don’t know how Dexter would have found out about him, but . . .”

“But Dexter has a way of getting the answers he wants,” she finished for him.

“Yeah. He’s like a human bloodhound.”

“Let’s find out about Eddie, then.” Rachel rose from her chair, took his hand. “Come with me.”

Chapter 61

 He followed Rachel upstairs, into what appeared to be a small bedroom. Yet there was no bed: it contained only a large, emerald green yoga mat that covered the middle of the hardwood floor, a chair, and a hand-woven basket full of white candles.

One wall was almost completely given over to an eastward-facing window. The view of the beach and ocean was stunning.

“What is this room?” he asked.

“It’s where I pray and meditate,” she said. “Aunt Betty used to tell me to always pray facing the East, ‘cause God resides in the East—the other one is in the West.”

“I didn’t know you were into meditation, that kind of stuff.”

“You’re going to learn a lot about me from coming here.” She sat on the mat, pulled off her sneakers and shrugged out of her jacket. Underneath, she wore a plain white t-shirt.

A revolver was holstered on her hip. She set it aside.

“We need to talk about these guns too,” he said.

“We will. Take off your shoes and sit in front of me, legs crossed, please.”

He did as she requested. She took his hands, clasped them in her lap.

“Close your eyes,” she said. “Breathe deeply. Think about Eddie. His face, his personality, your friendship with him. All of the things that come to mind when you hear his name. Hold it all in your mind.”

He shut his eyes, and drew in deep breaths. He concentrated on his friend, summoning his face in his mind’s eye, dwelling on their twenty-year-plus friendship.

The only sounds in the room were their measured breathing, the creaking of the old house in a breeze, and the whispers of the waves.

After a few minutes, Rachel’s grip on Joshua’s hands suddenly tightened. She gasped.

“Rachel?” Joshua opened his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Eddie’s hurt,” she said, in a hitching voice. “Alive, but hurt bad.”

“How do you know?”

“I used your connection to him to reach out to him. When I did, I got an impression of pain . . . suffering.”

He stared at her. “You’re saying you contacted him by like . . . telepathy?”

“Sort of like that.” She hugged herself, shuddering, though the room was warm. Joshua grabbed her jacket and draped it over her shoulders, and she pulled it tight around her.

Rachel is psychic
, Joshua thought, and found that the idea had always been there, the so-called elephant in the room. He’d long known that there was something unique about her, something extraordinary. How many times had her “good feelings” predicted an event that later occurred? Before Dexter had invaded their lives, he’d taken to calling her, jokingly, his good luck charm.

Good luck charm, indeed. If she hadn’t given him the gun, Dexter probably would have killed him.

“Rachel, you need to explain to me . . . how you can do these things.”

“I can’t say exactly,” she said. “It’s always been a part of me, ever since I was a little girl. Did you teach yourself your artistic talent?”

“No. I refined it with practice and education, but I’ve always had the raw talent.”

“This works the same way. For as long as I can remember, I would get dreams, visions, or strong feelings about things, and usually, they would actually happen at some point. Or I can sometimes make a mental or emotional connection with someone from a distance. I’ve never been able to bring it under total control, but meditation helps me tap into a bit of it.”

“If I hadn’t seen evidence of your gift so many times, I wouldn’t believe it,” he said. “But I have, and I do. If you hadn’t given me your gun . . .”

“Dexter would have killed you,” she said simply. “I’ve been trying to keep track of everything he’s been doing, everyone who’s in danger of him. Sometimes the knowledge comes too late to make a difference . . . like what happened to my aunt Betty. Other times, I can warn someone, and they don’t listen to me. Like Tanisha.”

“You warned her about Dexter?”

“I did, for all it was worth.” Rachel sighed. “I knew she wouldn’t listen. I can offer information on what might happen, but ultimately, people have to make their own decisions. Everyone has free will.”

“Can you see what’s going to happen to us while we’re here?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t received any clues yet, and I’ve never been able to consciously access foreknowledge about myself. It’s one of the weird things about the gift that affects a lot of people with similar talents. They can predict what will happen to everyone except themselves.”

“Maybe you can predict what will happen to me.”

“Not while your fate is directly tied to mine in this situation. I doubt it.”

“Great,” Joshua said.

“I’m not the psychic hotline, baby,” she said. “It doesn’t work like that. I’m sorry.”

“What else do you know?”

“After what we’ve found out about poor Eddie, I unfortunately know something that I don’t need to be psychic to predict.”

“Dexter is on his way here,” Joshua said.

She stared out the window behind Joshua. “There’s something . . . really weird about him, too. I’ve tried to probe at him telepathically, and I can’t get through. It’s like trying to tune in to a fuzzy radio signal. I get nothing but static.”