Some Choose Darkness

ANGELA JOGGED THE TWO BLOCKS HOME FROM CATHERINE’S HOUSE, raced up her steps, and pushed through her front door. She rattled the frame closed and twisted the dead bolt with trembling fingers. Her breathing was labored from her frantic march home, during which she constantly looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her. With the door securely latched, she leaned her forehead against the frame, her breaths shallow from having come face-to-face with the stranger from the alley. She tried for the last week to stop the image of his deep-set eyes from trickling into her mind. She’d done a good job today of replacing that image of the stranger’s face with those of the missing women as she worked out her theory that The Thief had been lurking for much longer than this summer. But now, since seeing the man at Catherine’s and knowing Thomas and Bill had hired him, Angela’s tightly tethered paranoia had broken loose.

She spent an hour checking the locks and windows, picking up the phone a hundred times in a row. She called Thomas’s office, but there was no answer. Her index finger became raw from punching the numbers on the phone. She settled into a mindless loop of dialing Thomas’s office number into the phone, pacing to the back door, peeling the curtains to the side, and staring out into the alley. Back and forth for hours until she finally heard the deep rumble of Thomas’s Ford truck turn down the alley, and saw the garage door begin to open. The growl of her husband’s truck, a noise that usually irked her the way all loud noises did, today brought comfort.

Angela’s skin was burning as she waited for Thomas in the kitchen. When the door opened, Angela immediately recognized the concern on her husband’s face.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, rushing to her.

“I saw him again,” Angela said, but Thomas was paying no attention to her words.

He grasped her wrists gently and examined her hands, lifting them to his face to get a better look. For the first time, Angela noticed her bloody fingertips. Thomas moved his hands to her upper arms, pulling her sleeves away. Angela had unknowingly removed the long-sleeved, button-down shirt she had worn to the library, which Catherine had questioned. She stood now in a white T-shirt, the sleeves of which were soaked with bloodstains from where she had dug at her shoulders and opened the scabs that were hidden there.

“What’s going on?” Thomas said. “You’re covered in blood, Angela.”

She felt him wipe her forehead and eyebrows, where her bloody fingertips had left crimson streaks from pulling at her lashes.

“He was at Catherine’s. Bill hired him.”

“Slow down,” Thomas said, looking into her eyes. “Slow down and breathe.”

Angela swallowed hard and tried to control her frantic respiration. She was like a child who had cried ferociously and was now trying to speak. She exhaled a few times and allowed Thomas’s grip on her shoulders to right her mind.

“I was at Catherine’s house today.”

“And Bill came home.”

“And he was with the man from the alley. From when I tried to get rid of the couch.”

“Who was it?”

“Bill said he works for you. He runs the warehouse up north.”

Thomas furrowed his brow, and then cocked his head. “The Kenosha warehouse? That’s Leonard.”

“He was in Catherine’s house. He looked right at me.”

“Leonard Williams? Are you talking about Leonard?”

“Yes!” Angela screamed. “He was the man from the alley.”

“Angela, it’s okay.”

Thomas tried to pull her into his chest, but she resisted like a child working to prevent a parent from lifting them.

“But . . . I saw him in the alley.”

“Leonard lives in the area. He was probably out walking that morning. This is good news, Angela. You see? Leonard is harmless. He runs one of our warehouses. That’s all.”

Angela felt Thomas pull her close again, this time allowing it. She rested her head on his shoulder, her chest still heaving, but no comfort came from her husband’s embrace. Worry was all she could do and all she could feel. It was all her mind would allow. It filled her chest, her head, her soul.

Thomas whispered into her ear. “I think it’s time you start seeing your doctor again.”