House of Cabal Volume One: Eden (12 page)

There was a noise from the back of the
house.

“Meredith?”

It sounded like it was coming from his study,
like an intruder was ransacking his work.

It was Meredith rifling through his
files.

“What are you doing?”

When she saw him, she ran to him without
hesitation, and they embraced.

“Where have you been?!” She stepped back and
gave him the most burning glare she could manage with teary eyes.
Her fine auburn hair was in a ratted mess. The bags under her eyes
were swollen from the late night of worrying, her forty-nine years
in stark evidence across her brow. Chuck thought that, even if she
didn’t look her best, she still looked beautiful.

“I’m fine, sweetie. I tried calling you this
morning.”

“My phone isn’t working.”

He switched off the mobile phone jammer near
his desk. “You were by the jammer.”

“What?”

He hadn’t told her about the jammer.
Technically they were illegal.

“It doesn’t reach much farther than my
office. I use it when I’m working so I don’t get distracted. I must
have forgotten to turn it off.”

She tried her best impression of silent
outrage.

“I didn’t mean to worry you, honey. There
were complications and I couldn’t really call you last night. You
know how these interviews go. Hey, I said I would be back by
ten.”

“Ten P.M. yesterday!”

“Can we go sit down?” The rape attempt
rumbled in the back of his mind, and he just wanted to say how much
he loved her and for her to return the sentiment. He didn’t have
the energy to argue.

She didn’t move except to cross her arms.

Scattered behind her on his desk were photos
of bloated bodies washed up on the beach.

“I couldn’t get a hold of you on your cell. I
went through your files to find out where Grimes lived—”

He collected the photos into a file.
“Meredith, I didn’t tell you the gory details because I know you.
You sleep with a night light.”

“Chuck?! Some of those people weren’t killed
in the quake. That one didn’t even look human. What the hell
happened there?”

“Meredith, stop. I was hypnotized.” Once it
was out, he knew it sounded stupid.

“You were what?”

“Please, can we go sit? I’ll explain
everything. I’m just really tired.”

“Chuck, are you all right?” She put her hand
on his shoulder.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

She followed him. They sat down together on
the couch in the front room.

Meredith pulled out her cell phone and saw
that it was working again. With a few taps, the front curtains
opened, bathing the room in natural light.

“I’m fine. I was just really worried. Talk to
me. We haven’t really talked since you started researching this new
book.”

He looked down at his hands. He was having
second thoughts about telling her.

She tried to coax him. “I was lost without
you yesterday. The bank called. I had no idea what to tell them.
And I had to find a new vet for Biff. Kathleen helped me, but who
knows if they’re any good.”

Chuck took her hands. “You have always been
stronger.” She shook her head, but he continued. “No, I realize
that now. When Bobby tried to kill himself, I shut off. But you,
you were angry and loving and unafraid.”

“Chuck! I was so afraid. We could have lost
him!”

“You were there for him.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You got him help. He opened up to you. I
never told you this, but I was jealous.”

“Of what?”

“I couldn’t face him. Or you. I just… I mean,
our only son wanted to die, and I…” His voice subtly trembled from
being so open. “I’ve talked to him maybe once about being gay. I
don’t know what I’m doing. I freeze up. I interview people for a
living and I can’t even talk to my own son about anything that’s
important. My dad struggled with depression his whole life, and he
never talked about it. He just sort of powered through and his
marriage fell apart and… I don’t know. I feel like a coward.”

“You just went to a killer’s house. You’re
not a coward.”

“I love you. I don’t say it enough. I’m sorry
for being so distant…and stupid.”

“It’s okay. You can’t help it.”

He tried not to laugh. “I’m serious. I’ve
been burying myself in my work.”

“It’s what you do.”

“More than usual, I mean.”

“To avoid me?”

He shook his head, but she wasn’t exactly
wrong. “Everything got so big. Everything just... You’re more
important to me—I know I don’t always show it, but you’re more
important than my book.”

