Between Here and the Horizon(18)

The first window was the living room window. The second window was the kitchen. It was the third window around the side of the house that belonged to the study. My palms slapped against the limestone on either side of the huge glass pane and I lurched forward, trying to see in.

I hadn’t even noticed that it was still dark. Dawn was moments away, but right now the sky was still a blanket of stars and faint, wispy clouds. There were no lights on inside the study. I had to press my hands against the glass, adjusting my pupils to the darkness before I could make out anything beyond obscure shapes and shadows.

And then I saw.

Bare feet.

The bare feet I’d felt giddy over yesterday. They were spinning very slowly in a counter clockwise motion. Ronan was still wearing the same simple plain black t-shirt and faded out black jeans he’d worn all day yesterday. His body was suspended in mid-air, hands relaxed by his sides. Slowly, slowly, his body spun, and then he was facing me, his head tilted to one side, eyes open and staring into oblivion. He was dead. There was no two ways about it. He was most definitely dead.

“No!” I clapped my hands over my mouth, shaking uncontrollably. What…what the f*ck? How? How had this happened? Tears of shock sprung to my eyes. I couldn’t feel my feet. My legs. I couldn’t feel a single part of my body. Everything had gone numb. I braced myself against the wall as I leaned forward and threw up. Ronan’s letter was still in my hand. I crushed the paper against the rough stonework as I heaved and I heaved, vomiting onto the wet grass at my feet.

I couldn’t bear him staring at me anymore. I ducked away from the window and ran back into the house, my heart slamming in my chest. I was getting mud everywhere, but that seemed the least of my problems. The house phone. Where the f*ck was the house phone? I eventually found it in the kitchen, sitting beside the dirty bowl I’d mixed the pancake batter in only twenty minutes ago.

Fuck Robert Linneman. I dialed 911 first. A woman picked up almost immediately.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello? Hello, god, please, I need an ambulance.”

“Okay, ma’am. What’s your address?”

“I don’t…shit! I don’t know.”

“You’re not at home, ma’am?”

“No, no. I…I just started a job. I just started a new job here.”

“Not a problem. I have an address connected to this phone line. What’s happened, ma’am? What’s your emergency?”

“My boss…he’s hanged himself in his study. The door’s locked. I can’t…I can’t get it open. I saw him through the window.”

“Can you break the window, miss?”

I hadn’t even thought of that. “Uh, yes, I can. I think…I think he’s dead, though.”

“Could you see him struggling at all, miss?”

“No. His body was still. His eyes were open.”

A long pause followed. “Okay. Someone’s already on their way to you now. Won’t be a minute. Can you stay on the line with me until help reaches you?”

“Feelya?”

I nearly dropped the phone. Next to me, Amie had appeared out of nowhere and was standing in her tiny little pink nightie covered in fairies, peering through the glass screen into the oven. “Are we having sunshine scramble for breakfast? Daddy always makes us sunshine scramble.” Her tiny little face was filled with hope.

“Miss? Miss, can you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” I whispered. The phone clattered against the counter as I let go and hurried over to Amie and picked her up in my arms. “Hey, sweetie. You’re out of bed early,” I told her, tucking her messy hair back behind her ears. Apart from the brief time I’d spent with them when Ronan introduced us yesterday, Amie hadn’t had any interaction with me. She looked surprised and uncomfortable at the fact that I’d picked her up and I was mothering her.

“Why have you been crying?” she asked, frowning.

“Oh, I burned my finger on a hot pan, sweetie. It’s all better now, though, I promise.”

“Your feet are dirty.”

“I know, I know, I made a mess, didn’t I? I’ll be able to clean it all up after breakfast, though. Won’t take me long. Why don’t you sit down at the table, and I’ll get you some of those pancakes, huh?”

Don’t let the children see.

Keep the children calm.

Keep the children safe.

Amie seemed appeased by the thought of food. I got her settled at the table and served up two pancakes on a plate for her, hastily cutting them into small pieces and drizzling maple syrup over them. Her eyes lit up when she saw how much food I’d heaped onto her plate. “Stay here for a second okay, honey? I just have to make a quick phone call.”

Amie nodded, cheeks bulging.

My fingers were sticky with syrup when I dialed the other number on Ronan’s letter. The phone buzzed eight times before a groggy sounding woman picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi. I’m looking for…Robert Linneman,” I said, checking the letter. “Ronan Fletcher asked me to call.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Linneman’s office hours aren’t until nine.” The woman, who’d sounded half-asleep a second ago, now sounded angry instead. “Mr. Fletcher is really going to have to learn that people aren’t at his beck and call twenty-four seven.” In the background, I heard a low, deep voice asking who it was. “Someone from Fletcher’s office. Damn people need to learn to check the time before they start making calls at the crack of dawn. This isn’t New York. We’re not all up and working at five in the morning.”