Waterlilies Over My Grave

Chapter 4

Chapter 10

The apartment complex stood in a carved-out alcove of the forest at the end of the street. The three-story apartment buildings, a club house and swimming pool were only a few blocks from the medical center. Despite its close proximity, the forest provided a natural sound barrier to the drama that played out there every day. The dwellers resided in relative privacy and isolation. Each apartment had its own balcony, and the complex formed a horseshoe around a duck pond. For the holidays, the balconies were strung with red, white and blue lights.

Annie had never lived alone before and cherished her new-found privacy. She loved her apartment with a stone fireplace, and a balcony where she could watch the ducks play in the pond and see Lake Nager peeking through the trees. An ideal place for a single person. So, why was her stomach suddenly in knots?

They drove around the back where tenants had their own parking spots. Annie pointed to hers under a grove of trees. As much as she wanted to get out of Mark’s company, still the incidents with the tires and the phone call made him suddenly important to her safety. She wanted him with her.

“Look Mark. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea … I . . .”

“Want me to come up?” Mark turned and looked at her. He was no longer the seductive jerk who’d been making snide comments all night. Now, Mark’s expression displayed nothing but absolute professionalism.

Annie nodded and to her dismay, her voice broke. “Yes . . . please.” Gone was the self-assured lady from New York City. Her palms were sweaty, and she was on guard. She had a bad feeling about this.

An unexpected warmth crossed over his face. “Okay. But, before we go up, is there anything you want to tell me?”

Puzzled, she looked at him, her eyebrows raised. “Like what Mark? I live alone, except for a cat. His name is Nemesis.”

Mark grinned. “He always gets his mouse?”

Annie c****d her head and smiled. “Always. He’s a brat, but I love him. Duncan brought him home from the Anti-Cruelty Society as a present.”

That was when she and Duncan had a close relationship. She’d always loved Nemesis, but since the divorce, he’d become an even more valued friend.

They walked toward the east complex headed for the elevators inside the lobby next to the mailboxes. “So, where’s your apartment?” Annie asked mainly to shut out her nervousness.

“West side of the complex. I’m not anywhere close to you.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean . . .”

“Sure, you did.”

The elevator dinged and the door opened. Mark pressed his hand along her back and ushered her inside. When he brushed across her to press the button, the hairs on her arms stood at attention. What was that? So, the guy was good looking. So were a lot of men, and she didn’t have that reaction to them. She didn’t even like this guy.

that? themlike The floors of the hallway were carpeted and usually immaculate. This particular day they must have forgotten to vacuum because mud stains led to the elevator.

“They’re going the wrong way,” she said, pointing down.

“The mud stains. They should be going toward the apartments, not away.”

“Another budding young detective. Yeah, I’d think so too.” Well, bless his heart. He’d actually agreed with her.

When they got to her door, she fiddled with her keys and couldn’t seem to get the right one in the lock. She lost her grip, it flipped up and out of her fingers, falling into Mark’s waiting hand. He managed to put the right key into the lock, and Annie felt stupid.

Mark grinned. Broadly. She wished he wouldn’t stand so close.

He was starting to really annoy her.

He tried to open the door, but the bottom seemed to be stuck on something. Mark pushed again and the sound of metal grinded against the door. One more push and the door lurched open.

Annie stepped inside and stopped-dead. She couldn’t move, her feet cemented to carpeted floor.

Mark was right behind and almost fell over her. He quipped, “You sure don’t know how to clean . . .” His words faltered into, “Shit.”

Annie leaned back and fell against him.

“No!” she whispered. “This can’t be happening.”

Annie’s desktop computer lay at her feet. Its monitor looked like someone had taken a hammer and smashed its screen. Her hard-copy dissertation, the result of years of cumulative research was torn to shreds and scattered all over the floor. Books were out of the bookcase, their insides torn out. Dishes smashed to smithereens. Goblets, precious to her mother, thrown against the wall and shattered into splinters.

Her clothes were cut into ribbons, and the pieces of material were mixed in with the broken glass. Her jewelry box had been forced open and emptied.

But the worst sight was the writing on the wall. Paint? Blood? “w****s die” and “What is given can be taken away”.

Then she heard the screaming. In front of her, in back of her, inside her. And something warm was holding her so she wouldn’t keel over. Her eyes burned from the tears running down her face. Sobs congregated in her throat and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe at all.

“Annie.” The voice seemed far away but was hovering above her. “Annie. Easy. Easy.” The voice crooned, soothed what could not be comforted.

She was being led. Then lowered into a chair. “Sit over here. Don’t touch anything.”

But, almost fascinated, Annie got up again and walked toward the wall. She reached out to touch the words.

Hands pulled her back. Mark’s voice whispered, “Get away from there. The wall is covered with blood.”

“Blood? But there’s . . . Nemesis! Where’s Nemesis?” Annie looked around. Her cat was not there. “Where’s my cat?”

Mark looked under the sofa then went into the bedroom. Annie heard the outcry. A cry of anger and pain mingled into one short sound.

Annie bolted off the sofa.

“Don’t come in here.”

But it was too late. Annie was over the threshold. Her cat lay on the bed. It’s neck broken, it’s body slashed. Blood soaked into the bedspread.

Annie went numb. She shook. She wasn’t sure whether she was screaming or whether the sounds came from the inside of her head. She grabbed for her cat.

Mark grabbed her hands. “Don’t touch, Annie.” He walked her into the living room, but Annie couldn’t take her eyes off her pet and walked backward, her teeth chattering, until they were well around the corner.

“Don’t touch anything. There could be fingerprints.” “Fingerprints?” she whispered numbly. “Yes—fingerprints. Finger …” Everything seemed to mold into everything else. Once again, the room swirled, and this time her vision grew dim. She fainted.

When she regained consciousness, she was in Mark’s arms, and somehow, comforted.

“Are you all right?” He handed her a glass of water. “Drink this.”

Without any will of her own, she took the glass and drank, then automatically handed it back.

She looked around at the room. Her life—her things were strewn around, broken, like so much garbage. All she had in the world.

But Mark wouldn’t let her dwell on a broken past. “What is this, Annie? This is no routine burglary. Who’d want to hurt you like this?”

She forced herself to talk, to remember her name. “I’m Annie O’Brien,” she whispered. “That’s my name. Annie.”

“Annie?”

She flipped back into reality.

“Duncan did this,” she said without even thinking.

“Duncan?” Mark asked. “Duncan who?”

Annie stopped thinking. It poured out. “My ex-husband. That message, that which he gives he can take away. He gave me Nemesis. Saved him from a shelter. Now, he’s taking him away, as he’s been taking away my entire life—little by little.”

Her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse and stared at the number.

Mark raised his eyebrows—questioning.

Her voice shook. “It’s a New Jersey area code. I don’t know anybody in New Jersey.”

“Here, give it to me.”

Annie gave him the phone and listened with him.

“I told you my name was Nemesis.” The voice didn’t sound quite human.

Nemesis“My God, Duncan. You killed my cat. You took a life!” The laughter that emerged was beyond human. Maniacal. “Duncan, you need help!”

lifeClick.

“Son of a b***h,” Mark said. He looked at her and snapped the phone shut. “The bastard hung up.”