Monica Jackson has passed away.
Harmony - She Sings At Last!
Battaglia Mafia Series - Books I, II, III Where’s Arlene?
“Damn it! Damn it!” He fist punched the inside of his palm. Chloe could sense the escalating levels of his distress. It was almost radioactive the way it charged the air and infected her with sickening dread. She knew that fear. She shared in it. But Chloe refused to give into it. Not yet. There could be a plausible explanation. There had to be.
Chloe accepted her son. The infant stretched, kicking his chubby legs, he was slow to open his eyes. Once they fixed on his mama Ajaya spit out his pacifier to offer a toothless grin. Her little boy smiled a lot, despite his strange existence. A dad that would scare any kid, a house that haunted movies was modeled after. If she were to gauge her life and all her choices since his birth by this smile she’d be sure of one thing—they could be happy there.
But Arlene was missing….
Chloe checked Ajaya’s diaper even though the nanny was efficient then kissed his forehead. “Can you put him down for his nap, please?”
Ajaya squirmed, his face pinched for a cry of protest. Chloe gave him his pacifier again. She stroked his cheek as Millie held him. Armand turned on everyone as if just realizing he wasn’t alone. He pointed at the men she’d summoned to help with the search, “Everybody out! Now! Go! Get out!”
Millie nodded that she’d see to the infant and the others followed. Chloe rubbed her hands together trying to remain calm. Someone had too. They’d searched every room, all of the guest cottages, the gardens and the kitchens. A two-hour search had turned up no trace of Arlene. It didn’t make any sense.
“Time is up Chloe.”
“We haven’t called my mom yet, Arlene could’ve left, gone back down the mountain to her house. I mean she was mad at me yesterday so…”
“Cut it out! Okay?! You know what I mean.”
“But…”
“Where is he!”
“Who?”
“Don’t!” Armand leveled a threatening finger at her. “Don’t play this fucking game with me. I kept my mouth shut because I thought you could help him. And that crazy bastard got even crazier when I refused to bring you back here. I thought you two…fuck what I thought! This ends now. He has Arlene. I want you to take me to him or I swear to God.”
“So you knew? All this time you knew?”
“Damn right I know! I also know it’s been two months and he isn’t better. Is he? Is he? I want to go to the tunnels.”
“She isn’t in there. Even Arlene would know not to go back there.”
“Do you hear yourself!” he thumped his head, ”Hello? Anyone at home in there! Your sister’s missing and you’re still protecting him.”
“If you would stop yelling like some hysterical woman I could think.” She fired back, “And hold up on the accusations. You gone stand there and say I don’t care when you’ve been keeping Bruce a secret too. You did it because you know he isn’t dangerous. Not like that.”
“I don’t believe you….”
“I’ve been here, you haven’t. I’ve taken care of him day in and day out. No one knows him like I do. And for the record he was with me last night. All night.”
“Arlene was right, you’re just as crazy as he is.”
“Armand!”
“I don’t give two flapjacks if you want to play mistress to the ghost, you and I both know Bruce is not who he was.”
Chloe opened her mouth to say more, but stopped. She turned from him with hands on hips and her heart lodged in her throat. Arlene was missing. Bottom-line her sister was missing and there was no explaining away that fact. Damn it couldn’t be Bruce. He wouldn’t hurt Arlene. He was with her, all night. From what she could remember he never left, until he brought her back to her own bed. When did that happen? Could he…
Armand yanked her around, his fingers cut into her skin through the sleeves of her shirt. ’Take me to him!” he said through clenched teeth.
Chloe shook him loose. “He’s not well Armand. You’re right about that, so listen to me okay. He won’t respond to an ambush. HE knows these passageways in ways you and I don’t.”
“Time is up.”
Chloe groaned. Time had run out. Bruce was the only explanation that made sense. If there was a chance that Arlene was hurt or worse she had to do something about it. Walking over to the office desk she withdrew a small flashlight. “Come on.”
Chloe turned to the wall of books behind her. Armand watched with interest as she touched something on the third shelf causing the wall to slide back. “Well? You coming?”
