Chapter 9

C ameron knocked on his brother’s door, and, when no answer came, he frowned and headed around the back of the small dilapidated rental property. Cameron had questions—questions that needed answers. Questions that he knew his brother wouldn’t appreciate, particularly given his current mental state.

Heading around to the pastures at the back, he walked to the fence line and stared out across the fields. No sign of him. Yet his truck was here. Cameron shook his head, then walked back to the house, just in time to see his brother blurrily open the door and stare at him in confusion.

“What’s up?” Jace asked, rubbing the sleep from his eye.

Cameron stared at him. “Why are you asleep at this time of day?” His brother got defensive, reminding Cameron that he had to watch what he said and the way he said it. Otherwise his brother tended to blow up.

“None of your fucking business,” he snapped. “What do you care anyway?”

Cameron looked at him. “Of course I care. I thought you would do something today.”

His brother glared at him. “So this is just a visit to ensure I’m on track, doing work for you?”

“No, obviously not,” Cameron said patiently. “I’m just checking up on you.”

“No need to check up on me,” he snapped once more. He went to shove the door closed and then groaned and looked at Cameron with frustration. He sighed loudly. “Obviously I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and that comes from people waking me up when I’m not ready, so go away.”

“Great. Sure. No problem,” Cameron replied. “By the way, I talked to Danica today.”

“And? What’s that got to do with me? She’s one crazy bitch. Keep her away from me,” his brother said.

“Interesting,” Cameron replied. “She mentioned a few things that I wanted to argue with her about, but she seemed pretty adamant.” At that, Cameron watched his brother process the information through slitted eyes, as Jace glared at him.

“You shouldn’t be listening to anything she says about me. You should know that by now.”

“I don’t know that,” Cameron argued, “because one of the things she told me, by accident, was that you were heavily into drugs back then and tried to get her to join you.”

Jace snorted. “Of course she would say that, wouldn’t she? Miss Goody Two-shoes. She would never do drugs,” he said in a mocking tone. “She wouldn’t be like her mom. She was more like her mom than you would think,” he stated, with a sneer.

Cameron stared at him, one eyebrow slowly raising. “So, is it because of her or because of something else that you’re so hell-bent on dissing her?”

“Doesn’t matter what I’m hell-bent on. She’s nothing but trouble. I keep telling you that, and, if you aren’t smart enough to stay away from that bitch, it won’t matter what I say. You’ll do whatever the hell you want to anyway.”

Cameron was stunned at the vehemence in his brother’s words. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation where you got so riled up so quickly over nothing.”

“It’s the over nothing part you better get a handle on,” Jace declared, “because that bitch will ruin everything you try to do.”

“So, maybe you should tell me exactly what your relationship with her was like,” Cameron began, staring at his brother in shock. “Because I’m not recognizing who and what you’re talking about right now.”

“Of course not. You were probably hot on her tail back then too,” Jace stated, slapping the doorframe. “Every-damn-body was.”

“But having only met her a couple times in high school—and she was obviously somebody in a bad spot—that’s hardly the definition of a relationship, is it?”

“I don’t know,” Jace spat. “It would be typical of you to go find yourself a partner right now, while the rest of the world went to hell in a handbasket.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cameron asked, staring at his brother.

Jace glared at him, and then his shoulders slumped. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I have my own demons to deal with. You’ve got yours, so whatever.”

When the door slammed in his face, Cameron slowly turned and walked down the sidewalk and back to his car. He stood at the driver’s side door, staring around the neighborhood, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with this. His brother had been much more antagonistic lately, due to the circumstances in his life, which now Cameron had to question. What did he really know about the truth of his brother’s life?

Was his wife correct in that Jace had been abusive, or was his brother correct? Was his wife just wound up, looking for child support and custody of their one-year-old son? Cameron didn’t dare contact her for fear of alienating his brother even more than they had already become. Plus, Cameron really hadn’t been around Jace’s wife that much, not even after moving back home most of a year ago—not with burying both his parents, building his house, working godawful long shifts at the hospital. So how would he know whether Jace’s ex-wife was lying or not? What if she told Jace about any such discussions? Nope. That would be too much pressure on their already strained brotherly relationship.

So Cameron had no idea what to even think about Jace and his personality change, but something was definitely off here, and he could see how even the mention of Danica sent Jace into a shitstorm.

Frowning, Cameron got into his vehicle and drove back to his place. Needing to destress, he got out, walked into the kitchen, and made himself a coffee. Putting it in a travel mug, he headed outside to the property he had agreed to sell to Danica. Questions ran through his mind at a million thoughts per second, and his mind was spiraling.

