Dark Beach

SEVEN





“I’ve been by this house many times. It always seems really familiar, but I don’t think I’ve never been in.” Kurt followed her up the peeling steps to the porch. “Do you always leave your front door wide open?”

“What? I thought I locked it before I left.” Jenny stopped in her tracks and motioned for Kip to back up.

“Do you want me to go in?” Kurt gave her an uncertain frown.

“I don’t know. I know I locked it. I would never forget to lock it.”

“I’ll go in.” He shook his head, to still the last twinges of the headache that had been bothering him all day. It was beginning to fade as the narcotics did their job. Just in time. He really couldn’t be bothered with the extra hassle at that moment.

Jenny stayed back.

“Blue—that’s your color isn’t it?” he yelled out to Jenny.

“What is he doing?” She tapped her foot nervously.

“Mamma?” Kip wandered out the front door.

Kurt emerged right after her. “I don’t see a thing. The place is quiet. There’s an old lady asleep on the couch. I suppose she must have left it unlocked.”

“I guess.” Jenny sighed. So much for baby-sitting. She followed him back in, with Kip behind them, but stopped at the dining room. “Something’s wrong. I didn’t put that lantern on the table. Are you sure you looked everywhere?”

“Every closet, the bathrooms, all the way up to that picture of my father in the hall leading to that funny-shaped room. What’s going on there? You never mentioned that on our lunch date.”

“I wasn’t sure it was him.”

“Why’s he up there? I lived in Rocky Shores my whole life, and I had no idea he had any association with this house.”

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” she said, finally.

“That’s obvious.”

After moving the lantern into the kitchen cupboard and out of sight, Jenny opened the fridge and poured a glass of milk. “Do you want one?”

“Just water.”

“One second, okay. I’ll be right back.” Taking the glass of milk, she called, “Kip, come on up, please,” and went upstairs. Kip followed reluctantly until Jenny set up some toys and books for her to play with. “Here’s some milk. Just play a bit and I’ll be up soon.”

Back downstairs, she gently shook Molly Coggington awake.

“Oh ... oh, my dear, I must have dozed off.” Molly rubbed her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jenny. Kip?” she queried, embarrassed.

“Upstairs,” Jenny answered.

“I am sorry,” Molly Coggington mumbled. “I guess I better be on my way. I see you have company.” She nodded in Kurt’s direction.

Kurt sat in the rocking chair, gazing out the window at the dune grass stirring in the ocean winds. Jenny saw Mrs. Coggington the door, and eventually took a seat across from him, on the stiff blue couch. They sat in awkward silence.

“So are you going to tell me why my Dad’s photograph is up there?”

She pulled a blanket over her lap. “Gerry, my husband’s Nana, and your father were good friends, maybe more. He even visits her at the retirement home.”

“He does.”

Jenny nodded. “I think they may have been romantically involved.”

“My old man?”

“Yes. Maybe I should have mentioned it before, but you know, I got sidetracked.”

He responded with a breathy, “Yeah. It makes sense now I think about it. All this time... He’s always been secretive. I knew he was up to something. Thought he was just gambling. Turns out he had a woman on the side, the old codger. He looks good in that picture, old, but better than he looks now. I thought Gerry was married. I know of her. I knew this was her house.”

“It’s still her house.”

“You just vacationing then, for fun?” The words were said in a tone, and with a smirk, that Jenny ignored.

“We may buy it.”

“You should.” Kurt raised his eyebrows.

Jenny stood up. “Enough of that.”

“You brought me here.” Kurt stood too, then quickly sat back down.

“I just…” She was speechless, one hand raised. “Whatever.”

Kurt waited; he was a very patient man.

“I just don’t want to be alone here,” she carefully ventured.

“I know,” he said with a smile. “I know.”



* * *



“Two men down. Ah was expectin’ more,” said Carl with resignation.

“Me too. This place is almost up to speed. I’m surprised we’ve been able to clean up the debris so quickly.” Ron patted the side of the sub, as if it were his pride and joy.

“We’re on overtime—that’s why. I’m sure they all want to go home.” Carl flipped over some papers on his clipboard.

“I’m salary,” said Ron.

“HA!”

“I just get a bonus.”

“Ah bet it’s big, though.” Carl spread out his arms.

