Lost Page 16

  “Mom, you okay? Need any help?” Carey stuck his head out of the window. I looked up and caught a glimpse of Jimmy asleep against the the window. I chuckled—he could sleep anywhere just like his father.

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  The pump clicked off, and I took the nozzle out of my tank and put it up.

  Sheesh, almost $100 for gas.

  Jessie was looking at one of her magazines, and I turned to see Sam and Maggie running up to the car.

  “Thanks, Sam.” Maggie looked up at her big brother adoringly. “All done, Mommy. Let’s go home!”

  “Okay. Everyone in. Buckle up!”

  And we were off.

  * * *

  About an hour later, we pulled into the driveway. Home!

  “We’re home!” Sam yelled into the back seat.

  Everyone had dozed off except for Jessie, who threw her magazine aside and unbuckled her seat belt.

  Jimmy quickly woke up and stretched. “Cool. Carey, get up.” He shoved his brother, who was in the path of the exit.

  Carey woke up reluctantly and moved to open the door.

  Sam and I were already out, and I was walking toward the front door with my key at the ready. It was good to be home.

  Opening the door, I didn’t notice anything off right away. I just knew that it was hot inside, so I went over to the thermostat to turn up the air. And then I saw it.

  Brian had taken a picture of Sam and I at his kindergarten graduation. It was knocked off the wall. I didn’t think anything of it—maybe it just fell down. But then I saw the next picture. One of our wedding pictures was on the floor, the glass smashed. I whirled around to look at the family room. All the family pictures I had scattered around on the shelves, the end tables—all were on the floor. I ran to the stairs.

  My wall of pictures, as Brian used to call it, was smashed on the stairs. I had painstakingly gone through school pictures, vacation pictures—hundreds of them—and lovingly put them in frames. There must have been over 50 on the wall. And there they were, every single one of them was taken off and ruined.

  I heard the kids coming in.

  “NO!” I yelled to Carey, who was coming in the front door. “Stay outside.”

  “What? Why?” Carey peeked in, looking worried, but I motioned him out angrily.

  Who would do this? I thought as I moved carefully upstairs. More pictures lined the hallway, and every single one of them was also knocked to the floor. Glass was everywhere.

  Only one door was open—Sam’s room. I picked up a heavy vase—not really sure what I would do with it—and walked into his room slowly. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized that I was perhaps, maybe acting foolishly. I knew I should’ve gone back outside with the kids and called the police, but I kept kept telling myself this was my home.

  Sam’s room looked untouched, except for one thing. On his dresser had been two pictures. Both were from Sam’s high school graduation. Brian and I had been so proud. We had to have pictures with our graduate. One of the pictures was a shot I took of Sam and Brian. The other was one Brian took of Sam and I.

  The one with Brian was fine, but the one of the two of us... The frame had been shattered against the dresser. I could see the mark. And the picture had been ripped to shreds. Tears filled my eyes.

  I clutched the vase tighter and walked down to the kitchen. I had another picture of Sam and I in there. It was a bigger picture. I was in my wedding dress, and Sam was in a little suit. Someone had snapped a picture of the two of us dancing, and Brian had gotten it enlarged a few years ago. Again, the glass was shattered. Looking closer, it looked like a knife, a tiger, Freddy Krueger, something had slashed the picture.

  What the hell?

  If the broken glass and torn pictures were not enough, I noticed something even more strange. Brian had chosen five pictures—me with each of the kids—and enlarged them to 11 by 14. He’d had each one beautifully framed, and they hung in the breakfast nook. On each one my face had been removed.

  And then I saw the back door. It had been shattered. The screen door was torn off the hinges and now lay on the patio, and the wood door looked like it had exploded.

  Inescapably, the fear was there, and I ran to the front of the house. The kids were all standing by the van, and I called to Sam and Carey.

  “Sam, call 911. Someone broke into the house. Carey, you and Jimmy take the girls to Bee’s.”

  They just stood there and looked at me.

