In still waters
Шрифт:
"She's saying… she's saying I'm hiding his 'skeleton' in the closet!" The words tumbled out in a rush, as if Mary feared they might evaporate if not spoken quickly enough. Tom knew he needed to keep her talking, to unravel the tangled threads of her psyche.
"Mary," he pressed, his voice a lifeline in the stormy sea of her mind, "what skeleton are you talking about? Tell me, I want to help you."
Mary's eyes, wide with terror, locked onto Tom's face. She shook her head violently, as if trying to dislodge the very thoughts from her mind.
"You can't help!" she wailed, her voice rising to a fever pitch. "No one can help!"
The strain proved too much for Mary's fragile psyche. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped to the floor, unconscious. Tom sprang into action, calling urgently for a nurse. They worked in tandem, their movements precise and practiced, to revive her. When Mary finally came to, her eyes were clouded with confusion. The torrent of revelations that had poured from her lips just moments ago had vanished, leaving no trace in her conscious mind.
Later, ensconced in the relative privacy of his office, Tom placed a call to Jeffrey. His voice grave, he relayed the severity of Mary's condition, explaining that her stay in the clinic was likely to be extended indefinitely. The treatment she required was intensive, the road to recovery long and fraught with obstacles. Jeffrey's response, slurred and indifferent, sent a chill down Tom's spine. In that moment, he made the decision to withhold the specifics of Mary's outburst. The references to guilt, to hidden skeletons – these were seeds of something darker, something that required further investigation before involving Jeffrey. As he hung up the phone, Tom couldn't shake the feeling that he had just glimpsed the edge of a chasm far deeper and more treacherous than he had initially suspected.
Chapter 13
August 7, 2022. Night, 2:30 AM. A restless wind howls through the streets of Austin.
The Green Vault bar disgorged its latest victims, Bradley and Steven stumbling out into the night, their arms slung around each other's shoulders in a parody of camaraderie. Riding high on a cocktail of alcohol and harder stuff, they piled into Steven's blue BMW, the engine roaring to life like some primordial beast. Steven, behind the wheel, cut a figure of casual disregard in his baggy dark athletic pants, white tee, and denim jacket. Bradley, sprawled in the passenger seat, sported a striped shirt that had seen better days and dark jeans that seemed to have molded themselves to his legs.
As they tore through the quiet streets of Austin, Bradley's hand closed around a bottle of gin nestled in the back seat like a talisman. The car stereo blared a cacophony of heavy rock, the playlist changing with the whims of Bradley's drug-addled mind. He headbanged with wild abandon, laughter spilling from his lips in a torrent of misplaced joy. The streets were a ghost town, most of the streetlights dark, as if the very city had turned its back on the pair.
Their reckless journey led them onto a road that snaked through a wooded area, plunging them into a darkness so complete it seemed to swallow the very beams of the car's headlights. Trees loomed on either side, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. Bradley raised the gin bottle to his lips, tipping it back for a healthy swig. Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock, and he choked, spraying the windshield with a fine mist of alcohol.
"Jesus Christ! Hit the brakes!" Bradley's voice cracked like a whip in the confined space of the car.
Steven, more reflex than reason, slammed his foot on the brake pedal. The BMW fishtailed, tires screaming in protest as it skidded to a halt on the shoulder. The sudden silence, as Steven killed both engine and music, was deafening. Bradley's ragged breathing filled the void, his chest heaving as if he'd run a marathon.
"What the fuck, man?" Steven snarled, his words slurring together. "You just puked all over my ride, you asshole! What's your damage?"
Bradley's face had gone chalk-white, his eyes wide and staring. "There was… there was a person lying there. In the road. I swear to God, man."
Steven scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're tripping balls, dude. There's nobody out here but us and the trees."
The certainty in Steven's voice did nothing to quell the rising tide of panic in Bradley's chest. He sank lower in his seat, his fingers digging into the leather upholstery as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.
"I'm telling you, there's someone out there!" Bradley's voice had taken on a plaintive, almost childlike quality.
Steven heaved a put-upon sigh. "Fine, if it'll shut you up, I'll go take a look. Gotta drain the snake anyway." He popped the door open, the interior light briefly illuminating his annoyed expression before he vanished into the darkness.
Seconds stretched into an eternity. Bradley's eyes darted frantically from shadow to shadow, his imagination populating the darkness with a thousand unseen terrors. "Steven?" he called out, his voice barely above a whisper. "You find anything?" The silence that answered him was deafening. "Shit, shit, shit!" Bradley muttered, his hand fumbling for the door handle. He managed to get one foot on the ground, his body following in a graceless lurch.
The attack, when it came, was swift and unexpected. Steven burst from the shadows, his face contorted in a mask of exaggerated terror that quickly dissolved into hysterical laughter. "Jesus, Bradley, you should've seen your face!" Steven howled, doubled over with mirth.
"You fucking asshole!" Bradley exploded, his terror transmuting instantly into rage. "I almost had a goddamn heart attack!"
Back in the car, the bottle of gin made its rounds, the liquor burning a path down their throats as they passed it back and forth. "Alright, time to roll," Steven slurred, throwing the car into reverse. "Gotta get this puke-mobile cleaned up tomorrow, thanks to you." The words had barely left his mouth when a sickening thud reverberated through the vehicle, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the asphalt.
Bradley's eyes widened in horror. "Dude, I think we hit someone!" The alcohol seemed to evaporate from his system, replaced by a cold, creeping dread. Steven, in contrast, burst into inappropriate laughter.
"Probably just a deer, man. Chill out."
"Fuck that noise. I'm checking it out." Bradley's voice was steadier now, a hint of steel beneath the fear. He stumbled out of the car, swaying like a sailor on a storm-tossed ship.
Steven killed the engine and the headlights, plunging them into darkness. Bradley approached the rear of the car, his heart pounding a staccato rhythm against his ribs. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he made out a figure lying face-down on the asphalt. It was unmistakably human.