Ron just grinned. “When will the hammerhead crane be here?”

“Early. Early tomorrow, about five, give or take thirty minutes. You better get some shut-eye. Ah’ll be up in the bunk in my office.”

“You’re not heading home to the missus?” asked Ron.

“Divorced.”

“Oh.”

“It just wasn’t working for the both of us. It’s the way it’s supposed to be, Ah guess.”

“Well, I better call mine. She’s been up to ... stuff.”

“Better be good stuff.” Carl winked.

“I don’t know about that,” said Ron. “Goodnight. Call me if anything happens, otherwise I’ll be back.”

“Right.”

The hotel room was no haven. There was no view and nothing to do besides leave, down some bitter decaf, and eat a dry, dense energy bar from the vending machine. It was warm out, so Ron took a seat by the well-lit pool and dialed Jenny’s number. The line rang and rang. Just when he thought her voicemail would pick up, she answered. “I found him, oh Ron.”

The distress in her voice immediately sent his heart racing. “Tell me.”

“He’s at the Vet Clinic. He could die.”

“Slow down. Slow down. Start from the beginning.”

“The basement out back...”

“Yeah. You mean the stuff hole—that’s what we called it anyway. It’s just a bunch of old garbage down there.”

“Well, I went down there nights ago. I was bored. I found some journals. I think they belonged to your mother. Anyway, Charlie … he must’ve followed me and I didn’t know.”

“Oh no.”

“He got his foot caught in an old metal mousetrap.”

“Ugh. Granddad put those in there years ago. We had a problem, but I thought we got them all.”

“You didn’t. He’s in bad shape.”

Ron rose from the cedar chair and walked along the rectangular pool edge. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll go back in the morning. I’m home now, and I’m going to bed soon. I wish you were here.”

“Me too. I hate being away from you.”

“I … I messed up. Charlie is hurt because of me. I’ve not been myself.”

“You took him in for help; you’ve done the right thing. I’m going to try to leave here as soon as I can.” He continued to stride around the pool.

“You are?”

“Yes. I’m thinking maybe tomorrow.”

“That’s good news. You could be here for our last week. I won’t get my hopes up, but … my God. You have no idea.”

“We’re very close now.” Ron hoped that was the truth. He sat back down on the cedar chair. “I just have to finish this.”

“Okay. I’ll keep it together. I can do this.”

“You can. You always could.”

Jenny huffed down the line. “We’ll see.”

“But I do need you to go visit Nana. Do you think you could do that for me?”

“We already got into this.” Her voice sounded strained.

“Please?”

“You’re really that worried about her?”

“Mom’s cut me off from information about her; there has to be some reason.”

“Call her.”

“I’ve tried. She won’t answer.”

“Fine.”

“Really.”

“I’ll go. I’ll go tomorrow. Just don’t expect much, please. If anything happens like it did last time…” her voice trailed off.

“Okay.” Ron ran his fingers through his hair. It felt grimy and smelled like smoke, even after a shower. “If you feel uncomfortable, leave, just as long as you get a look at her.”

“I’ve got to go,” she said flatly.



* * *



The little bedroom that had been allocated to Kip was cozy with little boats scattering the wallpaper and a friendly faced crescent moon in the corner.

Jenny bent over Kip, pulling the blankets up to her daughter’s chin. “Good night little one. I love you.”

“Love oo.” Kip snuggled into the covers.

Jenny placed one last kiss on her daughter’s head and left the door ajar just a whisker—Kip’s wish.

“He wants me to go see Gerry,” Jenny told Kurt as she padded back down the blue stairs.

“Who does?”

“Ron.”

He frowned. “Who’s Ron?”

“My husband.”

“Oh yeah. Him.” Kurt looked perfectly comfy sprawled on the sofa.

“I have beds. You sure you want to sleep on the couch?”

“This already feels better than my bunk. It can be pretty uninviting, especially when a hard wave kicks up. Some nights I sleep better than others. I always sleep better after a big catch.”

She tossed him another cushion for his head. “Do you need more blankets?”

“I’m just fine, thanks.”

“Anything else?” She loitered by the stairs.

Kurt gave her a long, knowing look, raising one eyebrow.

She snickered. “Good night then.”

Kurt raised the other brow, but never said a word.

The fisherman has returned, she thought.

