Don't Forget to Breathe (23 page)

“What makes you think your father killed your mother?” After a pregnant pause and still bearing my elbow, he walked with purpose. We ventured to the room where we’d last seen Mom’s picture.

“I know,” he declared.

“You said she died when you were only five.” My toes were beginning to cramp in my shoes. “Kind of young to suspect your father of murder.”

Skin stretched like parchment over his cheekbones, or was it a foible of the light? His chest rose up and down, breathing deep. “He never stops—never, all these years. Physically punishing me because of her.” Underneath his lenses, his eyes were black sockets. “And it’s him. It’s all him.”

Fingers clamped tighter on my arm like he suspected I’d run away. We banked into the bedroom. A beam of light sluiced over the four poster bed, and then shone on Mom’s picture. On the chest of drawers was a vase with multicolored lilies.

“He’s been here,” he uttered.

My eyes rebounded from the lilies to Henry. “What’d you say?”

His face bloomed into a fusion of dismay and abhorrence.

Lacking forewarning, he forced me onto the huge bed.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” He set the flashlight on the bedstead and tore off his glasses. Glossy eyes blinked. “My father—
My
father.” Arms lashed out, pointing to the flowers and Mom’s picture. “
He
hung that here.
He
puts flowers on her grave.
Now
do you understand?” His face evolved into a fickle mess.

“Are you trying to tell me that—your father…he…killed…” The words died in my throat.

Henry reached into his pocket and finally answered his vibrating cell. I listened to the one-sided conversation. “I have to tell her— No, I don’t care what you say. It doesn’t matter anymore—GO TO FUCKING HELL!” He threw the phone and retrieved the jackknife still sheathed in Becket’s blood. Was he planning on stabbing me too?

He placed it onto the bedstead next to his glasses and the flashlight. His eyes scrunched and his mouth thinned in an obstinate line. “Did you know my dad and your mom hooked up years ago?”

“I…I don’t believe you.” Blood stormed through my arteries, I couldn’t think straight.

“Your mom was a piece of work, a real shit starter.” He licked his lips. “She was a typical bitch just like all the rest of them. My dad groveled at her feet like a weasely mouse. It made me sick.”

“My mom wasn’t like that. You’re lying.”

“We used to watch. From the attic.” His fingers clipped my chin. “All women are flirtatious whores.”

“
We
?”

“I liked to surprise Dad with a visit. I followed him one day. Their favorite spot was the Lucien attic.” His thumb rubbed the side of my face. “Then I started watching you. I thought you’d be different. But you played me, just like all the other sluts.”

Henry spread my knees and wedged his legs between them while simultaneously clasping my shoulders. He thrust me backward onto the mattress. The full weight of his body collapsed on top of me, then his juxtaposed legs anchored me down.

“Henry! What are you doing?”

“Do you know the real reason I moved here?” He mouthed less than an inch from my nose. “I can’t believe Dyl didn’t tell you?”

“Get off, you’re scaring me.”

“My girlfriend was raped and murdered.” He moved his head to speak directly in my ear. “They wanted to blame me because my DNA was inside her. We were screwing around before she walked home.” His arm snaked beneath my back tacking me to his chest. “They found her in the trash, where she belonged.”

My right arm was trapped behind me and he fastened my left arm to my chest, between us.

“I had an alibi.” Hot breath ringed my ear. “She was like as all the other girls, playing me like a fool.”

I shivered, revolted.

“Get off!” I writhed, attempting to crack his grip.

Ruthless, his mouth covered mine, quashing my cry. I felt a hand on my thigh roughly tearing my dress over my hips.

“Give it to me, Leo. Just like you give it up for that jockhead,” Henry said. “I want to do you, before…”

“You’re crazy.” Screaming wouldn’t help, only ghosts lived here. With the right side of my body pinned to the mattress, I tried shoveling him off. I never thought of Henry as strong, until now.

