William Bernhardt - Dark Eye

He picked up the spade and continued shoveling dirt. It didn’t take long. As he worked, he could hear her. She could move a little now, but alas, there was nowhere to go. She beat against the lid and scratched and clawed and screamed, but to no avail. In just under an hour the air would be exhausted, but the screaming and clawing would end well before that. She would be at peace.

And so would he. “ ‘But out of Evil proceeded Good,’ ” he chanted softly to himself, “ ‘for their very excess wrought in my spirit an inevitable revulsion.’ ” Cheerfully, he continued the spadework until the pit was full and smooth with only the merest tip of the coffin exposed to bring about its eventual discovery. And this time, the tune returned to him, and he whistled while he worked.

I awoke bathed in sweat. My cammies clung to me like glue, my whole body was cold, and there was an empty aching in my chest that felt as if someone had ripped my heart out while I slept. My wrist was throbbing, talking to me. I tried to stand but found I couldn’t. Finally settled for rolling onto my back. I forced myself to inhale and exhale, hoping it would steady my nerves, which it never did.

I’d had some bad mornings before, but never anything like this. I felt as if I’d broken something, some part of my natural living apparatus. Am I dead? I wondered, and some part of me hoped I was.

After about two minutes that seemed like ten hours, Lisa came into the room. She cradled my head in her lap and squeezed my hand tightly, stroking the side of my face.

“You can do it, sweetie,” she said in soft, dulcet tones. I knew she was trying to be comforting, but I couldn’t stop thinking that she sounded like a cross between a kindergarten teacher and a hooker. “I’m here for you. They told me you might have mornings like this.”

“I-don’t know what’s happening,” I said, breathing deeply. “I slept okay in the hospital.”

“They were giving you drugs. Librium. It’s a benzodiazepine. Eases the withdrawal symptoms. This is your first morning off.”

“God.” My lips were dry and cracked. “Lisa, I think I’m going to need a little something, just so I can function. It’ll be the last-”

“No, Susan. No booze.”

“I don’t want the alcohol. I just need to kill this pain-”

“No booze.”

“It’s not like I want to get drunk. Once I get this anxiety under control, I won’t touch another-”

“That’s exactly what they told me you’d say, Susan. The answer is no. You’ve got to ride this out.”

“Fine.” I knew she was right, but at the same time I was cursing her under my breath, thinking what a stupid woman she was, how she didn’t understand at all. I began plotting how I could get rid of her so I could live my own life. It wasn’t as if one stupid drink was going to put me back on the skids and start me hallucinating. I could control it, and this time I would.

Took almost an hour to get to the point where I could walk. Showering made me feel a lot better. I cleaned up, put on some jeans and a clean shirt. Used some damn bubble-gum-flavored toothpaste I found in Lisa’s medicine cabinet. Considered myself lucky I didn’t have to use a Barbie toothbrush.

She’d already found me an apartment, not far from hers, and had my stuff moved into it. At the same time, she made it clear that I was welcome to stay with her as long as I wanted or needed. She hadn’t lived with anyone for over a year, so she had a second bedroom that did nothing but collect dust. It was a generous offer. But I couldn’t help noticing that she didn’t suggest that I move into the spare bedroom on a permanent basis. We’d tried being roommates once, when we were both in college. It was a disaster. The fact that we are still friends is a testament to the healing power of forgiveness, or perhaps the evanescence of human memory.

“I want to see Rachel,” I told Lisa as I finished dressing.

“I knew you would,” she replied. “You’ve got an appointment at noon.”

“So now I need an appointment to see my own niece?”

She didn’t say anything.

I peered into Lisa’s big lighted makeup mirror. At thirty-four years of age, I was still subject to pimples, and sure enough, there was a big one right at the top of the bridge of my nose. Makeup or straight pin? “Well, that’ll be okay. We can get some lunch.”

“You… aren’t permitted to take her away from her foster home.”

“What?”

“I’m sure they’ll change that in time, but for now, your visit will be restricted to the Shepherds’ home.”

“Who the hell are they to tell me when and how I can see Rachel?”

“They’re just trying-”

“I’m her only living relative.”

“They know that, and-”

“They’ve got no business giving me orders.”

I could sense that Lisa was getting irritated. “As far as NDHS is concerned, you’re the sozzled psycho who attacked a kid in a bar and then-” She paused. “They’re not going to let you take Rachel anywhere.”

“Have they been spreading these slanderous remarks all over town? I will fight this-”

“Susan.” I could tell she was checking herself, biting back words. “Give yourself a little time. You’re not going to put everything back together in a day. Your main focus should be on getting healthy. And staying healthy.”

“You’re right, of course,” I said, not meaning it at all. I finished brushing my hair and adjusted the lay of my bra. Nothing worse than poorly aligned mammaries. “So what have you planned to kill time till noon?”

“I thought we might go to the mall at the Venetian. Do a little window-shopping for purposeless trinkets we can never afford. Maybe bump into Michael Jackson. Get a coffee. Ride a gondola.”

I shook my head. “Thanks, Lisa, but I’d go nuts. Will you take me downtown?”

“You mean downtown as in police headquarters?”

I touched my nose. “Got it in one.”

“I told you already. You’re no longer employed there.”

“Then I need to clean out my office, don’t I?”

Lisa looked very dubious. “I suppose.”

“So let’s roll.”

“And you won’t cause any trouble?”

“ Moi? Wouldn’t dream of it.” I tucked in my shirt, wishing I still had a holster to strap on. “I’m finished with that sort of thing. From now on, I’m going to be amiable and even-tempered at all times. Positively serene.”

“W hat the hell did you think you were doing?”

Lieutenant Barry Granger stared at me with a placid expression that in no way disguised the contempt I knew he felt for me. It was quite a change. I still remembered a time when his stares signaled thinly disguised lust, or later, stares of envy, and, more recently, pity. I probably liked this one best.

“Clearing out the trash,” he explained, his feet propped up on my desk. “Making myself at home.”

“In my office?”

“Not anymore.”

Incredible. In the space of one week O’Bannon had reassigned my office space. Actually, I could live with that, even understand it. But what I couldn’t understand was giving it to this pig Granger.

“This is unacceptable,” I said. My emotions were also pretty undisguised.

“O’Bannon needed a new detective.”

“I was only gone a week. I’ve taken longer vacations.”

“Not in the drunk tank.”

I could feel my rage rising, and I really wanted to ream him in the worst way. But that would be playing into his hands. “Why would he promote you?”

“I was next in line.”

“I was still around.”

“You were drunk on your ass.”

“And even drunk on my ass I would be a better detective than you.”