Armand hesitated just a moment then nodded. Chloe shined the light into he darkness. “If she went back into these tunnels alone she could be lost Armand. That’s all. We’ll find her. I swear it.”
“Let’s go.” He said pushing past her.
They walked the halls, neither speaking. Turning one corner then the next. Chloe kept looking behind her, and listening for sounds other than their intermingled breaths and footfalls.
“Which way?”
She pointed the flashlight to the left instead of the right. Her plan was to lead him away from Bruce’s chamber. No one ventured there. “Armand….Armand…” she panted walking faster to catch up with him, the light beams bounced from the floor to the walls. “If Arlene came…”
“If?” He snapped.
“If she came down here it would make sense that she’d go into the tunnels she knows. Access them the way that she knows. Agatha’s ambush right? I think we should head back near the cellars the wine cellars to….”
“What the hell is that?!”
Armand bolted. Chloe was in hot pursuit. She stopped, he turned with a size ‘eight’ Nike tennis shoe. “This is Arlene’s. She was here. See damn it. I told you!” He searched the darkness.
“Arlene!!!”
His voice echoed back.
“Arlene! Where are you!”
“I don’t understand. This makes no sense.” The shoe wasn’t far from his chamber; Bruce would have had to travel that way. Which meant… “Come on…” she turned and ran back in the other direction.
“Where are you going?” he called after her.
“The storm. If Bruce did this, it’s because of the storm last night.”
“What does the storm have to do with…”
“Follow me! Hurry!”
Chloe blinded by her tears said a silent prayer that he hadn’t hurt her sister. He wasn’t a violent man. He was her man. She believed in him. But not when the rains came. When the rains came he could be different…it was the only time she’d been afraid.
4 weeks earlier –
Chloe jumped. The storm struck and struck again sending a blast of searing light through the surrounding darkness that her reading lamp couldn’t reach. Then the electricity blinked off and the darkness was complete. She set aside her book. The drapes were drawn. She had however, left the windows partially opened to stay away the unnaturally muggy evening. They blew inward. Chloe smelt rain—strong, mossy with the hint of the fresh cut evergreens growing beyond her window. Thunder clapped confirming it before the heavens open and the downpour began. Ajaya slept on the other side of the room thankfully away from the incoming onslaught. Though winter was approaching the weather got weirdly humid and stormy in the months that proceeded.
Sometimes the rains moving out of the mountains would last for days. Each time they came she’d wish to be in his arms but it never was so. He disappeared only to reappear after. Tonight was no different. Ominously the storm sent vibrations of its might through her bones. She rose, her bare-feet chilled on the hardwood floor. Chloe took several steps before she acknowledge the first, as if drawn to the window. Ajaya slept in his crib. They were to visit Bruce but he wasn’t in his chamber. Chloe settled down with a book instead. He’d come for her. He always did.
The rain wind blew in over her when she pushed the drapes apart. Her auburn locks were cast from her shoulders and up from her brow. She gripped the tiny dime shaped knobs and pulled the window shut, only pausing after a bright flash from another lightening strike—much closer, much sharper. And just as the window slammed closed lightening struck again, this time in the gardens. This time her eyes followed and her breath seized in her throat. It was Bruce. He stood there in the rain. Staring up at her window frozen in place. His hair slick to his head, his dark cloak heavy and glistening wet over his broad shoulders. Chloe stared at him for a long moment uncertain. He never looked away. How long had he been standing there? Watching her room? Why would he?
“Missus?”
Chloe jumped. Her heart nearly broke free of her breast. She grabbed her chest in fright. “What….what is it?”
“The storm, I wanted to be sure I wasn’t needed before I retired.” Millie said, a candlestick in her hand with a single flame blinking illuminated the nanny’s face.
“No…wait. Yes. Yes you are.” Chloe grabbed her robe. She put her feet in her thong sandals instead of house shoes. “Can you watch him, stay here until I return?”
“Yes, I can. But the storm? The electricity is out….”
“I know, it’s fine, just watch my baby. Don’t leave until I come for you both. Do you understand?”
