Shadow Box

Shadow Box

Shadow box

Kim Pritekel

Sapphire Books

Salinas, california

Shadow Box

Copyright © 2013 by Kim Pritekel, All rights reserved.

ISBN EPUB - 978-1-939062-08-6

This is a work of fiction - names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without written permission of the publisher.

Cover Design by Christine Svendsen

Editor Kaycee Hawn -

Sapphire Books

Salinas, CA 93912

www.sapphirebooks.com

Printed in the United States of America

Second Edition – March 2013

Dedication

For my mom.  Despite all you’ve been through, I’ve never seen anyone so strong and willing to see all the good life has to offer.  I love you.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to acknowledge the woman who inspired this story.  I can only hope she managed to get her life together and off the streets.  Though I never knew her name, she will remain in my thoughts forever.

Prologue

1991 - Fort Worth, Texas

The night was swept blue and red, a small army of police cars littering the Robard property. Uniformed men came and went, radio squawks interrupting what would be a still, Sunday night in the Rockbridge Trailer Park.

Connie Robard sat on the steps of Michelle and Daniel’s trailer, across the dirt road, her four-year-old daughter in her arms. Green eyes peeked out from a near-smothering embrace.

The young mother of two was crying softly, a small trail of tears making its way down her chin and onto the top of her child’s head, making auburn hair even darker. She couldn’t watch, closing her eyes as the stretcher was removed from her trailer, the small body dwarfed inside the black body bag.

Jesus, can you believe this shit? Sergeant Billy Haynes muttered, watching as the body was loaded into the coroner’s van. His partner, Seth Shyly, shook his head.

Hate it when they’re that young. At least she’s got the other one. The blonde cop nodded toward the sobbing Connie Robard.

Haynes nodded. Yeah. Guess so.

We’re ready here.

Both men’s attention turned at the voice of lead detective, Bryce Martinez. He was peeling latex gloves from large hands as he walked over to them. Sighing heavily, lacing the air with stale coffee and even staler cigarettes, he ran a hand over well-greased hair. He turned to Seth.

You wanna get the mother all taken care of? We’ll run in the father. The man in question was being guided into the back of a squad car, brand new bracelets courtesy of the Fort Worth Police Department.

Sure thing. Without another word, Seth jogged off, his fellow officers watching him go.

Man, I remember when I had that kind of energy. Billy chuckled, seeing his long-time friend nod. Losing his mirth, the twenty-two year veteran glanced back at the trailer, lit up like a Christmas tree. He knew that through all his time on the FWPD, this case would stick with him forever. The young ones always did. Man, what a shame.

Crying shame.

Connie Robard’s swimming eyes followed the policeman’s approach. He knelt down in front of her, knees cracking.

Mrs. Robard, I need you to come with me now, okay? he said, voice soft. The young blonde glanced at her babe in arms.

Can I meet you down there? I need to get hold of my mom.

Understanding, the officer nodded, getting to his feet.

The trailer almost seemed deadly silent, especially after the uproar of an hour ago. Connie walked through it, mindful not to touch anything. The nice officer told her it was still a crime scene. Making her way down the short, narrow hallway, her daughter on her hip, she couldn’t allow herself to look in the bathroom. Couldn’t. No! Literally closing her eyes as she passed, she hurried into the girls’ bedroom. The dim overhead light bounced off cheap wood paneling, giving the room a dark, dreary feel.

Red-rimmed blue eyes took in the double bed, two identical pairs of Mary Janes nestled against the wall. Two identical Teddy Bears, both missing an opposite eye, tucked into the bed for the night, waiting for their mommies to join them.

The sob tore from Connie’s throat before she could stop it. Slowly falling to her knees, she curled up in a ball, her daughter staggering backward on bare feet from suddenly being nearly thrown down.

Mommy? she whispered, scared and unsure. She tapped her mother’s shoulder, feeling it tremble under the weight of an enormous grief. Mommy? the girl tried again, her voice even softer, afraid she’d make her mommy mad. Is Jenny gonna be okay? Green eyes looked into tortured blue as her mother looked up at her, face flaming and moist from unending tears. Connie shook her head slowly.

