Myths, Murder & Love

Chapter 5

Cold earth pressed against her cheek.

Thallia smelled damp soil, crushed leaves and flowers. Rows of young trees rose around her, their roots wrapped in burlap. Shelves crowded with pots disappeared into darkness.

Water trickled nearby. A fountain.

Stone figures curved around a shallow basin, water spilling steadily from one level to the next.

A man stood several feet away with his back to her. White leather golf gloves hung from his back pocket. A shovel rested loosely in one hand.

Beyond him, another man moved between the rows.

She couldn't see his face, but his presence carried a sense of protection and justice she couldn't explain.

And someone else was there. Thallia couldn't see her or hear her, but she knew they weren't alone.

The shovel rose. Pain exploded through her skull. The world dropped sideways.

Cold earth. Running water. Then nothing.

Thallia jerked awake in her own bed.

A heavy thud against the apartment door rattled the frame.

She pushed herself upright, heart hammering.

Another harder thud followed. Wood shuddered against the deadbolt.

Trevor's drunken shout came through the door. "Thallia!"

For several seconds, the dream followed her into the dark bedroom.

Cold earth still pressed against her cheek. Water splashed against stone. Her skull throbbed where the shovel had struck, and when Thallia lifted a hand to the back of her head, she expected to find blood.

Nothing.

Another pounding blow shook the apartment door.

Trevor's drunken yell broke through the sound of the fountain. "Thallia, open this door!"

Thallia stared into the darkness until the familiar shapes of her bedroom began to make sense.

The dresser and curtains. Her clothes draped over the chair.

She was home in Chicago, but the steady splash of the fountain still seemed to fill the room.

Thallia reached across the bed for her phone and squinted at the screen. Six forty-three.

Morning light barely touched the curtains, but her body hadn't caught up. Her cheek still felt cold, and the taste of damp earth lingered in her throat.

Trevor hammered against the door again, his voice louder and slurred with alcohol. "Open the damn door!"

Thallia shoved the covers aside and swung her feet to the floor. The room still felt unsteady around her, but Trevor pounded against the door again, cutting through the last traces of the dream.

Anger took over.

She stormed toward the bedroom door and shouted down the hall. "GO AWAY TREVOR!"

Silence.

Then the lock turned. Thallia froze. The deadbolt moved beneath his key. The door opened several inches before the security chain snapped tight.

Her stomach dropped.

Trevor shoved against the door, but the chain held.

For a second, he went silent.

Then he slammed his weight against it again and roared through the opening. "Thallia!"

Last night, she'd almost forgotten he had a key.

Thallia stayed in the hallway. "Get out of here."

Trevor's hair was disheveled and his shirt looked slept in. "I need to talk to you."

Thallia stayed back as she studied him through the opening. "You've been drinking."

She turned and went into the bedroom. She pulled on yesterday's jeans, keeping one ear on the sounds from the hallway.

Trevor shoved against the door again, rattling the chain. His voice hardened into a drunken demand. "Take the chain off, Thallia."

She stayed well beyond his reach. "I'm not letting you in."

The pressure against the door eased.

When Trevor spoke again, the anger had disappeared from his voice so quickly it made her skin crawl. "Thallia, come on. I've been trying to find you all night. You wouldn't answer your phone. I was worried about you."

Yesterday, that voice might have worked.

Trevor lowered his voice further. "Just take the chain off so we can talk. You know I would never hurt you."

Thallia grabbed her sneakers and sat long enough to shove her feet into them. "NO."

"Thallia, I'm serious."

She dragged the laces tight and stood. "So am I."

Trevor shoved against the door again. His expression changed.

The coaxing tone vanished from Trevor's voice. When he spoke again, every word dripped with poison. "You think you can humiliate me in front of my entire newsroom and just walk away?"

Thallia took another step back.

Trevor slammed his weight against the door. The screws holding the chain plate groaned against the wood.

That sound made the decision for her.

Thallia ran.

She yanked the duffel from her closet and shoved in clothes without bothering to fold them.

Another crash shook the apartment.

Trevor roared her name from the hallway. "Thallia!"

She zipped the bag and grabbed her camera, laptop, wallet, charger and passport.

The front door shook again. The chain wouldn't hold much longer.

Thallia hauled everything into the living room and shoved open the window above the fire escape.

Eight years ago in Germany, she'd escaped a mobster through a window.

Thankfully, she'd learned something useful.

She secured the laptop and camera in her messenger bag, pulled the strap across her body, then hooked the duffel over the other shoulder.

Wood cracked behind her. Thallia climbed through the window.

Trevor hit the door again as she reached the landing below. The chain plate tore free.

The apartment door slammed against the wall. "THALLIA!"

Trevor's voice carried through the open window.

Thallia gripped the cold railing and moved faster.

The metal platform shifted beneath her weight. She looked down. The alley was much farther away than she remembered.

Germany had been easier. She kept going.

Above her, metal clanged.

Thallia looked up.

Trevor leaned through the open window, staring down at her in disbelief. "Are you out of your damn mind? You climbed down the fire escape?"

He swung one leg onto the seventh-floor landing, caught his foot on the window frame and pitched forward.

His face hit the metal platform with a sickening clang.

Trevor collapsed.

Thallia froze, staring up at him.

He didn't move.

