Color of Forgiveness (47 page)

“Are you okay?” Porter asks his shaggy
eyebrows pulled together tightly.

Myra nods because she knows she can’t speak
right now.

“You look white as a sheet,” he says as he
steps into the bedroom. “Let’s sit down.”

Myra sits on the edge of the bed, her hands
clasped tightly together in her lap as she stares at Porter.

“Sabrina got a package in the mail today. It
was the photo album, and it was… well, it was quite sick.” He
swallows hard and looks away from her for a moment, shaking his
head. “I thought for sure Sabrina was our suspect, but now I think
we were barking up the wrong tree. Whoever stole that photo album
from Dylan’s house did some twisted things to it and then sent it
to her. She tried calling Dylan, but he wouldn’t answer; she even
tried calling his parents. It shook her up so much that she decided
to drive here to try to warn you and Dylan and to turn it into the
police as evidence. I had her take it over to the station. We’ll
send it off to the lab and see if we can get anything off of it.
Possibly some DNA… you know fingerprints, skin or hair
samples.”

Myra’s stomach churns. “Who would do
something like that?”

Porter shakes his head. “I don’t know, Myra.
I honestly don’t know.”

“So where’s Sabrina now?”

“She’s going to drop the album over at the
police station and then she said she was going to stay with her mom
for a while.”

Myra’s phone rings and it startles her so
much she almost jumps off the bed. Breathing hard, she pulls it out
and glances down at it, silencing it when she sees Susie’s name.
“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“You can take it,” Porter tells her before
she puts it back in her pocket. “I’m just going to go downstairs
and watch TV for a while. There’s a game getting ready to come
on.”

“Thanks, Porter… for everything.”

“You’re welcome, young lady,” he says with a
wink as he stands and exits her bedroom, closing the door quietly
behind him.

She flips open her phone and manages to
answer it before it goes to voicemail. “Hey.”

“Hey, how goes it?”

Myra sighs heavily and pulls her gun out of
the back of her jeans, laying it beside her and leans back on the
bed. “Not so good…” she says before getting Susie caught up on
Natalie having the baby, Dylan leaving and Sabrina showing up with
the photo album.

“
What?
Are you kidding me? Sabrina’s
not the psycho stalker? I totally thought I had that figured out
and had the case completely solved,” Susie says.

“Apparently not… I mean, why would she drive
here to warn us and bring the album with her as evidence if she was
the one doing it? That doesn’t make any sense. And she would’ve
seen Porter’s police car sitting in my driveway so why would she
knock on the door, knowing there’s a cop inside?”

“True. She’d have to be hiding dead bodies
under her bed if she was crazy enough to do something like that.
Damn, I
really
wanted to pin all of this on her. What the
hell did the stalker do to the photo album? Did you get to see
it?”

“No, but Porter’s face… he looked like he
might be sick when he talked about it.”

“All right, that’s it. I’m starting to get
really scared for you, Myra. Dylan the Greek god Guardian is gone,
and even though he has a douche nozzle protruding from his forehead
like a douche unicorn, the guy can at least kick some ass and can
protect you. I know Porter is a gun-wielding cop and all, but he’s
an old fart, bless his sweet soul, and the guy’s gut is huge. I got
a good look at him when I came to see you, and I think his gut
actually might be a wee bit bigger than mine, which means the man
has some serious girth. He’d probably grab a donut before he
grabbed his gun.

“So I think you should just book a flight
and come out here until everything settles down a bit and Dylan
gets back. In the meantime, maybe Porter can get some fingerprints
off the photo album just like in those CSI shows so that we can
nail the bastard. Now hurry up. Get to it and book a flight.”

“I can’t. I can’t just leave. I need to be
here for Dylan especially with the Natalie situation because what
if something happens to her or the baby?”

“That’s just a bunch of horse shit, and you
know it. He can give you updates on Natalie over the phone, and God
forbid, if something does happen to her or the baby, you can catch
the first flight back there. But you have to stop putting Dylan
first all the time and put yourself first for a change because you
have a baby percolating now that you need to think about. What if
this stalker tries to hurt you? What are you going to do then?”