“Dyl couldn’t save your mother.” He continued talking like he needed to solve the mystery for me. “He tried to warn her. Like the arrogant whore that she was, she didn’t listen. And then, it was too late. He made me watch.”

“Who made you watch?” His words registered like a cleaver to the gut, my queasy stomach churned. “Who made you do it—Dyl?”

Insistent fingers pinched my inner thigh and his knees moved my legs farther apart. I jerked my hips, thwarting his exploration, but it only made him travel faster and harder.

There was a loud crash. Henry’s exploration arrested as his body shifted upright, lessening his weight. It was my opportunity to bolt; I made it to the boundary of the mattress when his arms shackled me. I noticed the vase of flowers had shattered to the floor. Long, flowerless stems littered the floor, and the petals inexplicably had scattered a trail to the bed.

Henry’s callous gaze skittered around the room like he was looking for someone.

Just the distraction I needed. Though, not to goad him, I enticed, “Henry, let’s go up to the attic.”

“The attic?” He stared with neutral eyes.

“That’s where it all began, right? We’ll make plans—for…for the Halloween party.”

He wasn’t untying his arms, and I felt all was lost as he pressured me back onto the mattress. Then, surprisingly an incandescent glow struck his face.

“Hold still, Henry James. Don’t make a move.”

With a sigh, I shuddered.

“Leo, are you alright?” asked Detective Dyl.

“Yes,” I squeaked.

“Henry, slowly, very slowly—get off the bed.”

The enormity of Henry’s embrace increased as his body became inflexible. Placing his palm over my forehead, Henry pressed my head onto his shoulder. Into my ear he said, “Don’t let him take me, Leo. Don’t.”

“Henry,” Dyl said. “Let her go.”

I squinted into the detective’s light; not able to tell if he was pointing a gun at us.

“Leo, you have to believe me,” his voice hitched in his throat. “I had to—”

“Son?” Another familiar voice added into the mix.

“
Dad
? Get the fuck away from me,” Henry sobbed. “Why are you here?”

The light was blinding, I couldn’t see Ethan in the hallway next to the detective.

“Now, Henry, release her,” Detective Dyl instructed, “or you’ll leave me no option but to take extreme measures.”

“Please, son, listen to the detective.”

“But he…he made me.” I didn’t know what Henry was stuttering about. He was openly crying.

Henry’s arms mechanically snapped off of me like somebody pressed the magic button.

Detective Dyl said, “Leo, walk toward me.”

I slid from the bed, righting my bedraggled dress and realized I was barefoot. During my struggle, my heels must’ve fallen off. I glimpsed the area and decided to leave them.

“Stop!” Detective Dyl shouted. “Henry, stop whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“I’m just getting my glasses.”

I executed a half turn and watched Henry fingering his glasses. He showed them to the detective. “May I put them on?”

Detective Dyl made no reply. “Leo, come forward.”

Suddenly mauled from behind, the sharp tip of Henry’s jackknife pierced my neck. “I didn’t want this to happen.” He sounded so laden. “Back away, Dyl.”

“I got you this time, boy.” Malice radiated from the detective. “Playtime is over.”

“Try me, you pig. I’ll cut her jugular. She’ll be dead in minutes.”

The prick of the blade punctured skin, blood leaked along my throat.

Henry murmured in my ear— “I’m not going to kill you. Not yet.” –the exact words from a year ago. Stars ruptured my brain. Light headed, my vision blurred.

The light began to fade as Detective Dyl shied away.

“Further, Dyl, go back further.” Henry felt like a brick wall, holding onto me. “You too, Dad. Back up or I’ll slice her throat in half.”

His arm bound my body while the knife bit my neck. We hedged past the threshold. I heard a click and everything went black, Dyl switched off his flashlight, temporarily blinding us. Relaxing his garrote hold, I felt his hand on my back. Henry launched me in the direction of his father and the detective.

“Henry!” Ethan yelled.