For one uneasy second, she considered climbing back up. Then Trevor groaned. He was still alive.

Thallia smiled. "Have a nice morning, Trevor."

She turned and kept climbing.

By the fourth floor, the dream pushed back into her thoughts. Cold earth. The fountain. White leather golf gloves.

She tightened her grip on the railing and continued down.

At the bottom, the ladder stopped short of the pavement.

Thallia stared at the gap below her, irritation pushing past the fear. “Seriously?”

She lowered herself until her arms were fully extended.

Eight feet had looked much more reasonable from above.

Thallia let go.

Her shoes hit pavement hard enough to send the impact through her knees.

She staggered, caught herself against the brick wall, and stayed there for one breath.

Then she straightened.

Her apartment was seven floors above her.

Trevor was still in it, and she was done letting him decide where she could go.

Thallia pulled out her phone and called a cab.

Less than ten minutes later, Thallia was in the back of the car.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

Thallia settled against the seat. "West Side."

Jenna opened the loft door in pajamas and took one look at Thallia. "What happened?"

Thallia showed herself in and let the duffel slide from her shoulder to the floor. "Trevor showed up drunk. He still had a key."

Jenna closed the door behind her. Her face changed. "Did he hurt you?"

Thallia rubbed one palm over the other, still feeling the cold metal of the fire escape against her skin. "The chain stopped him."

Jenna's gaze dropped to the duffel. "Please tell me you didn't climb down seven floors carrying that."

Thallia let the bag slide from her shoulder. "Trevor breaking through the door seemed like the worse option."

Jenna's mouth tightened. She didn't argue.

Thallia set her messenger bag beside the duffel. "I'm going to Utah."

Jenna's arms dropped. "Today?"

Thallia nodded. "There's nothing here I need to stay and fight with Trevor over. I'd rather put some distance between us and start figuring out what comes next."

Jenna looked at her for a long moment. "I'm going to miss having you ten minutes away."

Thallia felt the words catch somewhere beneath her ribs.

Jenna didn't let the moment linger. She turned toward the bedroom. "Come on. If you're doing this, we're going to pack properly."

Twenty minutes later, Jenna had a new suitcase open across her bed.

"Jenna, I need clothes for a few weeks. Not a collection."

Jenna tossed her a sweater. "You escaped with one pair of jeans. You don't get an opinion."

Dresses, shirts, jeans and two jackets followed, along with enough underwear to keep Thallia from asking questions.

Jenna disappeared into the workroom and came back carrying a garment bag. “One more.”

Thallia eyed it. “Jenna, the suitcase is already full.”

Jenna waved off the objection, fully committed now. "Then sit on it. We're not leaving this dress behind."

Jenna unzipped the garment bag. Soft turquoise cotton spilled into view. The dress had a full skirt and an ivory peasant-style bodice.

Thallia touched the fabric. "You finished it."

"Yeah, yesterday." Jenna laid the dress across the bed, then disappeared into the workroom.

She returned carrying a round hat box and set it beside the suitcase.

Thallia eyed the box. "What else are you sending with me?"

Jenna lifted the lid and revealed a wide-brimmed straw hat trimmed with chestnut leather and a dark teal rose.

Thallia smiled despite herself. "You made me a hat?"

Jenna looked offended by the question. "You can't wear that dress without the hat."

Thallia laughed. "Of course I can't."

Jenna nodded, satisfied. "Now you're learning."

Jenna watched her wrestle the suitcase zipper closed. “There. Now you can flee Chicago properly dressed.”

Thallia gave the suitcase one last look. “Good. I’d hate to have a nervous breakdown looking unfashionable.”

An hour later, Jenna stood with her at the curb while the cab driver loaded the suitcase. "Call me when you land."

Thallia hugged her.

Jenna held on a little longer than usual. "And if Trevor comes anywhere near you again, call the police before you climb out another window."

Thallia pulled back enough to look at her. "You be careful too. He knows we're friends. If he can't find me, he may come looking for me here."

Jenna's expression hardened. "Let him try."

Thallia wiped a tear from her cheek. "Please don't make me worry about you from Utah."

Jenna smiled gently. "I'll be careful."

Thallia managed a smile. "That sounds so much less adventurous."

Jenna sniffed. "I'm willing to live with that."

Thallia smiled and climbed into the cab.

This time, when the driver asked where she was going, she had an answer.

"O'Hare."

By the time Thallia reached the airport at O'Hare, the rush of the morning had settled into exhaustion.

She checked her new suitcase, made it through security, and bought a bottle of water before finding her gate. Her messenger bag stayed across her body, her camera safely tucked inside.

She was going to Utah. Twenty-four hours ago, the idea hadn't existed.

Now she had a house there, an inheritance she still couldn't quite comprehend, and a one-way ticket west.

Thallia boarded and settled into her window seat, her messenger bag beneath the seat in front of her.

Leaving felt good. Maybe that should have bothered her.

The plane pulled away from the gate. Thallia rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes.

For an instant, she heard water. Not the engines or the air rushing through the vents. Water spilling steadily over stone. The fountain from her dream.

Her eyes opened. Thallia looked out the window as the plane lifted above Chicago.

She thought she was flying toward a house she'd inherited and a town she'd never seen.

She had no idea what was waiting for her there.