Retribution (14 page)

Then it hit him like a hammer to the chest. Trina!

Heart pounding, eyes bulging, he raced to the back door. “Sandra, I've got to go home.” The words felt thick and heavy as he pushed them out. “I'll explain later.”

“Bill, what—”

Loose gravel shot from beneath his tires as he pulled onto the quiet city street.

The mile between the two houses felt like ten, his throat tight with fear. He had to get home.

Ted had planned to paint in the workshop out back all day, some urgent project that needed to be finished.

Trina would be in the house alone.

Alone with Lillian. Alone with danger.

His tires spun as he turned off the street and into the drive.

Lillian's parking spot stood empty. The tightness gripping Bill's chest increased. Had Lillian persuaded Trina to leave with her? Was he too late?

Running to Ted's workshop, he tugged at the knob with sweaty hands. “Ted!” He pounded on the wood, and pulled the handle again, getting no response.

Pain radiated from his chest into his throat. He stumbled toward the house, through the kitchen door and out into the hall, panting for breath as he ran. Urgency increased. He had to find Lillian and stop her.

Trina stood just outside the parlor, Ted at her side.

Bill's large arms swallowed the slight form of his daughter while he examined his son-in-law.

The younger man's face had lost much of its color, and his eyes were pinched, as though in pain. The palms of Ted's hands looked red. Knees exposed below khaki shorts bore the indents of carpet. Ted had been praying.

His eyes widened. God had sent an alert to both of them.

Trina's muffled laugh came from beneath his arms as she struggled to free herself. “Dad, hello to you, too.”

“Where's Lillian?” He glanced from one parlor to the next.

“Dad, calm down. I don't want to scare our guests.”

“What's wrong?” Ted stared into Bill's face.

“Lillian.” Breaths wheezed from Bill's mouth. “Where is she?”

“She's out with Roger.” Confusion ringed Trina's eyes.

“No, she's not,” Ted said. “Roger called. He had an emergency at work and had to cancel. He couldn't get her on her cell, so he tried here, but she had already left.”

Nostrils flaring, still panting for breath, Bill ran a hand across the top of his head. “You treat her like family instead of the paying customer she really is. She comes and goes as she likes, and now you've become her social secretary.”

“Dad? You've never talked like this about Lillian before. What's wrong?”

He looked down at his daughter, thankful that she was safe, but feeling no release from the tension. Pacing the hall, looking in each room even though he knew the spaces stood empty, the urgency increased, as though he was encased in a straightjacket with no way to get out of it. He needed to act, but didn't know what to do, and the quandary left him feeling helpless. “She's up to something, and I think it's happening right now. Someone's in danger because of her.”

“I've been praying for that person.” Ted said.

Trina put her hands on her hips. “Lillian would never hurt anyone.”

His eyes flashed with anger as he turned to his daughter. He loved her with all his heart, but he had sheltered her too much. Right now, her naivety could mean someone's death. “What do you know about her? She came with one suitcase, has bought very little since she's been here, keeps mostly to herself…like a woman poised to run.” Acid squirted double-time into his stomach. “We should call Paul.” With hands feeling like blocks of stone, Bill struggled to pull the cell phone out of his pocket. “I should have thought of that sooner.”

“And tell him what?” Ted asked. “Your fear and my need to pray are somehow connected. But since we don't know where Lillian is, and we really don't have anything solid to tell Paul, it would be useless to call him. What could he do?”

Bill threw up his arms. “But we can't just stand here and let
whatever
happen.”

“We can pray,” Ted said. “God knows where Lillian is, and He knows what's on her heart.”

~*~

Roger inhaled slowly and deeply, filling his lungs with moist air. He planted his feet and pulled the garrote tightly between his hands. One more steadying breath and he would slip the wire over her head. The shadows watched, ready to feed on the tension, preparing to grow larger as the victim struggled, until their very presence filled the space. Thick, dark air. Separate, and yet part of him.