She squeezed his hand, thinking he was acting
out of character. He wasn’t one to get sentimental like this.
“What’s going on? Did something happen?”

He leaned forward and gently kissed her. He
felt safe, ready to tell her anything. But what could he say? He
had witnessed a sexual assault that happened in someone else’s
memory? It sounded insane.

“I went to Mr. Grimes’s house, and he…” Chuck
paused, searching for a better way to say it. “He thought of a
unique way to tell his story. He hypnotized me so that I regressed
with him into his past. My mind made everything he said real.”

“Chuck! Hypnotic regression? Can’t that be
dangerous? I know I let you have that hypnotist at your party,
but…”

“I didn’t realize it was happening until it
was over. He hypnotized himself too.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He relived his past and described it to
me.”

“Did he relive his murders?”

“He has a lot of issues, but I don’t think
he’s a murderer. He reminds me of Bobby in a lot of ways.”

She shook her head.

“There must be some reason he wasn’t charged
with anything, some reason the FBI swept the whole thing under the
rug. He’s not that far into his story yet. I’m going back tomorrow
to find out.”

“You’re letting him mess with your mind
again?”

“I need to do this.”

She took her hands from his. “Have you read
Bobby’s novel yet? You promised him that you would talk to him
about it tomorrow.”

“Not yet. This is important.”

“Bobby is important. It’s really good.”

“You read it? He gave it to me! It’s a work
in progress. He didn’t want just anyone reading it. Oh, you know
what I mean.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Fine. It’s just as well. He at least
respects you. He obviously thinks I’m a fucking sellout.”

“Chuck, you can’t keep using your work as an
excuse to push people away.”

“You didn’t judge Bobby. You were
understanding. I need you to understand me.”

“What am I suppose to understand? You’re just
being stubborn. Postpone the interview a few days. Better yet,
don’t go back at all.”

Chuck shook his head and said quietly, “I
can’t do that.”

She stood up, too angry to sit still. “You
always do this. You say how important I am—you give this long
speech about the importance of family—but nothing changes.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple!”

He patted the cushion. She refused to sit
back down.

“Bobby doesn’t need advice from his stuffy
father. He’ll be fine without my help.”

“You don’t need to do this. We don’t need the
money.”

“It’s not about the money. This isn’t like
the others. What happened at the estate haunts Everett. And he’s
running out of time. He has a brain tumor. I can’t fight about this
anymore. I know you’re upset, but I’m exhausted, and I still need
to call Warren.”

He stood up and hugged her; he wanted to hold
her longer, but she pushed him away.

“Listen to the interview tapes. They’re in my
briefcase by the front door. After you hear them, you’ll
understand. Trust me.”

“I need to finish grading papers before
class. I know you love your work, that it means the world to you,
I’ve always understood that, but that doesn’t mean you have to
alienate our children.”

“I’ll spend time with Bobby next week. I
promise.” He gave her a smile that he hoped showed her how much he
loved her. “Could you ask Carlos to whip up something for
breakfast? I’m starving.”

She gave him a light kiss. “Chuck, if you
ever worry me like that again...” She suddenly looked upset.

“I have it under control.”

She left the front room thinking that the man
she loved was probably a selfish bastard from the beginning.

Carlos was out, likely buying groceries, and
so Meredith decided to be daring and scramble up some eggs on her
own. On the master keypad on the wall, she pressed “Morning” and
the blinds in the kitchen rose, the coffee machine started, and the
satellite radio turned on to NPR. She ignited a gas burner and
looked for a pan.

Over the years, as Chuck’s career took off,
she became increasingly dependent on a whole staff to run her
relatively modest house. She wasn’t proud of the fact, especially
after the kids left the house and she had nothing to do. On the
advice of her life coach, she decided to go back to teaching
algebra three days a week at a local community college to feel
useful again. That was years ago, and now it wasn’t enough; each
day, she felt more and more like a kept woman.