No, baby. No, she’s not.

Chapter One

Present Day – Northglenn, Colorado

A hand reached up, tucking light brown strands behind an ear, the fingers staying to play with the small, gold hoop that was pierced through the cartilage; a nervous tick, keeping Erin’s body busy while she contemplated her handiwork. Leaving the ear alone, she grabbed the edges of the picture, nudging it to the right half an inch. Stepping back, blue eyes studied it as though the frame would magically move back on its own. Satisfied, she turned back to the other decorations she had to hang.

Anyone who didn’t know Erin very well was always shocked when they stepped into her place. She had a deep love of anything sharp and pointy. Her sword collection was unusual, to say the least, but she loved it. The obsession had been with her since childhood, and she had yet to grow out of it. She bought her first piece at twenty-one, and the world would have thought she’d won the lottery, so enthusiastic was her happy dance.

One of the things Erin had loved about the new apartment was the amount of wall space. Her old place, back home in Pueblo, had offered little to nothing in opportunities to hang her beloved swords and daggers. Her blades had to battle with picture space. One day, when she bought a house, she wanted a room for nothing but her sword collection, pictures, and books. And the binders.

Looking to her bookcase, she was somewhat proud to see the thick, plastic spines, all red with neat, white labels. The titles and dates they’d been started and finished were printed in neat, block lettering. Only about half had a finished date. She would get back to the others. Someday.

Snagging a handful of the long, heavy nails, she lined them between her teeth, and grabbed her hammer. She had it all mapped out in her mind, where all the swords would go: her Viking sword – longer than the others – would go center. Straddling it would be the shorter Celtic blade, and then the replica of the sword from the Battle of Agincourt. That was her favorite, by far; simple yet elegant. Throw in a Gladius and a few double-headed axes, and she had the wall behind her couch filled.

The past year had been hard on her. Ten months ago, she had left her first substantial relationship. Mark had been everything she’d ever wanted, or thought she wanted. When she had heard a rumor at work that he’d been asking about her, she’d been beside herself, partly not believing it, and partly thrilled. Well, mostly thrilled. And then the day had come.

Working diligently at her desk at Re/Max, the pages she’d been looking over fell into shadow. Looking up to see who was blocking her light, she’d found herself looking into smiling brown eyes. The thirty year-old Realtor had said hello, the grin he was known for firmly in place. It was lopsided, but filled with boyish charm. Having no clue what to do, she had simply said hello back. When he’d asked her to go to lunch with him, she thought she’d heard him wrong.

Erin sighed, her breath coming out, along with a few curses, between the row of nail heads between her lips. The pain had subsided over the last year; the anger, too. But she’d never forget, and she’d never be the same. For a woman who already had trust issues, she was screwed.

****

It had been such a long weekend. Ridiculously long. Erin had moved before, but never to another city. It was twice the work, twice the expense, and twice the exhaustion.

The hot water continued to pour into the tub, bubbles blooming, cool and frothy. She played with them, gathering a bouquet, inhaling their lavender fragrance with closed eyes and an appreciative smile.

She loved bubble baths. Smiling, she thought of her old house back home; it had been awful! A seventy-year-old money pit. The furnace had a spider’s web of cracks in it, the heat oozing out into the attic space. Her landlord hadn’t believed her at first, fifty-five degree house temperatures with two hundred dollar gas bill results.

She remembered sitting in the tiny tub, unable to lie down fully. She used to feel like a bird on a wire, sitting there, cupping hot water in her hands to drape over her shoulders and breasts. She’d started taking two and three bubble baths a day, just to keep warm.

No more, she moaned, allowing the heat and steam to slip into every single nook and cranny of her sore, tired body. She rested her fingertips against her water-softened thighs, sighing heavily.

The decision to move out of her hometown, away from her family – and everything she’d known for twenty-seven years – was one of the most difficult decisions she’d ever made. But it had to be done.

