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By Root 1085 0

Jayne in it, but she would be back, I thought to myself as I took a long bath. Everything previous to this was part of the dream, I sighed, contented, lying in the marble tub as it quickly filled with warm water. The dream was over for now. (You’re correct, the writer agreed. It is.) Before I turned in I made sure the kids were safe—a new and involuntary urge. Sarah was already asleep, and I moved through her room and walked into the bathroom that connected her room to her brother’s and told Robby he could stay up as late as he wanted, but only if he needed to get homework done. There was no rage, no misunderstandings, no doublespeak—just a nod. Again Robby blurred because of my tears. His appreciative, clear-eyed glance was enough to cause them. I stepped out into the hallway and gently closed his door and I waited for the lock to click in place, but the sound never came. I found a bottle of red wine while rummaging through the kitchen and opened it, pouring myself a large glass. The wine would act as a gentle sleep aid. I would drink the wine while watching a rerun of Friends and fall asleep, and tomorrow everything would be different. At 11:15 the writer wanted me to turn the channel so we could watch the local news, because a horse had been found mutilated in a field near Pearce, which was where we had discarded the doll. And it all came back: on the screen was the divided sky and crows were descending from the telephone wires and dancing in patterns above a patrol car parked on the interstate where onlookers craned their necks and the camera zoomed in on the pile of remains, discreetly skimming the carnage, and a local farmer, his eyes watering, was answering a reporter’s question with a sort of shrug and the horse was first thought to have “given birth” because it was so badly “ruptured” and then there was the uncertain talk of a sacrifice, and as I began responding to this a phone started ringing from my office.

23. the phone call

It was my cell phone ringing. It was lying on my desk, waiting for me to pick it up.

My mind was still picturing the field out by the interstate, and I answered the phone in a daze.

“Hello?”

I could hear someone breathing.

“Hello?”

“Bret?” I heard a voice say faintly.

“Yes. Who is this?”

Another pause.

“Hello?”

The sound of wind and static interspersed.

I pulled the phone away from my face and checked the incoming number.

The call was being made from Aimee Light’s cell phone.

“Who is this?” I didn’t even realize I had fallen into my chair. My heart was beating too fast. I thought clenching my fist would control it. “Aimee?”

“No.”

Pause, static, wind.

I leaned forward and said a name.

“Clayton?”

The voice was ice. “That’s one of my names.”

I stood up. “What do you mean? Is this Clayton or not?”

“I’m everything. I’m everyone.” A static-filled pause. “I’m even you.”

This comment forced the fear to adopt a casual, friendly tone. I did not want to antagonize whoever this was. I would play dumb. I would pretend to be having a conversation with someone else. I had started shaking so hard that it was almost impossible to keep my voice steady. “Where are you?” I moved to the window. “I never got to see you again after you stopped by my office.”

“Yes you did.” The voice was now oddly intimate.

I paused. “No . . . I mean, where would that have been?”

“Did you get the manuscript?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. Where are you?” For some reason I reached for a pen, but it dropped from my trembling hand.

“Everywhere.”

The way he said this was so ghastly that I had to compose myself before returning to my fake clueless demeanor. The voice had scales and was horned. The voice was something that had emerged from a bonfire. The fear it caused was unraveling me.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Yeah, I think I did see you again. Were you in our house on Sunday night?”

“ ‘Our’ house?” The voice feigned bewilderment. “That’s an interesting phrase. One highly open to interpretation.”

I closed the blinds. I sat in the chair again and then stood up just as quickly. I suddenly couldn’t help it.