My arms reflexively splayed just as my kneecaps struck the floor, a pair of hands softened my fall. Dyl hauled me upright as Henry escaped into the hallway. The detective’s flashlight clicked on. “Stay here.”

A beam of light knocked up and down as he took off after Ethan and Henry. “No way.” I dashed into the bedroom and snatched Henry’s heavy duty flashlight.

In stocking feet, I hurried toward the staircase. Strident bickering echoed from the upper level. I scuffed the pads of my feet on the stairs to the attic. The door was slightly ajar and subtle light streaked the stairwell.
Don’t breathe, don’t breathe
,
don’t make a sound
. My heart fluttered and my chest hurt.

Henry’s sobering cry trickled to my ears. “I had to do it! I had too! He made me!”

“Henry,” Ethan’s voice. “Think about what you’re saying. We talked about this.”

“Let the boy speak.” Detective Dyl sounded fierce. “When Lily came to me for a restraining order for Henry, it was the best and the worst day of my life. But you already know that, don’t you, Ethan?

Ethan James said, “Just slit my throat and be done with it.”

Did I hear Lily? He said Lily.

“Leo, I know you’re standing there.”

I breathed in and held it.

“Come in,” Detective Dyl ordered.

Frozen with fear, I couldn’t move. Footsteps, and then the door to the attic opened. An inky figure framed the doorway. “Get in here where I can keep an eye on you.”

I stepped on creaky floorboards. Henry’s heavy duty flashlight slipped from my numb fingers. It clunked to the wood and united with an eerie glow. Elongated shadows banded the walls. Henry held his father in a headlock touting a curved, unique dagger, beads of blood necklaced his throat. Detective Dyl targeted them with his flashlight in one hand and his Glock in the other.

My eyes strayed to Ethan, his face gnarled in distress, balled hands hung from his shoulders.

“Leo, over there.” Detective Dyl tweaked his head, not taking his eyes off his prey. “Toward the window.”

My stride inept and frightened, I routed to the circular stained glass window.

“Now what?” Henry’s voice scraped from the bottom of his diaphragm. “If you don’t kill him, I will.”

Instead of answering, Detective Dyl repositioned himself around the room. His back blocked the doorway. “Leo, I cautioned you to stay away from Henry James?” he said. “You kept snooping, asking questions, wanting answers.”

Henry sounded wacked. “This is all your fault.” His hand trembled, grazing Ethan’s throat.

“Henry. Son. I love you. Don’t do anything rash.” Ethan begged for his life. “I’ve always helped you. Didn’t I?”

“You never loved me like a son. You used me like an incestuous prick.” Henry was dissolving. “You abusive son-of-a-bitch!”

My teeth crunched. Why did I feel a tinge of regret for Henry?

“Not true, Henry.” Ethan’s scarlet face looked injured. He talked through the side of his mouth. “You’re blaming the wrong man. It’s Dyl that’s messing with your head. He’s the man who will take away our freedom. You can still have Leo, son.”

Henry’s insufferable eyes darted to me. “I’m not your son. You used me. You used me like…like—”

“Calm down, Henry. I was biding my time,” Detective Dyl placated. “Waiting for you to make the right decision. Give yourself up, without any more bloodshed. Give me Ethan James, your abusive father.”

“Don’t listen to him, son.” Ethan stood like a stone statue. “I got you cleared from being prosecuted for that girl’s murder, remember? I can take care of this too. Just let me go.”

“Like you took care of your skank.” Henry’s eyes looked wild, peering over his father’s shoulder. “And the drug dealers.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Hatred resounded from Detective Dyl. “Not precisely accurate. I doubt Ethan could’ve run that fast to catch up to David Galbraith on Tarpon Road. Your hand is all over that one.”

“I had to. He’d kill me if I didn’t.”

Detective Mark Dyl’s bottom lip stiffened. “With a dagger to his throat, I think your father is ready to confess. Aren’t you, Ethan?”

