A Deep and Dark December(82)

Ham would get used to him being with Erin. Eventually. Maybe. Hopefully.

Sitting at his desk in his finally quiet office, Graham realized it was already full dark outside and he hadn’t heard back from Erin. He pulled out his phone. No new messages. His first attempt to reach her got her voice mail so he’d texted her. No response.

Was she pissed off at him about Jessica? He thought back to earlier in the afternoon when he’d told her to leave after Jessica had attacked her. He went through everything he’d said and done. He’d been abrupt, maybe a little rude. He’d only been trying to get Jessica to settle the hell down. Erin wasn’t so sensitive that she’d stop taking his calls.

He tried calling again and left a message this time. Maybe he’d just go over to her house with a pizza and a bottle of wine. She couldn’t stay annoyed at him forever. He’d find a way to talk her out of it if she tried. As he shut down his computer, another thought struck him. What if she couldn’t answer her phone? What if her plan had worked and the killer had gone after her?

He didn’t wait to make sure the program he was working in closed before he bolted out the door.

*

Erin wasn’t sure what had drawn her to the bluffs above San Rey where she and Graham had first kissed. The night air bit through her lightweight coat and she shivered. Seeing her aunt had steadied her in a way she hadn’t felt in days. Weeks. If only she’d open her eyes. If only her father could speak again. If only things could go back to normal.

Normal.

What was normal anymore?

She wrapped her arms around herself and looked out at the sea, stretching before her. The moon hung low in the sky, laying out a path of light across the water that nearly led all the way to the rocks below her. Standing at the edge, she had the feeling she could fly, soar over the dark ocean, dipping down and up again. She closed her eyes and imagined it. The wind lifted the ends of her hair, bringing with it a fine salty mist that dampened her cheeks.

Her feet crept closer to the edge. The sensation of flying was so real to her now that her stomach lifted and sank as she imagined rising swiftly then dropping down to skim the waves. Her problems melted away, trailing out behind her in a long tail. Freedom. The ocean called to her. Called her by name in a low, sweet, seductive voice. She inched a little closer and tried to answer.

Suddenly she popped her eyes open. Her toes met the edge of the cliff and the sea no longer called. The voice was not some ethereal being, but a real life, flesh and blood human. And he was right behind her.

Her feet felt as though they were bolted to the earth and she had to twist her body to look at him. Her breath got sucked away, making her jerk back. She wobbled.

“Not yet,” Ham said and she righted as though he’d reached his hand out and stilled her.

Ham sat on the bench where she’d first felt a real, definable connection to Graham. His back pressed into the wooden slats, as though he needed them to keep upright. Sallow light from the street lamp above him cast a dirty halo around his head. He reached for every breath like the backlash of a whip, his body yanking and sagging. She could feel his oily, black loathing coating her. He clutched the head of his cane, another anchor, his leather gloves squeaking in time with her heartbeats.

The vision. Her hands, but not her hands. The squeak of leather gloves, gripping the handle of the gun outside Deidre’s backdoor, and again as he shot Deidre. The annoyance. The anger. The shame. She shuddered, bile rising up her throat. This was the man who’d killed Deidre. And Greg. And Keith. This was the monster who’d trapped her aunt and father inside their own minds, turning them into nothing more than shells.

She thought of Graham. This would break him. His father had been behind everything all along, every manipulation. The cruelty of his betrayal struck like a blow to the stomach. What would this do to Graham after what he’d been through with Patricia? She wished she could shield him from the pain of the truth.

“Why?” Was all she could think to say.

“You lied.”

His tone bit into her. She shook her head. “Lied?”

“You have a power. Or was that the real lie?”

“I saw you.”

“Saw.” Squeak. Squeak. “What exactly did you see?”

“I saw you kill Deidre. I saw you make Greg shoot himself. I saw you force Keith to tie his own noose and…and hang himself.”

“You didn’t see me. You saw what I can do.” He sucked in a breath. “You saw power.”

Her head crowded with what he’d done, what he was willing to do, and how he tried to impress her with it. Her face flushed hot and her vision narrowed on him. “I saw cowardice!”

“You want to see…exactly what I can do, little girl? I’m holding you on the edge.” He flicked a finger in her direction. Even that small movement seemed an effort for him. “One flick and you go.”

Maybe if she pushed at him. “You got Deidre pregnant. Does your wife know about that?”

“You don’t talk about my wife!” he wheezed and tipped to one side.

She felt her right foot slide out an inch. Looking down, she watched as pebbles bounced and danced down the cliff face. She curled her toes, trying to grip the earth.

“I’m sorry.” She hated the panic in her voice and tried to steady her breathing. “I won’t talk about her.”