Should he sell it?

Should he not sell it?

He didn’t need it.

What was Danica’s reason for wanting to keep it anyway?

He wasn’t sure whether it was Harriet who wanted to keep the property together, or just Danica. Frowning, he wondered how Harriet was doing and again worried about her head wound, which he had seen for himself. Had it been caused by a fall, or was someone else involved? He hadn’t even thought to ask Danica about where she had found Harriet or to check out the area for himself.

His feet almost instinctively led him to Harriet’s place, but he froze at the edge of the property line, realizing that he would need to deal with Danica. That shouldn’t be an issue, and, in a way, he was looking forward to it. Yet it had become an issue, just because of his brother’s words. While he stood here, staring, the door of the RV opened, and he watched Danica lean against the open doorjamb, a question on her face.

“What are you looking for? Me?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet,” he replied in a half-joking manner.

She smiled. “When you figure it out, you know where I am.”

On impulse, he asked, “Did you check the area where your grandmother was found?”

She turned back to look at him. “You mean,… check the ground?” she asked, trying to sort through what he was really asking.

“You found her on the ground—but where?” he asked, moving an arm in the direction of the house from left to right. “Exactly where did you find her? That head wound came from something other than what we thought, maybe. You don’t know what happened, do you?” he asked in confusion.

“No, I don’t. I just found her collapsed.” She hopped down, with Benji following eagerly, racing over to say hi to Cameron. He bent down to pet the small Heinz 57 mix that seemed to be a cross between a Chihuahua and something along the lines of a wiener dog. A very strange-looking dog, yet as friendly as he could be, and that’s what mattered. Benji was a darling, and Cameron spent a few minutes petting him.

When he looked up, Danica walked toward him. She had slipped on a pair of sandals. “Follow me,” she said, and, with that, she headed to the side of the house and pointed to an indent on the ground.

He looked around at the area and asked, “No sign of anybody else here?”

“No,” she murmured, staring down at the ground where she found her grandmother.

“What was her pose?” he asked.

Startled, Danice frowned at him and then dropped to her belly with Benji running over, thinking this was a new game, trying to lick her face, making her laugh. But then she rolled over with her hand at a bent angle, one arm over her head, the other arm bent at the side, and one knee bent upward.

Seeing what he would have stated was a typical crime-scene pose, he nodded. “You didn’t see anybody? You didn’t see a weapon or anything along that line?”

She shook her head. “No, I didn’t see anything.” He just nodded. “Why?” she asked, and then sat up and turned to look at him.

“I don’t know, but she definitely has a head wound, and, if she had fallen, she would have fallen right where she landed. That bump on her head is fairly substantial, but she didn’t hit herself when falling,” he noted, as he waved his hand around. “Nothing is here but soft grass and dry dirt, so nothing she could have hit her head on. I expected to see big rocks. Plus, she fell off to the side ever-so-slightly, as if she were turning to look at someone or was twisted around, and they came up behind her,” he explained. “I’m definitely not law enforcement, so I don’t know how all that works, but I do understand how wounds work. This is something I would say we should be wary of.”

She stared at him for a long moment, as he shifted uncomfortably under her direct gaze. Finally, rolling it on her tongue, she asked, “We?”

He flashed a smile. “I’m not against you,” he stated intently. “I am in no way afraid of you, upset at you being here, angry at you, or whatever other adjectives you might want to use. I am happy that you’re here, happy that you’re looking after your grandmother, and very sorry for all the problems you’ve had.”

Surprise lit the dark depths of her eyes, and he could understand why, now learning more about her life and how others had treated her.

She dropped her gaze to the ground and muttered, “I didn’t see anybody. I had walked around the property, thinking of the same issues, because, if she didn’t hit her head, somebody else hit her head for her.” She lifted her gaze to look at him intently. “But that would imply somebody had deliberately targeted her, or they came upon her suddenly and surprised her.”

“True, but this is her property, and it happened close to her house.”

“So, what were they doing here?”

“That is an issue,” he noted, with a small smile. “Have you had any break-ins or anybody bothering you?”

“No,” she replied, looking around. “Not since I’ve been here, though I haven’t really had a chance to ask her. Maybe she would have something different to say.”

“Would she keep something like that from you?”

Startled, she looked over at him. “I want to say no, but the answer is probably, yes, she would. My grandmother is very protective of me, and, if she thinks something would upset me, she might very well try to avoid that discussion.”

