Running into the Darkness, Page 4

  He wanted to see Sam. He wanted to spend time with her. He wanted to worm his way back into her good graces. He wanted her to stay.

  He wanted her – plain and simple.

  Lightning flashed as he rounded the corner and pulled up to the old familiar house. The house remained as dark as the sky. Sam wasn’t home.

  Joe stared at the windows of the upper loft and remembered the times he’d climbed the backyard tree onto the roof. They’d laid out there all hours of the night and gazed at the stars. Sometimes they’d made out, but the rough shingles kept his hormones in check. Then there was the fact that her grandmother’s room rested beneath them, and older people tended to be light sleepers.

  One afternoon burned in his memory. He’d stopped by to see if she’d wanted to go grab a burger, but since Gramm hadn’t returned from grocery shopping he’d decided to wait until she arrived home. In the meantime, Sam wanted to show him the storm shelter – she always referred to it as the ‘fraidy hole – and in the cool darkness they’d nearly gone too far. Even now, he could still remember the softness of her beneath him, smell the scent of her skin, feel the intensity of their youthful passion.

  The crash of thunder brought his racing heart back to the present. Joe unbuttoned his shirt and pulled out the thick manila envelope moistened by his skin. The air hinted at the approaching rain as he dashed to the front porch and inserted the thick envelope between the screen and door.

  ***

  After swinging through a drive-thru, Samantha headed back to Gramm’s, the first tinges of rain sprinkling the windshield as she pulled into the drive. An envelope fell out when she opened the screen door, and she recognized the handwriting immediately – Joe. The warmth of the envelope told her she’d missed him only moments before, and a strange ache nudged her heart as she entered the dark house and flipped on the lights before pouring the contents onto the table.

  The dining room table lay littered with the array of newspaper clippings and reports which she quickly scanned through, but the photos were what arrested her attention. They depicted the burned-out car, skid marks, and a group of bystanders. But it was the up-close charred remains that stopped her cold. Tears blurred her vision.

  Joe had tried to warn her. The guy was too honorable for his own good. She wished she hadn’t yelled at him. If only she’d been at the house when he’d arrived. His arms were needed. Joe always gave the nicest hugs at just the right moment. But only emptiness consumed her.

  Thoughts of Joe’s warm brown eyes still curled her toes. When they’d been young, she’d loved running her fingers through his sunny hair. Then his desire of becoming a police detective came between them. In her short life she’d already endured enough loss, and the idea of waiting up late at night, wondering if he’d ever come home, was too much to contemplate. There always seemed to be a good reason to break up with every guy she’d ever dated – at least at the time. Since then medical school and residency hadn’t allowed for much of a social life, much less a real date.

  The storm gathered force and the sky opened up with a blaze of lightning and a peal of thunder. Samantha flicked on the TV to check the weather report. Another surprise of Gramm’s was an updated television and, of all things, cable even after the countless arguments of but all my friends have cable they’d had over the years. The lame excuse had never worked on Gramm.

  With the TV blaring in the background, Samantha sorted through the clippings for the hundredth time. At least that’s how it seemed. The coroner’s report, newspaper stories, obituary, registration of the Saturn, pictures of the scene – it all required Samantha to put on her forensic investigative hat and put aside the fact that what she read about and saw had involved Gramm.

  Something in the pictures from the crash scene kept drawing her back. Samantha retrieved Gramm’s magnifying glass she used to put around her neck in order to read and crochet very fine patterns. In the scenes, the setting sun made it difficult to distinguish much among the gathered spectators. Then again newsprint wasn’t known for its clarity. The flames were still being extinguished in one, the edge of the crowd still visible. Another showed the firefighters and police cordoning off the highway.

  What is it? What is it? Gramm, help me see whatever is bugging me.

  After more than three hours bending over the photographs and clippings, Samantha gave up for the night, kneading her aching neck to release the tension. The storm had turned into a steady rain, and after checking the weather report one last time, she headed up the stairs to turn in for the night.