The master bedroom, as comfortable as it was, lacked the panoramic view of the hex room, which had become her hideaway, even if the fold-out bed wasn’t as good. Jenny hopped in and propped herself up on the pillows.

“Tell me more,” she said, as she opened up to the middle of one of the spiral notebook journals.



He called again. The phone rang and rang. I wasn’t going to answer, but I did anyway. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t. I can’t help it. Hung up on me again. Sometimes the calls come daily, sometimes just once a week. I’ve had them traced, but it’s an unknown number. I’m sure it’s him. I’m sick of it. Just sick of it. I don’t even go out any more. I bought a pile of vegetables so I can pickle them to avoid going out. I spent all day preserving, cutting vegetables. I cut and I cut and I cut them.



Jenny closed the notebook. “I can’t read this crap. I’m going to have nightmares.” Immediately, she opened it back up to a different page.



He wants us to get back together. We fought, then had make-up sex. It was boring, as it always is. I wish he’d just leave me alone.



Again, she shut it quickly, keeping her finger in the page. Then opened it back up.



I just lie there and think of other things, mostly the stories in my books or that nice man at the post office.



Jenny shoved the notebook under the bed. I don’t need to know that. I really don’t, she thought. That was enough for her for the night.



* * *



“I’ve never seen one so big.” Ron stood at the very top of the concrete dry dock, gazing out into the San Diego Bay.

“She’s the biggest we could get—order went in a coupla days ago, amazed that the barge got her down here so quick.” Carl, too, stared at the black, hammer-shaped crane pointed directly at them.

“How they hell does it even float? How does it not tip over?”

“Engineering at its finest. Speaking of my finest, you ready?”

“They’re cutting the emergency release door pins now.” Ron tilted his head towards the action and Carl leaned over the top to get a look. “As soon as they’re done, we’ll flood it. The sub is manned and ready to go.”

“Happy to see her leave,” said Carl. “Ah’ll stand by up here, if you want to climb down to balcony three.”

“Sure.”

They split up and took their positions watching the sparks fly as the welders did the job.

“All right, the pins are cut. The men are out. Flood the dock,” Ron called, and Carl gave the signal to the crew in the dry dock tower.

Dirty bay water gushed in from ports around the top, slowly filling the dock and covering the sub until it was afloat.

Ron smiled. “Boy, look at that—the USS Mac Roy. The Admiral is going to be very happy. Okay!” He signaled to the divers.

In full gear, they jumped in. There was a gut-wrenching spark, a flash, and a loud ZAP—a sound so horribly unnerving that it meant only one thing.

“F*ck!” Ron yelled. “Cut the power, cut the power. There’s a live wire! Cut the power.”

“It’s down by you!” Carl yelled. “Behind you!”

Ron opened up the panel behind him and shut off every switch he saw, then immediately spun 180 degrees and dove twenty feet into the cold water, barely missing the sub.

The divers were nowhere to be seen. Ron swam towards the doors, took a big breath in, and dove down. Five feet down he felt one of them. Reaching behind the diver’s neck, he yanked the cord to inflate the man’s emergency life vest. He continued down deeper, through the dim blur of green bay water, searching for an outline of some kind. He couldn’t see anything.

Running out of air, Ron swam back to the surface and inhaled deeply again, then kicked back down, faster and even deeper. His ears ached with the pressure, but he saw a dark shape. Fumbling in the murky water, he felt the air tank up to the man’s neck and pulled the cord. Together, they floated back to the surface. Ron awkwardly swam the floating divers to a dry dock ladder.

“I need help down here,” he called. “We need to get them up, they’re not breathing.

Three marines climbed down. Two took the first diver while Ron helped with the second.

“We need defibrillators. Get these tanks off.” Ron pulled one tank off and then rolled the young diver over onto his back and unzipped his wetsuit.

Someone had already started CPR on the other diver, so Ron began pumping the younger diver’s bare chest while the marine gave breaths until the AED kits were rushed over and shock pads applied. Don’t you drown, he urged. Don’t you dare drown! He shook his head at the echo of those words.

“ALL clear. ALL clear.” The warnings rang out as both divers were shocked back to life.

The first diver began to cough, but the second, who had remained in the water longer, remained lifeless. Ron pumped his muscular chest until they called again, “ALL clear.”