  “MOVE!” I said loudly.

  Sam yanked his cell phone out of his pocket, and Carey rounded up Jimmy and the girls. The boys each took one of the girls by the hand, and they walked quickly down the driveway. Carey looked back at me, fear on his face. I nodded at him and gave him a tight smile.

  “Mom, get away from the front door,” Sam said to me. “The cops are on their way.”

  Tears fell down my face. Who would do this?

  Chapter 23

  He saw her slowly look out the back door. She looked so scared, and yet, she was so beautiful.

  He had also seen another woman go into the house the night before. This woman registered with him, but he wasn’t sure why. Her name escaped him, so, in his mind, she was The Woman. The Woman was angry—so angry and so strong. She just ripped the screen door off the hinges and kicked the wood door in. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to stop her—not yet. So he had stood by and watched as The Woman broke all the pictures.

  In those pictures, the beautiful woman—the one he had watched for so long—laughed with children, happy children. She kissed their cheeks, and they hugged her back.

  He watched as she wiped the tears from her beautiful face. He guessed the kids were still outside, as he hadn’t heard or seen them. He was grateful they hadn’t been home the night before.

  He was sure if they had been, The Woman would have killed them.

  Chapter 24

  The police officers roared up to our house and told Sam and I to stay outside. I must have put the vase down at some point, and I was gripping the ruined picture of Sam and I at my wedding.

  “Mom, what do you have?” Sam said to me as he tried to gently take it from me.

  I let the picture go in a daze.

  “Who would do this?” Sam asked, looking confused. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s her.” I said softly. In my heart I knew who had done it.

  “What? Who’s her? Mom, do you know who did this?” Sam was standing next to me, the ruined picture in his hand.

  “Go down to Bee and Anthony’s, and ask Anthony to come up, please.” I pushed Sam toward their house.

  “What? No, I’ll just call them.” He reached for his phone.

  “No!” I told him forcefully. He needed to go. “Do what I said, please.”

  He looked at me for a minute, and then just nodded. He ran toward their house, looking back at me standing on our front lawn. One of the officers came out of the house just as our neighbors ran over.

  “Julie, what happened? Are you okay?” Cicily Hall was our neighbor. She and her husband, Gerald, had offered to keep an eye on the house while we were gone.

  “Ma’am? Are you okay?” The officer asked. It wasn’t the same young officer that had come to the house a few months ago. This officer was older. He looked more experienced.

  I nodded and handed him the picture Sam had given back to me. “I’m sorry. I took this out of the house with me.”

  He took it from me and looked at it sadly. “I’m sorry about this.”

  I just shook my head, and then I heard Anthony call to me. I turned and saw him running up.

  “Julie? Are you okay?” He put his arms around me, and I just fell against him.

  We were healing, things were feeling right again—for the first time in almost a year—and now this. I couldn’t stop the tears. The sobs just tore out of me, and I felt Anthony’s arms around me.

  “Sir, are you a friend?” Officer Petterson was on his name tag.

  �
��I am.” Anthony gently removed his arms, but kept me at his side. Cicily came over and put her thin arm around my shoulder. Gerald stood beside Anthony, as if the three of them could shield me from whatever was going on.

  Officer Petterson nodded and let the three of them stay with me. “Ma’am, did you notice anything missing?”

  I shook my head. “No. I didn’t really notice anything missing, just the pictures. Oh! And the back door.”

  Anthony, Cicily, and Gerald looked at me questioningly.

  I turned to them, the tears were still pouring. “Someone smashed in the back door, and they destroyed almost every picture in the house. Or at least they knocked them over and broke the glass.”

  I left out the damage that had been done to the pictures of Sam and I.

  “Oh my god!” Cicily’s hand flew to her mouth. “Julie, we were over here last night. We checked all the locks. Everything was locked up tight.”

  Gerald was nodding, agreeing with his wife. “Officer, I was in the backyard. The door was fine.”

  “And this was what time, sir?” The officer asked him.