“Nobody seems to believe me, but I
can
protect myself. I have my gun with me all the time
and—”

“You always say that but what if you’re in a
situation where you can’t get to your gun, huh? What are you going
to do then? You’re pregnant and you weigh 95 pounds soaking wet.
You’d stand up really well to some deranged psycho.”

“I’m not leaving,” Myra says firmly in a
loud voice.

“Fine... be that way,” Susie snaps back.

The phone goes quiet for a long, awkward
moment.

“Well, I gotta go,” Susie says
fast-like.

Myra hums in agreement, more than ready to
end this conversation.

But neither of them hangs up. They both just
sit quietly on the line for a few moments. Finally, Susie sighs
heavily. “Myra…? I’m sorry, honey, I’m sorry I got all snippety.
It’s only because I love your ridiculously skinny ass. If I didn’t
love you, I wouldn’t be saying all of this. Oh, Jesus, come get
me,” she moans. “I just sounded like my mother. It’s time for me to
die. I’m just going to dig myself a grave, jump in and start
scraping dirt on top of me, one handful at a time.”

Myra smiles. “You’re not your mother. Trust
me you’re definitely your own individual. Thank you for caring
enough about me enough to voice your opinion, but I’m getting sick
and tired of everyone trying to tell me what to do. I
am
capable of making my own decisions, and I’m not leaving Dylan,
period. I
can’t
and I won’t. I don’t even know how to
explain it; all I know is that I have to be here and that I can’t
leave him. And I can and will protect myself and this baby.”

“All right, honey, thank you for scolding me
and making me feel like a Goony turd. But I
really
am sorry.
I just love you way too much. Even though I completely disagree
with you, I’ll
try
to respect your decisions even though I’m
convinced they are the
wrong
decisions. Do I need to tell
you a little funny to make up for my persnickety ways?”

Myra sighs as she turns on her side on the
bed. “Okay, I forgive you, and I love you too, and yes, you can
tell me a funny.” She smiles as she tucks a pillow under her
head.

“Okay, this is a long, stupid Susie saga.
Can you handle it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Myra snickers. “I’m sure.”

“Good. Okay, I was doing a little
self-grooming earlier. I had the whole Chewbacca eyebrow thing
going on. So anyway, I got out one of those little shaver thingys
that you use to buzz off excess facial hair; I bought it off of a
TV commercial. I’m a wimp and loathe using tweezers or wax or
anything like that near my bushes so I decided to use that shaver
instead to help trim them up a bit.

“So I was mowing the hair at the top of my
eyebrow, being very careful not to mow too much off when Jeff jumps
into the bathroom and makes this growling ape-like sound, scaring
the steaming turds right out of my fat body. And guess what I did?
I shaved off half of my eyebrow.”

Myra busts out laughing.

“So I’m going to have to go dig in the boys’
rooms tonight and see if I can find an old brown crayon to color in
my missing eyebrow because I sure as hell don’t own any eyebrow
pencils. The stench from the pile of doodoo that man is
accumulating is gas-mask worthy. I’m going to get him back and when
I do, it’s going be
good…
oh so good
.
”

Myra wipes tears from her eyes. “Make sure
to send me a picture of your eyebrow.”

Susie laughs. “I will. I love you so much.
Please be extra, extra safe tonight, okay? I don’t like Dylan not
being there. And thanks for putting up with my overbearing self.
I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay. I love you too.”

Myra smiles as she closes her phone and lays
it down on the bed beside her. She lays there for a few minutes
before she slowly sits up, a crease forming in her forehead.
Tilting her head slightly, she barely breathes as she intently
listens. She hears muffled voices, almost like a conversation. Her
heart rate spikes. Could Sabrina be back?

She holds her breath, tilting her head a bit
more, trying to catch a word or two. She hears laughter and then
remembers Porter told her he was going to watch the game. She rolls
her eyes at herself, and lays back, taking in a heavy breath.

