You're Not Alone Page 5

Chapter Three

  I felt like I’d been dragged by a horse along the desert floor. I was driving home being extra careful with my speed. The last thing I needed was a speeding ticket. More tears had wet my cheeks on this day than I could handle. My eyes were red. My foundation was streaked, and mascara smudges splattered my face from the consistent crying and having no time in between sobs to re-do my makeup.

  Mr. Abernathy added to the depression of the day. Like I knew he would, Mr. Abernathy informed me he could give me another month, but if I didn’t catch up with the loan payments, he would be forced to start the foreclosure proceedings. He continued to tell me he had been lenient with the death in my family, but he couldn’t use that excuse to the executive board anymore. At this last thought, and seeing the look of contempt in Mr. Abernathy’s eyes for me, I pushed a little harder on the accelerator.

  In the next instant, I saw a police car hiding in its usual spot amidst some trees on the side of Route 490. I immediately took my foot off of the accelerator, hoping I did so in time. I gazed in my rearview mirror watching the spot where the police car was sitting, anxiously waiting to see if it would pull out from its spot.

  The cruiser pulled out and gained speed. “Damn it!” I started for my blinker just as the cruiser passed me. I loudly and slowly let out the breath I was holding in. In a burst of anger, I began to shout. “God damn Mr. Abernathy. The man doesn’t have a heart. He only has one emotion, nasty!” Then I said mockingly “If you don’t catch up on your loan payments by the end of next month, I’ll be forced to start foreclosure, Miss O’Reilly.”

  I pulled into my driveway and parked the car. I sat for a moment letting more tears fall down my already wet face. Matthew was so excited to help me start my own business. We took out the business loan knowing it would be tight. He took care of all the other payments—mortgage, utilities, cars, etc. with his sizeable salary. When he died, that income stopped and because he had no will or papers that had me as the beneficiary, the Shikmans froze everything.

  Being so young, we never thought it was necessary to have a will. Who knew you could die at the age of thirty-four? Matthew didn’t. I didn’t. So even though we were comfortable with our payments and our two salaries, we never thought to be prepared if there was only one salary, especially if it was mine that was pretty much sucked up paying the business loan.

  When Mr. Abernathy first contacted me, I asked about re-financing, extending the loan to make the payment smaller. With all the other payments I acquired after Matthew’s death, I didn’t qualify. He told me to sell the apartment building and the cottage and then “we could talk.” I stormed out of his office after I told him I would not sell. How could I sell? Matthew and I built our life together with these. I wasn’t ready to let go of any of it.

  I grabbed a Kleenex and blew my nose. Will this ever end? I thought as I got out of the car. I looked up at my bedroom window. I saw a flutter of light, followed by a shadow looking down at me. I felt my body go numb as I took in the sight unfolding in front of me. The shadow faded as if it were made of smoke, and simply dissipated into thin air. I closed my eyes and squeezed them tight to clear my sight. There’s nothing there, there’s nothing there. Slowly, I opened them.

  There was nothing. I sighed in relief. God, I thought to myself, first I’m hearing voices, and now I’m seeing things. This can’t be good.

  I hesitantly walked up the back stairs to my apartment. Halfway up, I heard the downstairs door of Mr. Princeton’s apartment open.

  “Quinn?” Mr. Princeton called up to me.

  I stopped. I’d forgotten about dinner. “Yes, Mr. Princeton.”

  “Dinner at about seven. Does that give you enough time?”

  I smiled. It was a little eerie how he seemed to show up whenever I really needed the distraction. “That would be great, Mr. Princeton. Is there anything I can bring?”

  “Just yourself, young lady. I’ll see you at seven.” He quietly closed the door.

  I continued up the stairs and took out my keys from my purse. My hands were shaking. I knew there was no one in my apartment, but the vision of what I saw in my bedroom window from the driveway made me nervous and a little scared. Maybe I should go down and get Mr. Princeton and have him go through my apartment with me.

  Chicken shit, I scolded myself. All I needed to do was to let my emotions take over, and if I did come upon anyone in my apartment that wasn’t supposed to be there, I’d have enough adrenaline from my anger, sadness, and depression to beat the crap out of them no matter what their size. At this thought, I giggled to myself and opened the door.

  I waited a moment. For exactly what I didn’t know. Then I slowly groped for the light switch. Things are always easier in the light, I thought to myself. If I can get lights on before I enter the rooms, I can see for myself there’s nothing to worry about.

  The ceiling fixture illuminated the dark wood flooring of the hallway. The cream colored walls made the darkness fade into an opaque glow.

  Nothing in the hall.

  I stepped into my apartment and closed the door behind me, locking only the handle lock and not the deadbolt. There was still a fear in the back of my mind that if I needed to get out fast, one lock to unlock was better than two.

  My bedroom was to the left. Since that was where I saw the shadow, I figured I might as well start there. Besides, I needed to change. I didn’t want to go down to Mr. Princeton’s place in my dress clothes. It would be a comfort night.