The nanny frowned. Chloe took the candle from her then hurried out of the room, locking the door behind her. She cupped her hand around the flame to keep it from extinguishing in the drafty hall. The urgency was instinctual. Bruce never risked discovery. But that vacant look in his eyes, she’d seen it before, right before he disappeared for months. Right before she lost him. God help her, but he was fine just days ago.
Chloe struggled against her mounting panic in the dark. She stretched her eyes wide to make out the shadowy forms in the darkness. She made it to the stairs, then below where she found Ansbury unnaturally still.
It was quiet.
The staff retired to their quarters. But she braved on, heading for the gardens. When she arrived the rain was like a monsoon. It came down in sheets. The winds were whipped into a hurricane frenzy causing the branches of the trees to bend and some snap away. But from the closed-door windowpane she couldn’t see much else.
“Damn it!” Chloe blew out the candle and set it aside. She stepped closer to the door. She could make so little out, but there was movement. Swift, it was there and gone, movement to the left she couldn’t discern. “Bruce.”
Chloe threw open the door. She ran out into the storm. Her feet splashed in puddles forming, the bottoms of her thong sandals flapped against her heel. She nearly slipped and fell twice along the slick path as the storm winds pushed her back toward the estate. “BRUCE!!!!” she yelled over the howling wind. “BRUCE! WHERE ARE YOU?”
She had seen him. She was sure of it. Turning, her lashes weighted down by the downpour she could barely see. “Bruce!!” Chloe spun in panic, putting a hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the rain. She could barely breath the rain clogged her nose and drowned out her voice as she screamed his name repeated. She headed in the direction of the gazebo; circled it searching all the paths that led to the gardens. Standing in ankle deep muddy puddles she fought back the urge to cry for him. What had happened to the man she loved? Who was he now?
“Bruce! Sweetie, where….where are…..”
There was another clash of lightening and thunder almost simultaneously before something snapped above. Chloe looked up in abject horror as a large branch snapped free from the bark. She screamed. Something or someone shoved her. With arms flailing she flapped them madly before going down, hard.
Winded, she gagged, rolled to her side. Her back felt as if it had been crushed. She scrambled, turning on her knees in the mud trying to crawl out of harms way. She felt herself being snatched up to her feet by her arm so roughly she feared it dislodge from he shoulder.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!!!” he yelled in her face, turning her and shaking her.
“Bruce….you’re hurting me…stop.” She gasped, the rain pounded her and him, their voices barely heard above the wind.
He shook her so hard her she wanted to puke. “Stop you’re hurting me!”
“I told you to stay away in the storm, you should have listened!” he seethed, “You should have listened!”
Chloe drove her knee up in reflex, and panic. The blow to his groin caused him to let her go. She stumbled away. Turning she ran in the rain toward the gardens.
“CHLOE!!!” he yelled after her. But she kept going, running was the only thing she could think of. Because even her love couldn’t blind her from the truth. He had gone mad.
“Chloe!”
Chloe snapped out of it. Her heart still raced, just as it did that night. And the fear had her feeling cold and desperate.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Where were you?”
“Huh?” she stammered, before looking down at the shoe once more. Her sister’s shoe, was all there was. She had to find them. Find them both. She turned and ran east.
“Where are we going? Would you stop running?”
She ran for the door that Armand couldn’t see. “There….that’s where he is. Where he goes.” Chloe put her weight on it she forced it open. “Bruce! Bruce! Bruce!”
Armand entered. They were alone. But from the looks of the smoldering fireplace and the half empty bottle of Scotch he hadn’t been gone long.
“Well? Where is he?”
Chloe hugged herself. She took a slow walk around their sanctuary. Remembering the passionate nights in bed, the tender moments when he sat and just held Ajaya. The peace her son found when he was settled into a peaceful sleep in Bruce’s powerful arms. The soft ways he spoke of his future and his wanting her. And then she remembered that night. That one night when she saw how far reaching his madness could become. The only night she feared him, doubted him, and wanted to escape him. She had vowed not to think of it again. Bruce had sworn he’d never hurt her again. He hadn’t. Now this?
“Chloe I think we should call the sheriff.”