* * *

Dylan pulls up to a stoplight only a few
minutes away from Myra’s. His windshield wipers scrape lazily
across the drizzle on his window. He turns his head slightly
towards the gas station that sits on the adjacent corner not really
looking at anything in particular. His eyes widen and he sits up
straighter, every muscle in his body tensing as his eyes strain to
make sure they aren’t playing tricks on him when he sees Sabrina
standing there pumping gas. What the hell is she doing in Nyssa? Is
she here to hurt Myra?

The light turns green and his heart races as
he guns the accelerator, squealing his tires and cutting across
traffic. He pulls into the gas station up alongside her car,
glaring at her. She looks up and her eyes lock with his, her mouth
dropping open slightly before her lips form a grim line and her
eyes narrow.

* * *

Myra pulls out her laptop and powers it on.
She frowns when she sees the battery’s low and digs out the power
cord, plugging it in. She needs something to take her mind off of
the endless list of things she has to worry about. She knows she
can’t do any writing right now, but she figures she can go back
through what she’s already written and do a little editing work.
She hopes that will keep her mind pre-occupied for a little while
and keep the stress away.

She pulls up her Word document and begins
reading.
The soft fuzz of his mare’s lips nuzzled Colton’s hand,
causing the left side of his lips to lift in a half-smile. “You
lookin’ for something?” he said with a chuckle as the horse
continued her diligent search in his palm.

Myra chews on her thumb as she stares down
at the paragraph on her screen. That first sentence just doesn’t
sound right… it needs something else. But before she can type
anything, she startles and immediately looks up at the bedroom
door, frowning. She heard something… a distinct sound almost like a
chair scraping noisily across a hardwood floor. She swallows hard,
knowing the direction that sound came from… the master bedroom.

She slows her breaths as she continues to
listen, her eyes staring at the door unseeing, her concentration
solely focused on listening. Her eyes widen and she jumps, gasping
for air when she hears a loud thump followed by several smaller
bumping noises coming from the room down the hall. It’s so loud it
almost sounds like men are in there moving furniture around.

With her eyes still trained on the door, she
slowly closes her laptop and picks up her gun, tucking it in her
hoodie pocket. She stands… her heart pounding rapidly against her
ribs as she takes light, slow steps towards the door. Swallowing
hard, she reaches for the doorknob and cracks it open, peeking out
into the dark hallway only to find it empty. Everything’s quiet
again other than the sounds of the TV coming from downstairs, which
she can clearly hear now. She sticks her head out further and
stares at the closed door of her grandparent’s bedroom at the end
of the hall, listening for any noises.

For a moment, she considers going downstairs
and getting Porter. But she quickly decides against it when she
thinks about how crazy she’d sound if she told him that she was
hearing ghosts moving around in the master bedroom.

With a soft sigh, she starts to close the
door but startles when she hears the sound again. With wide eyes
and her mouth gaping, she sticks her head out again and stares down
at the closed door. Reaching for her gun, she pulls it out of her
hoodie and opens the door further. With shallow, ragged breaths,
she steps out into the hallway and begins taking one slow small
step after another towards the door at the end of the hall. She
swallows hard, her chest heaving as she gets closer and closer to
it. Her heart beats so hard it feels like it might burst from her
chest.

She stops when she gets in front of the door
and listens. From behind it, she hears a loud thud like someone
just dropped a box on the floor. Her body jerks all over, and she
can’t get enough air into her lungs. Flipping the safety off on her
gun, she says frozen in her spot, listening hard for any more
movement. Hearing nothing, she licks her dry lips and swallows
again. Holding her gun close to her chest, she reaches her free
hand out and lightly rests it on the icy door handle.

She doesn’t move, listening hard, absolutely
terrified to open the door, but somehow feeling almost compelled to
do it nonetheless. She turns her head, looking quickly behind her
before she turns back to the door and starts to turn the knob. Her
arms break out in gooseflesh and the hair on the back of her neck
stands straight on end as a cold sensation slides up the right side
of her body. An eerie voice whispers directly in her ear, “
Myra.
Run
.”

She screams and runs, straight down the
hallway towards the stairs. With the gun still clasped in her hand,
she kind of leans and hangs awkwardly onto the railing enough to
keep her upright as she flies down the stairs. She stumbles into
the living room, her legs weak and shaky.