The Dying Breath (2 page)
Authors: Alane Ferguson
Kyle raised his hand, touching his heart with his fist before extending his open palm toward her. Horror flooded her as he faded back into a stand of pine. It was only then she realized she was screaming.
And once again Kyle O’Neil had vanished. It was the second time he’d threatened her life. This time, though, the town’s reaction had been different. Aware that she’d been twice menaced, Silverton had pulled together for Cameryn’s protection, and she felt as though she were an insect caught in a web. It was as if she would suffocate in the silk cocoon of good intentions.
Now she watched as Sheriff Jacobs paced across Leather Ed’s yard, his boots cleaving snow. “Yes, Justin, Cammie’s with me.” He stole a glance at Cameryn before twisting away. “Quit worrying . . . she won’t do nothing without my say-so. I’ve got it under control.”
At that moment Cameryn felt something click in her head.
She won’t do nothing without my say-so.
Maybe if she took back the power in her life again, people would stop looking at her like the victim she was more conclusively becoming every minute. And she knew exactly what she had to do.
She won’t do nothing without my say-so.
Maybe if she took back the power in her life again, people would stop looking at her like the victim she was more conclusively becoming every minute. And she knew exactly what she had to do.
She looked at the door, her nerves tingling. Throwing a quick glance in the sheriff’s direction, she backed to the dog door and dropped to her knees again, this time pushing fast, scraping her vertebrae against the metal frame with so much force she knew she would have a bruise down her backbone. She didn’t care. Once inside, she rocked back on her knees, exhilarated as she steadied the swinging flap with her hand. For the first time in a long while she’d done something on her own, and the independence was electrifying.
It was dim inside. As Cameryn unfolded herself, she brushed off the front of her jeans, taking a moment to allow her eyes to adjust. The kitchen countertops were piled with plates and paper cups. A coffeepot, so stained the white plastic had turned to sepia, tipped drunkenly on a broken base. Although she’d never been inside the house, Cameryn had waited on Leather Ed many times at the Grand, and the interior of the home was exactly what she expected. A mess.
She drew in a breath and tried not to taste the stench of death that almost overpowered her. So far, Jacobs hadn’t sensed her absence, which would give her time to open the door in triumph.
It is better to beg forgiveness than ask permission
was a phrase her friend Lyric had taught her. But when she reached her hand to unlock the deadbolt she realized there was nothing to turn. The face of the brass deadbolt was smooth and flat; a keyhole yawned where the knob should have been. Staring, she tried to compute the dichotomy. How could a bolt need two keys? The outside of a lock demanded a key, but the inside lock should require only a turn of a handle. This side of the deadbolt was blank.
It is better to beg forgiveness than ask permission
was a phrase her friend Lyric had taught her. But when she reached her hand to unlock the deadbolt she realized there was nothing to turn. The face of the brass deadbolt was smooth and flat; a keyhole yawned where the knob should have been. Staring, she tried to compute the dichotomy. How could a bolt need two keys? The outside of a lock demanded a key, but the inside lock should require only a turn of a handle. This side of the deadbolt was blank.
“
Cammie!”
She heard the sheriff curse and the heavy stomp of his boots on the porch. He pounded the door so hard it sounded like a sonic boom. “
Are you in there?
”
Cammie!”
She heard the sheriff curse and the heavy stomp of his boots on the porch. He pounded the door so hard it sounded like a sonic boom. “
Are you in there?
”
“Yes,” she called back. “I told you I could fit.”
Swearing, and then, “Come out of there right now—that’s an order!”
Cameryn ignored this. “I was going to unlock the door but there’s just a keyhole on this side,” she cried, loud enough for him to hear. “I don’t get it.”
“That’s because Leather Ed was paranoid. He used double key deadbolts to make sure nobody could break into his house. You have to have the key to get out.”
“So where is it?”
A pause, and then, “Where’s
what
?”
what
?”
“The key.”
“I—he—Leather Ed kept them on his self.” Smacking the door again, he cried, “Okay, you’ve proved your point, you’re a very resourceful and independent girl—”
“Woman,” Cameryn said. She bit the edge of her lip.
“
Woman
. Now come out of there.”
Woman
. Now come out of there.”
“No.”
She said it so softly she knew he couldn’t hear her through the door. Doing something on her own was critical in a way she couldn’t define. The protective bubble-wrap needed to be ripped away. As she formed a plan in her mind, Cameryn felt more like herself than she had in weeks. It seemed as though she were finally shaking off the fog of sleep. Her mind was humming again.
The sheriff pounded wood, his thumps coming as rapidly as blows from a jackhammer. “Get yourself back through that doggy door right now!”
Cameryn stood close to the door, her palm resting on the cool wood. “Listen, I’m going to find Leather Ed and get the keys. Then I’ll open the door. It’s the most logical thing to do. So just chill.”
“Cameryn Mahoney!”
