snow but it isn’t going to warm up enough to melt things for a few days. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Turning away so they couldn’t see her tears of anger and frustration she said goodbye and stepped out into the storm. What the hell happened to global warming? Wasn’t this supposed to be the south?
She carefully crossed the street through the icy swirling flakes holding the manila envelope containing Bill’s documents under her coat. The wind shrieked in her ears- or was that sirens? She almost made it to the front door when a hand came down heavily on her shoulder.
Chapter 6
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
and then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
and thereby hangs a tale
-William Shakespeare
She turned and kicked out wildly at the parka shrouded figure, but her foot met only vinyl and down and, losing her balance, she fell backwards into the snow. He laughed, an ugly, snorting laughter and she recognized him. It was her neighbor, Larry.
“Whatcha kicking me for? I come over here to see if you need anything and you try to kick me? That’s not neighborly.” She could smell alcohol fumes coming off him as he spoke. “ Do you need anything?” He leaned in closer and leered at her as she struggled to get back up. “I’ll bet you need something , don’t you? I haven’t seen that husband of yours around in a while. You might need someone to look out for you.”
She made it to her feet. She was afraid but determined to hide it. He had always seemed annoying to her but now she saw a creepy side. Maybe it was the alcohol.
Keeping her voice calm she said. “I didn’t know it was you Larry. You frightened me and I just reacted. I’m cold and I need to get inside. You probably should too.”
His expression faltered for a second, then he sneered at her, shook his head, and walked away. Virginia watched him for a moment to be sure he kept going then opened her door (oh great, she had forgotten to lock it) and slipped inside, this time locking the deadbolt, the knob, and sliding the chain. It was time to stop being so careless.
Scanning the documents then emailing them to Ian only took a few minutes. She wondered if he would even get them, let alone persuade someone higher up to look at them. She wanted to sit down and read them but she had something more important to do first.
It took some time to find the guns. She had never taken any interest in them before today. She remembered seeing a handgun as well as a shotgun or rifle when they packed to move into this house three years ago. She tried the locked drawer in the desk first. Birth certificates and documents for both of their life insurance policies but no gun. She found a metal crate in the back of the bedroom closet, full of ammunition. Good. It was heavy though. She dragged it into the family room in front of the TV only belatedly noticing it left a long trail of dark grease marking the antique Tabriz rug that had been a wedding gift from Ian’s grandmother. Well, crap. Leaving it there she went upstairs and, unfolding the stairs from the trapdoor, ventured into the attic where she found a set of Encyclopedia Britannica from 1985, the rollaway bed, a broken sled, a rocking chair with no seat, and, oh good, a KA-BAR knife that belonged to her grandfather when he was in the Marines. It was to be Greg’s when he was old enough. It still would be, but it might come in handy now. It had a nice weight to it and felt good in her hand. She put it back in its leather sheath and backed down the ladder, folding it up into the ceiling. Still no guns.
Restless, she paced the house, assessing the
Turning away so they couldn’t see her tears of anger and frustration she said goodbye and stepped out into the storm. What the hell happened to global warming? Wasn’t this supposed to be the south?
She carefully crossed the street through the icy swirling flakes holding the manila envelope containing Bill’s documents under her coat. The wind shrieked in her ears- or was that sirens? She almost made it to the front door when a hand came down heavily on her shoulder.
Chapter 6
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
and then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
and thereby hangs a tale
-William Shakespeare
She turned and kicked out wildly at the parka shrouded figure, but her foot met only vinyl and down and, losing her balance, she fell backwards into the snow. He laughed, an ugly, snorting laughter and she recognized him. It was her neighbor, Larry.
“Whatcha kicking me for? I come over here to see if you need anything and you try to kick me? That’s not neighborly.” She could smell alcohol fumes coming off him as he spoke. “ Do you need anything?” He leaned in closer and leered at her as she struggled to get back up. “I’ll bet you need something , don’t you? I haven’t seen that husband of yours around in a while. You might need someone to look out for you.”
She made it to her feet. She was afraid but determined to hide it. He had always seemed annoying to her but now she saw a creepy side. Maybe it was the alcohol.
Keeping her voice calm she said. “I didn’t know it was you Larry. You frightened me and I just reacted. I’m cold and I need to get inside. You probably should too.”
His expression faltered for a second, then he sneered at her, shook his head, and walked away. Virginia watched him for a moment to be sure he kept going then opened her door (oh great, she had forgotten to lock it) and slipped inside, this time locking the deadbolt, the knob, and sliding the chain. It was time to stop being so careless.
Scanning the documents then emailing them to Ian only took a few minutes. She wondered if he would even get them, let alone persuade someone higher up to look at them. She wanted to sit down and read them but she had something more important to do first.
It took some time to find the guns. She had never taken any interest in them before today. She remembered seeing a handgun as well as a shotgun or rifle when they packed to move into this house three years ago. She tried the locked drawer in the desk first. Birth certificates and documents for both of their life insurance policies but no gun. She found a metal crate in the back of the bedroom closet, full of ammunition. Good. It was heavy though. She dragged it into the family room in front of the TV only belatedly noticing it left a long trail of dark grease marking the antique Tabriz rug that had been a wedding gift from Ian’s grandmother. Well, crap. Leaving it there she went upstairs and, unfolding the stairs from the trapdoor, ventured into the attic where she found a set of Encyclopedia Britannica from 1985, the rollaway bed, a broken sled, a rocking chair with no seat, and, oh good, a KA-BAR knife that belonged to her grandfather when he was in the Marines. It was to be Greg’s when he was old enough. It still would be, but it might come in handy now. It had a nice weight to it and felt good in her hand. She put it back in its leather sheath and backed down the ladder, folding it up into the ceiling. Still no guns.
Restless, she paced the house, assessing the
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