  “Right around 10pm, maybe a bit later. We were taking the dog out.”

  Cicily looked so upset—like I would blame her—that I put my arms around her and assured her it wasn’t her fault.

  “You don’t need this, sweetie!” She took my face in her hands, then suddenly pointed her finger at the officer. “YOU!”

  She stepped up to him. Cicily was a tiny woman, but the officer took notice. “You find out who did this.”

  Gerald was nodding, once again agreeing with his wife. Anthony was peering at the house, a curious expression on his face.

  “This isn’t the first time,” Anthony told Officer Petterson.

  “I’m sorry. What do you mean, sir?”

  “A few months ago, someone left a slaughtered animal on Mrs. Klevan’s doorstep. You should find a record of that. And about a month ago, someone defaced her windshield. Now this.”

  No! Was it all related? No shit. I was stupid. Of course it was.

  I was in a daze, and once again Anthony handled the police for me. It was becoming a habit.

  “Julie?” He called to me. “Julie?”

  I snapped out of it, “What? I’m sorry.”

  “Did you guys report the windshield?” Anthony inquired.

  “No. I thought... I figured it was a mistake.”

  The officer raised an eyebrow at me, so I continued, “About a month ago, someone wrote ’He’s Mine’ on the windshield of my car. I thought they just had the wrong car.”

  “Why would you think that, ma’am?”

  I shrugged. “Because I’m a widow. I’m not seeing anyone, not even close. And I’m the only one that really drives the van.”

  “What about one of the boys? Are they seeing someone?” Anthony asked. “Could it be something with them?”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. Sam is only seeing Karie, and Carey just started seeing Lessa Carideo.”

  I think Officer Petterson wanted to ask me something else, but he shut his mouth and turned away, saying something into his radio.

  “Anthony?” I went to him and placed my hand on his arm. “Please. You and Brian were like brothers. Promise me you’ll tell me the truth.”

  I looked at my friend. We had been friends for almost 15 years. We had shared the best times and seen each other through some of the worst.

  He searched my face, my eyes. “Always, Julie.”

  “Was Brian having an affair? Was he seeing someone? Is that who’s doing all of this?” I almost choked on my words.

  Anthony took my shoulders and looked me right in the eye. He was honest, sometimes to a fault, and he knew I would believe whatever he told me. “Jules. I promise you. I swear. Brian was faithful. Always.”

  I searched his face for a lie. I saw none, and I let out a breath. I didn’t even realize I’d been holding it. I just nodded and rubbed my arms. I was suddenly cold.

  * * *

  Officer Petterson’s colleague came out of the house, and the two of them spoke for a moment before coming over to me.

  “Mrs. Klevan, I’m Detective Jeffries. I’m sorry about all this.”

  “Yes, thank you. Did you find anything?”

  “Ma’am, did you go in the master bedroom?”

  “What? No.” A cold vice suddenly gripped my heart. “Sam’s—that’s my oldest son—his door was the only one open. I did go in there.”

  “Is something wrong? Did you find something?” Anthony stepped up to us and asked the officers.

  Detective Jeffries looked at me, and I swear I could feel the pain I saw etched in his eyes. “Ma’am, can you come with me? Sir, you can come as well.”

  He led Anthony and I up the stairs, and I paused at the top. I didn’t want to see my room. I was shaking. Anthony stood with me, and Jeffries waited at the door to my room. I steeled myself and nodded, walking forward.

  I stood in the doorway and looked at my room. My bedspread had been shredded, and so were the sheets, even the mattress. A picture that Carey had taken last year of Brian and I at the beach was slashed—just like the picture in the kitchen. And clothes had been thrown out of my closet and similarly torn.

  I stepped in and looked into the bathroom. The mirror looked as if someone had hit it with a baseball bat. It was everywhere. Shampoo bottles were thrown around the bathroom. Even the toilet had been smashed to pieces, and water from it had flooded the floor and had spread into my bedroom. One of the the officers must have turned off the water because it wasn’t flowing anymore. I didn’t stop to think of the potential damage to my floor or the ceiling on the first floor.

