Mark Edward Hall

Chapter 16

When Doug got back to the house at least half a dozen young men and women in white coats were efficiently transferring dozens of shiny stainless steel containers from vans into the kitchen’s rear entrance. There were several security types inspecting the containers and watching the crew’s every move.

Anger flared in him. He couldn’t get over the fact that Rachael wasn’t yet in the ground and the old man was throwing a party. He knew De Roché wasn’t stupid. Insane perhaps, but certainly not stupid. There had to be some calculated reason for this celebration. Earlier Annie had brought up the possibility that it was an attempt to flush out Rachael’s murderer from somewhere within the ranks of the old man’s inner circle. Would the murderer be fool enough to actually attend the party? Doug supposed that he or she would have to or risk being identified by conspicuous absence.

The security guys eyed Doug balefully but did not approach him as he brushed past the caterers and entered the house.

He found Annie in her room sitting at the vanity applying makeup. She was dressed only in underwear. She’d obviously showered; her body had a clean shine to it. She stood and curtsied when he entered, showing off the retro undergarments that had been left for her to wear. Doug just stared.

“You like?” she said.

He licked his lips and nodded. “Where did you get those?”

“Someone left them while I slept. Must have been Greta’s idea of a joke. But I’ll admit I was hoping it was you.” She glared suspiciously at him. “You didn’t, did you?”

Doug shook his head. “Where the hell would I have come up with underwear?”

Annie gave a sigh of discontent. “Well, here,” she said, going to the closet. “I think this is for you. What do you bet it’ll fit like a glove?” It was an expensive suit, Doug could see that. He gave it just a cursory glance before throwing it on the bed.

“Wait a minute,” Doug said. “Did you say Greta? Greta from the airplane?”

Annie nodded. “She’s some sort of assistant to my father. Says she takes care of things for him.”

“Annie . . . I don’t know about this. Christ, your mother was murdered less than twenty-four hours ago and the old man’s throwing a party?”

“He has something up his sleeve,” Annie said.

“No shit. The bastard does everything for effect.” He wanted to tell her what he’d just learned about Rachael from Joe Remy the dog handler, (‘Her death was different, brutal, some sort of sick ritual’) but decided against it. What if Remy was a trouble maker and he’d been lying?

“We have to attend, Doug.”

“You have to.”

“We have to.”

“I can’t stop thinking about what you said this afternoon.”

“You mean about me staying until the baby’s born?”

“I just don’t understand why you would do such a thing. We haven’t been apart in almost ten years and now you want to share the most important event of our lives with him?”

“It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then? Tell me.”

“I can’t explain it, Doug. I don’t know. Suddenly I feel sorry for him. He needs me.”

“What about me?”

“You’re a big boy.”

“So is he. Christ, Annie, how can I talk sense to you?”

“You don’t own me, Doug.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But it’s our baby, not his.”

“You could stay, too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have a job, people who depend on me for a paycheck.”

“Seth can keep things going until you get back.”

“Out of the question. Those men depend on me. And besides I’m not staying in this house with your father a minute longer than I have to.”

“You’ve always had me to yourself,” whispered Annie. “I’ve done everything you wanted me to do. I’ve stayed away, just like you asked. I stayed away because you were afraid—”

“You were afraid too.”

“Yes, but I have to stop being afraid sometime, don’t I?”

Doug knew that his arguments were futile and decided to stop right then and there. There was no doubt in his mind that De Roché was exercising some sort of sophisticated mind control over his daughter, and he knew that Annie was powerless in the face of it.

The silence was an awkward weight between them. Annie stepped up close to Doug and kissed him lightly on the lips. He did not kiss her back. “Promise me something, Doug.”

“What?”

“That you’ll never stop loving me.”

—–

Doug discovered new razors and a can of fresh shaving cream in the bathroom. He shaved at the sink, checked his stubble and shaved again. Afterward he stepped into the shower, lathered his body up with lemon scented soap and washed his hair three times. He knew what he was doing, trying to scrub this entire day from his body, but it was useless. Deep inside his unease began to multiply. Everything was wrong. They’d lost their house, they were on the run, old terrors were revisiting him, Rachael was dead, he’d lost Annie to some force he did not understand and the old man was throwing a party. Yes, it had been a fine fucking day with no end in sight. He found himself praying for some sort of divine intervention, some magic that might transport them out of this nightmare and back into a world of sane normality.

Upon finishing with his bathroom duties he found Annie dressed and waiting when he returned to her room. It made him ache to watch her. She was so beautiful he could almost not look at her. He was angry and hurt. He wanted to hurt her for her betrayal; he wanted to do or say something that would make her see just how crazy this all was. In silence he went about the unpleasant business of dressing himself in the suit that had been provided for him. It felt unnatural, like a second skin made of alien flesh.

Annie sat watching him, seeing his discomfort, listening to his silence.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“I’m thinking about the rest of my life.”

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 8th, 2010 at 8:15 am and is filed under Fiction, Novels. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.