couldn’t skip through them, he damn well didn’t need to hear them.
He picked up the empty popcorn bowl on the floor by his feet and got up to put it in the sink. Alice was upstairs reading, so the bottom floor was bathed in darkness. He padded across the floor and banged his knee on the edge of the kitchen table.
The voice came from directly behind him.
Brian whirled around and almost smacked his nose into the refrigerator.
Again, he couldn’t tell what had been said. It sounded like the voice of a woman, whispering a few short words.
Or a child.
Creeping dread prickled the base of Brian’s skull.
Was the boy here? All he had to do was peer around the edge of the kitchen doorway to see.
The thought of walking back to his bedroom made him lightheaded. He knew he’d have to get past the boy.
The floor creaked above and his shoulders hitched.
Has to be Alice moving in bed.
He took a hesitant step, pausing to listen for more barely audible mumbling. The hush of the house was overwhelming. It was like surfing; that moment when you lost your balance and tipped into the cold, wild spray. Until you broke the surface, you were smothered by the merciless ocean, helpless in its grip.
Brian sucked in a ragged breath.
I’ll just poke my head into the hallway and see if he’s there. If he is, I’ll deal with it.
His body wasn’t as gung-ho with the idea as his mind. It was an effort to take another step, to place a steadying hand on the kitchen counter, to move his back and neck those precious inches so he could see into the hallway.
A dark yet empty hall stretched out before him. The flickering blue light of the TV bled across its walls. There was no boy, no expectant specter or guardian angel.
“Jesus Christ,” Brian said, exhaling the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “This is getting ridiculous.”
A low, stressed moan came from the bedroom. It was Cassandra.
Brian forgot his fear and walked down the hallway to check on his wife.
Halfway through, something came close to his ear and whispered, “Briiiiaaaaannnnn . ”
His joints locked and the hairs on the back of his neck went rigid.
It was a boy’s voice, high, soft, almost playful.
He was either right by his side or behind him. This time, Brian couldn’t make himself look.
The sudden blaring of the TV made him jump back, breaking his paralysis. He ran the rest of the way into the bedroom and hit the mute button again. The remote control was where he’d left it, on his chair and out of Cassandra’s reach.
Brian’s insides burned hot with terror but his skin was cold and clammy. Fumbling with the remote, he turned and again saw nothing but an empty hallway. His breath came in short, pained gasps.
“Uhhhhh.”
Cassandra’s eyes were open, glazed and bloodshot, the once vibrant color faded, washed away by the sickness eating away at her and the drugs used to keep her comfortable and alive. Brian crouched over her and cupped the side of her face in his hand.
Her lips twitched into something resembling a smile.
“Hey you,” he said, his voice shaking. “Did you wake up to watch the Devils game with me?” He smiled and knew how terribly false it must look.
Cassandra turned her head, each inch seeming to take an eternity. Brian stroked her cheek, wiping a small tear that had leaked from the corner of her eye. When her gaze fell upon the open doorway, she sucked in a great lungful of air, closed her eyes, and fell back into limbo.
Still keeping his hand on her to let her know he was with her, Brian reached out with his foot and pulled the door closed, shutting out the hallway.
Chapter Seventeen
When Tony got the call from Mrs. Torre to take Brian out, he was only too happy to oblige. She answered the door and pulled him by the arm, closing the door quickly behind him.
“Brian’s in the back room with Cassie. Here’s fifty dollars,” she
He picked up the empty popcorn bowl on the floor by his feet and got up to put it in the sink. Alice was upstairs reading, so the bottom floor was bathed in darkness. He padded across the floor and banged his knee on the edge of the kitchen table.
The voice came from directly behind him.
Brian whirled around and almost smacked his nose into the refrigerator.
Again, he couldn’t tell what had been said. It sounded like the voice of a woman, whispering a few short words.
Or a child.
Creeping dread prickled the base of Brian’s skull.
Was the boy here? All he had to do was peer around the edge of the kitchen doorway to see.
The thought of walking back to his bedroom made him lightheaded. He knew he’d have to get past the boy.
The floor creaked above and his shoulders hitched.
Has to be Alice moving in bed.
He took a hesitant step, pausing to listen for more barely audible mumbling. The hush of the house was overwhelming. It was like surfing; that moment when you lost your balance and tipped into the cold, wild spray. Until you broke the surface, you were smothered by the merciless ocean, helpless in its grip.
Brian sucked in a ragged breath.
I’ll just poke my head into the hallway and see if he’s there. If he is, I’ll deal with it.
His body wasn’t as gung-ho with the idea as his mind. It was an effort to take another step, to place a steadying hand on the kitchen counter, to move his back and neck those precious inches so he could see into the hallway.
A dark yet empty hall stretched out before him. The flickering blue light of the TV bled across its walls. There was no boy, no expectant specter or guardian angel.
“Jesus Christ,” Brian said, exhaling the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “This is getting ridiculous.”
A low, stressed moan came from the bedroom. It was Cassandra.
Brian forgot his fear and walked down the hallway to check on his wife.
Halfway through, something came close to his ear and whispered, “Briiiiaaaaannnnn . ”
His joints locked and the hairs on the back of his neck went rigid.
It was a boy’s voice, high, soft, almost playful.
He was either right by his side or behind him. This time, Brian couldn’t make himself look.
The sudden blaring of the TV made him jump back, breaking his paralysis. He ran the rest of the way into the bedroom and hit the mute button again. The remote control was where he’d left it, on his chair and out of Cassandra’s reach.
Brian’s insides burned hot with terror but his skin was cold and clammy. Fumbling with the remote, he turned and again saw nothing but an empty hallway. His breath came in short, pained gasps.
“Uhhhhh.”
Cassandra’s eyes were open, glazed and bloodshot, the once vibrant color faded, washed away by the sickness eating away at her and the drugs used to keep her comfortable and alive. Brian crouched over her and cupped the side of her face in his hand.
Her lips twitched into something resembling a smile.
“Hey you,” he said, his voice shaking. “Did you wake up to watch the Devils game with me?” He smiled and knew how terribly false it must look.
Cassandra turned her head, each inch seeming to take an eternity. Brian stroked her cheek, wiping a small tear that had leaked from the corner of her eye. When her gaze fell upon the open doorway, she sucked in a great lungful of air, closed her eyes, and fell back into limbo.
Still keeping his hand on her to let her know he was with her, Brian reached out with his foot and pulled the door closed, shutting out the hallway.
Chapter Seventeen
When Tony got the call from Mrs. Torre to take Brian out, he was only too happy to oblige. She answered the door and pulled him by the arm, closing the door quickly behind him.
“Brian’s in the back room with Cassie. Here’s fifty dollars,” she
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