After she’d caught Mark in another lie, she couldn’t take it anymore. He refused to be man enough to admit he was cheating. Erin felt it in her heart, which had been torn in two. They’d been together for three and a half years. She’d given the relationship her all, everything she had. Mark had owned her heart, body, and soul.

Had that been wrong? Was she stupid to give it her all? Maybe she should have kept some for herself. Knowing she had to be strong, she left him and moved out of his house. Sadly, there was nothing to bury her pain in. Her job certainly didn’t hold her heart, so instead she had buried herself in doubt and self-recrimination. Trying to put the tattered pieces of her life back together, she’d announced to her family that she needed a new start, a place where she wouldn’t see Mark’s face at every turn. In short, she needed to rebuild and regroup.

Her mother had begged her to stay in town, that she needed her family to get her through it. But Erin realized that even with her parents and four brothers around her, she felt no better. In fact, it was worse. She could count on them; they were right there to lean on. For the first time in her life, she felt she needed to do it alone. She needed to take a baby step out of her comfort zone and spread her wings to fly solo.

It had been difficult, and Erin had cried as she’d packed up her stuff, her life, everything she knew. Her home was her sanctuary, and all her precious things the guard within, the light through the storm, offering a beckoning flame of comfort and warmth, and mostly, protection. She’d forced herself to throw away so much of it, anything that reminded her of Mark, or her life before him: her quiet, lonely existence.

Erin smiled, eyes still closed, a sense of pride washing through her like a warm sip of hot chocolate. She was growing, that was obvious. She longed for things she’d never thought possible before. She needed this time and space to explore this new, expanding self. At home, under the watchful eye of four older brothers and doting parents, Erin had basked in what she had thought was a protective ray of sun. Now, arms extending into the wings that would send her flying, she realized all of it had simply acted as a mold for her to live in. Their mold, loving as it may have been. Stifling as it was.

After her brothers had left earlier in the day, Erin had looked around her new place, almost feeling like she had gotten her first apartment all over again. That wonderful fear mixed with deep pride and accomplishment. She’d felt like crying once they were gone, on her own as they drove the nearly three hours back home.

Truly alone, standing in the middle of her living room piled with boxes, she hadn’t been sure what to do, where to start, and how to be alone.

Though still slightly scared – new town, new neighborhood, and not a soul to call for help – Erin felt mostly profoundly grateful for the opportunity and the courage to see it through.

****

Oh, crap. Erin waved an apology as she got her blue Honda Civic back in her lane again, keeping her eyes from wandering to all the stores available. She felt like a kid in a candy store! Pueblo was a large enough town – around one hundred and twenty thousand souls – but it was an old town, with small town values. The businesses there were old and small; any major shopping had to be done in Colorado Springs or Denver. The biggest thing to do was the two Super Wal-Marts. With a single-level mall that was ancient and crumbling, merchants weren’t Pueblo’s strong point.

As she drove down 120th, she was stunned at the strip malls and clumps of random stores and restaurants. She felt her hick roots coming back to smack her in the butt, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

She kept her eyes peeled for Federal. The lady on the phone said it would be just off to the right.

Federal! she crowed, excited to have found it so easily. One of the craziest things about her move was she had gone sans a job. She’d cleaned out her savings account and had gone. Most spontaneous thing she’d ever done.

Looking at herself in the rearview mirror, Erin brushed a wayward strand of hair back into place, noting the dusting of makeup made her eyes really pop. She looked good and for the most part, she felt good.

The offices were nice, decorated in earth tones, subtle. Erin sat in the leather chair, doing her best not to tap her nervousness into the floor, almost having to nail her shoe to the tile.

Erinbeth Riggs?

Erin looked up to see a woman of about thirty-five, dressed in a navy skirt suit, standing at the entrance of the waiting area.

Right here. Erin grabbed her coat, giving the woman a smile, which was quickly returned.