  Again, I reached around the corner and flipped the switch for the overhead light in the bedroom. “Thank God Matthew and I decided to put these ceiling lights in,” I said out loud to make anyone who might be hiding aware I was home. That was exactly why we put the ceiling lights in most of the rooms in our apartment.

  Many of the older homes didn’t have overhead lights; in fact they didn’t have a lot of electrical outlets either. After Matthew and I moved in, we hired an electrician to come in and update the electric in our apartment and in Mr. Princeton’s as well. Our plan was to eventually update the electric in the other two units, but after he died I put all our plans on hold.

  I strolled over to my closet and hesitated. I decided to first grab the metal baseball bat I kept by my bed. It was my first line of defense if anyone ever broke into my home. I always joked with Matthew to make sure I was awake when he got home because I would swing first and ask questions later.

  I quietly picked up the bat and looked it over. It was the bat I used during my stint as a high school and college softball player. After school, I retired the bat to the status of defense instrument because I couldn’t part with it. It brought me luck in many softball games and I hoped if the day ever came, it would bring me the same luck in facing off with an intruder.

  I slid the bat up and down in my hands and walked back to the closet. I turned on the light by the switch next to the closet door and braced myself. Holding the bat in one hand, I grabbed the doorknob with the other and slowly turned it. Suddenly and forcefully I pulled it opened and immediately afterward, took a swinging stance. I surveyed the inside of the closet. Only clothes. Gathering all of the courage I could, I took the bat and spread apart the clothes to make sure no one was hiding behind them.

  No one.

  I shut the closet door and looked around my room. If there was someone in my apartment, they could have had time to go and hide in one of the other rooms. I sighed heavily. It would probably be a good idea to check the rest of the apartment before I changed my clothes. So I walked through the rest of my home holding onto the baseball bat, turning on lights, pulling open closet doors, looking behind furniture and anywhere else I thought someone could hide.

  I apprehensively entered the living room. It was the last place I had to explore and if I didn’t find anyone, I might have to come to terms that it was something I couldn’t explain. I checked behind the couch and the chair. I used the bat to move the curtains aside. I turned around and survey the room as I exhaled a long, relieved b
reath. Okay—definitely no one in my apartment.

  “Great,” I said out loud in a very discouraged tone. “This means I’m definitely going wacko. Wait till David hears this one.”

  I noticed one message on my answering machine as I turned to go back to my bedroom and change. Ignoring it, I put on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. I left the bat in my bedroom and returned to the living room.

  I still had an hour and a half before I was due at Mr. Princeton’s so I decided to see if he had picked up my mail yet. I trotted down the grand staircase and checked the row of four mailboxes near the main entrance—my mail was still there.

  I took the stairs by two on the way back up and locked the door behind me. I started to sift through my mail as I fell back onto my couch, tossing aside the junk and advertisements. I absentmindedly reached over and pressed the message button on the answering machine. I chuckled to myself because it was one of the few electronic machines in my apartment I hadn’t broken yet.

  The message was from McIntosh, Bryer and Smith. Anger swelled up inside me, and I almost deleted it until I thought I heard something in the background. I put my mail down and pressed the button to repeat the message. Yes, I heard it again. Voices. Whispering in the background.

  I strained hard to try and hear what they were saying. It was probably workers at the law office unaware their boss was on the phone, I surmised. But as I repeated the message again and again, my skin began to prickle. Fear rose from the pit of my stomach and once again took over my common sense. The way my physical and emotional self was reacting to these voices told me these were the very same voices that had been plaguing me.

  I stopped the message. Here was proof. Maybe.

  It was Matthew who liked having an answering machine. I used to tease him about it, telling him to come into the technological world. “We have voice mail on our cell phones,” I would say to him. “Why do we need an old answering machine?” But he’d just shake his head, kiss me on the lips, and tell me he was old fashioned. At this moment, I was glad he had been.

  Someone else listening to this message might think the same thing I did at first. But maybe someone else might be able to help me understand what was being said in the background. Mr. Princeton might help me. I would tell Mr. Princeton at dinner. If he didn’t think I was crazy, I would ask him to come up and listen.

  Or Chaz. He would listen without judging me. Yes. I’d call Chaz. I grabbed the phone and dialed.

  “Hey sweetheart. What, you can’t get enough of me?”

  I chuckled. “You’re right. It’s always been you.” I waited. How do I tell him? Suddenly, I panicked. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “Never mind. It’s nothing. Sorry I bothered you.”

  “What is it, Quinn? You sound almost as bad as the day you called me to tell me Matthew had passed. Come on, hon. I’m here for you. What is it?”

  The mention of Matthew’s death stuck in my chest and I realized I had to get control. “Chaz. I need you to come over and listen to something for me, and I need you to not ask any questions.”

  “Ok. I’ll be over in twenty.” He hung up.

  I stood in the living room, frozen, not knowing what to do next. So I slowly sat down on the couch and waited.