Grave Doubts (A Paranormal Mystery Novel) (17 page)

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

The antique
pendulum clock on the wall struck ten o’clock with slow, even strokes. The
police had come and gone. Lee had only told them about the break-in, not the
assault, feeling an intense sense of shame she couldn’t overcome. Now she sat
at the dining room table watching the street, her emotions shut down, but her
nerves on alert. Her ears sought out every nuance of the night, magnifying the
mere ticking of the clock on the wall. When the heater kicked on with a rush of
warm, stale air, Lee almost came apart at the seams.

After Diane's
death, she had laid awake nights speculating how someone could have killed her
friend so easily. Did they pose as a delivery person?  Did Diane know them? 
Lee tried to imagine how it was done with no mess. No noise. No alarm. Now
someone had broken into her own home and violated her with such ease.

The police had
found a side window broken. But although the first floor had been ransacked,
from what Lee could tell, nothing had been stolen. But why? Had it been a case
of attempted theft, and she’d interrupted him? Or, something even more
sinister? Had the attack been the objective in the first place? The combination
of fear and shame she felt now was enough to shut off the blood flow to her
brain.

As the clock
finished striking the hour, Patrick’s Mazda pulled up to the curb. She’d called
him at rehearsal and asked him to come stay the night. She went to the door and
peeked through the window to watch his lanky figure emerge from the little car.
The chill that had settled deep inside her soul began to lift as he ambled up
the walkway. Lee flung open the door with what she hoped would be a smile, but
as Patrick made it to the top step, she felt her composure break. He quickly
put his arm around her shoulders as they walked side by side into the house.

“I’m glad you
called. You okay?” he asked, closing the door behind them.

“I'm okay,” she
lied.

“Did the police
find anything?  Any way of identifying who it was?”

They went into
the living room, where Lee had only done a minor clean-up.

“Whoa!” Patrick
exclaimed. “You weren’t kidding.” He went to the entertainment center and
looked inside. “They didn’t touch your stereo, or the TV. So why the mess?” He
looked around him, then over at Lee. “They were looking for something,” he said
with confidence. “You don’t think this had something to do with Diane, do you?”

Lee sank onto
her sofa feeling very cold. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped
her arms around them.

“I don’t’ know,”
she rubbed her eye sockets, trying to release the headache that was forming
again.

“What about the
message Diane left on your answering machine?” Patrick asked. “Wouldn’t Bud
Maddox know about that?  Diane could have told him she was going to call you
that night to tell you about not going in to work the next day.”

Lee stared into
the fireplace the way Carey had. She felt dead inside.

“If Bud knew
about the tape, why didn’t he come to get it before now?” she countered. “The
message has been sitting on my machine for days. Maybe this has nothing to do
with Diane.”

“You don’t
believe that.” Patrick began picking papers off the floor and stacking them on
a table by the fireplace.

“Maybe someone
was just trying to scare me.”

“And, did they?”

The sound of a
car’s engine could be heard passing the house, and Lee glanced nervously out
the window thinking it might be the tan sedan.

“Are you
scared, Lee?” Patrick repeated, holding the cushion to a chair in his hands.

She turned to
look across the room at him. Patrick was so familiar. He always smelled like
the peanut butter he spread on his morning toast and wore the same dark green
socks whether his pants were brown or gray. In his presence, she felt
invincible. His arm had been the shield that protected her from the violent
arguments when her father drove off angry and alone. His smile changed rain
into sunshine and made up for a mother’s mood gone as bad as sour milk. But
that was then. And now, was now.

“Yes, I’m
scared.”

They stared at
each other for a moment, until Lee broke away. A long pause followed.

“All right,
then.” He took a deep sigh and threw the cushion into the chair. “I’ll
straighten up down here a bit. I’ll sleep in Amy’s room tonight, and I’m moving
in tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”

“Okay.” She had
hoped he would say that. “What time are you due in class tomorrow?”

“Not until ten
o'clock. You go on up. I’ll check doors and windows.”

“The police
helped me nail shut the window where the lock was broken,” she said as she got
up.

“Okay. Get some
rest, Lee. You don’t look too good.”