Hi, Erinbeth, I’m Nancy Pierce, she said, holding out her hand, which Erin immediately took. As they headed down a well-lit hallway, Nancy glanced at her companion. Erinbeth, I’ve never heard that before. It’s lovely.

Oh, thank you. I usually go by Erin.

Then Erin it is. Have a seat. Nancy Pierce took a seat behind a large walnut desk, papers in neat stacks with a screensaver ball bouncing around the seventeen-inch flat screen computer monitor behind her. So, she blew out, opening a manila folder on her desk blotter. She blindly reached for a pair of glasses, sliding them in place as she scanned the page before her, the white page reflecting clearly in the lenses. She glanced up at the nervous woman sitting across from her. It says you’re new to the area?

Erin glanced at her watch. Yep. Seventy-two hours new. She smiled, Nancy chuckling as she glanced back down at the pages before her.

Erin was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable she felt with Nancy Pierce, and it was certainly the most entertaining interview she’d ever had. As she walked out of the offices of Brand, Gillman, & Pierce, she felt confident, a little pep in her step and song in the cold, cold air. That was something else to get used to. The southern part of the state was much warmer, becoming more and more desert-like every year. Further north, in Denver and all her suburbs, the snow fell, winds blew and chilled the bone.

Erin couldn’t keep the goofy grin from her face as she walked back to her car, tempted to skip. If she hadn’t been in the lot of her possible-new employer, she would have. As she dug her keys out of her coat pocket, she heard the chirping of her cell. She tried to juggle them both, finally managing to flip the phone open.

Hello? She reached up, brushing long strands of sandy colored hair from her face, only for the wind to whip it back, nearly blinding her.

Erin, Nancy Pierce.

Erin tried to keep the hope from her heart, but it wasn’t working. Yes, hello, ma’am.

Ma’am?! Oh no, Erin. That won’t do if you’re going to be working here.

Really! Erin couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. Her lack of a job had been the only thing keeping her excitement levels from reaching a boiling point.

I don’t know why I let you walk out of here. I like you, Erin, and I think you’d be perfect for the job. What say you get your butt back in here, out of the wind, and we get started?

Yes, ma’am! I mean, Mrs. Pierce.

There was definitely a song in the air as Erin drove toward her new home. The first interview she’d gone to, and she’d gotten it!

Reaching for the volume on her radio, she cranked the volume, her happy self singing along with Queen.

Hell yes, we are the champions!

****

I’m telling you, Mom, you wouldn’t believe it, Erin gushed, "You really should have come up with the boys this weekend. I could have shown you around. There are stores everywhere! Great places to eat. I’m just amazed and overwhelmed. So much to do. And, next weekend I’m going to head to the museum. God, it’ll be so nice to actually have some culture, and like ten minutes away. There’s the theater downtown. ‘Phantom of the Opera’ was here this year, I guess. Can you imagine?"

I’m so happy for you, honey. Anything on the job yet?

Oh! Erin stopped, laying her screwdriver on the unfinished hall table. I got the job at the law offices. She grinned at her mother’s squeal of delight. I start next Monday. Yeah. I think it’ll be nice, too. Give me a chance to get all unpacked. Oh, and I’m definitely going to have to do some shopping. It’s a pretty classy outfit, so my clothes from Re/Max aren’t going to work.

And, will they be paying you for your new wardrobe? Janice asked.

I know. Yeah, right. I don’t think any places give you a clothing allowance. Erin chuckled at the idea. Okay, Mom, I better go. I love you and tell grandma I said hi.

The two finishing their goodbyes, Erin flipped her phone shut then stared at the half-finished table. Her face hurt from the grin that had been permanently planted there since she’d left Nancy Pierce’s office for the second time in one day.

Things are going to be okay, she said, voice soft and wistful. It’s all going to be just fine.

Looking around her apartment, Erin saw what was left to do. The majority of her boxes were unpacked, pictures and swords hung, and clothes put away. She had yet to hook up her electronics. She wasn’t a huge television watcher, and as long as she had her laptop, she was fine. Glancing again to her bookshelves of binders, she felt a pang of guilt. It had been weeks since she’d written anything, but the words just weren’t coming. The imagination was dry, her worries and the excitement of the move and getting ready for it effectively acting as the Sahara to her creative juices.

