Читать книгу As You Lay Sleeping - Katlyn Duncan - Страница 13

Chapter 3

The image of Joe’s blank face flashed in my eyes every time I blinked. The lights from the police cars painted the overlay of his face in red and blue. The police had been at the house for almost an hour already. Did they really need those lights on? I rubbed my temples with my fingertips. The nasty stench of death had settled in the back of my throat, making me want to gag again, though I doubted I had anything left in my stomach.

A pair of headlights pierced through the darkness further down the driveway. I stood up from the wide stairs at the entrance of the main house. I leaned my body against one of the large white columns, squinting to see who it was.

When I recognized the car, a breath whooshed out of me. I raced from the steps, weaving between the blue and white police cars to get to my dad’s Jeep.

A female officer stationed behind the other police cars waved for Dad to stop.

“That’s my dad,” I said breathlessly, fighting back another round of tears. I needed to get as far away from this nightmare as I could. I’d called Mom and Dad after the 911 call. They told me to wait for them. I had enough trouble controlling the violent trembling of my hands and the flashes of Joe’s face, so I knew I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to drive.

“This is still a crime scene,” the officer said, clasping her hands behind her back. “He can meet you on the other side of the tape.”

I lifted the yellow tape and stepped under. Raindrops peppered me in the face. Thankfully, the rain had let up until moments after the police arrived. Until my parents arrived, I’d huddled by the front entrance of the main house, not wanting to go inside any of the buildings on the estate, especially the main house. The huge empty house would definitely add to the creep factor of the entire night. And I wasn’t going back to the pool house to get my umbrella. I’d buy another one.

Mom and Dad came out of the idling Jeep, and I fell into Dad’s arms. The strength of his embrace melted the terror in my bones and opened the floodgates. I sobbed into his shirt.

“Sorry it took us so long. The streets were blocked with police,” Dad said, his voice a hearty rumble against my ear.

Mom rubbed a hand on my back. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

I rested my cheek against Dad’s chest. Mom stared at the house. “He’s dead.” The words were like a foreign language on my tongue, uncomfortable and shaky. “I thought he was sleeping…”

Dad squeezed my arm. “Carebear. I’m so sorry.” He shook his head absently. “His poor parents.”

Mom nodded, glancing at him. Unspoken words hung between them.

Joe’s parents wouldn’t have nightmares of his frozen, expressionless face for the rest of their lives. That was Joe’s parting gift to me.

Dad patted my back. “We should take you home. Let me speak to the person in charge and see if it’s okay for you to leave.”

“Dad.” I grabbed his arm, unwilling to take another step toward the house. I needed to be as far away as possible. For the rest of my life if I could help it.

My parents shared another look and Mom placed a hand on my shoulder, escorting me to the Jeep. My legs vibrated as if I’d run ten miles in the last two hours. I collapsed on the backseat. My damp shirt clung to my body, turning to ice when the air conditioning hit it. My teeth started to chatter. At this rate, I was going to have stubs for teeth.

Mom got into her seat, closed the door and turned off the air conditioning. She turned around. “There’s a blanket next to you.”

It was the huge blanket Mom always kept in the Jeep for impromptu beach trips. I wrapped it around me and tucked it around my legs. I pressed my lips together and imagined I was in the warmest place possible. I thought of the beach, but then remembered the many trips Joe and I took to the various coves in Chester Bay. The thought made me shiver. Not the desired effect.

Dad hadn’t returned when two paramedics pushed a stretcher carrying a sealed black bag to the ambulance. Bile rose in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and saw Joe’s face again. They sprang open and I stared at the back of headrest instead. Was I going to see him every time I closed my eyes? If so, I was never going to sleep well again.

Mom sighed, her voice full of emotion. “I can’t believe this.”

“Me neither,” I murmured. What if I had come over earlier? Would this still have happened? Could I have said or done something differently? I tucked the blanket closer to my body. I couldn’t believe Joe could be so reckless. Well, I could believe it: I’d seen him get close many times.

My stomach churned. I swallowed a few times, willing it to stop quivering.

Dad approached the car, and I sat up straighter. Finally, we were getting out of there.

He got into the Jeep and sat there, his expression slack. The vacant look he gave the windshield reminded me of the last image I would ever have of my boyfriend.

“What did they say, Tom?” Mom asked.

Dad cleared his throat. “Cara answered all their initial questions. If they have more, they’ll be in touch.” His hand reached over and squeezed Mom’s.