The diver’s chest heaved as the shock went through him, and he began to cough. Medics scrambled over and strapped the divers to gurneys escorting them off in ambulances.

Ron, kneeling there in disbelief, wondered how a man could be electrocuted just like that, and then, with just a little current, be brought back to life.



* * *



“Is scrambled okay?” Jenny added a dollop of butter to the hot pan.

“Fine.” Kurt sat at the dining table and sipped his pulpy orange juice. “I need to get back to the shop.”

“I’m hurrying. I at least owe you breakfast.”

“Can I take that picture with me?”

“Barney?” She whisked the eggs again with a fork and poured them in. “Yeah, why not. It’s not like Gerry will be back over here ever again.”

“Have you met her?”

“Yes.” Jenny frowned.

“Why the cranky tone?”

She kept her eyes focused on the eggs, pushing the soft piles around the pan with an egg flip. “She’s not well. I don’t want to get into it.”

“You already have.” Kurt downed the rest of the juice and set the glass back on the table. Then leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, waiting.

“Alzheimer’s.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s sad—very sad.”

“Maybe I’ll go over there sometime.”

Jenny shook the pan and then slammed it down hard. “No! Don’t go over there.”

“But I want to now, because you said that.”

“You’re one of those types? Really?” She dished the eggs out into a steaming pile on a white and blue plate and passed him his hot breakfast.

“Tabasco?” He asked, one eyebrow raised again.

“Here.” She sat next to him and poured cornflakes into a bowl for herself. “She really isn’t well. You don’t want to see that.”

“You forget that I take care of an ailing man every day, and he sees her.”

“Still, he never told you—for a reason.” Jenny crunched down hard on her cereal.

“Yeah, I’m wondering about all this now,” he said, forking up the eggs and pausing for a minute to chew. “Why the big secret? My mother has been gone for decades, and Gerry, well, didn’t her man pass some time ago? None of it makes sense—none at all.”

“I don’t know. Ron rarely speaks of his folks, let alone Gerry. I just found out about all this when I got here. I’ve been reading some journals.”

“Ohhhhhhhh.” Kurt tilted his head.

“No, it’s not like that. I found them—accidentally.”

“Whose?”

“I don’t know. Ron’s mother’s, I think.”

“What’s she got to do with all this?” He stopped shoveling eggs for a minute and stared at her intensely.

“Something … she has something to do with it. I’m trying to find out.”

“You shouldn’t be reading the dead’s journals,” he said.

“She’s not dead! What are you talking about?”

“I’m confused.”

“Eat your eggs.”

She gave Kurt the black and white picture and dropped him back to the tackle store. Driving off, seeing him in the rearview mirror, still standing out front of the shop, she wondered if she would see him again. Intuition told her she would.



* * *



“See Charlie?”

“Maybe, Kip. We’ll see what happens when we get in.” She pulled the car to a stop outside the veterinarian’s surgery.

The first thing Jenny did was ask the unscrupulous, slinky secretary for her insurance card back.

“You can take a seat now. The doctor will be right out.” Jean continued typing, her red acrylic nails clacking on the keys.

The same yellow roses sat before her, slightly wilted now and with a few missing petals and a new vase.

“Good morning.” Doctor Shooner loomed before them in green scrubs partly covered by a pristine white coat.

Jenny stood and shook his outreached hand.

“I have good news and bad news,” he warned.

Jenny’s mind flashed back to every speech she’d ever heard from medical types. Why did it always start with that cliché? She said nothing.

“He’s stable. He made it through the night. He’s had plenty of fluids, and he’s opening his eyes.”

Jenny put her hands to her heart. “Are you serious? He’s okay? Really … I barely made it through the night.”

“I had to amputate his hind leg; he had a systemic infection.”

Jenny winced as another woman, her hands full with a fuzzy orange cat, entered the surgery.

“Come out back with me,” said the vet.

Nodding, she followed.

Charlie lay on a pet bed with a green blanket over him and a warming lamp above. “Oh!” Jenny and Kip ran over. “You poor thing. Poor Charlie.”

The sleepy little dog wagged his tail half-heartedly.

“I’m going to take you home with me. Don’t worry.”

He whimpered.

