A Deep and Dark December(57)

The Graham in her vision was not the Graham she’d had in her bed last night. She tried to reconcile the two in her mind, comparing them side-by-side. If he could slip so easily from one persona to the other, which was the real one? Or was the real Graham caught somewhere in between? And who was the woman in the vision? There’d been moments Graham had looked at her with real emotion when the fat man hadn’t been paying attention. Who was she to Graham? Did she have a claim on him still?





Graham had gone home to shower and change. He’d grabbed a cup of coffee and a donut at the Do or Dine and now he stood on Keith’s doorstep, wondering if he’d missed the man. He didn’t want to have to question Keith at the store with half the town straining to listen, didn’t want any more of this to touch Erin in any way.

It was just a matter of time before the whole town knew he’d spent the night with Erin. He should have left earlier. When he’d turned around to start down Erin’s front steps, old Mrs. Pfeiffer had been standing on the sidewalk holding her bug-eyed mutt’s leash, gaping at him as though he’d just climbed out Erin’s bedroom window with her panties clamped between his teeth.

He’d given her a wave and a cheerful mornin’. She’d given him a glare that let him know his father would be hearing about this. His father had strict beliefs where premarital relations were concerned, not to mention the six generations deep worth of reputation to protect.

Goddamned small town.

He banged his fist on the door harder than necessary. “Keith! Open up. Sheriff.”

No answer. He looked up at the two-story house that gleamed with a new paint job under the morning sun. This might’ve been Erin’s house one day. It was perfect for her, in the kind of neighborhood where you’d raise a family. She might’ve had the life here with Keith that she’d wanted, if things had gone differently. He gave the shiny silver plate at the bottom of the front door a solid kick and was about to turn away when he heard a crashing noise from inside.

He hit the door with his fist, annoyed with himself as much as Keith. “Open the door, Keith!”

Silence. He tried the doorknob. Locked. He shook his head and muttered a curse as he stepped off the porch. All the peeping in windows he’d done lately was going to earn him pervert of the year status. The house was dark and still feeling. He had no idea what room he was looking into. He knocked on the window and shouted for Keith again, then skulked around to the side yard. Another window, drapes shut tight.

He opened the gate, letting himself into the backyard. More family home goodness here with a swimming pool, basketball hoop, and a freaking swing set. All that was missing was the dog. As soon as he had the thought, a big shapeless mutt bounded toward him, tongue lolling. The dog bounced around his ankles until Graham found a ball and threw it. The dog followed, disappearing into some bushes, leaving the ball on the grass.

“Not so perfect after all, huh?” he muttered. “Dog can’t even fetch.”

The back of the house was locked up as tight as the front, the curtains and shutters closed. He made his way to the front of the house again and was standing at the bottom of the steps, deciding what to do when Carol Whittaker came up next to him.

“Have you knocked?” she asked.

“No answer.”

“He didn’t come in to work today. Not answering either of his phones. Maybe we should be at Erin December’s house. I hear things have gotten pretty serious between them. Although I don’t know what he sees in her. He could do better.”

Graham tamped down his anger. “They broke up.”

Carol looked at him funny. “That can’t be right.”

He shrugged, looking back at the house, feeling as though it were looking right back.

“But they had a date last night. He was really nervous like something big was going to happen, if you know what I mean.”

“He didn’t call in to work or anything?”

“No, not a peep, which isn’t like him. That’s why I came down here. As assistant manager of the pharmacy.”

“And you haven’t been able to reach him? What about his parents?”

“He’s not there either.”

Graham strode up the front steps and pounded the side of his fist against the door. “Keith!”

“The key’s under the mat.”

“Of course it is.” Graham lifted the corner and retrieved the key.

“Should I stand back? Is this police business? Do you think something’s happened to Keith? Maybe he’s sick. Or fell down and hit his head. He could be lying unconscious, bleeding to death slowly.”

Graham glared at Carol over his shoulder.

“Well, he could. Happens all the time.”

He fit the key in the door and opened it. “Sheriff. Keith, you in there?” He turned back to Carol with a hand up. “Stay here.”

He made his way through a short entry hall into a main room with a wide, sweeping staircase. The second floor overlooked the first with an open floor plan with a vaulted, beamed ceiling. Keith hung limply, suspended in midair from one of the beams. Face ashen. Neck cinched. Head jerked off center.

Dead.

“Goddammit.”

Behind him, Carol shrieked. Graham ducked at the onslaught. She stood there, mouth opening and closing on one scream after another, eyes wide, finger pointing. He clamped a hand over her mouth, but she howled through his fingers as he pulled her back out the door.