Wrath White - The Resurrectionist

“You asked a question.”

“I’m serious, Harry. Back off.”

Harry waved his hands in surrender.

“You did ask.”

“So what are we going to do?” Sarah asked. “Where will we go? What about Josh’s job?”

“He’s going to have to miss a few days.”

“He’s extra-board. He’s not technically a full-time employee even though they work him harder than anybody. He can’t miss days. He doesn’t get any sick time or anything like that. They’ll fire him.”

“Well, does Dale know where you work?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I can’t remember if we told him when we introduced ourselves or not.”

“Because if he does, he can follow you back to Sarah.”

Everyone turned to look at Sarah again. She felt more like a victim now than she had in days. Everyone had to look out for poor, poor Sarah. They had to make sure the boogeyman didn’t get her.

And did I mention that the boogeyman looks like fucking Don Knotts in The Incredible Mr. Limpet? Sarah thought.

“Well, I have to work or we’ll lose our house.”

“Let the damn bank have it,” Sarah said. “I can’t stand to look at that bedroom anymore. And that smell. I’ll probably smell that for the rest of my life as it is. The house is worth half of what we paid for it now anyway. We’ll never get that equity back. We’ll just go back to being renters. This neighborhood is turning into a ghost town anyway.”

The two detectives stood beside Sarah’s husband, looking at the stain in the ceiling.

“I don’t know if I’d cry too much about losing this place now if I was you. No offense but it would creep me the hell out to live here,” Harry said, turning his back on the room and buttoning his sports jacket.

“That’s real sensitive, Harry.”

“No. He’s right. Fuck this house. Just give us some time to pack our things.”

“You can’t lose your job though. We can’t even get an apartment without a job and this isn’t like it was a few years ago when you could just walk right out and get another job. People are being laid off left and right. You need this job.”

Sarah was standing between her husband and the two detectives with her arms folded across her chest. She pointed at Josh’s chest as she spoke. Her fingernails had been bitten almost down to the cuticles. Josh withered. His entire body appeared to wilt in front of her.

“She’s right. I can’t get fired right now. I’m going to have to go to work.”

“Okay. Well, you’re just going to have to be careful. Watch to see if anyone is following you. Once we decide on what hotel we’re going to put you up in you’re going to want to make sure you drive past it a few times before you park just to see if anyone is following you. I’ll drive you home the first night just to show you what I mean.”

“Thanks, Detective. I don’t mean to put you out. We just really can’t afford for me to lose my job.”

“I’ll take him. Neither one of you can drive worth a damn.”

Detective Mike Torres stood in the doorway eating a bag of spicy Doritos and licking his fingers. He walked into the room swaggering like a B-movie matinee idol. Sarah couldn’t hold back her laughter. He looked like such an asshole. Even his melodramatic entrance was overdone and evidence of a massive unchecked ego. Detective Lassiter rolled her eyes.

“So, does that mean you believe us now?” Sarah asked.

Torres shook his head. He was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and a red silk tie. He was still wearing black jeans with black motorcycle boots. He looked like a member of a Mexican motorcycle gang who’d cleaned up for a job interview or a court appearance.

“It means that I’m going to do my job. There’s an APB out for the little geek across the street. He may have attacked a cop. So we’ve got him for assaulting a police officer. You’ve got him on tape breaking into the house and there’s no other weird shit on the tape that would render it inadmissible. I don’t need to know how he’s doing this shit. I’m curious but it don’t really matter as far as I’m concerned. All I need to do is do my job and bring him in and keep you two safe. This is just another stalker case to me.”

Torres took another handful of Doritos and then crumpled up the bag. For a moment Sarah was afraid he was going to toss the empty bag on the floor. Even with the house reeking of curdled blood and decay she still felt protective of her home. This had been her dream home. She and Josh had upgraded everything they could from the stainless-steel Whirlpool refrigerator to the matching stainless-steel KitchenAid convection oven, microwave, and even the dishwasher. The faux cherrywood blinds were all upgrades as well. But the stained concrete floor was the centerpiece of the house. Josh had ripped out all the carpeting on the first floor himself and then brought in a friend to stain the floor a golden tan and then seal it. It was gorgeous and unique. Despite what she’d said earlier about abandoning the house, Sarah felt a queasiness inside at the thought of leaving it all behind.

Detective Torres smiled wanly, then placed the crumpled bag into his pocket.

“So where are we taking them?” Torres asked.

“To one of those extended-vacation hotels on Tropicana.”

“Those places are shitholes,” Josh said.

“No. These are pretty nice. They’re new and they have a kitchen and a laundry in their rooms. They’re like studio apartments. They even have one-, two-, and three-bedroom suites. Besides, you won’t be staying there long,” Detective Lassiter said.

“What if we stayed at the hotel where I work? I’m sure they’d give us a decent rate. They’re practically giving rooms away now that the economy is in the toilet.”

“Because if Dale McCarthy is still stalking the two of you, and we have every reason to believe that he is, then the hotel where you work would be the first place he would check.”

“Then how about the Bellagio?” Sarah asked.

“You’re joking right?” Torres said.

“Of course I’m joking. Unless you can swing it.”

Detective Lassiter laughed.

“Yeah, we’ll see what we can do. But in the meantime you need to get packed.”

Sarah and Josh walked upstairs together. Sarah looked around her house when she got to the top of the stairs.

“I know I’m supposed to hate this place now, with all that’s happened here. It does creep me out. I almost feel like the house is haunted now. Every time I look at those spots on the carpet I keep thinking about the nightmares in my head that turned out not to be nightmares and the things that were on that tape. I get nauseous just thinking about it and I feel my heart race and I want to scream. But I’d rather get rid of the carpet and throw out the mattress and paint the walls a different color than just leave. I just can’t imagine leaving this house. This is our home, Josh. How can we let this monster chase us out of our home? How could we let a few terrible, horrible memories replace years of good memories? Besides, our credit is so fucked up we’ll never be able to buy a new house and the president is supposed to be doing something to stop the foreclosures. We need to fight for our home, Josh. We need to fight Dale. We need to fight anyone who tries to force us out of our home.”

Sarah looked at Josh and could see the indecision on his face. There was pain in his expression. Sarah could see him wrestling with the idea of staying. He had been relieved when the detectives had suggested they leave the house and Sarah had agreed. Now that she was having second thoughts about leaving, Sarah could see all the tension winding its way back into his muscles. She knew Josh wanted to forget everything that had happened in this house and she couldn’t blame him. What had happened to him threatened his entire identity, his whole sense of self. He didn’t want to be around anything that would remind him of that humiliation, and this house was the single biggest reminder. She couldn’t blame him if he wanted to burn it to the ground and piss on the ashes. But she also couldn’t allow it. She had to fight for her home.