“Now, he is on pain medication and antibiotics, which you will have to cut in with his meals, and he may not have a very good appetite for the first few days, so you’ll need to make his food look irresistible.”

“I can do that.” Jenny kissed the dog’s wet snout.

“And he’ll have to wear this sling, but not at bedtime. It’ll take him a while to adjust to having only three paws. The muscles have to develop, and some dogs adapt to it quicker than others. Could be a week, could be a month, but you’ll need to help him about in the first few days.”

“Can I look?”

“Yeah, go ahead. You can take him with you today.”

She lifted the blanket. White bandages covered Charlie’s fresh stump. All she could do was close her eyes and sigh.

“Here’s a neck cone, in case he starts biting at his wound; so far he hasn’t, which is unusual.”

“He’s a good dog.”

“I’m sure he is, but the wound may get itchy as it heals. Just play it by ear. We’ll give you a discharge pack with all the instructions and all the medications you’ll need. Give him antibiotics twice a day and painkillers every six hours. Do you have any questions?”

Even knowing whether she had any was beyond her at that point; they would probably creep up later. “No.”

“Okay, you can check-out up front. I’ll help you out to your car. Do you have a bed for him?”

“Yes.”

“You may want to contain him in one room for a few days. Keep him quiet.”

Shaking her head at all the information, Jenny signed the papers at the front desk. “Five thousand dollars!”

“If you could sign there, please; you have a co-pay of twenty percent.” Jean put the form on the counter, along with a horrible pen made to resemble a flower.

“We take all major credit cards. No checks. Cash is okay.”

“Oh boy.” Jenny fumbled around in her worn purse, looking for her card. “Where is it? I know it’s here … there, got it. Here you go.”

Jean finally smiled.

Jenny turned her back to her and leaned against the counter. “It’s okay.”

Kip took her hand.

“Excuse me?” Jean said.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Sign here and date by the X.”



* * *



“I can’t believe that just happened.” Ron had changed into his back-up clothes: jeans, a white shirt, and a heavy black coat.

“We missed it,” said Carl.

“We all did. And I know the electric guys checked all the systems, too. Nothing we can figure out unless that sub leaves and the water is drained.” Ron put on his hard hat.

“The new divers are here and suiting up.” Carl pointed in their direction.

“Let’s try this one more time.”

The divers took their spots and jumped in without hesitation; Ron felt ill, the image of them going into the water mimicking the entry of the earlier divers—but minus the spark. “Thank God.”

The divers descended into the deep and removed the cut pins with an underwater blowtorch before returning to the surface, all in just twenty minutes. The crane swung over and two lines were dropped, clamping onto both 80-ton doors of hollow concrete covered in black resin. The signal was given: lift.

The doors were hoisted up as if they weighed nothing. Swinging them over, the crane driver placed them very steadily and carefully on a standby barge. Everyone went quiet; all mechanical sounds ceased, and the cries of gulls reigned. The boats then cleared a path. The black USS Mac Roy sailed off into the bay and sounded its harbor horn.

All the men cheered. It was as if the pressure had suddenly been relieved, although they did not know the sub’s destination or its future purpose, only that whatever it was, was dire.

“Where do you think she’s headed?” asked Carl.

“We’ll never know,” Ron said, staring after them.



* * *



The fleshy snap replayed in her mind as Jenny sat waiting outside Gerry’s room. She shook her head, trying to forget the sound, only to see sharp teeth come forward through the beige wall. She shut her eyes.

“Nurse!” she called to a passing woman who wore the same printed scrubs she had seen at the ER. Was it déjà vu or was that print popular? “I need some water.”

“Down the end there.” The nurse half pointed, too busy for courtesies.

“This place,” Jenny mumbled.

The water fountain smelled of copper, and there was a disgusting glob of something to the side. The sight of it made her slightly queasy. I can’t drink this.

She went back and sat down.

“So horrible. So, so horrible. Don’t ever stick me in a place like this, Kip. Please don’t do that to me. Just leave me be at home. I’d rather just rot away there.”

Kip was too preoccupied with her new pink doll to pay attention to Jenny’s anxious words.

Deep breath in.

The same nurse passed, having finished her pill delivery.

“Excuse me.” Jenny called. “Do you know what’s taking so long? I’ve been here almost fifteen minutes now.”