Jacobs roared, and Cameryn knew enough to jump back. The sheriff reached his arm through the dog door shoulder deep, cursing in frustration as his hand grabbed nothing but air. There was no way he could fit through the opening. He knew it, too.
Jacobs roared, and Cameryn knew enough to jump back. The sheriff reached his arm through the dog door shoulder deep, cursing in frustration as his hand grabbed nothing but air. There was no way he could fit through the opening. He knew it, too.
Cameryn tuned out the pounding, concentrating instead on what she might find in the next room. Though the dim half-light she moved forward, the smell thickening with every step. Cupping her hand over her nose, Cameryn walked into a room filled with trash, with only a tiny rabbit trail, a foot wide, winding between mounds of newspapers and old magazines.
So, Leather Ed, this is your living room.
A recliner had been shoved against a battered sofa covered with an afghan. Both were empty. The television had been left on but there was no sound. The weatherman pointed to different points on a map, his mouth moving silently as the light blinked against the walls.
A recliner had been shoved against a battered sofa covered with an afghan. Both were empty. The television had been left on but there was no sound. The weatherman pointed to different points on a map, his mouth moving silently as the light blinked against the walls.
Strange,
she thought as she took in the disarray.
What a weird, sad man.
She remembered waiting on Leather Ed at the Grand right before Christmas, when she and the cook had surreptitiously watched him muttering to himself. Cameryn had noticed the way the cowhide conformed to his body until it became a kind of shell. The smell of unwashed flesh engulfed him, and his gray hair sprang from his head in a kind of tangled wire. Like everyone else her age, she’d steered clear of the man. Now, inhaling the distinctive odor that told her Leather Ed was most surely dead, she felt ashamed of herself.
Maybe the town overwhelmed you, just like it’s overwhelming me
, she thought.
Were you trying to escape us?
But even as she thought it she knew it wasn’t true. He’d walked among them, but he’d been invisible. The town was trying to escape
him
.
she thought as she took in the disarray.
What a weird, sad man.
She remembered waiting on Leather Ed at the Grand right before Christmas, when she and the cook had surreptitiously watched him muttering to himself. Cameryn had noticed the way the cowhide conformed to his body until it became a kind of shell. The smell of unwashed flesh engulfed him, and his gray hair sprang from his head in a kind of tangled wire. Like everyone else her age, she’d steered clear of the man. Now, inhaling the distinctive odor that told her Leather Ed was most surely dead, she felt ashamed of herself.
Maybe the town overwhelmed you, just like it’s overwhelming me
, she thought.
Were you trying to escape us?
But even as she thought it she knew it wasn’t true. He’d walked among them, but he’d been invisible. The town was trying to escape
him
.
She moved on.
The smell was more intense by the staircase. Blinking, she looked up into the dark that stretched above her. The stair creaked beneath her foot when she took a tentative step, her hand gliding on the wooden railing as she began her ascent.
Sheriff Jacobs’s cries were muted now and easier to ignore. From this distance the sheriff’s rapping sounded like a pencil tapping against a desk as she stepped into the upper hallway. And then there was another sound, a voice that made her chest tighten. It was louder than Sheriff Jacobs’s. More urgent. Angrier.
“Cammie, it’s me, Justin. You’ve got to stop this
right now
! It’s not safe!”
right now
! It’s not safe!”
She groaned. As protective as her father and Sheriff Jacobs had been, Justin, Silverton’s deputy, had been worse. Still, she was committed to her path. Let them yell. All would be forgiven when she got those keys.
A door was on her right, cracked open less than an inch. Cautious, she pushed against it. Hinges squeaked loudly as the door swung open and she registered a stench strong enough to taste. Pulling her shirt over her nose, she breathed through the cotton, grateful for this barest protection.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Shadows seemed to float against the wall like underwater creatures. Through the murky light she strained to see. Her fingers found the switch plate and she flipped it on. And there, propped in a chair by the bed, was the bloated corpse of Leather Ed, a book clutched in his hands. Body fluid had seeped onto the pages, covering the lines of print in an eerie watercolor. His feet, still encased in worn boots, were planted on the floor while his leathers, distended from decomposition, shone in the light. But it was his face that made Cameryn’s mind freeze. Every bit of flesh was gone from his eyes down to his neck. His teeth, white and gleaming, grinned at her from a stripped skull. His jawbone had been wiped clean.
She could feel the horrified expression on her face as the room began to wobble at the edges of her periphery. Forcing her breathing to slow, Cameryn tried to make herself think rationally.
The German shepherd must have gotten to the corpse
.
His dog did this.
From her forensic studies she knew animals could consume their masters after death.
You’ve still got to get the keys. Keep going,
she commanded as she moved closer to the body.
.
His dog did this.
From her forensic studies she knew animals could consume their masters after death.
You’ve still got to get the keys. Keep going,
she commanded as she moved closer to the body.
