Red Heather Page 6

  I sat on the edge of my bed, toes skimming the floor, and scrolled through the sound options. I chose an ocean track, adjusted the volume, and set my phone on the nightstand before sliding under the covers and closing my eyes. Eventually, my brain blended the fake waves into background noise.

  The door hinges gave a soft groan.

  I opened my eyes and turned over quickly, but relaxed as Ed rushed in.

  “Hey, buddy,” I greeted him, although my smile faded when I noticed the way he was moving—body low to the floor, tail down, ears back. “What’s wrong?”

  Ed jumped up onto the bed and burrowed under the covers next to me, no space spared between us. I smoothed his raised fur and dropped a light kiss to the top of his head. “There’s nothing to worry about,” I mumbled to both of us, attributing his behavior to the anxiety I’d heard him scratching out of his system every night since our arrival. At least it wasn’t coming out destructively anymore. It took time, but he finally relaxed beside me enough to doze off. I settled back in, too, letting my eyes close as I continued to stroke his back.

  A few moments passed before I opened my eyes again, something different in the artificial tide. I looked down at the cat lying next to me, fast asleep, and then glanced toward the door.

  Still watching the door, I reached for my phone, muted the track, and waited.

  Skritch. Skritch. Skritch.

  Chapter 6

  Two days had passed since I’d seen the figure in the mirror and also since I’d heard the unnerving scratching noises in the hall—all with new knowledge that it was not, in fact, the work of clouds or a nervous cat.

  Two long, jumpy days.

  I’d exhausted my options with an exterminator on the first of those two days, hoping it might be mice or roaches and simultaneously marveling at the fact that I was hoping for mice or roaches. Regardless of my questionable hopes, the sounds I’d heard weren’t the sounds of roaches and the scratching had been too loud for mouse claws. Rats were plausible, but they’d have to be big and I figured I would hear them moving in the walls if that were the case. Even as the exterminator investigated the crawlspace and drilled small holes—which he later covered with a layer of plaster—to run smaller tubular cameras through, I knew the sounds I’d heard for nights on end had been on the walls rather than inside them.

  After finding nothing of consequence, I handed the exterminator a painfully written check and he left after two hours or so of indulging my concerns.

  I’d also called Graham back that afternoon and asked him to drive up from Corolla the next chance he got. He asked surprisingly few questions and said he could make it up on his day off that weekend if it were that urgent. To me, anyway, it was—Ed hadn’t left the kitchen during the past two days either. Most of the time, he seemed on edge and was only consoled if I was with him or if I left the kitchen light on for him in the night.

  To remain functional, I went back on my sleeping pills and resumed bumping around in the night and decorating myself with smallish bruises en route to my room. I figured one day I would learn to bring the bottle upstairs and set it on my nightstand, but that day had yet to come.

  The exterminator’s failures to find anything in the house had finally convinced me in some irrefutable way that whatever was going on with my house wasn’t pest-based and Ed’s behavior was enough to show me that I wasn’t imagining the things I was seeing and hearing. That Friday, I’d gone into the office to poke around while everyone was out to lunch, finding a collection of video equipment in one of the storage closets.

  “Jackpot,” I mumbled to myself, stepping in and flipping the light on to see what there was to work with.

  “What are you doing?”

  I stiffened and looked over my shoulder. Estelle was leaning through the doorway. Shit. “Just nosing around,” I replied with my best pokerface.

  “Uh-huh…,” she murmured, obviously not buying it. “Did you read it?”

  “Read what?”

  “Uh, my article obviously. I got your email address from Steven and sent it to you like you asked me to,” Estelle spelled out for me.

  “Oh, I guess I haven’t checked my email since I read Catherine’s feedback on the stuff I sent her. Sorry, I’ll look at it and send you any thoughts I have before the end of the day,” I said, thinking I also needed to bring that folder with all the Red Heather witness accounts back within the next few days before Catherine had time to miss it.

