Return to the Shadows (6 page)

“Mama?”

“Yes? Sorry I was thinking about something.
What were you saying?”

“I’m gonna go play outside, okay?” She was
already reaching for the sliding glass doors that led to the back
patio and yard.

“No!” the word burst forth vehemently. I took
a deep, calming breath and tried again. “What I mean is, I had
other plans for this evening.”

“But I always play on the swing set after
school on Fridays.”

“I know you do, but I need to drop some
things off at your Aunt Megan’s. How would you like to go see
Grandma and Grandpa tonight?”

“Why can’t I go with you?”

“Because I’ve got grown up business to go
over with Aunt Megan, that’s why.”

“Oh. Okay.” Bless her heart, she didn’t
question it beyond that.

“Why don’t you get your bag and some toys and
books?”

“Sure.” She ran down the hall and into her
room.

“Take your homework too!” I called after
her.

“I’m ready!” she announced several minutes
later.

“Me too, let’s go.”

I called my parents en route and told them I
would be dropping off Ashley. The next call I made was not to Megan
but to my brother.

“Can I meet you at the house in twenty
minutes?”

“Yours or mine?”

“That’s right, twenty minutes.” I glanced in
the rear view mirror at Ashley. There was silence on the other end
of the line.

“Your house, then?”

“Yes.”

“Is everything okay?”

“No,” I replied breezily.

“I’ll be there.”

“See you then.”

We pulled into my parents’ circular driveway
ten minutes later. Bret and Angel Roberts may not have had the
largest house on the block, but what it lacked in size, it made up
for in character. Although the home was by no means small, it
didn’t possess the same towering qualities of the majority of homes
in the upper class neighborhood. Morrisbrook was one of the oldest
sections of town and it showed in the graceful lines of the
neighboring homes. The lots in the neighborhood were absolutely
enormous and the homes for the most part were original. All had
been well maintained and many had been updated over the past
hundred years. But the original designs had remained largely
unchanged. Two-story colonials and three-story Victorians graced
the landscape as far as the eye could see. Eighteenth century
moldings and towers stood as proud reminders of days long gone.
Ashley always called them castles whenever we drove past.

And then there was the Roberts’ house. Dad
was an architect; Mom was now an architectural designer, and it
showed in every inch of their property. My parents bought the house
at 404 Elm in 1978, and to the neighbor’s collective horror had the
original structure razed to make room for their dream home—a
single-story masterpiece that Mom referred to as “neo Spanish
Colonial.” I never did quite understand what that meant, but the
house had always reminded me of a Spanish villa with its red slate
tile roof and white stone walls. The grounds were beautifully
landscaped and professionally maintained.

Growing up, the yard had been my favorite
part of the property, my own private sanctuary. While Mike had been
poring over National Geographic and Megan had been playing
softball, I had been outside memorizing every detail and nuance of
every bit of plant life I could get my hands on.

The Japanese maple trees with their
red-purple spring blooms were always my favorite, because no two
were ever the same. The pushia tridentate was another favorite with
its white flowers in the summer.

I used to call them “wedding flowers.”

“It’s beautiful here, don’t you think?” I
opened Ashley’s door and lifted her from the car, swooping her into
a hug as I did so.

Mom and Dad’s red front door opened almost as
soon as our feet touched the porch.

“Well, I was wondering when you were going to
show up!”

“Grandma!”

“Hi, Mom. I can’t stay. I’ve got some
business to attend to, but I’ll be back tonight to get Ashley.”

“Take your time, dear. We’re going to have
lots of fun here, aren’t we, Ashley?”

“Yep! Bye, Mom!”

“Love you, be good.”

“I’m always good.”

“I know you are,” I whispered, long after the
front door had closed behind them. “I know you are.”

***

Mike was waiting for me when I returned home.
He was leaning against the porch smoking a cigarette when I came up
the walk and waved a hand through the thin smoke that curled around
him like a halo.

“Puffing away again, I see.”

“You want one?”

“Yes,” I groaned in misery.

“You sound like you’re having a rough
day.”

