Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (40 page)

Doug swayed but would soon have his bearing and come back at us. Gabriel grabbed his arm; blood spurted between his fingers. I reached up to the nightstand and grabbed the first thing I touched to use as a weapon:  a candle.

Doug charged at Gabriel, his knife aimed at Gabriel’s chest. I threw the candle and the hot wax as a last valiant effort. A small blue flame sprang to life across Doug’s face. He screamed and dropped the knife, reaching for his face. That only made the fire spread to his hands. The fire grew quickly, orange and yellow flames licking his skin. His screams were deafening as he fell to the bed, the sheets and bedding immediately catching fire.

I crawled up from the floor and away from the fire, but stood and watched as Doug writhed and twisted on the bed, unable to rip my attention from the horrific scene. The smell made my eyes water and I started to choke on the smoke. Gabriel pulled me from the room and we hobbled from the house.  Gabriel called 911 from his car radio as I watched the fire lick at the windows on the second floor.

Chapter Fifteen

Entranced by the flames, I stood transfixed in the moments it took the police, fire department and ambulance to arrive at my house. Gabriel and I didn’t speak; we barely looked at each other. We both watched the house in shock, numb to everything that happened because it didn’t seem real.

Soon the sirens were wailing behind us and people were running about, ushering us from the car back to the street. Neighbors came out of their houses to stand and watch as well. Everyone else was frantic, barking out orders; we stood still and silent. I saw a paramedic speaking to me.

“Ma’am, have you been injured?” The words were having problems registering in my mind. I repeated them in my head, but never came up with a response. He waved his hand in front of my face. “I think she’s in shock,” he said to someone else.

Minutes later a blanket descended around my shoulders and I was led to sit in the ambulance. I held the blanket closed with one hand. I watched the water dousing the fire. Soon the flames were no longer flashing in the window. Everything was dark and damp.

I looked for Gabriel. Somehow we were separated. I finally spotted him speaking to a police officer. A paramedic was headed in his direction. Gabriel glanced at me, then said something to the paramedic. Soon he was walking towards me.

“Ella,” he said when he reached me. “Ella, can you hear me?” I made eye contact with him. “It’s all over, Ella. It’s over.”

“It’s over.” I finally found my voice. People seemed to be moving at a more normal pace now. It was over—I’d never thought the day would come. I felt wetness roll down my face. “It’s over,” I repeated, getting used to the sound of the words.

“Doug is dead,” Gabriel said quietly. He watched me, his face pale and tired, but not betraying what he was thinking.

I didn’t notice the paramedic beside him until he spoke. “Sir, I need to look at your arm.”

Gabriel held out the arm he’d been pressing a towel against. I had forgotten he was hurt. He never took his eyes off of me, though his jaw clenched in pain.

“I need to take you to the hospital,” the paramedic told Gabriel, then directed his attention to me momentarily. “Ma’am, are you injured?”

“No,” I said

“I would like you to come to the hospital to be checked out as well.”

“I’m okay.”

“It's procedure.” He waved the first paramedic back over to me. With him came a police officer. I answered some questions and made an appointment to come to the station the following day to answer more questions. I was taken in a different ambulance than Gabriel. The ER doctor checked me out, declared two broken ribs, a minor cut on my hand, and I was in shock. Before I knew it I alone.

I got off my examination table and went looking for Gabriel. I needed to know how badly he was hurt. I eventually found him, arm bandaged, talking to some person I didn’t recognize. I didn’t walk into his curtained area. Instead I stood just outside, not sure what I should do. Part of me wanted to go in; part of me didn’t want to intrude, afraid he would reject me, that whatever we had was gone. Eventually I decided I had enough for one night. I would talk to him later when I felt stronger.

“Ella Reynolds?” a nurse asked behind me, clipboard in hand.

I nodded. “Yes?”

 “Dr. Percy said you can be released. I have some paperwork for you to fill out before you leave. Come with me.”

“Ella,” I heard Gabriel say behind me. I ignored him and followed the nurse. Not yet, I couldn’t talk to him yet.

I finally finished all of the paperwork and gave several of the nurses’ autographs. Then I walked out of the hospital and realized I had nowhere to go and no way to get there.

I laughed out loud at myself. I spent so long fighting against needing anyone—and now anyone was exactly what I needed. I went back into the hospital and called a cab. I found a hotel. I slept long and hard that night.

