Part 3
Part 4
Part 4
As the door closes on unseen, watching eyes, I hurry to
slide the deadbolt into place. I lean over to peer out the tiny crack between
the curtain and the window frame. Nothing moves in the deserted parking lot. I
glance out the window one more time to be sure before making my way to the
kitchen in the dark. The darkness brings a strange comfort so I don’t flip on
any of the lights.
I fumble for some bread and peanut butter in the soft glow
of streetlights through thin curtains. After choking down my sandwich in a
hurry, I stumble to my bedroom. Between cops and documents, this day wore me
out. I barely bother to slip out of my clothes before throwing myself onto my
firm mattress and staring up at the ceiling.
With a million thoughts buzzing around in my head, sleep
eludes me. My weary eyes close only to pop open again. I stare at the squares
of light thrown onto the ceiling from the streetlight below. Numbers dance
across my mind as I try to figure out the meaning behind the discrepancies on
the pages Larry left for me.
I should have brought the documents with me, but I’d have to
turn on a light to read them. I can look at them again when I go back to work. I
muddle through some of what I remember reading, but it doesn’t get me any
closer to a solution. I still can’t grasp hold of a pattern that will reveal
some motive for Larry’s murder.
I sigh heavily. Despite my love for mystery novels, I make a poor detective. This sad fact crosses my mind for the millionth time as
my eyelids finally slide together.
*
“You have to help me.” Larry’s voice shocks me into
wakefulness.
As my eyelids flutter open, I look up into Larry’s pale
face. He leans closer, repeating his plea for help. I push myself up onto my
elbows. As I begin to sink backward, I look down to find my body nestled in the
tan sand of the batting cages.
“Help me up.” I whisper cautiously.
He reaches out to pull me to my feet, but his fingers slip
through my arm. Where his fingers pass through me, a chill lingers. Despite the
first failure, he reaches for me again. This time his grip lands. It only lasts
for a second. Then it loosens and he falls away from me in a spray of blood.
I scream as a shadowy figure steps toward me. I can’t see a
face, just the dark barrel of a gun.
I wake up in my own bed, soaked in sweat. The touch of icy
fingers lingers on my wrist. I rub it with my other hand until the chill
dissipates. When I stop shaking, I slowly lower myself back onto my pillow and
close my eyes. Sleep comes slowly.
More nightmares pull me from sleep throughout the night.
Sometimes I dream that Larry speaks to me. At other times, I just see his body
lying on the gurney and feel cold breath trickling down my neck as a soft echo
of his voice begs me to help him. Finally, weariness drags me down to a sleep
without dreams. I seek solace there until the alarm sounds.
*
Harsh beeping wakes me and I enter autopilot. So tired that
I forget what I have just done, I wash my hair at least three times before I
step out of the shower. I grab the first outfit that my hand touches from the
closet. I don’t even bother to look in the mirror to check my appearance. I run
the brush through my hair and pull it back from my face. Grabbing my purse, I
peer out the window and see nothing to justify such caution. I step outside and
pull the door closed.
My jaws stretch as far apart as possible. As they slowly
come back together, I turn the key in the lock and check the knob. Reassured
when it doesn’t turn, I face the parking lot and sigh as I see the thin layer
of mist creeping along the slick, black pavement. I yawn again as I step toward
my car.
A car door opens behind me. I pick up the pace, stopping at
my car to dig for my keys. I laugh as I realize they never left my hand. Footsteps
draw closer as I insert the key in the lock.
As I turn toward the
shuffling footsteps, a bomb explodes in my head. Lightning crashes across my
vision and darkness claims me.
I know. I know. We all want so much more, but I wrote and rewrote these three sections many, many times to get them to this state of presentability for you. So be kind but honest. If the two can't coexist be honest, are you anxious for next week?
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