Dark Corners Page 12

I cleaned the house feeling more energized and hopeful than I had in a long while. Susan was right; Gabriel had made a difference. Not in the way she was implying, but in that he listened and didn't mock me. He admitted he couldn't and doesn't know everything. The day was quiet, with nothing strange happening except a few hang up calls—making for the lightest days of paranormal activity since Danny died. I didn’t know what caused the change, but I hoped it had something to do with us being on the right track.

  Gabriel arrived back after work that evening, carrying dinner and a Scrabble box. I raised an eyebrow, but he only grinned.

  “What's all this?” I asked following him into the kitchen.

  “Dinner and entertainment. You said you like games, right?”

  “Yeah, I used to—I haven't played anything in a while.” Playing games was so normal, I’d feel like a traitor. I didn’t deserve to be free of the oppressive grief and guilt before the case was solved: it was like I was being disloyal to Danny.

  “It'll be fun. I'm a pretty mean scrabble player so you might have your hands full,” he said puffing out his chest a little. My laughter pushed all thoughts of disloyalty from my mind.

  “You know I'm a writer, right? So I'll probably kick your ass.”

  “Bring it on lady.”

  Gabriel had a gift for not letting me dwell in my own thoughts. There was a way about him that didn't allow me to linger too much if I wanted to keep up. I could have been obsessing about abandoning Danny but I wasn't. I was laughing and enjoying my evening with Gabriel.

  And he was nothing like Danny. Gabriel had a more serious nature. His playful side rarely surfaced. Danny was always playful with very few serious moments. Gabriel didn't push or manipulate, he listened, then gave me his opinion, trusting I would make the right decision. Danny constantly pushed and manipulated me—not in a bad way, but in a way always testing my boundaries making me try things out of my comfort zone.

  Gabriel set up the game as I got plates for the warm sub sandwiches he’d brought. Briefly the notion that I was getting too comfortable having him around flitted into my thoughts again. What would I do when this was over and he was gone? I would be alone.

  “Are you coming or are you going to stand in there biting your lip at the plates?” he asked, watching me from the kitchen table.

  “Sorry, I was thinking.” I said, snapping myself out of it and joining him at the table. I handed him a plate and a beer.

  “Do I want to know?” he asked seriously, his eyes trying to connect with mine though I managed to avoid contact.

  “Probably not.”

  “Ok,” he said and held out the bag for me to draw my tiles. I placed my tiles in order of point value, then studied them picking out several words I could use.

  “Would you like to go first?” I asked.

  “No, ladies first.”

  I shook my head at his chivalry and laid down my word: J-A-U-N-T-Y. “Jaunty, sixteen points double word score for the grand total of thirty two points.”

  Gabriel grimaced and stewed over his tiles. He played, getting only twelve points, but effectively blocking my next move. I kept a nice lead, but Gabriel was doing well. He was a very strategic Scrabble player, planning and anticipating moves—definitely a worthy opponent. As the game continued he asked me “So what do we have?”

  His question drew me out of my tile pondering. “What do you mean?”

  “With the case, what do we know?” he asked rearranging his tiles.

  “I'm not sure,” I said thoughtfully. “We’ve found clues, but clues to what? A sock, a shirt, a hair, and a jar—how does any of that bring us closer to figuring out who did it? And really, everything besides the jar points to an affair—not necessarily a killer.”

  Gabriel considered what I said as he laid down G-H-O-S-T and gave me his points.

  “They may not be connected,” he said fairly, “but it would give us motive which is more than we have now. Normally killers have a motive, and since he's still hanging around, I think the killer is definitely focused on you.”

  “Let's say it's some elusive, incredibly smart and sneaky killer who’s coming and going from my house without being noticed as he chooses.”

  “Okay ... disturbing, but okay,” Gabriel said, his eyes instinctively scanning the room.

  “Also let's say he's completely obsessed with me, which seems pretty obvious. Then why did he kill Danny? Why him and not me—especially if he’s not even making himself known to me? Why is he still playing this game? If everything’s all about me, how does Danny's affair give us motive?”

  Gabriel took a swig of his beer and leaned back. “Your turn,” he said.

  I’d forgotten about the game. I looked at my tiles, then the board, searching for a spot to go. As I put down my word Gabriel said, “If the person is obsessed with you and has been watching you from the start, maybe they learned about the affair. Maybe they killed Danny to punish him for hurting you.”

  “That's messed up.”

  “Yeah,” he narrowed his eyes and frowned a little, “but it makes the most sense of any of the theories I’ve had. The manner of the murder, the rat, the ongoing psychological torture, etc.... They all point to you being the center of everything here. I just don't know how he is doing it.”

  “That isn't disturbing at all.” My skin crawled with an involuntary shiver. “Or it could just be a ghost who hates me ... and Danny.”

  “Why would a ghost keep you alive? Not to mention this ghost is making phones calls and writing on your computer.”

  “Maybe the ghost is keeping me alive because I pay attention to it. Things have happened in here that cannot be fully explained by a person. There's no way anyone could have done a lot of this.”