  I brought my hands to my face, not wanting to see anymore.

  I turned around and saw my dresser. “No. Oh, No! NO!”

  I ran over and picked up what was left of the beautiful jewelry box Brian had made me. It was in pieces, as was most of the jewelry he and the children had bought me.

  Anthony ran to me. “Julie?”

  “NO!” I was screaming, hysterical at that point. “This was it. This was his last gift to me.”

  Anthony looked like he was in pain. “Ahh, Julie...”

  “He finished it the day before he died.” I sank to the floor, holding one of the velvet trays. I couldn’t stop the tears anymore. I didn’t even try. A rage filled my body and loosened the icy vice around my heart.

  On the floor under the dresser, I saw a bit of silver sticking out. I reached for it and found the bracelet a young Sam had given me. Somehow the fragile piece had escaped the wreckage that was done to my room, and I clutched it tightly in my hand.

  I looked up at my friend and shook my head. “Why?”

  He knelt beside me. “Honey, I don’t know.”

  “Mrs. Klevan, I’m sorry. I promise you, we will do our best to find out who did this.”

  All I could do was nod. “Anthony, I would really like to see Bee right now.”

  “Okay,” he said as he helped me stand. I put the tray on what was left of my dresser and left my room. I never looked back.

  Chapter 25

  Once again, the kids were settled into Bee’s house. Jimmy in Ant’s room, Carey and Sam in the den, and the girls were already asleep in the guest room. I was sitting outside by the pool, still clutching the silver and turquoise bracelet. I could hear Bee and Anthony in the kitchen.

  “Was it bad?” She asked him.

  “Babe, I don’t get it. All the pictures were smashed, and her bedroom...”

  Already people said her bedroom, not their bedroom. My bedroom was destroyed. Where would I start? How would I clean all of that up?

  “Jules?” Bee called to me from the door, and I turned to her. “You okay, sweetie?”

  I smiled at her. “Hey, don’t call me that.”

  It was a running joke with Bee and Amy. I hated to be called sweetie. Brian was the only person I let get away with that.

  She smiled sadly at me a
nd sat down next to me, taking my hand. And we sat there for at least 20 minutes. Her holding my hand, and me holding my bracelet.

  “Amy’s coming over,” she finally said.

  “Empty handed?”

  Bee shook her head. “Oh no. She’s making a pit stop.”

  Booze—the cure all. We usually drink margaritas, but when the shit hit the fan, a martini was in order.

  I saw a flash of headlights a few minutes later.

  “Amy’s here,” Bee said.

  A moment later, we heard Amy and Ben talking to Anthony. Sam had joined them in the kitchen, but was sticking close to Anthony.

  “Doctor’s here,” Amy said with forced gaiety. She brought out a tray with a bottle of gin, some vermouth, a jar of olives, and three glasses.

  “Oh, yes.” Bee heaved a small sigh of relief.

  I just sat there and stared at the water. Soon, a glass was shoved at me, and I gratefully took it.

  Amy sat on the end of the lounger and rubbed my calf. “What do you need?”

  I took a long drink of the martini and leaned back. “I need my husband. I need Brian. God!”

  I could feel the rage building again. “Just when I was starting to feel like myself again—when I was starting to get my shit together... this. This! I don’t need this shit!”

  I was whispering, but the anger in my words was palpable. My friends just listened.

  “What do I do now? Do I just clean up and buy new picture frames? A new mattress?”

  Amy looked at Bee.

  “Whoever broke in went into Julie’s room,” Bee explained.

  “How bad?” Amy asked.

  I looked at my friends, my best friends, and tried to keep it together. “It was bad. My bed is destroyed, though I think the frame’s okay. Most of my clothes, the bathroom—a mess. And my jewelry box...”

  Amy sucked in a breath. “No? Oh, honey.”

  I guess she knew about the gift.