She merely
nodded and climbed the stairs as Patrick continued down the hallway to the back
porch. Lee paused at the door to her bedroom, rubbing her eyes. She had only
given a cursory look in here when she’d walked through the house earlier and
now realized that a couple of her drawers were open. She would have to survey
the room to see if anything was taken, but first things first. She started for
the bathroom, stumbling over Soldier, who had come up with her. The dog had
stopped to sniff something at the foot of her bed. Lee halted, a curse poised
on her lips. When she saw the file folder lying open on the carpet, she stopped
mid-curse, all thoughts of sleep gone.

Patrick came
around the upper landing a few minutes later and found Lee sitting on her bed,
staring at the folder in her hands.

“What is it?”

Lee looked up
at him, but her jaws wouldn’t move to allow her to form any words. Patrick
stepped into the room and took the folder from her. He read the index tab.

“Where did this
come from?”

His eyebrows
were knit into a suspicious glare. Soldier sat at attention next to Lee, as if
waiting for a command. Lee just continued to stare at the folder. Finally, she
forced out six words.

“It was inside
my top drawer.”

“What?  The
folder?  Why?”

“I just put it
there. I suppose I didn’t want anyone to know I had it.”

“That’s
understandable--I daresay you’re not
supposed
to have it. This is Bud
Maddox’s personnel file. Isn’t that illegal, Lee?”

She dropped her
head. When she looked up, there were large tears in her eyes.

“That man was
in my bedroom, Patrick.” The chill that flowed through her body this time felt
like a cold electric current. A sob bubbled out, and she wrapped her arms
across her chest as she began to shiver again. Patrick came to sit beside her.

“Lee. It's okay.
He's gone. He's not here.”

“It's not okay,”
she snapped. “Don't you get it?  Someone was here. In my house. In my bedroom! 
He…” But she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t tell Patrick about the assault and
what had really frightened her.

His eyes
softened, and he lowered his voice. “I'm sorry. I just meant that he's gone
now. You weren’t hurt. But what was he looking for, Lee?  Why was he here?”

She wiped her
nose while tears flowed unabashedly down her face. “I don’t know.”

“You said
someone broke into Diane’s place, too. Whoever it was must be looking for the
same thing. Do you remember anything Diane gave you recently that could be
suspicious?”

Lee thought for
a moment and then shook her head. “No. She hadn’t given me anything in a long
while.”

Patrick was
working the situation, trying to make sense of it. “Magazines?  Books?  Bills?
Reports?  Anything?”

“No.”

“How about
antiques?  Anything with a drawer or secret chamber in it?

Lee smiled as
she wiped her nose. “you’ve’ been watching too many bad movies.”

He sat back,
tapping the older. “Well, there’s got to be something. This wasn’t a normal
break-in. Nothing’s gone. Not even this folder.”

“Maybe that
means something,” she said, using her sleeve to dry her face.

“What?”

“If it was Bud,
wouldn’t he have taken the folder with him?”

Patrick
shrugged. “Not necessarily. That could have pointed a finger directly at him.”

“Yes, but since
I’m not supposed to have the folder in the first place, maybe he would have
counted on my silence.”

Patrick tossed
the folder onto the bed. “Well, we’re not going to solve this tonight. You get
to bed. I’ll be right down the hall.” He paused for another moment, gave her a half
smile and left.

Lee sat for a
few more minutes, feeling like a beanbag on a store shelf – dead weight.
Finally, she got up and went into the bathroom and stripped bare. She took a
hot shower, scrubbing every inch of her body as if she could wash away that
ugly moment in time. When she finally prepared to climb into bed, she thought
about Maddox, or whoever it was, filling her bedroom with his presence. With a
yank, the bed sheets and blankets came off, and she threw them into the hamper.

Five minutes later,
she slipped in between clean sheets, feeling somewhat free of the disgusting
essence of her intruder. As an added measure to change the energy in the room,
she invited Soldier onto the bed. The dog bounded up, turned in a circle once,
and then stretched out and pushed up against Lee’s hip. The warmth of her body
felt good, and safe, even though it took nearly forty more minutes before Lee’s
muscles relaxed and her eyes closed.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lee awoke to
find Patrick asleep in the big chair next to the window in her bedroom, a
pillow clutched to his chest. His auburn hair lay in soft curls around his
face, matched by a splash of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He looked
cramped, uncomfortable, and incredibly peaceful. Lee smiled as she watched the
easy rise and fall of his chest. The fact that he’d chosen to stay close made
her want to hug him as tightly as he hugged the pillow. Instead, she got up and
tiptoed to the bathroom.