  “Perhaps, but I'm more worried about a human being here than a ghost. The person is more likely and until we figure it out and make an arrest, you're in danger. Any moment he or she could suffer another psychotic break and attack you.”

  I thought about what he said. It was uncomfortable. As much as I hated the ghost it was more disturbing to think some stranger was in my house, watching and planning how or what he would do to me next. My breath became shallow and fast—but I’d be damned if I’d allow myself to pass out in front of Gabriel. I willed my breathing to slow back to a normal pace.

  Gabriel twirled a tile between his fingers and watched me. His eyes were curious, but he didn't say anything. He let me work it out on my own. Finally I was able to ask, “So who are our suspects then?”

  “Well, the person he had an affair with.”

  “Why? If this is about me, why her?”

  “The person who seduced him could be your fan. She could be obsessed with you which is why she would go after your husband, but once he had the affair she would know he wasn't good enough for you.”

  “Well, that's not really fair if she set out to seduce him.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “It doesn't matter, Ella. That could be her reasoning and I can't say I disagree with it.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “No—obviously I disagree with murder, but if he was willing to cheat on you he wasn't good enough for you.”

  I pursed my lips.

  Gabriel shrugged. “Just my opinion.”

  “Who else?”

  “An obsessed fan, a stalker perhaps.”

  “Not that I know of....”

  “The person more than likely lives here in Montgomery. If some stranger was lurking around, people would definitely notice. Probably has a good amount of knowledge about mechanics.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s making the window and doors close and the lights flicker. I can't see how you would do that without a mechanical set up.”

  “But we haven’t found anything that looks like a mechanical setup.”

  “No, but that doesn't mean it isn't there. Maybe we just don't know what to look for.”

  “Mr. Sexton is always working on his lawnmower.”

&nb
sp; Gabriel thought about that for a moment. “But he’s not the subtle, patient type, and this intruder definitely is. Make no mistake, he has a plan and is waiting for something; the question is what?”

  “You know who really fits?”

  “Who?” he asked, looking hopeful.

  “Me.” I watched Gabriel's face drop. “Really, as you pointed out, I have motive. I had means—all the knives were in this house. And I obviously have access to the house. No one would note my coming and going, because I live here. I'm the one who suffered the wrong doing, I'm the one who is unstable.”

  “Fine, let’s consider you. How would you over power him?”

  “I’d poison him or launch some sneak attack.”

  “No poison on the autopsy, and you lack the physical strength to put him in that position. Not to mention, you have an airtight alibi and no background in mechanics. You couldn't have possibly done it.” Gabriel looked smug. “Did I pass the test?”

  “What test?”

  “Well, obviously you know you didn't do it, so you must’ve been testing whether or not I know you didn't do it.”

  “Not entirely. I was pointing out how well I fit the bill, like he wanted me to take the blame. Maybe I was supposed to be the scapegoat.”

  “Now that's an interesting idea. What if he wanted you to be a suspect and be just guilty seeming enough to have the town ostracize you?”

  “Which they did.”

  “Which they did,” he agreed “And what did that do to you?”

  “Pissed me off.”

  “No, it isolated you. He killed Danny and made the town believe you did it, but why? To what end? Why does he want you to be alone?”

  “But why?”

  “So you are his.”

  The entire conversation left me feeling violated. I’d lived with fear for a long time, but this struck me on another level—it was complete and total mind fuckery. Not only was he in my house, he was in my head too. He wanted me to break with stress and terror—but I was sick of being afraid.

  “Are you okay?” Gabriel asked our game abandoned.

  “Would you be?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t want to play anymore.” I got up and walked out of the room, then stood in the hallway with my arms held wide in self-righteous anger. I turned in a slow, deliberate circle. “I don't want to play anymore, do you hear me?” I shouted to who or whatever was in my house. Gabriel watched me from the kitchen. An upstairs door slammed shut. He was at my side in a second.

  Gabriel went to check the noise and I followed closely behind him. After searching the house for the umpteenth time and finding nothing he opened one of the bedroom doors then slammed it shut. He checked the door and the hinges looking for something that could cause them to open and shut on their own, but still found nothing. Gabriel rubbed his hand over his eyes.

  “There has to be a way,” he grumbled.

  This was such bullshit. “Why are we doing this? No matter what we do, no matter what we find, nothing changes. I'm still in the same spot that I started. I’m done. I can’t take anymore. I quit.”

  There was a crash on the other side of the door. Gabriel yanked it open. A picture frame lay on the floor face down, the glass shattered out of it.

  I picked it up.

  “Be careful.” Gabriel moved some of the glass with his shoes.

  It was a picture of Danny and me. My face was horribly scratched, presumably from the fall. Danny’s, however, was perfect.

  “Why am I doing this?” I looked at Gabriel and showed him the picture. “I guess we have an answer.”

  Gabriel took my hands. “I'll figure this out.” His eyes were so sincere, I wanted to believe him.

  “I’m tired.”

  “You should go to sleep, get some rest. I'll be right downstairs.”

  I nodded and walked down to my room. “Thank you for staying. Thank you for believing in me.” I smiled, but knew it didn’t reach my eyes. I was so tired. When—and how—would this all end?

  Chapter Thirteen