  “Oh, no,” Estelle huffed with a roll of her eyes as she started to lean back from the door, thankfully seeming like she might leave. “Please. Take your time.” I rolled my eyes and figured she was done until she added, “So… Really. What are you doing?”

  “I told you, I’m nosing around.”

  “In here?” she asked doubtfully.

  “Clearly,” I sighed, finally turning around to look at her again when my earlier hope that she was gearing up to leave died with this new line of questioning. Just my luck to get caught redhanded by a journalist in our own office.

  She looked me over. “You look terrible,” she pointed out.

  “Thanks,” I returned in a flat tone that matched hers.

  “No, I… I’m not being bitchy, I’m just saying,” she reasoned, seeming to step down from the offensive as she sensed a larger issue here. She was more perceptive than I’d first thought. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

  “I haven’t,” I confirmed, turning a camcorder over in my hands.

  “Are you eating?”

  Is Estelle just Graham in a wig? “Why do you care?” I asked suspiciously.

  Estelle gave me a disapproving scowl. “Look, I don’t like you, but I don’t hate you either. What’s going on?”

  I weighed that response before caving a little. “I don’t know. Can I borrow this stuff?”

  She frowned. “Catherine’s the one to ask about that.”

  “Well, I feel like I’ve already asked a lot for being a new hire,” I sighed gustily, running a hand through my hair. “Not even a new hire—a freelancer. Will, um… Will she notice it’s gone?”

  “Are you asking if you can get away with thieving it?”

  “Borrowing it,” I countered.

  “For what?” she pressed. I was starting to get pissed about having to answer all these questions, but then a beautiful thing happened—then I remembered exactly who I was talking to.

  I told her the truth. “I’m starting to think that your article wasn’t too far off about that house.”

  Her eyes widened. “Did you see something?” she asked in a lower tone of voice than before, seeming to be actively keeping her interest reined in while also gathering more information. I nodded. “So you’re—”

  “Trying to prove it. And I don’t have any of this stuff at home.”

  Estelle absorbed that, abruptly torn about what to do. Her eyes narrowed before she looked back up at me, but it was a thoughtful look this time. “If you record something good…”

  “I’ll send it your way as soon as I’m done packing my shit and hightailing it out of here,” I confirmed.

  I noticed she held back a smile at that. “Deal. If Catherine asks, I borrowed it for research. She probably won’t believe it, but she won’t ask either.”

  I smirked. “Thanks.”

  “Sure. Just make sure you get something scary,” Estelle said with a flippant wave of her hand. With that, she turned around and headed back down the hallway to her desk, I assumed.

  I didn’t want to “get something scary,” but as I packed up the equipment and rooted around for other gadgetry that might help my cause, I had to admit that the signs so far didn’t point to anything good.

  • • •

  It was Saturday morning when Graham pulled into the driveway, and I was a little perturbed to see Daphne in the front seat. Maybe because I’d assumed he’d have the forethought to make it a solo trip with the state I’d been in recently. I liked Daphne just fine, but I didn’t know her well enou
gh to be comfortable half-falling apart around her.

  Graham lingered by the car for a moment to look at the house and wait for Daphne to get out of the car. I walked outside to greet them. “Scarier in person,” he commented as they walked up the path toward the porch.

  “I get that a lot,” I remarked and he laughed. “How are you guys? How was the drive?”

  “The drive was surprisingly okay,” Daphne replied, somehow seeming sunny even under an overcast sky. “Traffic’s not too bad this time of year.”

  “Ah, right. Happy Halloween, by the way,” Graham joked.

  Happy Halloween, indeed, I thought dismally. “Thanks. Come on in.”

  “So, you didn’t really specify,” Graham observed as he walked into the house, looking around. “Did you just want us to come see the house, or…?”

  I frowned and glanced toward the small bag beside the cat carrier near the door. “I need you to take Ed, actually. If you don’t mind?”

  Graham gawked at me. “What?”