  A nagging feeling tugged at the back of her mind about those pictures. Reading in bed didn’t distract her. Two chapters sped by and Samantha had no idea what she’d even read. In frustration, she slammed down the book and flicked off the light. Sleep would be hard coming.

  As her mind drifted and body relaxed it came to her. Samantha shot straight up in bed, the iridescent numbers on the clock reading one thirty-seven. It was him – the guy in sunglasses standing by the tent after Gramm’s funeral. That same guy was in two of the camera shots at the crash scene.

  Samantha leapt down the stairs and slid into the dining room, flipping on the light as she stumbled to the table. She drew the photos close under the magnifying glass. Goose bumps chased each other up her spine as the man in sunglasses peered out from behind the fire truck in one and near the front of the bystanders in another.

  “Well hello, Mr. Shades.”

  Chapter 8 - Someone’s Watching

  “Damn it, Joe! You know I’m not crazy.”

  If Joe didn’t do something and stop treating her like some sort of imbecile Samantha would go right over his paper strewn desk and strangle him. Yeah right – in the middle of the police department. At least they wouldn’t have to drag her too far to book her into jail for murder.

  The precinct boiled with activity, phones blaring and people yelling across cubicles looking as bleary eyed as she. Samantha had barely slept after her discovery last night and couldn’t wait to get in front of Joe’s face. Maybe she should’ve gone through with her initial instinct to call him in the middle of the night. A sleep-deprived brain might have made him a little more compliant. Now he just looked at her with those soft brown eyes as if he were placating a kitten down from a tree.

  “Keep it down, Sam,” Joe whispered. “I’d be in a heap of hot water if the chief knew I’d given you copies of those reports. Don’t know now why I even did.”

  “And I don’t know why I actually expected you to do something about this,” Samantha hissed.

  She even sounded like a cat. Get it under control, girlie.

  Samantha took a deep breath. “You’ve got to admit, it is a bit odd that this same man from the scene shows up just a week later at Gramm’s funeral.”

  “But you don’t even know if it’s the same man,” Joe countered.

  Samantha felt about ready to jam the guy’s nose into the pictures scattered on the desk. Might balance out the little crook left when he’d gotten his nose broken in that fight in high school.

  “Look at the dark slicked back hair, the squared jaw line – at Gramm’s funeral he was in a black suit but I think here it’s a sport coat. But the shades. Why would he wear sunglasses that time of the evening and then at Gramm’s funeral when it was cloudy and dreary?”

  Joe rubbed his temples. Usually that meant she had him right where she wanted him, but he wasn’t the same old Joe from high school.

  “Come on, Sam. You admitted earlier you didn’t get but a glance at him the day of the funeral.” Joe’s voice softened as he laid his hand on top of hers. “Things were real tough for you that day, I’m sure.”

  The warmth of his touch created a knot in Samantha’s stomach. Jerking her hand away, she gathered her purse and stuffed the envelope and its contents back in it, the chair almost toppling over as she stood.

  “Yeah, something you couldn’t possibly understand.”

  Samantha stormed out of the office and fled down the stairs
of the city building, Joe’s protests dying in the background. The Wichita wind felt good on her face, the air clean and crisp after the night of rain. Though too angry to cry, nothing she did stemmed the warm tears from gathering beneath her eyelids. She drew her jacket tighter. A brisk walk would do her good.

  Maybe she should stop by and talk to Mr. Eddis. His law firm sat just a short jaunt down Main Street and would make a good stretch of the legs. Perhaps he might listen to her conclusions on her investigation. Obviously she wouldn’t get too much more out of Joe and his cronies – taxpayer money simply wasted. Good thing she hadn’t mentioned the guy at the cemetery last night, or else Joe would have called the men in white to bring a straight jacket.