“What other questions could they have?” It was an accidental overdose, that’s all. I had nothing to do with it other than wanting to escape the toxic relationship I’d endured for the last two years. Sure, I was the one who didn’t have the guts to leave, but I didn’t kill him.

I removed the blanket, suddenly becoming too warm.

I caught Dad’s gaze in the rearview mirror. He shrugged. “Probably none.”

Probably none? That didn’t settle me one bit.

I kept my television on all night, fearful of the shadows that stretched across the room after I turned off the lights. Joe lingered in my mind the entire time. I recalled our whole relationship from start to finish on a memory loop in my mind. I tried to pick out the happier parts keeping the afterimages of his dead body on the periphery of my mind. At least for a little while. I wondered what had gone through his head. From speaking with Joe earlier that day it didn’t seem like he was upset. Accidents did happen, though.

My mind wandered to Kat. I could almost see her reaction when the police called her family. I hadn’t wanted to call or text her. I didn’t want to contribute to the situation more than I already had. And partly because I was a coward. My parents agreed that I shouldn’t call her, since it was the police’s job to release all information to the family. Knowing the devastation that was about to befall Kat’s family kept me up into the early hours of the morning.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep from pure exhaustion, because I woke when an explosion of music erupted from my phone. I sat up, disoriented for a moment after being catapulted from the edge of unconsciousness.

The ringing stopped, and I took a breath, leaning back against my headboard. Three text tones sounded from the ground in rapid succession, then the phone started ringing again. I knew it was Kat. If we didn’t pick up the first time, she would type 911 in three separate texts, then call again. Most of the time it was for fashion or gossip ‘emergency’; this time, I knew it wasn’t about clothes.

I scooted off my bed and headed toward the ringing sound. I shoved my clothes from last night out of the way and found my phone under the pile that I intended to wash at least a dozen times before wearing again, if ever. Even though my clothes didn’t touch Joe, I could swear they held onto the scent of him. The smell that made me want to throw up all over again.

A picture of me and Kat from the prom filled the screen. I took a steadying breath and picked up.

“I. Can’t. Believe. It,” Kat sobbed on the other end. Her words interrupted by sharp pulls of breath.

I lay back down on the bed, covering my eyes with my hand. Tears welled in my eyes and a few escaped before I wiped them away. “I’m so sorry, Kat.”

She sniffed, the sound thick and wet across the line. “The police said you found him.”

I made the mistake of closing my eyes and his face appeared. I tried to shake it off. “Yeah.”

“God! That must have been awful for you.”

“It was.” I sat up. I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep after this conversation. “When are you coming home?” I couldn’t do this alone.

She sniffed. “Dad scheduled our plane for this morning. God, I can’t believe this!” Another round of sobs sailed over the line. Flashes of Joe’s dead face punctured my vision and I couldn’t hold back my tears, either. “He had so much life to look forward to. Stanford in a few months. He didn’t deserve to die.”

“I know . . .” I trailed off.

She was right. He did have a lot to look forward to.

Someone knocked on my door, allowing me to briefly escape my haunting thoughts and reliving with Kat the horrific night I’d just endured. I was sure to do that again when she came home. At least I could compose my thoughts in the hours it took her to get home.

Mom poked her head into the room. “Sweetheart?”

I pointed to the phone and mouthed the word, “Kat.”

Mom nodded and said softly, “Breakfast is ready.” She left the room.

“Hang in there, Kat. Call me as soon as you land.” I slid off my bed and shoved my feet into my worn slippers.

“I will.” Someone spoke in the background on the other line. “I have to go,” she said after a moment of silence.

We said our goodbyes and I hung up first. I stood still, staring at the carpet, trying to build enough strength to make my legs move forward. I pushed my fingers through my tangled mess of hair. I didn’t have the energy to move, never mind care how I looked.

I walked around my bed and kicked something. A folded piece of paper flipped over, revealing my name. I sucked in a breath. The note Joe had written me. I’d forgotten all about it after I found him. I lifted it from the ground, pinched between my fingers like a broken shard of glass. I didn’t need to read it again to see the words in my mind’s eye. The words “All for you” repeated in my head.

I placed the note in my desk drawer and closed it. I wasn’t sure what to make of the message but it wasn’t as if Joe were alive to ask. Then, I took several steadying breaths before heading to the kitchen.