“I can go in and check for you quickly,” she replied, sounding uptight.

A foul stench of human excrement wafted out as she opened the door.

“I can’t do this.” Jenny ran past the small, circular nurses’ station to the exit.

“Leaving so soon?” It was Marilynn, wearing a yellow dress this time.

“I have to go.”

“But you just got here.”

“I’ve been waiting too long.”

“How about some tea?”

“Tea?” It was the last thing Jenny had been expecting.

“Chamomile?”

“Eh ... sure. Sure. I’ll do that.”

“Go back and sit. I’ll bring it to you.”

The warm tea soothed her nerves a bit, and soon an elderly Hispanic nurse came out of the room. “She’s all cleaned up,” he said. “You may go in now.”

The odor was barely masked by a pungent floral spray, but it was better than nothing. Gerry lay flat on her back, her just-brushed white hair plastered to the pillow. The sound of an evening game show filled the room and the glare from the TV illuminated her face. She looked almost happy.

“Gerry, it’s me—Jenny. We met before?”

Gerry didn’t respond. She was mesmerized by the colors, the cheers, and the clapping. Kip clung to her mother’s side.

“It’s okay, honey. Go sit over there.”

Kip climbed onto the rickety chair in the corner and played with her doll.

Jenny approached the bedside. The rails were up. “What are you watching? I like game shows too.”

Gerry didn’t even blink.

How can you not blink? Jenny walked about the room and picked up a silver-framed photograph on the side dresser. It was a picture of Gerry with her late husband—the jetty behind them.

“You miss the beach house?” she asked.

“Yes,” Gerry answered, suddenly aware. “I do.”

Shocked, Jenny set the picture back down.

“I ... I meant to ask you,” Jenny said, sitting again. “Ron and I, we like the house too. We’re thinking of buying it off you. Do you know that? Did Rachael tell you?”

Gerry nodded.

“But I’m not sure,” Jenny continued. “I found these journals. They have all this crazy stuff. Something about an intruder, or a ghost maybe. I found them in the basement. There was a locked chest in there. I wondered...”

Gerry opened her mouth wide and lifted a shaking hand, pointing towards her dresser. “Kay.”

“Kay?” Jenny had no idea.

“Kay … Kay!”

The dresser had three small drawers along the top. Jenny opened each one, sifted through papers, hairbrushes, and crappy knick-knacks.

“Kay. Kay!” Gerry’s volume increased.

“It’s okay. Calm down. I’m looking.”

Jenny pulled the drawers out and dumped the contents on top of the dresser. A single key bounced off and hit the ground. Gerry pointed to it.

“Key! I get it,” said Jenny, picking it up and carrying it over to the bed.

“Yours.” Gerry smiled and pressed it into her hand, closing Jenny’s fingers around it.

“What is it for?”

“W-w-will,” the old lady stammered. “No Rachael.” She coughed up a glob of sputum and licked it off her lip.

Jenny winced. “Is it for the house?” she asked, examining the key.

“Mmmm. Hex,” Gerry murmured, putting one hand up to shield her eyes from light streaming through the windows. “Will.”

Jenny moved to the window to pull shut the peach-colored printed curtains.

“No way. No way!” She gasped, quickly pulled the curtains shut, and put her hand to her forehead. After a deep breath, she cracked the curtain open again. It was hard to see; the sun was setting. Still, she was sure she could make out a tall figure wearing a long black trench coat and high-topped black boots. He was looking in her SUV window. His hood was up and his hands were barely touching the glass.

“Oh no, it’s him. Oh no.” Jenny started pacing.

Gerry’s eyes lost their spark again. She started squirming in the bed, yanking her arms against her restraints and moaning. The bed shook as she tried, harder and harder, to free her arms.

“Don’t you start now.” What a nightmare. I’m stuck in a nightmare. Jenny checked the window again. He was still standing there.

Gerry started up a distorted howling as the game show music intensified once again.

Kip stopped playing.

“Honey, turn the other ... don’t watch. Just turn. Nana is upset.”

“Mamma.” Kip curled into a ball.

“What is it, Gerry?” Jenny pulled up the old woman’s blankets.

The violent shaking continued, and Gerry pushed the blankets back down.

“What is it?”

Gerry looked right at her, her eyes wide, mouth open, wrinkled skin stretched to the maximum.