She wouldn’t have noticed the piece of paper folded neatly on the end table next to the body but for her name. The word
Cameryn
had been printed with beautiful precision.
Cameryn
had been printed with beautiful precision.
She reached out and grabbed the parchment, written in a perfect cursive hand.
To Cameryn, my
anam cara
,
anam cara
,
I will love you until your dying breath. Please believe that I will find you, my Angel of Death. We are bound by cords you cannot break. Two worlds, intersecting separate pieces that the fates will never break apart. Trust that I will be with you soon.
In eternal adoration,
Kyle O’Neil
Chapter Two
BY THE TIME
she made it back to the kitchen door Cameryn felt her composure begin to crack.
Thud thud thud—
the sound of her own heartbeat drummed in her ears as she tried to get the key into the keyhole but her hands were shaking too hard. The tip of the key slipped to the side, leaving a scratch on the brass, until on the third try the deadbolt gave way. Before the sheriff could say a word she thrust the note into his hands.
she made it back to the kitchen door Cameryn felt her composure begin to crack.
Thud thud thud—
the sound of her own heartbeat drummed in her ears as she tried to get the key into the keyhole but her hands were shaking too hard. The tip of the key slipped to the side, leaving a scratch on the brass, until on the third try the deadbolt gave way. Before the sheriff could say a word she thrust the note into his hands.
“Leather Ed is dead,” she gasped. Although she’d been running, her skin had grown unbelievably cold. Her heart pounded against her sternum like a fist. She tried not to meet Justin’s gaze as he stared at her with a look of horror but instead spoke directly to the sheriff.
“This was left next to Leather Ed. Kyle—he’s been here. I don’t know how long ago he left, but he was
in
that house.”
in
that house.”
“What the . . . ?” Jacobs’s face twisted as his eyes skimmed the note’s precise handwriting. Justin, who had finished reading first, began to pace across the back end of the porch, the soles of his boots striking wood in beats that matched the thumping of her heart. The sheriff read it a second time before looking at her with narrowed eyes. “You think Kyle could still be inside?”
Cameryn shook her head. “No. I was pretty much through the place. I think I would have seen him.”
“Oh, man,” Justin cried softly. “You should never have gone in there by yourself.”
“From the decomp I’d say Leather Ed’s been dead at least two weeks. He—his face is gone. I think it was the dog. . . .”
“What you think is irrelevant, Cammie. We’re gonna need help.” The sheriff snapped open his phone to place an emergency call to the Durango police, requesting backup, while Justin began to pace again. Cameryn stood in a pool of isolation as Jacobs barked orders into the phone. Concentrating hard, she tried to keep her emotional numbness from thawing. Because she didn’t want to feel. If she let in the horror of what had happened she would fall apart, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Yet, against her will, her thoughts jumped back to the night Kyle had tried to kill her. In her mind’s eye she could see Kyle’s dark shape looming on the snow as he’d watched her while she, frozen, stared back.
Are you afraid, Cammie? I have a sixth sense. It’s strange—I can almost smell it when people are full of fear.
Kyle would be happy to know that she was terrified.
Are you afraid, Cammie? I have a sixth sense. It’s strange—I can almost smell it when people are full of fear.
Kyle would be happy to know that she was terrified.
Across the street a motion caught her eye. It was from a curtain, pulled open less than an inch in a dark slash. Was
he
watching her from that window? Then the curtain flicked shut, the movement almost imperceptible, and suddenly she felt eyes everywhere. They were in the houses that lined the street. Eyes stared at her from behind trees, peering from the evergreen bushes that formed natural huts along walkways. The full weight of what she’d done came crashing down. She’d gone into a house where Kyle had been and she had stood where he had stood. The thought made her head whirl.
he
watching her from that window? Then the curtain flicked shut, the movement almost imperceptible, and suddenly she felt eyes everywhere. They were in the houses that lined the street. Eyes stared at her from behind trees, peering from the evergreen bushes that formed natural huts along walkways. The full weight of what she’d done came crashing down. She’d gone into a house where Kyle had been and she had stood where he had stood. The thought made her head whirl.
“You’re one lucky girl.” The skin on Jacobs’s face had paled to a paper white but when he spoke his voice remained all business. “Go home, Cameryn,” he commanded. Justin, who had stopped by the sheriff’s side, nodded curtly.
Confused, she asked, “Wait—don’t you want me to show you where the body is?”
This time it was Justin who spoke. “You can’t be a part of this. You’re part of the case now.” Justin, the deputy she’d always been drawn to, stood unyielding in his almost-uniform—his jeans topped by a heavy regulation parka, a badge hanging on a cord around his neck. Dark, too-long hair hung into a thick fringe of lashes, obscuring eyes that were blue or green, depending on his mood.
“My deputy is right.” The sheriff squatted and grabbed her parka. “It’s a conflict of interest.”
“But—”
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