Deadly Secrets. Part 7.

So, my first week of college is over and I am exhausted. It probably didn’t help I spent a few days in my friends house as well, it was extremely fun, but tiring.

On with the show!

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Part 1, Part 6

Diane called the police while Patrick looked around the rest of the house, suitably armed with a bat, to ensure that whoever had done it had not remained. They were alone in the house. “Did you make the bed?” Diane shook her head. “Neither did I” Patrick knew there might be things missing in the room, or other nasty surprises waiting for them, but they had decided that it would be smarter to wait for the police. Patrick didn’t want to disturb anything and Diane couldn’t bear to go back inside. She had decided they would need an entirely new bed, down to the frame when the police arrived. It was almost thirty minutes since she called, she had let the operator know there was no else in the house. It was the same cops who had arrived after the eye incident, they shook hands, “what’s it this time. The operator wasn’t too sure she heard right.” Diane shot him a look, “I was perfectly clear when I told her that there was a human heart on our bed.” “I’m sure you were, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” “Diane, Patrick’s wife.” “I’m Jason and this is Mike. Would you mind showing us the heart?” “This way” They left Diane in the sitting room while Patrick brought them upstairs.

Diane sat by herself for a few moments, trying to gather her thoughts. She didn’t know quite how to feel. Obviously she was frightened but beneath that there was a simmering anger. How dare someone enter her home and do this, how dare they? She sighed and shook her head, anger wouldn’t do her any good. Not now anyway. She could be angry once they found whomever did it. They could take steps to improve their security once they found out how the person got in. They had an alarm, but they didn’t always remember to use it. There was a while where it was ingrained after Patrick had some trouble with a client, a guy who wouldn’t leave them alone, but, after he’d be caught they became lazy about it. The alarm was only used every other time, then occasionally. Now it was more of an after thought once the door closed. It was definitely a habit they shouldn’t have fallen out of. The house seemed more sinister too, as though every shadow was hiding someone. Diane shivered slightly and wondered what they were looking at upstairs, she wanted to get a glass of water but was worried. She didn’t know what she was and wasn’t allowed touch, after all, she might destroy something, but there was also the fear, beneath everything, that someone was still inside the house and that if she went alone, she would be attacked. It was a stupid fear, Patrick had checked the house, so had the police, and there was no one in the house that shouldn’t be. Finally standing, she moved into the kitchen, trying to ignore her pounding heart and dry mouth. She’d grab a can of coke from the side, whoever broke in wouldn’t have been pawing around there surely. The door was closed when they left and closed when they returned. Chances are who ever it was broke in and went straight to the bedroom before leaving straight away. She touched the handle, turning it slowly, trying to calm herself down. She slowly opened the door and stepped through, flicking on the lights, half expecting to see something new and horrible. The room was as it should be, the tiles and walls were clean and nothing seemed disturbed, bending down, she opened the cupboard and grabbed the first can of soft drink that came to hand, it popped satisfyingly and she downed half the can quickly before stopping to stifle a burp. She felt better, both from the sugar rush and the trip the side room. She proved to herself that she wasn’t controlled by her fear. Turning, she left the lights on, just in case anything else was needed from the side and went to join Patrick and the police upstairs. She was swinging back to angry again, they’d probably have to go to a hotel for the night, would they even be able to get a room this late? They could always stay with friends, but she didn’t want to have to impose on someone, it was late and everyone was probably already asleep. The drink had helped wake her up, but she was still tired, her eyes felt hot and gritty and she kept needing to yawn. What ever they ended up doing, she hoped it would be quick.

When Diane joined everyone, they were just winding down in the conversation, “so what’s going to happen now?” “Well, you two would probably be best off going to a hotel for the night, we’re gonna take in the bedding as evidence and get some guys out for fingerprinting and everything should be done by tomorrow night, so you’ll only have to stay away for a day. Normally with break-ins I advise people who have to leave to spend the night in their house as soon as possible, the longer you leave it the harder it is, but in your case, I think a night or two in a hotel might do you some good. Help you unwind. We think that this is probably an act of aggression directed at Patrick, probably because of his line of work. He’s gonna give us a list of potential suspects so we can check them out. Chances are though who ever it is, is all talk. When they make a big showy gesture like this it’s generally in the hope that they’ll scare you enough so they don’t have to escalate it. It’s not always the case though, so when you return we’ll have a car drive by whenever they can to make sure everything is ok, but this is probably the last you’ll hear of this nut job. We don’t need anything from you at the moment, tomorrow we’ll go through what happened with you but for now you can go if you like. When you find somewhere to stay just let us know.” Patrick shook their hands and one of them handed him a card. “Here, if you need anything, just call.” “Thanks, we’ll let you know where we’re staying as soon as we find a place.”