Lillian shivered. “This Bible verse just came to me.” She continued to lean against the wooden railing, peering straight ahead into the undergrowth. “We did a study about angels at my church. I didn't realize I had memorized this verse from Psalms 91. If you make God your dwelling place, then He will send angels to protect you and no harm will come to you, or something like that. Strange that I should think of that now.”

Children's voices. A dog. An adult calling to them.

The blackness slunk to the trees, retreating to the background. Waiting. Always waiting. Always there. Ready to consume.

A small boy, perhaps six, rounded the edge of the path, followed by a tiny girl a couple of years younger. A woman struggled to contain the excitement of the small Jack Russell terrier that strained against the leash.

Anger hissed from his nose as he coiled the garrote and slid it into his pocket.

“I told you I would beat you to the bridge!” the boy shouted, placing one sneaker-clad foot on the wooden slats.

“That's ‘cause you're older,” the girl yelled back, stopping on the mulch path and planting both hands on her small hips. “Just wait. Mommy says I will be as tall as you someday.”

“Then I'll be taller!” The boy raced across the bridge, followed by his sister.

Take them all!
Voices shrieked in Roger's head, the words like tongues stroking the neurons of his mind.
Take them all!

His hands became hard weapons at his side. First Lillian, because she was the strongest. Then the children, because the mother would not leave them. Last, the other woman. It would be risky, but possible.

A surge of energy rocketed through him as the blackness danced.

~*~

Bill rose from his knees and eased his stiffened body to the recliner.

Trina had tiptoed from the room earlier, but Ted still remained on his knees by the couch, his face etched in concentration.

The sense of urgency continued to press against Bill, like hot August air right before a thunderstorm. His thick tongue did little to moisten his dry lips. Spiritually drained, he stared at Ted, willing the man's prayers to reach the ear of God.

Unexpected waves of fear rolled through the room with such force the very air seemed to distort in its advance. Blackness settled over them, different from the shadows that flitted comfortably against floor and walls with the shifting limbs outside.

Choking bile rose in his throat as recognition dawned. He had seen this blackness before. Trembling with fear but feeling empowered, he knew what needed to be done. “You are not wanted here,” Bill shouted.

Ted rolled into a ball on his side and groaned.

Ice filled the room. Blackness coalesced and advanced toward him in undulating swirls.
Oh, God, oh, God.
“This home and those who live here belong to God. In the name of Jesus, I demand that you leave.”

Icy hands gripped his throat, closing his airway. Thrashing in the seat but unable to loosen the grip of something he could not feel, his oxygen starved body began to fade.

“Jesus,” Ted murmured from the floor.

Air rushed into Bill's hungering lungs.

Ted unwound his limbs and sat up. With a dazed expression, he searched the room before settling his gaze on his father-in-law. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow.”

~*~

Roger gasped as icy fingers encased him, each pointed digit digging into his flesh. Trying to pry them off would do no good. Something had angered his spectral audience and now he suffered their punishment. What had he done wrong? Gradually the fingers melted away. As he leaned exhausted against the railing, he lifted his face to the swamp, ready for the angry blackness and the mind-numbing headache that would follow.

Soft shadows twined among the trees.

The blackness had deserted him.

He sucked in air, their abandonment left him feeling powerless. What force would cause his blackness to retreat? As the mother approached the bridge, he wondered if he still had the strength to finish his task. Stiffening his jaw, he had to try.

“Sorry,” the young woman said as she reached the bridge. “They seem to be in a snappy mood today.” She looked in the direction taken by the two children.

Regaining his courage, he drifted toward Lillian, casually, never taking his gaze off the new woman until he felt the heat of Lillian's body close beside his.

“We were on our way to Pet Smart when the idea to stop at the park just popped into my mind.” She gave a sideways grin.

He threw his weight against Lillian and reached for her throat.

The dog's shrill bark hurt his ears. The noise would draw the attention of anyone close by. As he thrust a foot toward the offending beast, his other foot slipped.

Voices swirled but Roger couldn't separate one from the other as he stared overhead at the arching branches.

