The Good Neighbor - Bettes Kimberley A.. Страница 41

Being realistic again, I knew that the feeling I had that day wasn’t a need-to-shout-out-a-warning-to-avoid-an-accident feeling. It was a feeling of unavoidable impending doom and disaster. Though the feeling was foreign to me, I knew even then that I was going to be helpless against it.

Just like today.

But I continued on anyway, heading home to wait for whatever was coming my way.

74 Carla

I walked down the hallway slowly. I noticed a pair of scuffed black cowboy boots lying on the floor as if they’d been tossed there. I knew I’d seen them before, but I couldn’t place them. I also knew that Owen didn’t wear cowboy boots. Even if he did, they wouldn’t have been in such a ratty manner.

Finally, I was standing at the door to the room from where the sound came. My heart was thumping loudly, making it nearly impossible to hear what was happening. I don’t know what was making my heart race. Maybe it was the sneaking around. It made me feel as if I were doing something bad. After all, this wasn’t my house and even though Owen had given me a key, wanting me to have total access to his house, I still felt like I was being intrusive and invading his privacy.

I put my ear to the door carefully to see if I could hear anything more.

I waited.

There were some thumps.

I waited.

There was a voice. It wasn’t yelling. In fact, it was so low, even with my ear to the door, I couldn’t make out the words.

I closed my eyes in order to block out one of my senses. With my eyes closed, my ears worked harder. Maybe now I’d be able to make out something being said on the other side of the door.

I was just registering the fact that the voice was getting closer to the door. I was just thinking that it would be horrible to get caught snooping and eavesdropping like this. I was just thinking that I should walk myself right back down the street to Hazel’s, where the smell of soup was thick in the air.

Then, the door opened.

75 Louis

I stood at the kitchen sink pouring myself a glass of steaming hot water that was going to be tea, wondering how much I could get out of my house. This was a great neighborhood. The houses were all two-story with large yards. Every house on this street was bound to appraise for more than a half million dollars. Some of them, even more than that. My house was probably middle of the road in appraisal price. It didn’t matter, though. I was selling and getting out of here. No more mundane living for me. No more homeownership. I lived out of hotels ninety-five percent of the time anyway; why not make it a hundred?

I dipped the teabag up and down, in and out of the scalding water. The aroma brought a fresh batch of saliva to my mouth.

I wondered if I had remained married if I’d still want to sell the house. I should’ve given it to her in the divorce. Of course, at that time, she was lucky I’d let her walk away with anything. Two-timing tramp. I wondered if it was too late to make her take it. It’s a shame the house wasn’t just a tad smaller. I’d shove it up her ass and she’d have no choice but to take it. Oh, screw her. I’d sell it. Then, I’d make her watch me burn the money.

The thought of the look on her face as she watched me burn a huge pile of cash made me laugh out loud.

Still smiling at the thought, I stirred the tea and brought the mug up to my mouth. I froze before I could complete the task because that’s when I saw him.

He was standing in my back yard, covered in mud.

76 Carla

He stood before me, eyes wide, with one hand still on the handle of the door. I noticed he was breathing hard and sweating. His hair was disheveled. His shirt was torn. His nose was bleeding. His left cheek was swelling before my eyes. He was bleeding from somewhere other than his nose. I saw the blood, but couldn’t identify the source.

“Carla?” He said my name in such a way that it could’ve been a question or an exclamation. I wasn’t sure how to take it.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” I looked past him now, and wished like hell I was knitting at Hazel’s.

On the floor a few feet inside the room, lay Jill. She was lying on her side in a pool of her own blood. Her right hand rested on the floor, palm up. In her palm, lay a pregnancy test. I couldn’t tell from the doorway, but I was sure it was positive. I held my breath and watched closely for a few seconds for the rise and fall of her side to indicate that she was alive.

There was no movement there. She was gone.

In the middle of the room, just beyond Jill, sat a kitchen chair. In this chair sat a man. His arms were pulled tightly behind him and tied together. Binding his body to the chair at the chest was a curtain that had been yanked from a window and wound around him and tied in a knot.

His head hung down, his chin nearly resting on his chest. He appeared to be unconscious. Blood trickled from his head and ran down the side of his face. I watched as it dripped onto his shirt. Drip, drip, drip. I couldn’t look away.

In that second, as I watched the dark red liquid create a growing pool on what once was a crisp white t-shirt, I realized that life as I knew it was over. Everything had just changed. Nothing would ever be the same now. For any of us.

“Carla,” he said, still standing at the door.

And my blood ran cold.

77 Jenson

I turned onto Hewitt Street just as the knot in my stomach gave birth to one in my throat. I felt as though I may vomit, but I was certain I would choke on it because there would be no way around the lump in my throat.

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary here. Maybe the danger wasn’t on this street. I knew that was wishful thinking, but I held out hope.

I pulled into the driveway and parked the car. I got out quickly and looked at each house on the street. Again, I noticed nothing unusual. Everything seemed as it should. I went from house to house visually, taking notes in my mind. Nothing seemed wrong.

The only thing different was a light on in Louis’ house. That didn’t happen often.

I thought it was quite odd that Louis returned on the same day I had this awful feeling. Maybe it was a coincidence, but maybe not. Maybe the two events were connected somehow. Of course, I’d just have to wait and let everything unfold as it was supposed to in order to find out.

I went inside. I pulled up a chair to my front windows and sat. I didn’t plan to take my eyes of Louis’ house. Not if I could help it. I wanted to be ready this time.

78 Carla

My fists clenched automatically. I knew I couldn’t inflict any damage with them. But I would die trying.

“What’s going on here? What happened?” I asked, trying to sound casual. You know, as if I walked into a room with a dead body and a hostage every day.

“You have to call the cops,” he gushed. “I was on my way to, but since you’re here, you have to.”

“What happened?” I asked in a much sterner tone.

“He killed Bernie! He killed Jill!” His eyes widened, which I would’ve thought impossible. I had no idea how his eyes were staying in the sockets.