When she
emerged a little while later, the chair was empty and she heard
Oh Danny Boy
being whistled downstairs. A few minutes later, dressed in jeans and a long silk
blouse, she descended the stairs wondering how she would approach the day. The
horror of the night before had faded some, but not disappeared altogether. The
ground had shifted. Her confidence had been broken. Lee didn’t like the
feeling. In competition, that’s when you failed.

When she
entered the kitchen, Soldier barely acknowledged her. Instead, she was focused
on Patrick as he used the back of a spatula to flatten sausage into a frying
pan. The dog’s ears stood up like exclamation points, and saliva dripped from
the corner of her mouth. As Lee pulled a mug off the wall and proceeded to make
a cup of tea, Patrick looked over his shoulder.

“Pancakes or French
toast?”

Lee chuckled. “You’re
the chef, you decide.”

With a flourish
of the spatula he said, “Pancakes it is!” He peeked over his shoulder a second
time. “You don’t happen to have any blueberries, do you?” When Lee gave him an
incredulous look, he said, “I thought not.” He turned down the stove, gave
Soldier an encouraging pat on the head and muttered, “Just a few more minutes,
kiddo.”

“You can quit
spoiling the dog. She’s not staying, you know.” Lee placed a mug of water into
the microwave.

“She’s a terrific
dog.” He sat at the table while the sausage browned and patted his knee.

Soldier took
the cue and came to sit on his foot, placing her head across his knee, where
the saliva formed a wet spot on his jeans.

“Besides, it
wouldn’t hurt to keep her around awhile, given what happened last night.”

The reminder
drew a blanket of fog into the room, and Lee became silent as she stared at the
closed microwave door. Finally, the microwave beeped, and Lee removed her tea.
Patrick got up and reached into an overhead cupboard, rummaging around until he
found a box of buttermilk pancake mix. He pulled it down and opened it to pour
a portion into a mixing bowl. The two of them worked in silence. Lee went to
the refrigerator to get the milk, while Patrick went to the sink to add water
to the pancake mix.

As he stirred
the mixture, he said quietly, “By the way, my stay here will only be temporary.
I’m optimistic about things with Erika.”

Lee stood at
the sink, stirring sweetener into her tea. Patrick took the sausage out of the
frying pan and laid it on paper towels to drain. He stirred up some of the
pancake mix and spooned out four good-sized circles into a second frying pan.

“I’m sorry
about you and Erika,” she said into her cup. “You make such a great couple.”

Patrick stood
watch over the pancakes, but turned to look at her. “I think she knows that. In
the meantime, maybe I can help out here.”

“How?”

“I could fix
your window,” he said hopefully. “Then, maybe I can help you find out about
Diane.”

Lee looked over
at him as he used the spatula to check the pancakes. Something about the whole
domestic picture of the two of them in the kitchen softened her mood.

“You’ll have to
make up the extra bed, though. Amy will be home this weekend.”

“Okay. I'll
change all of your locks today, too. Just in case.” He flipped the pancakes.

Lee sat at the
drop leaf table and waited while he finished cooking. He piled the pancakes
onto two plates, added the sausage and dropped a plate in front of her. Before
sitting down, he dropped an extra sausage patty into Soldier’s bowl. Hot or
not, the dog gulped it down in one, swift movement. Lee grimaced, but then
smiled. Brother and sister busied themselves lathering the pancakes with butter
and syrup. After downing a couple of bites, Patrick looked across the table at
her.

“Now, let’s
talk about Diane.”

Lee raised her
eyes as she broke off a piece of sausage and slipped it into her mouth. “Do we
have to?”

“I think you
need to get organized. You need to stop going off on tangents and broadcasting your
theories to the world. And you need to stop hiding file folders in your
underwear drawer.” He smiled and his eyes twinkled.

She frowned at
him. “You don’t know everything I’ve been doing.”

“I know you,”
he said half kidding. “Look, Lee, if you’re going to do this, then really
do
it. Don’t play at this. It isn’t a game.”

“I’m not
playing a game.” She felt herself get defensive.

“In a way you
are,” he said, cutting his pancakes into bite-sized morsels. “You have some
romantic notion about finding a killer. You’re going to have to be more
careful.”

“But, I can’t
prove anything,” she said, putting down her fork. “And the police aren’t
listening.”

“The police
don’t know everything. You said that yourself.”

“I only have a
hunch, Patrick,” she said, leveling a stare at him. “And this is not some stage
play or TV movie.”