“Even though it might impact your own safety?” he asked curiously, his gaze darting to the RV that he could just see the back end of. “I don’t think your watchdog will be much of a hindrance to an intruder,” he stated, with a note of amusement, as he dropped down to pet Benji again.

“Maybe not,” she agreed, with a small smile, “but he’s a great early warning system.”

“Now to that I will agree,” he admitted, “although I’m not sure I heard him barking when I approached.”

“He let me know that somebody was out here,” she murmured. “Plus, he also knows who you are at this point.”

“Not really,” he countered, frowning at her. “I’ve been here what? Once or twice?”

“Sure, but nobody else has been here in all that time either. I take my grandmother out for the shopping that she needs, and she no longer has any friends who come by to visit.”

He winced at that. “I think everybody should have friends, particularly at this late stage of life,” he muttered, as he turned his attention toward the front door of the big house. “Nobody should be alone when they’re old.”

“Yet that’s what happens, isn’t it?” she asked.

“It’s exactly what happens. Hopefully you’ll stay with her right through until the end.”

“That’s not likely to be all that long,” she muttered, “so that is the plan.”

“Not all that long?” Had Danica really said that? He studied her features for a long moment. “Is there something I should know about her health?”

Danica snorted. “No, absolutely not. You’re not her doctor, and we can’t afford doctors. So, it really doesn’t make any difference.”

He winced. “I guess I know that. I want to lecture you on having no insurance, but I won’t.”

“Good thing,” she declared, with spirit, “because it won’t do any good.”

He burst out laughing and grinned at her. “Glad to see you have some fighting spirit.”

“That’s what I do have,” she agreed, with a nod, “maybe too much of it.”

*

You need to tell her… repeated the voice in the darkness of Harriet’s mind.

“I know.… I know,” Harriet murmured. She felt the chill come over her soul. Her time was coming to an end. It was too soon. And in many ways too late.

Of course we know that . Such mockery and amusement filled that voice. We’ve been waiting for you. You will come and join the rest of us, but she must be told .

Harriet pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, as she shifted in the bed. She looked around the room and the house that she had both loved and hated—her prison and yet her mansion.

Mansion reiterated the same voice again. It was never a prison .

She kept her thoughts to herself on that one, even though it seemed like that voice always knew what she was thinking. She shifted again, feeling the weight of her body on her sore bones and joints.

Your time is coming , the voice said gently. Don’t fear it .

“I don’t fear it,” she murmured. “I just dread telling my granddaughter.”

Maybe you should have told her a long time ago.

“The way I told my daughter?” she whispered.

Silence was the first response to that. Of course that didn’t go well, did it? Came the now-soft voice in the darkness of her mind.

“No, And now I must find a way to tell my granddaughter so that she doesn’t have the same reaction.”

But you were happy with these choices.

She smiled in the darkness, staring around at the faded beauty of the gorgeous old house. “I was very happy with the choice. And yet I sit here now in my waning days, wondering if I made the right one.” She could almost sense the start of surprise from the voice in the darkness. “I know,” she admitted, with a wave of her hand. “Not only does it not matter anymore, it’s way too late to do anything about it.”

Laughter rippled through her mind. Way too late was the agreement. Now you need to sleep. You haven’t many more sleeps left .

“And why Halloween?” she whispered to the darkness around her.

Maybe you should ask yourself that. Why did you choose Halloween to tell your daughter?

Harriet shuddered, slipping down under the blankets, keeping the one wrapped around her shoulders, even as it bunched up underneath her neck and head. “I didn’t think.”

No, you just reacted, and reactions have consequences.

“I know they do, but I didn’t think the reaction would have such strong consequences.”

This is the consequence of not thinking.

She hated the smartness of all the answers. Yet she felt a certain comfort in knowing that there would always be answers, along with a certain amount of pain, knowing that the answers would often not be to her liking. She turned off the lamp beside her.

The voice in the darkness whispered Good night in her ear.

She smiled. There really was a comfort in knowing that she was never alone. The trouble was, she would become one with that voice very quickly. And her granddaughter had no idea. Resolutely Harriet turned, curled up underneath the blanket, and closed her eyes. One thing she desperately needed was time. Time to make good on her promises. Time to do good for the sake of her granddaughter. Even her daughter. Some things needed to be dealt with, and Harriet needed that amount of time in order to do it.

Feeling the tick-tock of her heartbeat match the tick-tock of time, she closed her eyes and sank into a deep sleep.