A Deep and Dark December(65)

“Oh, well, of course. You know how I feel about your father.”

“I do.” And that was the only thing keeping Erin from wrapping her hands around Mabel’s neck most days. “But thanks just the same.”

Erin went back to the living room. Her father stared into the flashing screen at some sitcom. She bent and kissed his forehead. “Night, Daddy.” He didn’t look up.

Stepping out into the darkness, Erin breathed deeply, hugging her coat closed. The salty night air also carried the sweet smell of wood fires. The residents of San Rey would be huddled indoors, preparing for the coming workweek. A slip of paper under her car’s windshield wiper caught her attention. She pulled it out and slid into the driver’s seat, then immediately jumped back out of the car with a shriek. A large crow, stiff with death, lay on her passenger seat.

Her heart banged against her ribcage as she slowly looked around. The street was deserted. There were few houses in this area of San Rey, mostly cabins built around the time the town was founded. Although the Decembers had been one of the first families to settle here, they’d never really been welcomed. Erin opened the note.

We’re watching.

She scanned the street again. No movement. No maniacal face peeking out from behind a tree. No torch-wielding mob. Stuffing the note into her pocket, she took a deep breath and tried to shake off the eerie feeling that she was being watched. She pressed a hand to her forehead and tried to think what to do. Her lip trembled and she bit down on it.

She would not cry.

She climbed out of the car, marched around the side of the cabin to the shed in the back, and grabbed a shovel. Doing her best to not look too closely at the crow, she disposed of it. Someone was watching, she was sure of it now. Suppressing a shiver, she climbed back into her car and drove down the hill into town faster than she normally would. It was late enough that most of the businesses were closed. She passed Lucky’s Bag N Save and saw that they flew their flag half-mast in Keith’s honor. Several other homes and businesses did the same.

This sleepy little coastal town had been her home all her life. Now each quaint shop, every charming building seemed a charade. Which of the good citizens of San Rey had sent her that message? Who had let loose an avalanche of death and destruction that pitted resident against resident? What would San Rey become now that a serial killer existed among them? Because that’s what he was. Erin was sure of it.

She pulled up to her house and parked. It was as she’d left it. She didn’t know what she’d expected. Maybe another message. Maybe Graham waiting for her on the porch as he’d been waiting for her when she’d come out of her aunt’s hospital room. Thinking of him conjured up memories of their night together. Remembering some of her favorite moments, she climbed her front steps and let herself in. She flipped on the lights and set her things down.

The pain struck like a hammer to a bell, reverberating in every cell in her body. At first she thought she really had been hit as she staggered into her living room, hands pressed against her temples. White-hot light filled her sight. She tripped into it, falling head first into the vision as if she were being held down in a drowning pool. Giving it everything she had, she pushed against it, trying to hold onto this world with spider web hands. The harder she struggled to break free, the heavier the weight became until she succumbed completely, slipping from one reality into another.

She sat at a table in a coffee shop. Across from her, Graham drummed his fingers, striking the tabletop like piano keys. His jaw was clean-shaven, his hair short. Threads of gray were just beginning at his temples. Beneath the table, his leg pumped as his gaze held hers. No. He looked through her. She turned to see what he stared at so intently.

The door opened and she saw herself walk through it. Graham shot to his feet and waved her over. Realizing she sat in the only other seat at the table, Erin stood just as her future self sat. She shivered at the imagined contact and backed away from the scene. Pressing her eyes closed, she redoubled her efforts to break free of the vision. More pain. She stumbled back, passing through a table where another couple sat, and caught herself before she slipped through the wall and out into the street.

Graham reached for her hand across the table, the one with an engagement ring. She was engaged? To whom? Erin found herself moving closer, unable to pull her gaze from the ring and from Graham as he bent to kiss the back of her hand. It was difficult to read the other Erin’s expression. She appeared angry, yet at the same time she seemed to pity Graham as he held her hand in both of his. Erin could see the struggle on her own face. Graham was speaking in earnest and the other Erin was trying hard not to be swayed.

He apologized. Again. The word echoed through her mind as if she’d heard all of his apologies on the subject before. Yet how could she? She inched closer, cautious, as though she’d be caught by her future self.

“How many times do you expect me to go through this?” the other Erin asked. “I just want a number so I can know when it will finally stop.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” Graham said.

“Neither did I.”

“I know I’ve hurt you—”

“You’ve gotten very good at it.”

“I’m trying. I really am.”

“And while you try I’m supposed to do what? Wait around for a fiancé who may or may not come home? Where do you go? What do you do?”