Retribution (28 page)

He shivered as he lay staring at the shadows overhead. As he watched, the darkness congealed into thick bands, ribbons of emptiness, blacker than night. Groaning, barely able to breathe, he lay transfixed, watching, as the bands twisted together and created a body, then the outline of a face. Lillian's face.

Leaping from the bed, gasping for air that never reached his lungs, he groped for the light on the nightstand. As his fingertips found the ceramic base, the lamp flew into the darkness and shattered across the room.

Eyes wild with fear, he searched the darkness, looking for any break in the oppressive presence. Cold tendrils touched his face. Moaning, he slapped them away, only to have the strands of wetness return again, accompanied by icy fingers stroking his arms, his chest…

As he stumbled across the room, the blackness thickened around his throat. Pushing at the inky horror with one hand, he groped along the wall for the light switch. It should be there!

The smothering blackness encased his body in a chrysalis of death.

~*~

In spite of the warmth of the down blanket snuggled around her, Lillian lay awake. The past twenty four hours had been exhausting, yet her mind remained too full to allow sleep to enter.

There had been little time to comprehend Joe's death. But now, alone, visions of the blackened ring resting in the palm of Paul's hand burned behind her eyes. Tears slid down the sides of her face, wetting the pillow under her head. She let them fall, wondering if anyone else would grieve the man.

She reached across the bed and in the dark touched her Bible, still on the night stand where she kept it. How long had it been since she had actually picked it up and read words of wisdom and guidance? Not since Thanksgiving. Maybe tomorrow, tonight her mind rumbled with confusion.

Her mind latched onto the message from Paul that had been on her phone when she got back from the beach an hour ago. She had left her cell phone in her room on purpose, in no mood to talk after finding out about Joe, and then not having the strength to refuse Roger's offer.

Poor Paul. Concerned that he had upset her. Wanting to know if she would go to dinner. How many times had she refused him? Six? Seven? And each time her heart ached. That must be how Eve felt in the garden when confronted with the forbidden fruit, desiring what she couldn't have without appreciating the good right in front of her. Roger.

Was that the answer to the pain that clung to her heart? She really had not given Roger a chance as a romantic interest; she had been too busy fighting with herself over the fires. Too busy lusting after a man she couldn't have. A smile hovered on her lips as she thought of Paul as the “dangerous man” that women seemed to flock to. His slow demeanor and kind actions made him about as dangerous as a teddy bear, and yet, for her, it was not the man but his job that defined their relationship.

Drowsiness descended softly as the nighttime dew. She turned on her side and pulled the covers under her chin. What was Roger doing? All evening he had been distracted, putting his hand behind his back, and in his pocket. Her grandmother would have said he was fidgety. Almost as if he had planned to propose…

It was way too early in their relationship for that. But what if he had? What would she have said? As she contemplated her answer, sleep enveloped her.

21

Roger awoke on the floor by the bedroom door, curled in a ball, cold and stiff. Dawn seeped through the bottom of the curtains, gray and colorless. As awareness returned, he struggled to sit, the memory of the past night filling him with renewed dread. Running hands over his body, nothing seemed amiss. There were no visible signs of whatever had attacked him: no bruises or red marks. Nothing. Had he imagined the whole thing? Was it some major nightmare spawned by his failure to eliminate Lillian?

The shattered lamp lay against the closet. Thick bile coated the back of his throat; last night's spectacle had to be connected to the beast. He had begun referring to the darkness that lived in him as a beast years ago. It had made its presence known shortly after the first assignment. As the horror over his deed faded, giddy joy replaced it. The power he had wielded had felt good—more than good.

And then the waves of energy had rolled over him for the first time, like the accolades of the throngs of people. Lifting his arms in greeting, he had breathed in the essence that surrounded him, the fabric of invincibility. Never once did he question the source until now.

Something lived within him, something he could not control. He lay on the floor shaking.

The morning sun marched across the sky, leaving in its wake shifting strips of light under the curtains. He thought about his plight. He thought about the darkness. Confidence built within him, slowly at first, like a man learning to walk after a stroke. New thoughts connected, links he had overlooked.

Lillian would awaken believing he loved her. Could he use that to his advantage? After all, he had fostered the caring relationship; he had wanted her to depend on him, to seek his friendship. And he had succeeded, fooling even himself.

He rose from the floor with a new plan, one that felt more appropriate than being sacrificed to nature. Lillian would die in this house.

~*~

Lillian had chosen the DVD, but to be honest Roger had no idea what was on the screen. With her snuggled close to his side on the couch, stocking feet touching on the coffee table, all his attention focused on her nearness. He had never killed someone he had grown close to. The others had been worthless bits of humanity shirking their obligations to his boss. Death was their due.

He should have killed her sooner. That was the plan. What had happened?

Her face reflected the drama on the screen. She, at least, was totally caught up in the fictional story, oblivious to the reality unfolding around her.

The scent of perfume rose over that of the popcorn. Breathing deeper, he closed his eyes and held the scent in his lungs as long as possible. She was not the heartless demon he and his partner had thought her to be; she had only been doing her job. Not that it mattered. Only her death would free him.

The credits rolled across the screen. She clicked the television off and stretched her arms over her head, a soft smile spread across her face. “I love happy endings,” she said, settling back against his side.

He draped an arm over her shoulders; his heart aching over what he had to do.

“Life hasn't always been good for me,” she murmured. The intensity of her eyes burned into his. “I lost my husband and daughter in a house fire.”

For weeks, he had wanted to hear the story so he could wallow in her pain like a pig in mud. Now he wanted to close his ears and pretend it never happened.

“I should have been there.”

He put a finger softly against her lips. “You don't need to talk about it.”

