All the Dark Places(26)

I go through my night routine like a robot, pretending Jay is away at a conference, anything but reality. With the lights on, I slide into bed, stay on my side, and despite myself fall into a deep, murky doze.

Darkness wraps around me, and the walls of my prison reek of earth and decay. I’m on my hands and knees, crawling, feeling for the stairs, soaked in my own urine. A girl is crying, whimpering, and I can’t tell if it’s me or someone else. There’s a monster down here in this hole. I smell his sour breath, hear his raspy breathing. I scuttle across the floor, my fingernails digging into the muck, my knees burning. But I can’t get away. I can’t find the stairs. My heart pounds as he leans over me and shoves me roughly facedown. My teeth hit dirt, and it lies bitter in my mouth. I can’t breathe. And his fingers, sharp as talons, squeeze my flesh. He yanks my arm out from under me and pierces my tender skin. I feel the bite of the knife as I’m sinking into the earth, never to get away.

I wake, choking for air, dripping with sweat. It takes me a minute to ease my breathing into a normal rhythm. I swallow my tears, swing my feet to the floor, and pull myself out of bed. I find Jay’s robe on the back of the closet door, slip my arms into the sleeves, wrap the flannel firmly around my waist, and pull the lapels to my nose, willing myself to breathe slow and steady. I wander out into the hall, my bare feet on the cold hardwood. At the top of the stairs is a small round window that overlooks the backyard. I pad over to it and wonder how many people over the years have stood here in this very spot looking out, looking for something or someone. My mind settles on the idea, anything to chase the nightmare away. Chilly air seeps around the old frame, and I lean my forehead against the cool glass.

My heartbeat kicks up. The backyard is dark, but there’s a light on in the office. Did the police leave it on when they left? I peer more closely. A shadow passes the office window. I instinctively reach into the pocket of Jay’s robe for my phone, but of course it isn’t there. I’ll have to use the landline in the kitchen. But what if I’m wrong? What if the shadow is just a trick of the light? A remnant of my nightmare? They’ll think I’m crazy. My heart is thrumming, pulsing in my ears. Then I see a figure, a man in dark clothing, a hat pulled low, crouch under the yellow tape, and sprint across the yard.





CHAPTER 16


Rita


I’M DOG-TIRED THIS MORNING AFTER A FIVE A.M. WAKE-UP CALL. I SHUFFLE into the station, my eyes bleary, my hair in a lopsided, messy bun. But it could’ve been worse; a couple of uniform cops spent the even earlier morning hours at the Bradley place after Mrs. Bradley placed a two a.m. 911 call. She claims to have seen a man wearing dark clothing come out of her husband’s home office and run toward the street. The forensics team went back out, but so far, they’ve found nothing.

Looks like our killer didn’t find what he was looking for the night of the murder, perhaps scared away by Mrs. Murray’s barking dog and porch light.

Mrs. Bradley sits in the little room we use when talking to distraught family members. It’s a little more comfortable than the interrogation rooms. We hope it is anyway. She sits at the little table, clutching a paper cup of tea that Chase made her in the Keurig that sits on a small counter. He laid sugar packets and a variety of little creamer cups in front of her as well. So far, she’s barely sipped her tea, holding it instead like a kid with a security blanket.

Chase pulls up the surveillance video we got yesterday from her neighbor. He clicks the keys on his laptop, and the tape rolls.

“Please take a good look, Mrs. Bradley. Is this the man you saw last night?” I ask.

Her tired eyes shift to the screen, and she follows the video man’s trek down the sidewalk.

“Mrs. Bradley?”

“It could be him.” She shivers and grips her cup with both hands.

“What seems the same?” I ask.

“Um, he seemed tall like this man.”

“What about his clothes?”

The man in the video is wearing a long coat, dark gray or black over what could be jeans. His feet are encased in boots. The hat on his head is knitted and pulled low.

“They look the same, I think.” Her eyes meet mine, as though she’s looking for approval.

“Are you sure?”

“The hat is the same kind. But I think he was wearing a shorter jacket maybe. Not a long coat like the man in the video.”

“What about his face? What could you make out?”

She shakes her head. “I really couldn’t see it. It happened so fast, and the light was behind him.”

“But it could be the same man?”

She nods. “Yes.” She looks over at Chase, her voice tremulous. “Why would he come back?”

“We don’t know, Mrs. Bradley.” Chase’s gaze is on the table, as though it’s his fault.

“Was he carrying anything?” I prod.

“Not that I could tell,” she says, her eyes back on the video of the man. “I don’t think the man I saw had a backpack.”

“Okay.” I lean forward in my chair. “We’ve got our lab guys trying to enhance the video, so we might have more to ask you about it later.”

We stand, and I collect my notes. Chase opens the door. “Do you need a ride home, Mrs. Bradley?” he asks.

“No, I’m okay. I drove myself. My sister is at my house. I’ve got a guy there installing a security system.”