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Authors: Out of the Darkness

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal

Tymber Dalton (38 page)

BOOK: Tymber Dalton
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“You’re gonna have to teach them a lesson. Just like I taught Evelyn and them kids a lesson. Gonna git rid of us, you mark my words. You cain’t let that happen.”

Out of the darkness, the image of the curly-haired woman came to Steve. He screamed.

He blacked out. When he awoke, he was sitting at the old table, his hand on the whiskey bottle.

He wrapped his fingers tightly around it and took another swallow before putting it down.

It was all clear now. Sure, gonna have to teach them all a lesson.

“It’s all gonna change real soon.”

 

* * * *

 

Steve awoke on the couch. He sat up and tried to stand, his legs shaking. He tasted the whiskey, he wasn’t imagining it. Pog still cowered on the window seat, growling.

The basement door stood wide open.

He forced himself downstairs. Warm, dry clothes lay wrinkling in the dryer. The bookcase looked normal. He searched for a way to open it but after a few minutes his stitches hurt and he had to sit.

That’s when he spotted the unopened whiskey bottle, perched on top of an old end table.

He reached for it with trembling hands. He should dump it. It would be too much temptation. He brushed the dust off the label. 1907.

Steve stopped at the mop sink. He ran the water and broke the seal on the bottle, then tried to force his trembling hand to dump it. It wouldn’t budge. Crying, he replaced the stopper, rinsed the bottle, and shut the water off.

In the downstairs bathroom he lifted the lid on the toilet tank and slipped the bottle inside.

He went upstairs and took a shower. Eventually the tremors stopped. He didn’t want to know where the bottle came from. If Sami found it, she’d leave him. She would never believe he simply stumbled across it. And now it was open. She wouldn’t believe he didn’t drink from it.

He brushed his teeth for almost ten minutes, and gargled several times with mouthwash, even swallowing a little. Finally, the taste of whiskey disappeared.

He went downstairs and into the kitchen. Screw it. What good was having a full bottle of Valium if he didn’t use it? He took one and lay down on the sofa, praying for sleep. He was obviously delirious.

What had the man said? God, that had to be more vicious ramblings from my dementia. Sami and Matt are nothing more than friends. That’s all. It was just a
really
bad dream. Sami and Matt probably found the bottle hidden in something while cleaning the basement and simply forgot to throw it away.

Yes, that made sense.

They didn’t say anything to him about it because they didn’t want to upset him. Okay, that made even more sense. So he should tell her about it. If it was gone, she’d know he had it and not told her.

Thinking about the possibilities made his brain hurt.

Why couldn’t he dump it?

“I’ll throw it away when Sami and Matt are gone riding, so they don’t see the empty bottle in the trash. I’ll dump it and sling the bottle into the woods or bury it or something.”

Why not do it now?
he thought.

You know you wanted it, you took it from the secret room.

It’s a trap,
another voice in his head growled.
They wanted you to take it. Go put it back!

I can’t, they might come back and wonder what I’m doing. Besides, I’m tired, I’m so, so tired…

The Valium finally worked its magic, taking him into a blessedly dream-free darkness.

 

* * * *

 

Matt looked thoughtful. Sami felt loathe to interrupt him. He finally broke his silence. “I think you should go back to Ohio. Take the horses and Pog. I’ll stay here with Steve.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I couldn’t live with myself if Steve hurt you. You heard the warning. ‘You will have to stop him to stop George once and for all.’ I’ll stay here and work with Julie.”

“No. I won’t leave.”

“Sam, you’ve got the perfect excuse. Tell Steve you need a little space, just a couple of weeks. You said he asked if you wanted a separation. In that amount of time we can come up with a solution. Then, once it’s safe, you can come back.” Matt was actually thinking how to get Steve involuntarily committed, which would also solve the problem quite nicely, but he couldn’t with Sam at the house. She’d never allow it.

“No.” From the firm set of her mouth he knew he wouldn’t change her mind. It had been a long shot, but the only shot he’d had. “Matt,” she explained, “you don’t understand. I know I can’t stay married to him. I
won’t
stay married to him. He’s drinking. And I swore I wouldn’t go through that again, ever. Whether he realizes he’s drinking or not, or even why he started drinking or how long it’s been going on doesn’t matter. He’s a sick man, and I want to make sure I don’t leave him at the time when he needs us the most.”

Us.
That was promising. “How long do you hang around? Until he goes off the deep end and kills you?”

“That won’t happen. He’s back to his old self. In a couple of weeks, once he’s had time to heal from the surgery and the infection, we’ll be able to see how he’s doing, and I can break it to him then. It’s not like he’s not expecting it.”

Matt thought Sami was trying to paint the situation in the best light possible and ignore reality. “You heard the warning. I’m not leaving you alone here with him.”

She looked at him. “From the way Steve’s insisted on keeping us together, I doubt he’d let you.”

He spotted the home improvement store. “You might be right about that.”

A queue for plywood had already formed. Matt did some quick mental calculations and left Sami in the plywood line with instructions on how much to buy. He disappeared into the bowels of the store with a large cart. She had almost reached the front of the line when he reappeared, the cart full of supplies.

She looked at the load. “I understand the circular saw and drill, but why do we need block and tackle and a come-along?”

“Don’t ask. I’ll be right back.” He left the cart with her and disappeared again, this time returning with a twelve-foot extension ladder.

After checking out, Matt pulled the truck around. When they were loaded and on the road, Sami asked, “Block and tackle? Rope? Chain? A pry bar? What the hell? What’s the other stuff for?”

“The well cover.”

“Oh. I forgot about that.”