She wrapped her hand around his and held it in her lap. “We had argued that morning.” Her voice was little more than a whisper as she stared across the room, seeming to focus on the closed blinds. “I had just finished a huge case and the preparation had been exhausting. The trial went on for weeks, and ended in a conviction. The man had ruined hundreds of lives by using his business as a front for drugs. I had hardly seen my husband and daughter in two months.”

Roger's mouth went dry. He didn't want to know this. “The past is over, Lillian. Let it be.”

“You don't understand the pain of seeing all you love going up in flames.”

Roger kissed the top of her head as his own pain surfaced. The words tumbled out. “I know better than you think. I lost my wife in a fire too.” Her hair felt soft under his cheek, a source of comfort as he talked. “Our baby daughter was born with birth defects. I found out later that Carla, my wife, had been eating the flaking paint off the windows. The doctor said depression can cause pregnant women to eat strange things like paint, or even dirt. Our daughter lived less than a day.” His voice choked. “Carla was never the same, and within a month she set fire to our house. She remained inside. The coroner said she was dead before the fire reached her.”

Lillian searched his face, her misty eyes haunted and yet filled with tenderness.

“It is my personal vendetta to never allow this to happen to anyone else.”

“The houses you control, do you know which ones have lead?”

He glanced at her, wondering at her question. She already knew the answer; she had to. “All our properties are inspected. If lead is found, the homeowners have it abated. Otherwise, I don't rent it to young families.”

“You have a way to work out your grief,” Lillian said.

“But there is always more grief to follow.” His resolve fled under the warmth of her touch; she would live another day.

~*~

As Lillian pulled into the drive of the bed and breakfast, the light filtered from the guest parlor window. Ted must have forgotten to turn it off when he went to bed. The creases in her forehead deepened; Ted never forgot.

When she pulled to the back of the house, her confusion increased. Nadine Blackwell's car sat in its assigned spot. Even though it was after midnight, several nights Lillian had heard the woman walking down the hall toward her room at well after three AM. The long hours must have finally caught up with the quiet woman.

Yawning, she quietly closed the outside kitchen door. Nights with Roger seemed to drain her energy and left her confused. Especially tonight. He had never mentioned the death of his wife and child before. And then, after sharing his story, he had seemed distant, as though regretting he had told her. One minute the man was warm and loving, the next a stranger.

Slipping off her shoes, she headed toward the parlor to turn off the light. No need for Ted to get a chewing-out from Trina about wasting electricity.

As she entered the room, she sucked in a lung-f of air, then exhaled and chuckled. She had expected the room to be empty.

Nadine sat in one of the straight-backed chairs reading. Her dark green silk robe shimmered against the light; the air hinted of her grandmother's perfume.

“Sorry to disturb you. I thought Ted forgot to turn out the parlor light.” She turned to leave.

“I would enjoy a few minutes of your company if you don't mind.”

They had rarely seen each other during the two weeks Nadine had been a resident at the bed and breakfast.

Lillian ached to crawl into her cozy bed and be alone with her thoughts, but, forcing a smile, she settled into the companion chair, wiggling to find a comfortable spot. Why would anyone sit in this room when the other parlor was so much more comfortable?

“I find it curious that a young woman with your talent is living here in this small town.” The woman waited, obviously expecting a response. Her hands remained folded in her lap, resting on top of her book.

Lillian wasn't sure what the woman wanted to know. “I came to teach political science at the local university.”

Nadine waved a plump hand in the air. “I know all that. What are you
really
doing here?”

“I…um.”

Nadine smiled. “Forgive my bluntness. I have been stuck in meetings for days and need some good old-fashioned girl time.” She sighed. “The whole business process is wearying. But, this will be my last assignment. I have accomplished my goals and can retire with the satisfaction of a life well-lived.”

“And what were your goals?” Lillian asked.

“To give the public what it demands.” She paused. “So, if you don't want to talk about why you are here in Darlington, can you share
your
life goal?”

She had never really thought about it. At one time, it would have been becoming a partner in a successful law office. To raise her daughter to adulthood. To grow old with Craig. But all of that had changed. She returned Nadine's stare. “My goal is to live whatever life God gives me.”

“And how will you do that?”

“God sends opportunities and—”

“Like moving to Darlington? Would that be an example of God's opportunities?” The woman curled her nose.

Lillian stiffened.

Nadine's rejection of God sounded too much like her father.

“I feel as if God led me to Darlington for a purpose.”

“And what else has God provided, or did He simply set you down in Darlington and expect you to deal on your own?” The woman smiled. “Oh, I see you squirm. Don't mind my questions. I love to study human nature, don't you? You must have done a lot of that as an attorney.”

The woman had a different personality at night. She had never been this abrasive in the mornings and Lillian regretted staying to chat. As for what God had provided, well, the parlor they were sitting in had been dressed with love, and the other rooms, her comfortable bedroom, the welcoming kitchen, the den where so many happy memories had been created, all were gifts from God. “Trina and Ted are the kindest people I have ever met. God wisely brought me here.”

“I see. And have you been able to make other friends?” Her penciled eyebrows rose slightly, giving her an owl-like appearance.

Lillian understood why the department store had sent Nadine to negotiate contracts. Her skill lay in getting information.

“You want to know if I have a boyfriend, and yes, I do.” As soon as the words flew from her mouth she stiffened, and then smiled as the shock of what she had just said circled back to her ears. Was that her answer? Were the weeks of ambiguity and doubt over? Was she finally willing to open her heart to Roger?

Nadine smiled. “So tell me about your young man. Does he return your affections?”

Conflicted and confused, she needed time to process this revelation. Half her mind focused on Nadine, the other half remained caught in the web of her confession. “Well, if you mean does he like me in return,” she stammered, “yes, he does.”

“So what type of man was able to win your heart?”