They drove in silence, Diane was too tired to talk and Patrick’s mind was too preoccupied, he was trying to think of anyone at all who would do something like that. He had no encounters with irate clients recently and couldn’t think of any sensitive information he shouldn’t really know about. He couldn’t think of anything at all that would cause someone to defile his house in such a horrible way. The tourist season was winding down so chances were good they would find somewhere to stay. They were going to do something to treat themselves soon anyway, might as well stay at a good hotel for a few nights. While Diane tried not to doze, he drove towards The Carroll, a hotel that was one of the best in the city.

Patrick parked on a nearby street and together, they walked to the hotel. When she saw where they were, Diane tried to object, but it was feeble, “couldn’t we stay somewhere else?” “We could but where’s the fun in that?” “We can’t really afford it though.” “It’s fine, I got a bit of a bonus the other day, besides, when are we going to have an excuse to stay in a fancy hotel again?”  They entered the imposing, ornate doors, into the huge, marble paved lobby. The desks, were large made of black marble that gleamed in the soft, mellow lights. Couches where placed strategically around the lobby for weary travellers and tasteful paintings were hung on the walls.
Diane flopped down onto the couch while Patrick went up to the desk. While she was checking him in, Patrick chatted with the receptionist, telling her why they were getting a hotel room so late in the evening, hoping she might bump him into a better room. Taking the keys, he thanked the receptionist and went to get Diane, he’d really laid it on thick, telling her how they were celebrating Diane’s pregnancy and how horrible it all was. It worked, but he wouldn’t tell Diane that until after she saw the room.

They went upstairs in silence, the elevator smoothly travelling upwards with a slight hum. The corridors looked confusing, but signs directed them to their room. Patrick opened the doors with a dramatic flourish and stepping inside, he groped the wall for a light switch, finding it, he smiled “Your bedroom M’lady.” Patrick laughed when he saw Diane’s face, she was obviously shocked and trying to hide how pleased she was. “This must have cost a fortune!” “Have no fear, your genius, suave husband flirted his way to the top.” She playfully hit him “the girl on the desk bumped us up cos of what happened, I told her you were preggo as well. Might as well get some use out of it while we can!” Diane rolled her eyes, “lovely, so I’ve gone from your wife to your walking discount.” “Exactly.” Diane sat on the edge of the bed, then lay backwards, sighing contentedly. “Say what you like about the rich, but they get awesome beds.” “You should see the size of this bathroom. I think our house could fit in here. Seriously. We could sub-let it to a family, make back some money.” Patrick walked back out to find Diane was already asleep. “Jeez. Gettin’ old, C’mon. you’ve to undress.” Slowly, he helped the reluctant Diane get ready for bed, stripping her to her underwear and tucking her under the covers before getting himself ready.

Settled in beside her, he looked at the ceiling, the light in the bathroom was on and the door was ajar, they both found that it was easier than waking up and wondering where the hell you were for a few moments and the light was a handy guide for where the bathroom was, no getting locked out of their room for them.

He was tired but couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he could see that heart again, smell it. what would have happened if they were at home? Would who ever it was still have broken in? Would they have been attacked? The questions rolled around in his head. What if just Diane was alone? What if he was working late or something? They’d need to get a dog or something. It could protect Diane if he wasn’t home to do so. It was almost three a.m. when he finally drifted off to an uneasy sleep. He woke early in the morning and rang Gloria, telling her to cancel any one he had coming in and that she could take the day as well, he briefly explained what happened the night before and with that done, he rolled over and fell back asleep. When he woke again he had a brief moment of panic, the bed beside him was empty. He remembered the heart again, the breathed a sigh of relief when he realised the shower was on. While Diane was in the bathroom, Patrick ordered room service. It arrived just as Diane was done, a cart was wheeled in, full of food. He wasn’t sure what to get and, feeling ravenous, just ordered what ever sounded good. It was expensive, but he didn’t feel like going out to breakfast, he’d be too on edge, even if they only went downstairs, he’d be wondering if someone in the room was the bastard who broke into his house last night. Patrick looked at the food for a moment, trying to decide what to do, then, taking a pancake, he ate it plain in three bites and went into the bathroom. “I know you’ve cravings and the like, but try save me some.”
While Patrick showered, Diane ate slowly, she was hungry but she kept thinking of the night before, it was off-putting. She picked up the jam, then remembered the thick, clotted blood and put it back down, moving away from the food. she hadn’t had proper morning sickness yet, and hoped that it would never come, but she felt like throwing up now. Patrick opened the door to the bathroom releasing a cloud of steam. “I took the day off today, so if you want we can do something” “yeah, sure. I’m done with breakfast so you can have anything you want.” “But there’s so much food there, you’re not doing your part. Besides, you barely ate anything, you should eat. It’s good for you and you can’t let all that butter go to waste.” Diane poured a glass of orange juice and sipped it, “happy?” “Better” Patrick kissed her cheek, then sat on the chair across from her and started to eat.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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2 Responses to Deadly Secrets. Part 7.

  1. Pingback: Deadly Secrets. Part 6. | Alan James Keogh

  2. Pingback: Deadly Secrets. Part 8. | Alan James Keogh

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