“Stop it!” she said walking away. “We wait. Wherever he is, he’ll be back. “We wait.”
Chloe plopped down in Bruce’s chair, nearly swallowed by it. She felt Armand eyes on her but ignored him. The heat from the hearth chased away the last of her shivers, but her heart still raced. Arlene was fine. Last night she’d been with him and he was fine. She believed in him. For now.
Arlene lay still. Her face was pressed to a cool hard surface, her body curled in a fetal position. Suddenly everything could be felt, the damp air surrounding her, the pain her stiff limbs. She heard movement, maybe a voice, but everything was reduced to blurry shadows as her lids parted. She wasn’t alone. The other stepped away from her in dark thick sole books, a long black trench or cape, and a cane?
Cane…
Then the shadows swallowed the form as it drew away. “Wait…don’t.” she said pushing with her palms to sit upright. “Hey…who…no…no…who are you?” she groaned, gagged on rise of bile in her throat from the pain to the back of her head. She fought it back down and waited for it to past. It hurt so severely it sent shockwaves of pain through her neck and jaw.
“Hey…wait…please…” she said rising, barely, reaching for the rough damp surface of the wall. It came back to her. The night, the halls, the blow to the back of the head. She blinked rapidly but focus escaped her. Dizzy she fell against the wall. She was alone. Alone and trapped. She was trapped! Panic gripped her so tight her mouth opened in a silent cry. She clenched her fist and screamed.
“I say we call the sheriff. He isn’t here, he…”
“Shut up!” Chloe snapped rising from her lover’s chair. “Listen.”
Armand did. They both did. It came again. The soft muffled sounds of screams. “Do you hear that?”
“Fuck, yes, I hear it. Oh God, its Arlene isn’t it? Where is she?”
Chloe tried to focus on the sounds. They seemed to come beneath her. She never went below. There was no need. But she did once see a stairway. Not far from Bruce’s chamber. “She’s down below. Let’s go!”
Neither waited. Both silently prayed that Arlene kept screaming. But neither of them spoke. Concentrating on her voice they descended into the dark, the flashlight was useless the absence of light swallowed it. The feeling of being confined, trapped, lured into the tangles of a web that they couldn’t escape covered them. But they ignored it. And thankfully Arlene kept screaming.
“There! It’s…I think she’s…wait, where is she?”
Chloe began to shine the light on the dark walls. The echoes of the tunnels made her screams amplified. They couldn’t discern the source. “Arlene!! Where are you?”
“Chloe! Help me! Help me!”
Chloe stopped the light and saw the same grooves that covered Bruce’s door. Why Ansbury in his madness created so many secret rooms escaped her. But she had learned from Bruce how to enter them. “Help me!” she said to Armand going for the door. He did as she instructed, both of them pushing hard against it until it parted. Arlene bolted from the darkness into Armand’s arms. Crying hysterically.
“You okay babe? Are you okay? Let me see….hey, let me see.” He said cupping her face, checking for any sign of harm.
“Someone…someone locked me in there…I was attacked.”
Chloe bit down on her bottom lip, she forced herself to ask. “Did you see who…”
Arlene let go of Armand. She looked to her sister. She stared at her for a moment. “He’s alive Chloe. You knew. Didn’t you?”
“Did Bruce do this?” Chloe asked, her voice almost a pathetic plea that her sister not confirm her fears.
Arlene narrowed her eyes on her sister. “You knew he was here! Why would you stay with this madman! He….attacked me! Yes it was him! I saw him.”
“Hey, calm down.” Armand said, trying to hold her.
“No! Chloe it’s over. Do you understand? Owe.” She touched the back of her head.
“What is it? Jesus! You’re bleeding….someone hit you?” Armand asked. Arlene knocked away his hands, facing her sister. “Its over.”
Chloe looked to the door and shook her head. “I don’t know what happened. But let me find him…I can reach him when he’s….when he’s like this.”
“NO. We get the hell out of here and call the authorities. It’s not safe! C’mon! Before he comes back.” Armand demanded. He helped Arlene away from the darkness. And in the darkness Chloe stood, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. “Bruce, what have you done?”