Lillian's hand grabbed his arm. “Are you all right?” she asked.

The dog sat on its haunches and stared at him.

Wide eyed, the children clutched their mother.

The woman's voice penetrated his fog. “Should I call the squad?” she asked.

He grimaced against the painful light that filtered through the trees. With Lillian supporting his shoulders, he struggled to stand. “I'm all right.” How could he explain his behavior? He glanced at Lillian, expecting to see fear etched into face, or at least confusion.

Her smile held concern as she looked up at him, her arm still wrapped around his torso.

“Are you sure you're all right?” the lady asked. “I really am sorry. Pepper never lunges at anyone like that. I don't know what got into her.”

“I think you slipped on some of these leaves.” Lillian pushed dry piles with the toe of her shoe and then grinned. “Your foot just missed hitting that poor dog as you went down.”

Nothing sounded better than a hot soak in his tub and some time alone think. Too many strange things had happened, and they pulled against his need for consistency and control.

“If you're sure you're all right?” The woman glanced toward the entrance to the park.

“I'm fine. None of this was your fault, I should have been more careful.” He wiped his face with the back of his hand, pulling his fingers down over his beard. Not once had he bungled an attack before today. This should have been easy, even considering the last minute change in plans.

Releasing a sigh, the woman turned to the boy and girl. “Come on you two, we need to get back to the car.”

He felt their darkness, hidden but close by. They were not gone after all, but still there, lingering deeper in the thicket. He vomited into the growth beside the bridge, the exact spot where Lillian's body should have now rested.

11

Murmuring conversation drifted from the dining room as Trina returned to the kitchen, her tray empty. “And how are the Dillons this morning?” Lillian asked.

“They're the nicest couple.” Trina placed the tray on the counter and filled a glass with juice before joining Lillian at the table.

Lillian drained the last of the coffee from her mug, contentment mingling with the caffeine. A long sleep and bacon for breakfast; what more could she want? “You say that about all the guests.”

“I can't help it if only wonderful people come here.” Trina's mouth curved into a crooked smile. “But you're the best of all. Sorry you had to eat alone.”

“I could have gone to the dining room.”

Trina's eyes widened. “You know you can, any time you want.”

“Seriously, Trina, why would I do that?”

“So you're not bothered by my…” Trina placed her hand on her swollen abdomen.

“Of course not. In fact, you were just what I needed. God must have known that.”

Trina's expression turned serious. “And what about work? I mean, having someone die in your office has to be hard.”

“I have to admit being shocked. You should have seen the poor secretary's face when she realized I didn't know.” Lillian chuckled. “But the smell of fresh paint and new carpet has chased away any hypothetical ghosts that may have been thinking of taking up residence. My first week at Francis Marion students kept wandering by my door and staring inside, but when no lingering vibes bounced between the walls, they stopped coming. Most days I forget the history of the room.”

Trina took a sip of juice and closed her eyes. “You ever feel so happy that you wait for the bubble to break?” She looked at Lillian. “You know, no one deserves to be as happy as I am, so my joy must be wrong somehow?”

Lillian stood and squeezed Trina's shoulders. “No one deserves happiness more than you, little mama.” After putting her breakfast dishes in the sink, she grabbed her purse off the counter and removed her keys. “Have a good day.”

The morning sun felt warm against the chill in the air.

Lillian breathed in deeply.

The roses beside the house, still in bloom, cast a heady scent. Yes, life was good.

Her blue car sat in its usual spot, between Ted's red SUV and Bill's white sedan, but now both cars were gone. She smiled as she noticed the disturbed gravel. Ted must have had trouble loading something.
Hope one of his paintings didn't get damaged
. She smoothed the piles back into place with her foot.

As she opened the car door, the smell affronted her. Gas vapors. The floor of the car looked normal, and outside the gas tank cover remained closed. No oily patches coated the rocks. She got in the car and opened the windows. Putting the car in reverse, she looked behind and noticed them: three gas cans on the floor in the back. Her mind whirled.