Before the Dawn (17 page)

But he must have woken up later because he
could hear soft music playing. The sound seemed to be coming from
outside at first, then he thought that it sounded like it was
suddenly playing from one of the rooms in the house. He got out of
bed and tried to search for its source, moving like he was
underwater. Each step forward took some effort, like something was
trying to bar his way, but he had to find out where that music was
coming from.

He saw an open door ahead of him in the
hallway, a door that he was sure had been closed earlier. He knew
that it led to the room of George’s daughter from his first
marriage, the dead daughter his stepfather never talked about, not
even to Trevor’s mom. The music sounded stronger as he approached
it, and now he could hear other sounds as well. Soft footsteps
muffled by the carpet, the rustle of clothes against the floor, the
rhythm of someone's breathing. The certainty that there was someone
in the room suddenly filled him, along with terror at what he might
see if he continued on.

Finally, he was just a step away from the
door. If he took one more, he would be able to turn and look into
the room at whatever was waiting for him inside. His heart stopped
beating for a moment, warning him to turn back and forget about the
music. He could still do it. He wouldn't have to see anything he
really didn't want to see. But his curiosity was too strong by now.
And it felt like something inevitable was pulling at him, wanting
him to witness something important.

So he took that last step and peered in
through the open door.

Someone was in the room. Someone strangely
familiar. She was standing with her back to Trevor at first, but
when he gave a little gasp of surprise at seeing her, she looked
over her shoulder and saw him.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before he
heard what she had to say, a loud knock sounded out and he opened
his eyes.

***

Chapter 18

Someone was at the front door, knocking
loudly enough for the sound to travel all throughout the house and
wake him from the strange dream he had been having. The dream was
something weird with music in it that he thought he must have heard
before because it sounded sort of familiar. But whatever the dream
had been, it slipped from his mind easily enough when he saw the
pale sunlight shining through a crack in the window curtains. The
knocking had never stopped, so he finally forced himself to leave
the warm bed and go downstairs.

"I'm coming!" he called out to whoever had
decided to drop by at this early hour of the morning. Still feeling
sleepy, as well as more than a little grumpy at being so rudely
awakened, he answered the door with a scowl. "Yeah?"

There was a man standing outside the house.
He looked to be about Trevor’s age, and something in the stiff way
he held himself clearly said that he was most probably a cop. It
took another second before Trevor realized that he was looking at
one of the officers who had talked to him last night. "Yes?" he
said uncertainly. "Can I help you?"

"Detective Roman," the man introduced himself
and held out his hand, clearly not expecting Trevor to remember
him. Warily, Trevor shook hands with the guy and murmured something
in acknowledgement of his introduction. "I'm the Detective looking
into the case of the teenage girl your folks got into an accident
with last night," the officer told him. "I went to see you at your
house, but you weren’t there obviously. So I thought I’d try you
here."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah. I stayed here last
night. So what's this about? I already gave my statement to you
guys at the hospital."

"Yes, and we appreciate that." The
Detective’s polite smile didn’t really reach his eyes. "But there's
been a development in the case that requires us to ask for more
cooperation from you. So, may I come in?"

Trevor shrugged. "Fine. Sure. Can I at least
get a cup of coffee first before you start asking me more
questions? Maybe you could use one, too?"

"Yes, thank you. Coffee would be good
actually."

Trevor gestured for the man to come in and
then turned to head for the kitchen. "Living room's that way. You
can wait there while I make the coffee."

The Detective smiled at him again then went
off to make himself comfortable on the couch. Trevor proceeded to
the kitchen and, after searching around for the stuff he needed for
a few minutes, prepared two large mugs of coffee. He handed one mug
to the Detective, who took it with a brief nod of thanks, and then
he sat on an armchair and faced the cop. "So, what is it I can do
for you?" he asked. After a long sip from the mug, his head was
finally clearing up and he wasn't feeling as sleepy as before. He
noticed that the Detective didn't drink his coffee though.

"You recently moved into town, right, Trevor?
May I call you Trevor?" the other man asked.

"Yes, sure. Moved into an old house some
distance away from here just about three days ago. But I lived in
town with my mom before, when I was sixteen or so. I left for
college and haven’t really been back until this year."

The Detective nodded. "I see, I see," he
commented as if he didn’t know those facts already. "You make comic
books, right? You write the stories and draw the pictures? I
understand you’re quite successful at it."

Something about the cop’s manner began to rub
Trevor the wrong way. "They’re called graphic novels and, yeah, I’m
doing okay with them." His tone had hardened just slightly. He
didn’t understand what the man was actually doing here asking him
these questions. "What’s this really about, officer?"

His question was ignored. "While you lived
here, were you acquainted with the Jennings family?"

"Who?" Trevor had no idea where the Detective
was leading him with this conversation.

"Doctor Henry Jennings and his wife, Sybil,"
the cop clarified. "Did you know them back then?"

He shook his head. "No. Sorry. Why? What does
that have to do with anything?"

"Well, when the girl your stepfather almost
ran over woke up in the hospital late last night, she saw Doctor
Jennings while he was making his rounds. Then she started to become
hysterical. She claims that he's her father but, of course, he has
no idea who she is. He and his wife never had any kids. Then she
was sedated to calm her down, and it was then that she began to ask
for you. By name." Detective Roman gave Trevor a very sharp look
then, like he was studying every detail of Trevor’s face to see how
he reacted to this bit of information.

Unfortunately for whatever crazy theories he
might have been spinning in his head about Trevor’s part in all of
this, the only expression on the other man’s face was confused
blankness. "I don't understand where you're going with this,"
Trevor admitted frankly. "I've never seen that girl before in my
entire life and I don't remember ever giving her my name last
night. She looked too out of it that I was even scared of getting
near her, and it never occurred to me to waste time introducing
myself when she obviously needed help."