“Lily was screwing you behind my back.” Ethan’s body sucked in on itself. “Lily and I used to make love. Right there—”—only his eyes indicated the attic bedroom—“How does that make you feel, Dyl?”

Puzzled, I looked from the squeamish Ethan to Detective Dyl. “What’s going on? I…I don’t understand,” I asked finding my tongue.

“I advised Lily to leave for a while.” Dyl kept talking to Ethan. “She was panicking about everything.” His face drooped into a canopy of grief. “I should’ve protected her better.” Like being blasted with a gust his entire body quaked. “I thought she was talking about Henry, but it was you, Ethan, she called you a slimy copper-headed snake.” Finally he looked at me. “Ethan murdered Lily.”

Beware of the copper-headed snake
?
It threatens to strike.
The magnitude of his statement felled my legs. Mom
was
warning me in her journal.

“He made me,” Henry said.”He made me watch.”

“She…was leaving me. I—” Ethan whimpered.

“I knew Henry was bat shit crazy,” Detective Dyl severed Ethan’s words. “But you, Ethan, you are the inherent seed. Like father, like son. For the past year, you’ve been expecting me to take Henry in.”

“If I’m a psycho,” Henry yelled, “it’s because of him.” He tightened the grip on Ethan’s throat pushing him. The dagger cut a yawning gap.

“I’m done playing pat-a-cake,” expressed a defiant Detective Dyl. “Henry, either slit your father’s throat and save the tax payers a ton of money on a trial, or drop the dagger and come with me.”

“Henry.” Ethan inched his hand up to grasp Henry’s wrist. “Don’t listen to him. He’ll shoot you dead. Especially after I tell him how Lily begged. She wanted me not you Dyl—Me—She groaned in ecstasy until I stabbed her in the heart—”

“Shut up!” The Detective heaved a groaning shout.

“Why, you’re going to kill me anyway,” Ethan said. “See, Henry. See how he’s shaking.”

“I’m warning you, Ethan.” Dyl pulled back the trigger on the gun.

Ethan yanked Henry’s arm. In a swift fluent feat, he filched the dagger and lanced it. A discharge of a miss-fired gunshot echoed along with my blood-curdling scream.

Shockingly, buried deep into Detective Dyl’s stomach—the dagger. His flashlight rolled to the floor and his hand came up to grip the blade’s hilt. The Glock teetered on his fingertips as he strived to remain conscious.

Ethan barreled into the detective stealing the piece. “Who’s in control now, Dyl?” An expression of contaminated greed swelled Ethan’s mouth.

Detective Dyl dropped to his knees. And seeking me with excruciating eyes, he gasped, “Run—”

Ethan kicked the detective to the floor. My body seized watching blood creep over the floor around the detective; my fingers groped the wall for support, standing.

“Where do you think you’re going my dear?” Ethan’s eyelids reduced to mere slits.

“She’s mine.” Henry rushed toward me.

Ethan swirled, pointing the gun at his son. “Henry, Henry.” He backpedaled to keep both of us in his sight. “I wish this could end differently. Your savage temper not only killed Lillian Nelson, those drug dealers, the good detective here, and now Leo.”

“You’re setting me up?” Henry’s brow tightened, looking astounded. “I’ll tell them everything. You’re going down with me.”

“Sorry, Henry, I can’t keep saving you. I’ll put on a good show. Devastated as I tell the police how mentally unstable you’ve been. Martha will back me up. There’ll read about your past in the police reports. And thanks for this.” He wiped trailing blood from his neck where Henry had cut him. “It validates my testimony. My own son threatened to kill me.”

“You go to hell.” His eyes threatened as he stepped toward his father.

“No doubt. But you first…son.” Impervious and with quick precision, Ethan plowed the gun beneath Henry’s jawline and pulled the trigger.

Henry’s face exploded.

I shrieked, screening my eyes.