Crossing the Yard

The beam of the flashlight was blinding in the sudden darkness, a white lance cutting through the gloom of the Carriage House. It swept across the floor, catching the gleam of spilled scotch and the scattered crossword puzzle, before landing on me.

I threw my arm up to shield my eyes, the keys digging into my palm.

"Who's there?" a voice demanded from the top of the stairs.

It wasn't Richard. It was Julian.

He sounded annoyed, not scared. Like a man interrupted in his own home. He started down the stairs, the heavy thud of his boots vibrating through the floor.

I backed away, retreating into the shadows of the kitchenette. The flashlight beam swung wildly as he descended, illuminating flashes of the room: the leather sofa, the high-end appliances, the ghost of a life lived in secret luxury.

"Richard?" he called out. "Did you fix the breaker? The power is out again."

He reached the bottom of the stairs and shone the light around the room. I pressed myself against the refrigerator, holding my breath.

He walked to the center of the room, right where I had been standing moments before. He picked up his glass from the coffee table.

"Empty," he muttered.

He turned toward the kitchenette.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. If he took two more steps, he would see me. And unlike Richard, Julian had nothing to lose. He was already dead.

I looked around for a weapon. A knife block on the counter. But it was too far away.

Then I saw the door to the vestibule. It was ajar.

If I could slip through it, I could get out the back way.

Julian moved closer, the beam of light sweeping across the cabinets.

I waited until the light passed over me, then I moved. I dove for the door, my raincoat rustling against the stone floor.

"Hey!"

I didn't look back. I scrambled through the vestibule and threw my weight against the heavy oak door. It swung open, letting in a blast of rain and wind.

I stumbled out onto the muddy path, slipping and sliding in the darkness. Behind me, I heard Julian shouting, his voice swallowed by the storm.

I ran. Not back to the house, but toward the woods. Toward the cover of the trees.

I could hear him behind me, crashing through the brush. He was faster than me. Stronger.

I reached the brick wall that separated the service entrance from the main garden. There was a gate here, an old iron gate that was always locked.

I fumbled with the key ring Arthur had given me. My fingers were slick with rain and mud.

*First key. Too small.*
*Second key. Too big.*

I heard footsteps splashing in the mud behind me. Close. Too close.

"Helen!" Julian shouted. He knew who I was. Of course he knew. He had been watching me for years.

I tried the third key. It slid into the lock. I turned it.

The mechanism was rusted. It wouldn't budge.

I threw my shoulder against the gate, sobbing with frustration. "Open, damn you!"

The footsteps stopped.

I turned around, pressing my back against the cold iron bars.

Julian was standing ten feet away, illuminated by a flash of lightning. He wasn't holding a flashlight anymore.

He was holding a gun.

"You really are a pest," he said, wiping rain from his eyes. "Just like that girl."

He raised the gun.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

But the shot never came.

Instead, there was a metallic *clank*, followed by a grunt of surprise.

I opened my eyes.

Julian was on the ground, struggling. Someone had tackled him from behind.

It was Richard.

He had come back.

"Run, Helen!" Richard screamed, grappling for the gun. "Run!"

I didn't run. I turned back to the gate. I twisted the key with both hands, using every ounce of strength I had left.

The rust gave way with a screech of metal. The lock clicked open.

I pushed the gate wide.

"Richard!" I yelled. "Come on!"

He kicked Julian in the stomach and scrambled to his feet. He ran toward me, his face bloody, his expensive suit ruined.

He dove through the gate just as a shot rang out. Ideally, it would have hit the brickwork, sending chips of stone flying.

I slammed the gate shut and locked it, my hands shaking so hard I almost dropped the keys.

Julian threw himself against the bars, screaming in rage.

"Open it! Open it, you bitch!"

I backed away, pulling Richard with me. We stumbled through the garden, toward the safety of the main house.

"He's insane," Richard gasped, clutching his side. "He was going to kill you."

"He already killed someone," I said, my voice cold. "Thirty years ago."

We reached the back porch. The kitchen lights were on. Mrs. Higgins was standing in the window, looking out into the storm.

I stopped. I looked at Richard.

"We have to call the police," I said.

He shook his head, water streaming down his face. "We can't. If they find him... if they find out what we did..."

"He tried to kill me, Richard! He tried to kill *us*!"

"I know," he whispered. "But if the police come, the money is gone. The house is gone. Maya's future is gone."

He grabbed my shoulders.

"We have to handle this ourselves."

"How?"

He looked back toward the darkness of the garden, where his dead brother was screaming at a locked gate.

"We have to bury him," Richard said. "For real this time."