“Is it the TV? Do you not like this show anymore? Do you want me to change the channel?”

There was no remote that Jenny could see, so she stood on tiptoes to switch the channel to a quieter nature show—a lioness with her cubs. “Better?”

Gerry’s resistance slowed, but she kept up the God-awful sound.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. Calm down.” Jenny patted her greasy white hair. “There, there. You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

Gerry stopped, soothed, and went back to staring, this time at the wall.

“Dinner time.” The nurse opened the door and pulled Gerry’s rickety beside table over to her, setting the tray down on it. It was a colorful assortment of mush. “Would you like to feed her?” he asked turning his attention to the mess. “What’s going on here?”

“Um … she wanted something. I don’t think I understand her very well.”

“It’s fine. That’s the usual, okay. Do you want to feed her?”

“Ah, no thanks.” Jenny shook her head.

“You sure?” he asked again, as if he already expected her answer.

“No. No, I think I’ll step out for a bit while you do that.”

“You can certainly stay.” He smiled.

“Yeah … uh. I’ll be back. I have something I need to do anyway, just a minute.” She slipped the key into her coat pocket.

It was more than a minute. Jenny watched from behind the waiting room blinds as the man leaned up against her car and attempted to light a cigarette.

“Oh, come on. What are you doing?” She focused on the boots. I know it’s him. What do I do? I’m stuck here.

She opened her purse, reassured by the gleam of Kurt’s revolver and suddenly very glad she’d taken it. She ran her fingers over it. It was cold, smooth; she didn’t have the slightest clue how to fire it. Lifting it out, she carefully stroked the trigger.

“Mamma, what’s that?”

“Nothing.” Jenny slipped the gun back in her purse. “Just sit, okay. Here, here’s a magazine with pretty flowers inside. See the pretty flowers.”

“Pretty pink,” said Kip.

“Yeah, pretty.” Jenny tipped the blind again. The man was gone.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside the waiting room.

Jenny lifted Kip off the peach chair and slunk down into a corner, covering her daughter’s mouth with one hand. The heavy steps stopped by the waiting room door. Then they continued on.

“Did you have a good visit?” Marilynn called out, as Jenny hurried by.

“I did. Got to go, though.”

“Wait! I have to talk to you about something.”

Jenny paused by the front door. “Not now. I have to go.”

“It’ll be quick, I swear.”

“Quick.”

“It’s about the power of attorney.”

“Yeah.” Jenny’s eyes were fixed on the end of the long beige corridor.

“Rachael called and stated that she does not want Ron to have any contact with Gerry.”

“Yes, I know. He told me. It’s fine. Really, I have to go.”

“There’s also a letter here. It’s for you.”

The tall, dark figure appeared at the end of the hall again.

“I really must go now.” Jenny snatched the letter from Marilynn’s shaky grip, crammed it into her purse, and dashed out the door, pulling Kip behind her.

Jenny fumbled with the button on the key fob, pressing it over and over. “Come on. Come on!” It beeped. “In the car, hurry. I don’t have time to buckle you. Come on.”

She fumbled the key into the ignition and turned on the car. As she backed out, tires screeching, she could see the hooded man standing at the front of the retirement home. He followed, falling behind when Jenny put the pedal to the metal.

Now what? Now where do I go? He’ll follow us to the beach house. I can’t go back there. She racked her brain. Kurt? No. I can’t go there either. What if it’s him? I don’t know for sure. No … it’s not him. It couldn’t be him.

She stopped in front of the tackle shop. The lights were off.

Maybe it is him?

There were few cars on the strip as Jenny drove up and down, over and over. Eventually, she settled on a small diner close to the main beach access road.

“Come, we need to eat.”

It was quiet in the diner, and Jenny slid into a green leather booth and ordered up a small feast. They ate happily and sipped hot chocolates.

“Mmm,” said Kip.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Jenny smiled, content for a moment.

Then curiosity crept up on her as she remembered the letter. She ferreted in her purse and pulled it out. It had been mailed the day before—specially over-nighted. As she ripped it open, a note tumbled out.



Dearest Jenny,



I know you are there, alone. I know that he left you there. You must leave. I must warn you. He will never stop, never. You see, it’s his house. It’s always been his house.



Rachael