"But she must have learned your name from
someone," the Detective insisted. "She kept saying that you,
Trevor, found her and she needed to see you again. She was saying
something about telling you about 'the others' and that you had to
help her 'free them'. You really don't have any idea what she was
talking about?"

"Seriously, Detective," Trevor snapped. "I
just moved back into town three days ago. I can barely remember the
faces let alone the names of old schoolmates. And even if I did
remember them, I'm sure that a girl who probably wasn't even born
back then was not one of them. I have no idea how this girl knows
my name and I've got even less of a clue about these 'others' that
has got you looking at me like I'm some kind of criminal. I'll
cooperate with whatever investigation you're doing to find out what
happened to this girl, but I can't help you with any answers you
seem to think I have."

The Detective didn't say anything for several
minutes. He just looked at Trevor. Then he finally drank his
coffee. He gulped it all down and placed the empty mug on the table
before him once he was done. "She keeps asking for you," he said
softly. "I think it’s all suspicious as hell, but this is a little
mystery that I feel will take some time to solve. So I would
appreciate it if you would come see the girl and let me hear
whatever she may want to say to you. She’s in pretty bad shape
physically and, mentally, the doctors think she could even be worse
off."

"I'll do whatever I can to help, Detective,"
Trevor promised, suddenly sorry that he had been snippy with the
man earlier. The guy was only trying to do his job, after all. "I
just wish there was something more I could tell you."

The officer nodded. "Well, thank you for your
time," Detective Roman suddenly said and stood up. "Let me know
when would be a good time for you to come to the hospital so I can
make the arrangements." He left quite abruptly after that, leaving
his card with Trevor and telling him to call as soon as
possible.

The whole strange business with the
mysterious girl made Trevor’s head buzz with all sorts of
questions. But he had other, more pressing things to worry about so
he couldn’t really give it more attention than it currently
deserved. After the Detective left, he got some things together
that his mom and stepfather would likely need during their hospital
stay and jogged over to his house for a quick shower and a change
of clothes. Then he took a cab to the hospital where he found
George awake and sitting by his mom’s bed.

"George?" he said, his voice soft and
uncertain as he hovered by the door. "Are you doing better?"

His stepfather forced himself to smile. "Hey,
Trevor. Yeah. I’m okay. Come on in, will you?"

"I brought some of your stuff," Trevor told
him. "Toothbrushes, clothes. I figured you guys might need
them."

George nodded his thanks and gestured for
Trevor to take the chair on the other side of his wife’s bed. "The
doctor was here some minutes ago," he said. "She’s just sleeping
now and he says she’s going to be fine." There was a short silence
between the two men for a moment, then a sob escaped from George's
throat and his eyes began to tear up. "God, I thought I’d lost
her!"

Trevor found himself confronted with the task
of comforting the other man. "It’s going to be all right, George,"
he spoke as confidently as he could. "Mom’s tough. She’s not going
to leave us anytime soon."

"She better not." George wiped at his tears
and took several deep breaths. "I already lost two people I loved
once, Trevor. I don’t ever want to go through that again."

"You won’t," he vowed. "Mom’s going to be
fine. She’s going to be around to keep nagging you for years to
come."

George choked back a laugh and Trevor smiled.
He watched as his stepfather reached out and tenderly ran his
fingers against his mother’s face. "Your mom saved me, you know,"
George said in a half-whisper. "Ever since my first wife and my
daughter died all those years ago, I’ve been, well, I’ve been just
walking around, letting things pass me by. Then I met Annie. And
she was the most beautiful second chance that could ever happen to
a guy like me. If I lost her, too—I don’t think I could stand
it."

"She’ll be all right, George," he said
quietly. "She won’t leave you. Mom wouldn’t do that to you."

The older man nodded then gave him a piercing
stare. "I don’t think I ever said how sorry I was about what
happened to you and Vera. To lose a child is heartbreaking, and I’m
sorry that you couldn’t find it in yourselves to move on together
after that."

Trevor didn’t know what to say. Suddenly, all
the dark emotions that had plagued him over a great part of the
past year came rushing back. He felt the same way he did when he
was sitting in another hospital room across the country, watching
helplessly as Vera cried and cried when the doctor told her that
their baby was gone. He knew that he should have walked over to her
and held her in his arms, he knew he should have comforted her, but
he did nothing. He just sat in his chair, staring blankly out the
window, wondering why he wasn’t as devastated as she was at the
loss of their child. That was the secret shame that had haunted him
this whole time, that had built a wall between them that grew day
by day until he could no longer reach out to her and she had
stopped waiting for him to do so. Vera’s heart had been broken by
the death of their baby.
His
heart hadn’t been sure what it
was supposed to feel.

He couldn’t talk about it with George though.
He didn’t want his stepfather to look at him differently. He didn’t
want to admit out loud that there was something within him that was
hollow. So he stayed quiet and, when he could no longer stand being
in the room, he made his excuses, promised to come back later
before the end of visiting hours, and left.

Whenever his own spinning thoughts threatened
to overwhelm him, Trevor always found that working helped to calm
down the chaos rattling in his skull. So he went home and started
doing some sketches for his next book, forgetting about the rest of
the world for a few hours. When he finally looked up from his desk,
it was afternoon and he suddenly remembered that it was going to be
Halloween tomorrow. He also remembered the conversation his mom and
stepdad had had in the car before the accident and he realized that
he didn’t have a single piece of candy anywhere in the house. He
had never seen a trick or treater show up at his door in years, but
then he had been living in an apartment building. However, he was
quite sure that he was going to get little kids ringing his
doorbell this year.