“I think you
have more than a hunch. You just don’t have proof.”

“Then what do
you suggest I do?”

The tension was
beginning to build, as she knew it would, and she could feel the muscles in her
jaws working.

“Be systematic
about it,” he replied. “Build a plan. Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

She dropped her
eyes hoping he wouldn’t know that he’d just hit a bull’s eye. She
was
making a fool of herself. If he only knew what had happened in Medford between
the masquerade with Mavis and the debacle with Emily Maddox, he’d be imitating
her right now the way he imitated actors in old movies. Then, of course, there
was the fact she had actually stolen  something belonging to Emily Maddox. Add
that to the personnel file sitting upstairs, and Patrick could probably look
forward to living in her house permanently, while she spent time down at the
county jail.

She set her
fork down, picked up her plate and took it to the sink.

“Lee, what’s
wrong. I was only joking.”

“I know. It’s
okay,” she said, holding back a new onslaught of tears. “I’m just not as hungry
as I thought. I have to get dressed.” She moved towards the door, hoping to get
out before the floodgates opened. “We can talk about this tonight.”

“I’m sorry,
Lee,” she heard him say to her back.

A few minutes
later, Lee stood in her bathroom applying mascara when she heard Patrick’s
Mazda pull out of the driveway. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but he’d
come too close to the truth, and her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit it. Just
as it wouldn’t allow her to admit why she’d kept silent all those years ago
when Brad had disappeared. She’d hinted about a few things to Diane. Brad’s
doubts about having children. His reluctance to get married in the first place.
Lee’s suspicion about other women and their distant relationship just before
the accident.

Why couldn’t
she tell Patrick all of that?  If perfectionism had been Diane’s fatal flaw,
certainly pride was hers.

After fiddling
with her bangs, Lee left the bathroom and went downstairs. She’d decided to go back
to the hospital. There were people there who could fill in some of the blanks.
It might not answer all of her questions, but it would help. She found Soldier
lying with her nose pressed against the front door.

“What’s the
matter, did your sugar daddy leave you?”

When Lee took
her purse off the back of a chair, the dog thumped her tail. Lee grabbed her
coat from the closet and stepped over the dog.

“He won’t be
back until tonight.”

Soldier got up
to look expectantly at Lee.

“Oh, don’t tell
me you understood what I just said.”

The dog tilted
its noble head.

“Not a chance.
You’re not that smart.”

Lee leaned
over, cupped the big dog’s soft muzzle in her hand and pulled it to within a
few inches of her face.

“Frankly, I
think as dogs go, you’re a good-for-nothing pooch.” She kissed the dog’s nose
gently, grabbed her collar and shoved her toward the kitchen. “C’mon. Into your
sanctuary.”

She was about
to close the dog in the kitchen, when she remembered the night before. Better
to leave the dog out. She left the kitchen door open and headed back down the
hallway.

As she passed
the phone by the staircase, a thought occurred to her. What she needed was some
good old-fashioned support from a completely objective source. A girlfriend, not
Patrick. Someone she could trust to test her theories against. Her friend
Marion was just that person.

She picked up
the phone and dialed the number from memory. When a familiar voice answered,
she made arrangements with her friend for lunch at their favorite Mexican
restaurant. On the way out the front door, Lee checked to make sure she’d
locked the door securely and then glanced across the street, relieved to see
the tan sedan was gone. As she stepped off the welcome mat, her foot rubbed up
against a white envelope.

Lee opened it
and pulled out Diane’s suicide note. She’d forgotten she’d asked Carey for it.
After the incident with Carey’s husband, she thought Carey had guts. She
slipped the note back into the envelope and tucked it into her purse.

A moment later,
she was in her car. As she slipped the key into the ignition, something black
swooped down and smacked her windshield. She jerked backwards, hitting the back
of her right hand on the steering wheel. Swearing, she peered out the front
window, massaging the back of her wrist.

It was a bird,
she was sure of it. But where had it come from? More importantly, where had it
gone?

Curious, she
stepped out of the car and looked skyward. There was only blue sky and a few
clouds. No birds. None in the trees, either. Confused, she stood rubbing her
hand, when she became aware of a rustling sound behind her. She turned around
and stopped short, every follicle of hair on her arms standing on end.

Behind her, a
mass of crows had gathered along the telephone wire. There were about sixty of
them, packed closely together, shifting their weight, ruffling their feathers,
and flexing their wings. Every eye was fixed on her.