The next morning I couldn’t believe it all wasn’t a dream. It was really over. Danny, Susan, and Doug—all dead. I was the only one left. Obsession, lies, affairs, and murder—what can I say it was a modern friendship. I shook my head, not even amused by my own joke. I still couldn't believe it was over.

Because I couldn’t go home and I needed some things, I went shopping. I bought myself clothes (the ones I was wearing reeked like smoke), a computer, and a few other essentials, then went back to my hotel room.

I sat at my new computer and began writing. The words flowed from me as if some mental dam had finally shattered. I wasn’t sure if the writing was good, but it was from heart. Soon my alarm clock was going off, letting me know it was time to go to the police station to give my statement.

I met with Detective Harrison. He was an older portly man with a ruddy complexion and keen eyes, but seemed nice enough. He shook his head when I finished telling him what happened the night before. “It's simply amazing that someone could have done all that and pulled it off for so long.”

“Well, I don’t know how he did it. I'm just glad it's over.”

“We found at least one camera in every room of your house. They all went to the monitors in the panic room in the basement. He streamed them from there to his computer at his house. And there are hidden passages all through the house—we found old blueprints hanging on the wall of the panic room, as well. It looks like Mr. Daniels knew the house better than anyone. I’d say a lot of people in this town probably owe you an apology.”

“How did he do the other stuff? The doors and windows?”

“Well, he could’ve opened and shut them then escaped in the passage ways. We didn’t find any that were wired in any way.”

“Were there passages to every room?”

 Detective Harrison shifted uneasily. “Most, not all. There wasn’t one to the attic or bathrooms. We’re pulling their phones records, but I imagine he was making the calls when he wasn’t at your house. ”

“But there were cameras?”

“Not in the attic.”

I shook my head.  That explained most of what happened, but not quite everything. “There were times when the windows or door would slam right in front of me, or all of them would crash shut at the same time.”

The detective shrugged. “I don’t know how he did it.”

I was glad to finally have some answers, but they weren’t as comforting as I’d hoped they’d be. “He’s been doing this since I moved in?”

“Not quite. It looks like he starting recording from the surveillance cameras a few weeks after you moved in.”

How could I ever be the same again? I still couldn’t bring myself to terms with the knowledge that it was all over. Doug had killed Danny, his friend, Susan, his wife, all because he was obsessed with me. “And this was all because of me?” I said disgusted.

“May I give you some advice, Mrs. Reynolds?”

“I guess.”

“I wouldn't think too much on what he said last night. I don't personally believe anything would've come from his obsession had his wife and your husband not had an affair. I believe this all had more to do with the betrayal than it had to do with you. If he had half the history he claimed he would have known better than to draw attention to himself by killing people directly connected to him. Don't let him win now, you stay tough.”

“That's good advice, detective.” I attempted to smile reassuringly, but failed.

The detective’s smile was real. “Yes—and it was easier to give then it will be to follow.” He shook my hand. “If you need anything, let me know. Where will you be staying?”

I told him the name of my hotel. “Did you find out anything about the other people he said he killed?”

“No. I called Chicago PD this morning and passed along the information. I haven’t heard anything back yet. Who knows how much of what he said was the truth?”

“Thank you for your help.”

“Take care of yourself, Mrs. Reynolds.”

I nodded and started to leave. “How is Detective Troy?” I asked not turning around.

“You don’t know? I figured…” He sounded genuinely shocked, then uncomfortable. “Um, he's in surgery this morning.  You should visit. I'm sure he'd like to see you.”

“Have a good day, Detective.”

I walked out of the police station into a cloudy dreary day. I walked around, thinking about what the detective said and about the last few years of my life. Before I knew it I found myself at the hospital. I didn’t let myself examine my reasons too much. I went to the front desk to find out where Gabriel was.

I took the elevator up to his floor and lingered in the hallway by his room, but I couldn't bring myself to go inside.

Walking back to my hotel room, I noticed even more people were staring at me now. Not in fear anymore, mostly sympathy. Part of me would've preferred that they were still scared. The sympathy in their eyes made it hard to keep from crying. I was still trying to hold it all in, but more and more I was losing the control I had.

Once back in my hotel room and behind my computer I was able to truly begin working through what happened. It wasn't without sadness, tears, or regret, but it was without fear.