The Butcher and the Wren(48)
Jeremy is glad to see the end of this window’s reign of deceitful surety. Negligence eventually leads to vulnerability, and no one is more vulnerable than someone who is asleep in their bed. Once the seal has been sliced, he removes a screwdriver from his pocket and wedges it in between the sash and the sill. Using the handle of his knife, he hammers until the window lifts with a crack. Dust and paint swirl into the darkness as the window takes its first breath of Louisiana air. He steps through the new opening and directly onto a dusty worktable that houses a leaf blower along with a vast array of miscellaneous lawn tools. After steadying himself on the unstable surface, he shimmies onto the floor and waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness that reaches out from every corner.
The stairs are old, and they groan quietly as Jeremy ascends them to the first floor. Pushing open the door to the kitchen, he notices one of the lights has been left on. It illuminates the corner where the trash can sits, and he wonders whether there has ever been a time when someone desperately needed a trash can in the dark.
He moves slowly, anticipating the creaky floors that always come with old houses. Leaving the kitchen, he enters the room where he watches Emily sit most nights. He runs his gloved fingers along the antique dresser that stretches across the wall to the right. It’s old and looks like it belongs in this home. There are myriad quirky odds and ends prominently displayed across its top like trophies. He pulls open a drawer to find it filled with a mixture of assorted mints. The surprising contents forces a quick, unexpected chuckle from him, and he shakes his head as he closes it again.
He notices pieces of her scattered on every visible surface. It would be clear to anyone who enters her home that Emily discards items as she moves through the house—a ring on this table, a bracelet on that counter. She leaves a breadcrumb trail of her night. None of the pieces he sees is special. None of them is the item he needs. He presses on, knowing that what he’s looking for will call out to him when he comes across it.
He stands at the bottom of the staircase and stares up into the darkness, allowing his eyes to adjust again to the blackness that leaks out from the upstairs hallway. He steps onto the first stair and presses his shoulder into the wall as he climbs. There is no way that this staircase is a silent one. He places his feet carefully, making sure to let each step land like choreography. Wooden stairs have a habit of expanding and contracting with changes in the atmosphere. With this in mind, he knows that placing his foot in the middle of the stair will almost certainly elicit sound. With the movement of a cat, he stays on the edge closest to the wall. As he makes his way up, he passes photos encased within mismatched frames lining the stairway and is careful not to hit them as he passes by. When he reaches the last step, he pauses. The doorway to his left is closed, and a fan quietly hums from the other side of the door. That’s where Emily is sleeping. It took a few nights to ascertain this particular bit of knowledge, but his vigilance paid off when she forgot to pull down the shade of her bedroom one night. He observed her wake up sometime around three a.m. and make her way to the bathroom, which sits to the right of the stairs. When she came back into the bedroom, she pulled the shade after taking a quick look out the window.
He takes a breath in and slowly shuffles to the door, pressing his hands against the wooden frame. He listens to the soft, rhythmic breathing that is barely audible over the fan and turns his back on the door to slide down to a seated position on the floor. He leans his back against the door and tilts his head to one side, so his right ear is flush against it as well. He sits. He listens.
Another hour goes by while he sits outside of their bedroom. He feels powerful. He imagines Emily and her husband waking briefly to roll over or look at the clock, oblivious to the fact that someone is right outside of their bedroom door. He likes the feeling of violating their sense of security. He likes knowing that they feel false safety in their vulnerable state. That he could kill them both with one slice of his blade. Of course, he doesn’t intend to kill them tonight, though he wants to. That is not how he’s operating this time around. No more unplanned releases.
Tonight, he is here for something other than blood. He slowly rises to his feet and pauses to steady his breathing. He isn’t nervous. It is the genuine feeling of excitement quickening his breath. He places his hand on the doorknob and turns it slowly. The door opens without a sound. Emily and her husband lie motionless in the bed across from the entrance and don’t stir even slightly as he enters the room. He walks softly, allowing his eyes to readjust to the different shades of darkness in this space. Making his way to the left side of the bed, he crouches next to his Emily and looks over at the contents of her bedside table.
Sitting next to a dog-eared paperback is a ring. It is big, expensive-looking, and covered in diamonds. She never wears it in public. He has never seen something that ostentatious on her delicate fingers. Anyone would have been able to surmise that it’s special to her. He is sure this is the one she mentioned to him before in passing conversation between lectures all those years ago. It belonged to her grandmother. He picks up the ring and can see a light film of dust that surrounds the clean circle where it once rested. It sits on this table as a permanent fixture. A comfort item, and exactly what he is looking for. He slips it onto his pinkie. But before he rises from his crouched position, he takes a final look at Emily. She’s facing away from him with one arm on top of the blanket, her auburn hair spilling onto the pillow from an untidy bun piled on the top of her head. She’s clutching a handful of the same blanket in her right fist. He can smell her. The smell is clean. Not flowery or specific, but distinctly clean.