  The wind roared around the corner of the city building. Perhaps a cut through the alley would shorten her walk to Mr. Eddis’, but would he be available? His schedule was always constricted. Did she have any real purpose in seeing Mr. Eddis and wasting his time with her ramblings? No question he’d hear her out because he knew how much this meant to her.

  Thankfully the alley offered protection from the biting wind, but instead of the sun’s warmth she walked in shadow. The shadows brought Mr. Shades to mind. Samantha tried to capture the image of him from the funeral again, but Joe was right. She’d only caught a glimpse of him in passing and hadn’t thought anymore about him for a month. Then the pictures had brought it all flashing back. Last night it had seemed so clear.

  Rocks clattered. A glance over her shoulder and she stood immobile, her limbs frozen as if winter had returned. Shades walked along the far end of the alley. He didn’t act as if he were afraid of being discovered. To the contrary, he acted as if he wanted her to know he was there. For a moment, Samantha wanted to charge up to him and bash his head against the brick wall, demand to know who he was and what he had to do with Gramm’s death. Then something inside her screamed.

  Run!

  Samantha took off like a shot. She’d always been a good track runner in high school, star of the hundred yard sprint. Took second in state. Well this would be a bit more than a hundred yards. As she exited the alley, she didn’t even bother glancing behind as she practically flew across the street and dodged light traffic.

  She yanked the heavy glass door open, the burst of adrenaline too much as the wind fought to keep it closed. The curtains in the glassed-in foyer hid her as she searched for any sign of Shades. Her breath came in gasps as she filled her lungs.

  Gotta get back in shape, girlie.

  With a sense of satisfaction, Samantha realized she’d outrun the creep. The satisfaction melted into frustration as it occurred to her – she may have lost her chance at finding out who the guy was, and more importantly what he had to do with Gramm’s accident.

  And what he wanted with her.

  Chapter 9 - A Note

  Paranoia settled over her as Samantha glanced back and forth past the gravestones and scattered trees of the cemetery. After the strange morning and the near run-in with Shades, she decided it best to have a talk with Momma while plenty of daylight remained.

  When she’d shown up at Mr. Eddis’ office, he’d been patient and attentive while she’d spoken of the eerie encounter in the alley, showed him the photos from the crash, and told of seeing Shades at Gramm’s funeral. But in the safety of his law office, Samantha hadn’t felt the rush of panic any longer and instead berated herself for not following through on her first instinct to confront the guy.

  All through her ramblings, Mr. Eddis tapped his lips in thought. He’d asked a few questions and even wondered if she felt it best to have someone look after her for awhile, suggested a security system at Gramm’s house, and added it would be a nice sales benefit when the time came. But it had all seemed a bit strange and overbearing to think she, of all people, would need such protection. That was what Hollywood stars had to deal with, not near medical school dropouts.

  After leaving the law firm, Samantha had aimlessly driven for hours until making her way to the lonely cemetery. The antsy feeling returned. It didn’t make sense for someone to bother her, dare she even say stalk her. Her head pounded from the rushing thoughts.

  After telling Momma of the day’s strange events, Samantha calmed again and leaned her aching head against the cool marble. She imagined leaning against Momma’s shoulder again like when she was a little girl. Longing rose within her.

  “I miss you both so much, Momma. I never had a chance until now to stop long enough to tell you. Don’t think I could have put into words what I felt back then anyway. But since Gramm died…”

  The tears came in unending torrents.

  ***

  With a start, Samantha awoke disoriented and chilled. The cemetery. Momma and Daddy’s graves.

  As her head cleared, she remembered the drive to the cemetery and her conversation with Momma. Her racing heart stabilized. She stretched her stiffened limbs and back, gathered up her purse and headed to the car. Head down into the wind, she stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets to warm them.

  A slip of paper brushed her hand, and Samantha drew the small square from her pocket. She couldn’t remember putting anything in there this morning, and she didn’t make shopping lists. Besides, she always put notes in her purse so they wouldn’t blow away.

  Fear crept over her like an icy hand as she unfolded the note and stared at the unfamiliar handwriting.