Table forgotten for a moment, Erin rose to her feet and walked over to her sacred binders. She felt the cool, smooth plastic beneath her fingertips, smiling as she read some of the titles, written years ago, some from as far back as high school. They were sacred volumes; never had another human being laid eyes on the words within, nor likely would they.

Pulling one randomly, she opened its stiff cover, smoothing her hand over the clean, white page within. It was an older story, written in her late teens. By the title, she couldn’t remember clearly what it was about. Too many. Though she did have to smile at her young exuberance. She had created a title page, followed by a dedication page, then Chapter One.

Leafing through the bound pages, she laughed outright when she turned the binder over, seeing tucked inside the plastic covering, a descriptive back page, giving a brief summary of the story within.

So presumptuous, she said, chuckling, sliding the binder back home. It was always such a bittersweet moment for her, staring at all her creations, bound for no more glory than to act as reminders for what would never be.

With a heavy sigh, she returned to the hall table. At the very least, she’d finish that.

****

Erin gasped, shooting up in bed. Her eyes were huge, trying desperately to see what had awoken her through the midnight ink of her bedroom. Heart pounding, she glanced at the alarm clock – three thirty-three. Looking back through the space, she held her breath, listening. All she could hear was her own heart pounding in her ears.

Gasping again, she tried to stare a hole through the three walls that blocked her gaze of the front door: a pounding then a scream.

Oh my god, she whispered, saucered eyes staring at her bedroom door.

Jumping out of bed, Erin felt around desperately for the sweats and t-shirt she’d thrown off before getting into the bed in just a pair of panties. Only finding her t-shirt, she grabbed her cell phone from her dresser then headed toward the front door.

Help me! a woman screamed, making Erin jump.

Visions of a woman attacked, just raped, bloody, and bruised, marched across her mind’s eye. Without a thought, she quickly unlatched the chain and deadbolt. Bristling cold washed over her, along with the smell of an unwashed body. At her doorstep stood a young woman, her hair wild, stiff, and a fairly putrid color of pink, as though she’d dunked her head in Pepto Bismol.

I need to use your phone, man, she said, her voice high-pitched, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Do you need to call the cops? Are you okay? Erin asked, stepping back away from her surprise guest.

No man, no cops. I need to call a cab.

Against her better judgment, Erin took another step back in reluctant invitation. She felt obligated now that she’d opened her door. It was freezing and she didn’t have the heart to throw the woman back out. The snow was starting to fall in earnest. Plus, she felt sick with exhaustion, her brain muddied and barely chugging.

After the woman stepped inside, Erin closed the door, the cold leaving in a huff, the heater roaring to life as the apartment’s temperature dropped rapidly. She took a step back, looking down as she remembered she had no pants on. Shit.

Um, here. She handed her cell phone to the woman, who under the light of her entryway, Erin realized just how small and petit this stranger really was.

The stranger took the phone, tears continuing to stream down her cheeks as she flipped it open.

Taking that time to disappear for a second – not wanting to leave this strange woman in her home alone for too long – Erin flipped on her light switch, finding her sweats and hopping into them as she headed back to the entryway. The woman was talking quietly. Green eyes looked over at her.

What’s the address to this place? she asked.

Erin gave it to her, the woman repeating it into the phone. Erin watched her closely, noting a pair of very worn jeans, the right knee thin, threatening to wear through, stealing precious protection. The woman wore black boots, fairly decent condition. Her coat was thin, like a windbreaker. It looked like she wore a yellow t-shirt underneath. At the woman’s feet was a light blue bag, stuffed fat with various bits of this and that that had tumbled out when she’d dropped the bag to the ground.

Fuck!

Erin’s gaze tore up to the flustered woman’s face. She was crying again, hard sobs, burying her face in her hands. Erin was at a loss. She had no idea what to do, what to say. The woman made the