Read Online Dark Corners READY FOR PRC by Liz Schulte - Free Book Online Page A

squeezed shut in terror, I kicked and flailed, desperate to free myself.  My fist connected with something that felt human. It let me go and I scrambled across the floor. Detective Troy was hovering over me, perplexed and cautious, when I finally looked up. He held his open hands out in front of him and maintained firm eye contact.
    “What the hell are you doing?” I asked, continuing to slide myself across the kitchen floor.
    Detective Troy seemed shocked at my continued reaction to him. He took a couple steps back, but held eye contact. “It's okay. I came over to see you. I called, but my phone was acting up. I could hear you, but you couldn’t hear me. When you didn’t answer, I was concerned. . . .”
    Relaxing a little, my mind began to process the situation better. “How did you get in?”
    “The front door was unlocked.”
    I pushed my hands through my hair, shaking my head.  I remembered locking it clearly.
    “What happened?”
    “My imagination was picking on me.” I felt close to tears.
    “What?” Detective Troy truly sounded confused.
    “I just … I had …” I sighed, trying to get the words out. “It’s been a bad morning.”
    He looked like he wanted to call an ambulance. “I thought you were dead.”
    “Not dead, just very, very confused. I think I had a panic attack.”
    “What are you confused about?”
    I picked myself up off the floor and paced around the kitchen.
    “If I tell you, you can't judge me. Or make any inferences about me from it.”
    “No  promises . . . but I'll try.”
    “Not good enough.”
    “That’s the offer. Who else are you going to tell? Not a lot of friends hanging around you. I'm probably your best bet.”
    Ouch, that was harsh.  True, but harsh. “I can take care of myself. I don't need friends.”
    “Maybe. But telling yourself secrets will only get you an embroidered straight jacket."  He sighed. "I won’t judge you—.”
    “Much better,” I said, but the moment had already passed. I no longer felt like talking about the incident this morning. “You know, looking back, it really isn’t that big of a deal. I couldn’t remember what happened last night, then I had a hang up prank call. It all ended in a completely disproportional panic attack.”
    “That’s not so bad. I thought you’d blacked out. Maybe you if drank a little less it would help with loosing time.”
    “Drinking is not my problem—.” Something suddenly dawned on me.  “That reminds me though—I'll be right back.”
     If last night happened, I wouldn’t still have the bottle of Merlot. I dashed down to the wine cellar. The bottle was sitting on the shelf exactly where it had been. Certain of my insanity, I started back upstairs—then stopped cold again. Something caught my eye. An inconsistency. I turned back around to look more closely. The bottle in question wasn’t dusty like the other ones. I picked up the bottle and it was empty.
    “What's going on?” I wondered aloud, more perplexed than ever.
    “That's exactly what I'm wondering.” Detective Troy’s voice, right behind me, startled me so badly I let go of the wine bottle. It slipped through my fingers and shattered on the floor.
    “Have the sudden urge for wine?” he asked looking at the glass scattered at my feet.
    “No, I actually haven’t had wine since Danny died. This cellar was more his thing than mine.” I made a quick decision to explain what had happened last night, because I desperately wanted an outside opinion. “I wasn’t completely honest with you. I do remember last night, but I had a reason to believe this morning that what I remembered didn’t happen.”
    “I'm not really following you.”
    “The wine answers a lot of questions.”
    “How does an empty bottle of wine prove anything?”
    “I'll explain.” I told Detective Troy what happened the night before, then what happened that morning. He listened, but I could see doubt and confusion in his eyes.
    “Why don’t you call