  “I’m sorry, dude, but he’s terrified of this place. He doesn’t even leave the kitchen anymore and I don’t know what else to do until I find a new place or…” I wasn’t sure how to finish.

  Daphne shot a look at Graham. “We drove all the way up here for a cat?”

  “Daph, please don’t,” Graham sighed and, to her credit, she took the hint. He just looked at me with some mixture of frustration and pity. It made me angry, but instead of saying anything, I just glanced at the floor to smooth out my own expression. After a moment, Graham asked, “Is he in the kitchen now?”

  “Always,” I murmured, running my hands over my face as my chest constricted with stress.

  “Daph, can you—?”

  Her demeanor had changed after her initial annoyance, and now she looked a little guilty for having reacted that way. “Yeah. Sure.” Daphne went to the kitchen, clicking her tongue for Ed once she crossed through the doorway. It gave me some measure of comfort to hear her quietly baby-talking to him like I often did. He’d be in good hands until I could come get him.

  Once she was gone, Graham looked at me wearily. “Miri? What’s going on here? Why are you getting rid of Ed?”

  “I’m not ‘getting rid’ of Ed,” I snapped. “I would never. It’s a temporary fix.”

  “A fix for what? This is all getting way out of hand,” he said harshly.

  “You’re telling me,” I shot back. “You get to bunk in a bed-and-breakfast or whatever and head home. You don’t have to live here.”

  “Neither do you!” he shouted. “Just leave!”

  “Not all of us are rich enough to do that!” I snapped, knowing I was striking out with a low blow and not finding it in me to care. “Besides that, I’m locked into a lease. I don’t have proof of what’s going on yet.”

  “Just come back with us!” Graham argued. “Easy! Fixed it! Mail your rent or whatever from the beach and away from whatever’s freaking you out so much here!”

  “I already told you I’m not doing that,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you. Hire an exorcist. Figure it out. I’m tired of trying to help you when you don’t want my help. Better yet, set up something with a therapist since that’s the real issue here.”

  I stilled and felt my proverbial hackles rise. “Excuse me?”

  “Hey, Graham, can you help me with the cat?” Daphne murmured meekly from behind me. Ed wasn’t giving her an ounce of trouble, but she could sense the fight starting.

  I really didn’t want to fight with him. That required more energy than I was willing to waste, but he was cruising in his usual pattern—when we were good, we were good, but I’d had a sneaking suspicion before that the idiot actually enjoyed fighting with me. As expected, Graham ignored her and squared his shoulders. “Ever since you skipped town and moved out here, you’ve been freaking about the house, but you are projecting. The real problem is that you’re not dealing with what happened!”

  “I assume you’re talking about me walking in on Dave fucking one of his interns in our bed, yeah?” I demanded, toeing the edge of hysteria as an incredulous laugh escaped me. “I care, but I don’t care that goddamn much. It’s not breaking me, you idiot. And for fuck’s sake, Graham, I am ‘dealing’ the best way I know how! That is separate from this.”

  Silence fell and lengthened until Ed mewed quietly.

  My throat felt tight and I turned to look at Daphne holding onto my cat. I picked him up from her arms and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry, buddy. It’s okay.”

  This isn’t just ‘me.’ I know it’s not. I anxiously bit the inside of my cheek. But no one else does.

  I kissed Ed on the head and put him in his carrier. Graham had stomped out to the car, so I turned to Daphne, suddenly glad she’d come up after all. “He’ll get nervous on the drive down. If you talk to him, he’ll calm down eventually. Avoid the V-word. I feed him twice a day and his toys are in his carrier.” I paused to wonder if I’d forgotten anything before adding, “I’m sorry to ask this of you guys, but he’s really freaked out and I don’t want him to develop some kind of behavioral disorder or give himself a heart attack or—”

  “He’ll be okay, Miri,” Daphne reassured me gently. “Graham will be, too. We’ll bring Ed back when you’ve got things figured out. Or you can come get him and spend a couple of days seaside. That might do you some good, you know.”