Chuck had never been that enthusiastic about
her pursuing her own interests. She was an emotional safety net
that gave him courage to write, and if she had a life of her own,
that safety net might not be there. He only showed her affection
when his ego was fragile from writing setbacks. A part of her hated
him for that, but it had been that way forever. She always pined
for him, and he always promised to make her a priority.

He wasn’t going to change, but maybe she
could.

She texted her friend Kathleen Davis, a
colleague from the college. “New game plan. Call me.” Meredith
called the agency, gave her personal assistant the week off, and
said that she wouldn’t be needing Carlos’s services anymore. “No,
Carlos is amazing. I would be glad to write him a glowing
recommendation. It’s just, I’ve decided to do my own cooking for a
while.”

How ironic it was to declare her independence
by making her husband a meal. It was only a first step, and she
decided not be so hard on herself. The rubbery eggs were okay with
a little extra salt and pepper. If Chuck noticed a difference, he
didn’t say. Like always, he was too wrapped up in his work to
notice much of anything.

Chapter 8

Cassette Tape Five:

In the Box

Within the gray fuzz of entering regression,
you hear windshield wipers thut thut thut and a well-tuned engine
quietly hum. Welcome back, Chuck.

You hear a warm female voice in front of you:
“When we get there, you can take a hot shower. You’ll figure
something out.”

And then my deeper voice, to the right of
hers. “Do you do this often?”

“What? Take home naked guys off the
street?”

“Yeah.”

“Almost never.”

Before the fuzz clears completely, you run
your hands over the leather interior of the backseat to reassure
yourself that this reality is solid.

We are in Dana Parr’s 2000 Audi S4. I asked
about the model; otherwise, I would have no idea.

With Dana’s coat draped over my lap, I lift
my hips and pull off my wet, cold boxer shorts. I spread my legs
and lean forward so that my scrotum rests against the heated seat.
It’s perverted, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let my balls freeze off.
I warm my hands over the air vents. The newspaper and package are
on the floor at my feet.

“So you were in your underwear, and you just
ran for it?” A red light stops us on the outskirts of downtown. “I
would have never done something so crazy.” She laughs and adds,
straight-faced, “No offense.”

“I did it without thinking. I’m not usually
like this.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

The traffic light turns green.

“I’m serious. I don’t want you to get the
wrong idea.”

I’ve been glancing at her legs. Her elegant
red dress has ridden up and now reaches mid-thigh. People mentally
undress me, but it’s not threatening. She has to size men up. Any
man could be a predator. How safe does she feel with me?

She must think about rape every day.

“And what idea is that?”

In my mind, my hand glides along her soft
skin, past her knees, between warm inner thighs. Warmth. I’m so
cold, and she would be so warm. She is driving us to her house,
expecting sex. I have no doubt about that. I’ve never had a
one-night stand before.

I catch myself and look back up into her
face. “I reached my breaking point.”

She looks concerned.

I rub my hands together to keep the blood
circulating. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You have the package. Why haven’t you opened
it? Couldn’t this one have a time limit too?”

“You’re right.”

I grab the package from the floor and pull at
the twine with my cold fingers. The knot is too tight, and so I try
to loosen it with my teeth.

“There should be a pocket knife in the glove
compartment.”

I find a Swiss army knife under the car
insurance information and unfold the largest blade.

The idea of stabbing Dana flashes in my mind.
A stab with such a short blade wouldn’t kill anyone. It would have
to be slashes.

I cut through the twine and tape and picture
cutting people at the gay bar. My attacker gets kicked in the face.
Blood drains from his broken nose. His whisper brushes my ear as he
presses into me. I would like it. He told me so.

Despite my rain baptismal, I’m still
unclean.

Worried I’ll somehow cut myself accidentally,
I return the knife to the glove box and slam the door shut.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing.”

She glances at me, her brow wrinkling. “You
just seem…”