  Find the key.

  As she quickened her pace to her car, she was certain of only one thing.

  Somewhere nearby he watched.

  Chapter 10 - Secrets Unravel

  The month of April dragged closer to May while Mr. Eddis continued working Gramm’s estate. If not for the note, Samantha would have thought the whole of events with Shades had been a dream. Nothing had happened since the eerie moment in the cemetery and the alleyway chase, but she continued to be watchful.

  The television blared in the background about the body of a missing Kansas politician, but the pictures of Shades hanging on the dining room wall drew her focus. He stared back from the image as if taunting her with his presence. Who was he? Where did he come from, and most importantly, what did he want with her?

  A key. Find the key. Did he actually mean a physical key for a lock or a key like for a map? What did he want her to find this mysterious key for? Not until Samantha decided to rummage around in Gramm’s room did she begin to find an answer to her questions.

  In the top linen drawer Samantha shuffled through Gramm’s personal effects, expecting at any moment to hear Gramm’s familiar outcry against snooping. She’d give her arm to hear the righteous indignation of Gramm’s voice. But never again.

  I miss you so much, Gramm.

  A safe deposit box key surfaced from beneath a lavender sachet. The tag referenced number 2386. Gramm had always kept her accounts with a small locally-owned bank, so she figured that was the best place to check.

  ***

  A quick call to Mr. Eddis on the drive over confirmed he’d already filed a copy of the death certificate with Gramm’s branch. The branch manager said since she wasn’t on the safe deposit box as a signer she couldn’t remove anything just merely inventory it. Fine with her.

  After providing her with an inventory sheet, they set up camp in a privacy booth. The shouts of an angry customer echoed through the branch, his pounding on the counter displaying obnoxious disregard for others. The manager excused herself momentarily and said she would send another employee over if she couldn’t come back right away.

  Samantha laid everything out on the table. Wasn’t much, just a few jewelry boxes, bonds, and what appeared to be an insurance policy of sorts. Mr. Eddis needed to know about the policy and bonds, however nothing about the contents suggested anything unusual. Upon picking up the box for one last glance she heard a rattle. Slipping her hand all the way toward the end, Samantha wrapped her fingers around a metal object partially taped to the side.

  A key.

  Samantha’s heart raced. The manager hadn’t r
eturned or sent anyone else to replace her. Before conscience engaged, she slipped the key into her purse and continued compiling the inventory list.

  Someone knocked at the door and entered to replace the manager, a young thing hardly out of high school. Harmless enough. With a belying calm, Samantha opened the jewelry boxes to be certain of their contents, steadied her quaking hand and finished the list while little Miss Prom Queen admired the few pieces of Gramm’s nice jewelry.

  Once completed, they replaced the contents and the box while Samantha secured her copy of the inventory sheet. With the key snug in her purse, she left the bank and called Mr. Eddis.

  ***

  Samantha puttered east along the highway, Gramm’s deviation puzzling. Gramm had never banked out of town in her life, at least not that she’d ever known, the location more than inconvenient. A search of Mr. Eddis’ records revealed another safe deposit box for Gramm in the nearby small town.

  No telling if either of the safe deposit box keys were the key mentioned in the note from the cemetery. She didn’t even care anymore. It wasn’t like she planned to turn either one over to them. Who the hell were them anyway?

  This time she’d not get the same opportunity to take anything found in the box. Couldn’t ask for the stars to shine on her twice in one day. Mr. Eddis didn’t need to know of her clandestine activities in taking the second key from the safe deposit box, so tomorrow she’d nonchalantly drop off the inventory list from both banks to show her reasoning for her questions. It would be enough just to see whatever the box contained. No rush.

  The service representative asked her to sign in to enter the box.

  “But I’m not a box holder, just needing to inventory for the estate,” Samantha explained.

  “Well according to our records you were registered and signed as a box holder almost eight years ago. You are Samantha Bartlett?” The lady eyed her momentarily.