  “It probably would,” I admitted. “I’m not projecting like he says I am.”

  “I believe you,” she said. “I just meant it might help in general. I don’t know how I’d function if I lived anywhere else. Especially up here, all alone… Just think about it, okay? You’re welcome any time.”

  A loud honk issued from the parked car outside. I rolled my eyes at Graham and knelt down to gently stroke Ed’s paw. I picked up his crate and handed him to Daphne before I could start crying. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t see him again, but I hated to think that, somewhere in his kitty brain, he might think I was disowning him. I wondered if cats could even think that way.

  I watched them go and sighed, shutting the door and leaning my forehead against it. Empty, sad, haunted house. The beach was sounding better all the time.

  • • •

  My first Halloween on Red Heather Road was quiet at first.

  It quickly became apparent that the majority of the kids out and about in costume fell into one of two groups—either they were too afraid to come to the door, or they were little shits bearing eggs and other gross unknowns to throw at my house. I had opened the door to one boy in the process of igniting a bag of what I could only assume was dog shit. I’d scared him so badly that he probably had more shit than he’d started with by the time he made it back to his spectating friends. I’d also lobbed the singed bag at them to make a point and was fairly sure I’d nailed one kid in the shoulder.

  I kept a bag of candy near the door just in case anyone who actually wanted it came close enough to ring the doorbell, but only three or four kids actually did. I personally saw to the consumption of about a quarter of the bag in the meantime. However, Trick-or-Treater #5 was the one who made the whole stupid night worthwhile.

  “Trick ‘r treat!” Bethaline squealed when I opened the door, her treat bag almost bigger than she was. “I’m a cat!”

  “I can see that!” I responded with a laugh. I looked at the bag in my hands before just handing it to her. “You know what, you can have the whole thing.”

  “Wow, thank you!” she exclaimed, bouncing up and down. Her movements were making the cat ears on her headband tremble. “No one’s ever given me all their candy before!”

  “Tonight’s your lucky night, cutie. Are your parents walking around with you?”

  “Yeah, Daddy’s down by the driveway,” she said. I leaned out to see a tall blond man who kind of reminded me of my childhood dentist standing near my car. He waved when I did.

  “What does your dad do?” I aske
d.

  She was already pawing through the bag I’d handed her. “Fixes teeth.”

  I knew it. “Okay, well have fun and be safe,” I told her as she gathered her loot bag back up. “And have a good night.”

  “You, too,” she said before making her best cat face, I assumed. “Happy Halloween!”

  I smirked. “Happy Halloween,” I said back to her. Bethaline gave an enthusiastic wave goodbye, but something caught her eye past me inside the house before she turned to go. She leaned around me and waved down the hall as well before bounding back down the walk to rejoin her dad.

  Must’ve seen Ed, I reasoned habitually, only remembering after she and her father had disappeared back down to their end of the street that Ed was with Graham and Daphne and they were probably halfway back to Corolla by now. I turned to look down the hall, but there was nothing there. At least nothing I could see.

  The joint reminder of Ed’s absence and Bethaline’s weird little wave to no one caused me a bizarre mixture of sadness and unease. Hoping to get my mind off it all, I locked up and walked to the back door. I adjusted my jacket around me and stepped through the sparse, dry lack of vegetation, musing over the backyard real estate I would be working with were I to try my hand at gardening. “Already looks like half the plants I’ve raised,” I mumbled as a dead limb snapped off the bush I was picking at.

  Grimacing and dropping the barb, I peered around the yard and the fence surrounding it. The sky was dimming, the amber beam of the porch light intensifying as the natural glow waned.

  As the color balance changed in the yard, my eyes were repeatedly drawn toward one skeletal shrub near the corner of the yard and I ventured toward it after a moment for a closer look. The brush looked lifeless until I was inspecting it and, even then, it didn’t look great. I knelt down and poked at the plant, underwhelmed by the yard space. It was a plant graveyard back here—even weeds didn’t seem partial to the back of the property.