“That’s why I hid that stuff in the front compartment, in case Steve comes out while we’re unloading. No need for him to see it.”

“Good idea.”

The trailer rode a lot lower on the way home with over thirty sheets of plywood stacked inside. Sami hoped it wouldn’t be necessary to board the house because it would be a real bitch. She hoped she didn’t have to evacuate the horses either. They made a side trip to the store and purchased extra supplies, plus several jerry cans of diesel for the generator.

“Now we’re ready for anything,” she said. “Like the Apocalypse.”

 

* * * *

 

Matt backed the trailer up to the carport. “Go check on Boy Genius. I’ll unload.”

“Okay.”

Steve met her on the porch. “Wow, you filled that thing.”

“You told me to get supplies, I got supplies. What are you doing off that couch?”

“I’m going stir-crazy. Can I help?”

“Absolutely not. You want to end up in the hospital again?”

“Only if you’ll play naughty nurse with me.” Sami shook her head and pointed at the front door. She glanced behind her after Steve left. Matt looked up, red in the face. She was pretty sure it wasn’t from exertion.

He’d heard Steve’s comment.

She took Steve’s temperature before starting his IV meds. Normal. That was a good sign. Hopefully the doctor would discontinue the IV meds on Friday. She fixed lunch, and Matt took a break to eat with them in the living room.

“Did you buy the whole store?” Steve joked.

Matt smiled. “Not quite, but I’m sure your platinum card was smoking when Sam checked out.”

Steve laughed. Sami wistfully thought of the early days in their marriage when that laugh warmed her heart. It sounded deep and genuine, and she hadn’t heard much of it in the past couple of years. He had to be getting better, he seemed so…normal.

Too bad her trust had already been damaged beyond repair.

 

* * * *

 

Matt finished unloading and showered before they left for the real estate office. Sami and Matt agreed to wait until after the closing to tell Steve about Julie’s impending visit.

It started storming halfway there, adding to Sami’s jitters. She was nervous about meeting Shelly Johnson face-to-face. At the office they were shown to a conference room. They were the first ones there. The title clerk and notary came in and started going through the paperwork with them. Sami tried to tune out and simply nodded when she felt it appropriate.

The door opened, and an assistant escorted an elderly woman and middle-aged man into the room. The family resemblance was unmistakable.

Matt and Steve stood. The assistant introduced them. “Ms. Johnson, this is Steven and Samantha Corey and their attorney, Matthew Barry.” Everyone shook hands.

“My son, James,” she introduced, followed by another round of handshakes.

When they settled at the table, Ms. Johnson eyed Sami. “Apparently, your husband is extremely eager to buy this property. I’m not quite sure why.”

“It’s our anniversary on Friday.” He beamed. “Seven years.”

“Congratulations.” Shelly Johnson’s gaze didn’t waver from Sami. “Most men would buy jewelry.”

Sami felt compelled to answer. “My husband’s very generous.”

“Apparently.” An uncomfortable moment of silence. “Please excuse us for a moment. I’d like to speak with Mrs. Corey. Alone.”

Sami’s stomach tightened. The others exchanged slightly puzzled looks. James Johnson touched his mother’s shoulder.

“Mom, I—”

“James.” She looked at him. “I’ve owned this property for a very long time. Some might say too long. I would like a moment to talk to the new owner. Alone.”

Everyone filed out of the conference room. Matt, the last out, sent Sami a concerned look she couldn’t return. Shelly Johnson took her time, pouring herself a glass of water and taking a sip.

“When we talked on the phone a few days ago, you were looking for more information about the house,” Ms. Johnson said. “Have you found what you were looking for?”

Sami wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I don’t know if there are answers to all the questions I have.”

“How much have you seen at the house?” she finally asked.

“Beg pardon?”

The older woman smiled. “There’s no reason to play coy, Mrs. Corey. I am well aware of the house’s special nature. I saw enough proof with my own eyes, and I know enough of the background.”

Sami carefully considered her answer. “I’ve seen enough.”

“And yet you still want to buy it?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

Sami didn’t have answer. Might as well tell the truth. “My husband is in love with it.”

“Ah. And how in love is your husband with
you
?”

Why are we having this conversation?
“I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“Your husband had surgery recently, I heard through the grapevine. How has he been acting?”

“Fine, other than he was very sick with infection.”

“And is that how you received those?” She pointed to Sami’s right hand. “Infection?”

Sami dropped her hands in her lap. “I sliced my hand open on the barbed wire fence when petting one of my horses.”

“That’s not how you hurt your wrist.”

“Ms. Johnson,” Sami said, impatient, “what does this have to do with us buying the house?”

Shelly Johnson sat back, and Sami sensed the inner strength this woman possessed.

Sami also saw an image in her mind, of a figure in the bedroom doorway, and a much younger Shelly Johnson screaming, hysterical.

Back in the present, Ms. Johnson nodded. “The house has a way of showing you things, doesn’t it?”

“We want to buy the house.”

“You understand your husband is in danger as long as the two of you stay there, don’t you? I warned you about that.”

Sami shook her head. “He’s fine.” She involuntarily reached for the onyx pendant around her neck. “He’s fine, and yes, the house apparently has some stories to tell, but as writers, it’s extra fodder for our work.”

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

“I would think the offer of extra money is more than enough incentive.”

She waved Sami’s comment away. “My son is handling this. I’m too old to fight him anymore. I don’t have the energy. He never knew his father. I’m convinced the house killed Jim. I don’t know exactly how, but it did. My son wants me to let go once and for all. He’s been after me for years to sell it, and he finally put his foot down when your husband offered well over the asking price. He never lived there, I won’t allow it.”

BOOK: Tymber Dalton
13.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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