“Oh, you could say that.” I exhaled.

“Where’s Ashley?”

“I dropped her off with Mom and Dad so we
could talk in private. Come on, let’s talk inside.”

“Coffee?”

“Sit down; I’ll make a pot, but thanks for
offering.”

“What happened today that’s got you so on
edge?”

“I went to the police station this
afternoon,” I replied, measuring three scoops of ground coffee into
the basket and depressing the switch. “Lance Jones—the officer who
took our statements last week—called today with the lab
results.”

“Then why the trip to the station? What’s
wrong?”

“No, he only called to tell me that the
results from the fingerprint analysis were in. He asked me to go to
the station to discuss it. And everything is wrong.” I plunked
myself down onto the stool across from Mike and reached for another
cigarette.

“Don’t keep me in suspense. Did they find
anything?”

“You could say that.” I blew out a thick
stream of smoke and looked away. “The prints on the window belong
to Earl T. Atkins.” I eyed my brother while he digested what I had
just told him.

“Earl Atkins….” He frowned. “Who is Earl
Atkins?”

“He was thirty-two. He died a year ago in
the—”

“Backyard!” Mike blurted. “Earl Thomas
Atkins, right? You beat him to death with a garden shovel. I knew
the name sounded familiar.”

I glared at my brother across the table.
“Yes, that would be the Earl Atkins to which I was referring. But
he died in Bethesda Hospital, not in my backyard. And I did not
beat him to death with my gardening shovel. I only hit him with it
and he passed out…and, well, all right maybe he died after that,
but if I hadn’t hit him, he would have done a whole lot worse to
me.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Claire, that was
insensitive of me. You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Oh God, I shot that man in the cave too.” I
moaned and buried my head in my hands.

“Yes, and he would have killed you too if you
hadn’t.”

“I know! So why doesn’t that make it any
better?”

“It makes it a hell of a lot better.” Mike
was incredulous.

“I’m a monster, Mike, that’s what it makes
me.”

“A monster? Claire, you brake for squirrels.
You’re not a monster. And if anyone is to blame, it’s me for
getting you mixed up in that mess to begin with. Now pull it
together and tell me what the police said. Are you sure it was Earl
Thomas Atkins’s prints that were found on that glass?”

“Yes. They showed me two photographs of Earl
when I went in. The first was an old mug shot. At first I really
didn’t know who he was. He looked somehow familiar, but I couldn’t
place him. Then Lance Jones pulls out this photo that, if I had to
guess, came from the mortician.” I made a face and jumped up to
pour two mugs of steaming coffee. “Cream and sugar?”

Mike ignored the question. “Jones showed you
a picture of a dead man?”

“Yes, and it was definitely him. And then I
remembered the name. That night, well, that night is hard to
forget, if you know what I mean.”

“I can imagine.” Mike scrubbed a hand over
his face. “So what does this mean?”

“That he’s not dead?” I shrugged. “I don’t
know. I’m in shock right now. Damn it, I thought this was over a
long time ago.”

“Are they sure it’s him?”

“They seemed certain enough. As much as I
would love to believe that this is all some horrible mistake.”

“You don’t believe it’s a mistake.” It was a
statement, not a question.

“No, it’s not a mistake. He was here. Earl
Atkins was in my yard again last week. He was at Ashley’s school.
God, he went to Ashley’s school and all but gave her a message for
me.”

“Why now?” Mike’s face was drawn tight with
anger. “How long has he been sneaking around and spying? Why is he
trying to get to you after all this time?”

“Revenge? I’ve been thinking about it all
day, and it’s the only thing that makes any sense. Think about it.
He’s not trying to get to me so much as he’s trying to get at me,
for the moment at least. He’s showing that he can. He’s playing a
game.”

“For now.”

“Yes, for now.” I took a deep breath. “But I
can’t afford to assume he won’t take this thing all the way.”

“He’s already taken it too far,” Mike
declared with murder in his eyes. “He took it too damn far when he
set foot on your property the first time.”

