A Noise Downstairs(6)

“It’s hard, I know. So, you wanted to bounce something off me.”

He paused. “Instead of trying to put all of this behind me, I want to confront it. I want to know more. I want to know everything. About what happened to me. About Kenneth. I want to talk to the people whose lives he touched. And not just in a bad way. The good, too. I want to understand all the different Kenneths. If it’s possible, I’d like to actually talk to him, if they’ll let me into the prison to see him. And if he’ll see me, of course. I guess what I’m searching for is the answer to a bigger question.”

Anna tented her fingers. “Which is?”

“Was Kenneth evil? Is Kenneth evil?”

“I could just say yes and save you the trouble.” She took in a long breath, then let it out slowly. “I could go either way on this. Do you honestly think it will help?”

Paul took a moment before answering.

“If I can look into the eyes of evil in the real world, maybe I won’t have to run from it in my sleep.”





Two

Anna followed Paul Davis out the door. He continued up the driveway to his own car when Anna stopped to open the back door of her Lincoln SUV, careful not to let her father fall out.

“Come on in, Dad.”

“Oh, hi, Joanie. Must have nodded off.”

“It’s Anna, Dad. Not Mom.”

“Oh, right. We should get going. Joanie will be going to lunch soon.”

“She’s not at Guildwood anymore, Dad,” she said gently. “I’m going to get you some coffee. There’s still half a pot.”

“Coffee,” he said. “That sounds good.”

He turned his legs out the door, then ever so carefully slid off the seat until his feet touched the ground, like some slow-motion parachutist.

“Ta da,” he said. He looked down, saw that the laces on one of his shoes were loose. “For my next act, I will tie my shoelaces.”

“When we get inside,” Anna said, closing the car door and walking with her father back into the house. Once inside, her father chose to sit in one of the two waiting room chairs so that he could deal with his shoe promptly.

“I’ll go get you a coffee, then you can go upstairs and watch your shows,” she said.

He gave her a small salute. “Righty-o.”

Instead of going through the door into her office, Anna took the route that led back into the main house. She went to the kitchen, got a clean mug from the cupboard, and filled it from the coffeemaker.

She heard, faintly, the side door open and close again. She hoped her father hadn’t decided to take up residence in the car again. Then it occurred to her that her next client might have arrived.

“Shit,” she said under her breath. Anna did not want her father engaging in conversation with her clients, particularly the one who was now due. In her rush to return to her office, she fumbled looping her finger into the handle of the coffee cup and knocked it to the floor.

“For fuck’s sake,” she said. Anna grabbed a roll of paper towels off the spindle, got to her knees, and mopped up the mess. Once she cleaned the floor and tossed the sodden towels, she poured another cup of coffee and went back to the office.

She found her father chatting with a thin man in his late twenties who had settled into the other chair and was leaning forward, elbows on knees, listening intently to Anna’s dad. When Anna walked in, he smiled.

“Hi,” he said nervously to Anna. “Just talking to your dad here.”

Anna forced a smile. “That’s nice, Gavin. Why don’t you head in?”

Gavin shook the old man’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Frank.”

“You bet, Gavin.” Frank White tipped his head toward his daughter. “She’ll get you sorted out, don’t you worry.”

“I hope so,” Gavin said.

Gavin went into Anna’s office as she handed her father his coffee. She looked down at his feet.

“You didn’t do up your shoelaces,” she said.

Frank shrugged, standing. “I’ll be fine. He seems like a nice fella.”

You have no idea, Anna thought.

“Are you going to watch TV in your room?”

“I think so. Maybe work on the machine a bit.”

“Dad, you already did, like, an hour of rowing this morning.”

“Oh, right.”

She accompanied him as he went into the main part of the house and walked to the bottom of the stairs. She looked at the coffee he was holding, his untied shoelaces, and that flight of stairs, and could imagine the disaster that was waiting to happen.

“Hang on, Dad,” she said.

Anna knelt down and quickly tied his shoes. “You don’t have to do that,” he protested.

“It’s no problem,” she said. “I don’t want you tripping on the stairs. Hand me your coffee.”

“For Christ’s sake, I’m not an invalid,” he said angrily.

Anna sighed. “Okay.”

But she stood there and watched as he ascended the stairs, one hand still gripping the coffee mug, the other on the railing. When he’d reached the second floor he turned and looked down at her.

“Ta da!” he said again.

Anna gave him a sad smile, then went back through the house to her office. She found Gavin standing around the back of her desk where her closed laptop sat, admiring the books on her shelves, running his finger along the spines. Gavin wore a pair of faded jeans, sneakers, and a tight-fitting black T-shirt. In addition to being thin, he was scruffy haired and no taller than five-six. From the back, he could have been mistaken for someone in his early to mid teens, not a man who’d soon turn thirty.