“Well, the police are investigating now.
Jones wouldn’t tell me what they planned on doing, just that a
patrol car would make the rounds past my house once each night for
the next few days. Stay inside, keep the doors locked. The usual, I
guess you could say.”

“I just thought of something, Claire.”

“What’s that?” I added liberal portions of
cream and sugar to my coffee cup and focused on my brother.

“What if revenge isn’t the motive for Earl
coming back here? Or at least, what if it isn’t the only thing
motivating him?”

“I don’t follow. What else is there?”

“What else? Money. Who paid him to go after
you before?”

“Well, they weren’t able to prove it, but I
think we all know who to thank for that one.”

“John.”

“Exactly. The worm. If you ask me, fifty
years wasn’t a long enough prison sentence for that man.”

“He will probably be out on parole in ten
years,” Mike snorted.

“That’s our luck lately, isn’t it?” I sighed.
“Do you really think he is still trying to get to us, Mike?”

“I don’t know, Claire, but it’s worth looking
into, don’t you think? The prison where he’s serving his time is
not all that far away. What do you think?”

“I think if he could be trusted to tell us
the truth, it might be worth our time. But John is a liar and has
been from day one when he was married to Megan.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I’m right on this, Mike. As tempting
as it might be, seeing John would accomplish nothing.”

“Actually, it’s not all that tempting.”

“Yeah, I don’t relish the thought of spending
my Friday night in a prison either.”

“We still have to do something.”

“Like what? Investigate ourselves? Amateur
sleuth work?” I shook my head. “No, let the police handle it.
That’s their job. Besides, we already know what happened. Obviously
someone made a mistake last year. Earl Atkins didn’t die at that
hospital. And apparently he is holding a grudge. But who makes a
mistake like that? The police were involved in that case too.”

“They investigated his death as a homicide. I
remember.”

“That’s right, but the case was closed
without ever having been solved. The best they could figure was
that Earl was killed when the other men who were in my house with
him turned on him for some unknown reason. My name was never
mentioned, thank God.”

“What about the other one? The one you
shot.”

“They never found him. No blood. No gun.
Nothing. But there were two other sets of prints found in the house
besides Earl’s.” I frowned.

“No, not that. I meant the man that you shot,
where is he? Where has he been all this time?”

“What am I, clairvoyant?”

“Funny. But don’t you ever wonder where he
is?” Mike leaned forward anxiously.

“No,” I was quick to assure him. “I try not
to think of him at all.”

“What if he is a part of this thing that’s
happening now?”

“I don’t know. And short of him knocking on
the door and announcing ‘here I am,’ I don’t see how we could ever
find that out. But we know that Earl was definitely here. As for
the third man, well, I never even saw him. So I doubt that he has
any reason to be angry with me. At least, not angry enough to want
to harm me or Ashley.”

“Unless he was Earl’s brother. Either one of
them, half-brother, maybe. Or gay lover.”

I very nearly choked on my coffee and quickly
shoved the mug aside. “Gay lover?” I wheezed, trying to remember if
I’d ever heard of a pair of assassins that would match that
description.

“Okay, so maybe that is a stretch.” Mike
interrupted my thought. “But you have to consider the possibility
that the two, or three, of them were connected somehow, which would
lend itself to our motive for revenge theory.”

“Oh!” I pressed cool fingers to my temples.
“No, I do not. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Sorry. I’m just trying to figure this whole
mess out. I want you and Ashley to be safe.”

“I know you do, I’m sorry. It’s just that
this has me a bit on edge.”

“Understandable.”

“I’m worried about you too, Mike,” I told him
in a quiet tone.

“Why?” His brow furrowed.

“You were in this too. Last year. Maybe you
didn’t attack anyone like I had to, but you found that place. You
found the key to Terlain. What if they’re not just after me?” I
asked pointedly.

“It’s possible but not likely. We told John
that we destroyed both halves of the key. What point would there be
to sending someone after me now? He never cared about the
historical implications of a find like Terlain. He wanted nothing
more than to pilfer the land.”

“True. Anyway, I’m the reason he is doing
hard time. As far as he knows.”