The strangers we know, p.1
The Strangers We Know, page 1
The Strangers We Know
CHAPTER ONE
Jared Wolfe could not believe what he was hearing. Jess was dead. How could that be? They were joking and laughing only last night at the fireworks display. His baby sister was so outgoing, so easy to talk to. The mood in the room always lifted when she breezed in. Who could possibly want to kill her? Who would dare to steal her light away? No, he reasoned, someone had made a mistake, a cruel joke maybe, or her money hungry agent had decided this would make for a great publicity stunt. His thoughts raced, searching for some piece of knowledge he had tucked away in the back of his mind somewhere, to prove his theory correct.
Jared tried to steady himself. This place seemed so cold, out of sync with the rest of the world. Everything felt surreal, almost like a dream, but painfully, not a dream. It was almost like being in a horror movie, as if the cleanliness (there was something dirty about that cleanliness) and the deafening silence was covering the real monster dwelling just beneath the surface.
An older gentleman with neatly trimmed white hair that no longer covered the top of his head, wearing wire rimmed spectacles and a lab coat spoke to him, “Mr. Wolfe?” He waited for Jared to look up at him. “I am Dr. Malcolm. If you would follow me, please.”
Before he knew it his mind yanked him back to when he was a little boy, scrubbed clean, all dressed up waiting to meet his new sister. He had been waiting for so long that he didn’t think they were ever coming home from the hospital. As he paced by the window he heard the car pulling into the drive. Excited, he ran to the door, rocking back and forth on his heels until it opened, letting the sun and fresh air flood in with her… his Jessica. That’s what his parents had told him, she was his baby sister to love and protect. He reached out to her and she wrapped her tiny hand around his finger with a grip Jared would never forget.
“I will be the best big brother ever!” he promised. He meant those words with the whole of his heart. He promised himself right then and right there that he would protect her and take care of her…always.
As he walked down the long corridor it felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on him. White walls, white floors it all blended together, making it difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. His ears were ringing, his face was hot and he was almost certain that his lungs had stopped pushing air in and out of his body. He was convinced that his heart had teamed up with his lungs, in declaration of fear, they were no longer doing their jobs. With every step his legs grew heavier, trembling, he felt like he was walking through a thick sludge. Was it getting hotter? Oh, God, how he prayed with every fiber of his being, harder than he had ever prayed in his life, that this was not going to be Jess. His cell phone would ring any moment now. It was going to be her returning one of the hundreds of voice-mails he had left since he had been informed of her death.
Jared stopped just short of the door, gripping its handle for strength; he turned to Dr. Malcolm, “This is not going to be my sister. You have obviously made a mistake,” his voice trembled ever so slightly.
Dr. Malcolm looked up at Jared with the deepest of compassion, “I hope you are correct, Mr. Wolfe,” then dropping his head, he held the door open to allow Jared to pass through. The sympathy in the old man’s eye had not been missed.
Taking in a deep breath, Jared exhaled with resolve as he straightened himself, rising to his full height. He pulled the front of his jacket tight in an effort to hold himself together, he allowed Dr. Malcolm to guide him into a cold room that made him think of those meat coolers that you see at the grocery stores. The fluorescent lighting making the stainless steel tables and counters appear harsher to already apprehensive eyes. The staunch odor of all those chemicals made him feel nauseated, as dread seemed to creep up his body like tendrils threatening to take him over.
Before he knew it, he was standing beside a table covered with a sheet hiding the body underneath. His heart was pounding so hard that it roared in his ears like a beast. He could feel his blood pulsing through his temples as he fought so desperately to maintain his composure.
“I…ahem… I don’t know if I can do this,” his voice was beginning to break and he thought he was going be sick.
“Whenever you are ready, Mr. Wolfe. Just… just take your time.”
Jared’s legs were shaking. He started to feel as if they were going to fold underneath him. He tried once again to steady himself as a tear managed to escape down his cheek. He swallowed hard, held his breath and nodded for them to lower the sheet, that barrier that had been saving him all this time from seeing his beautiful sister lying there, cold and motionless. It looked almost as if she were sleeping, that he should be able to reach out and wake her up.
His legs finally gave way as he crumpled to the floor. The long wailing, cries and pleas that followed, echoed up and down the hospital corridors like the screams of a wounded animal…
CHAPTER TWO
AUTHOR JESS BROWN FOUND DEAD AT THE AGE OF 32
Acclaimed author, Jess Brown, has reportedly been found dead in her high-rise apartment overlooking Central Park in New York early Sunday morning. A member of her staff called 911 after arriving to work in her home. The authorities have not released any details at this time.
Jess Brown was well known for her vivid, paranormal thrillers. Many of her books became made-for TV movies. She was currently working with a screenplay writer on her most recent best seller.
Brown’s family express gratitude to everyone for their kindness and generous outpouring of love after suffering such a tragic loss and to, please, give them privacy while they grieve...
Rylee Whitmore looked up from the paper she was holding, her gray eyes glistening, over to her friend sitting across the table from her, Jade DuPrey. Anyone looking at the two would be confused to see them sitting together. Rylee, with her gold brown hair thrown back in a ponytail, leather bracelets, black work boots, army green cargo pants and her Marvel t-shirt was very approachable. Friendly. Jade’s razor sharp, chin length black hair, Manolo Blahnik heels, designer suit and the stiff posture screamed go away. They couldn’t be more different. They couldn’t love each other more if they had been born sisters.
“I don’t understand,” Rylee said shaking her head, “They did not mention that she was killed. Shouldn’t they warn people or something?”
“People are killed in New York every day, Ryles.” Jade couldn’t look less interested.
“I don’t think that’s true. If people were killed every day they would soon run out of people.” Rylee couldn’t tell if Jade was being serious or exaggerating for effect. Either way, she thought the statement was rude and cold.
“Maybe they are keeping details out of the media to prevent false statements. Either way she was obviously careless,” Jade spoke in a manner devoid of emotion as she took a sip of her coffee. “All she had to do was take the proper safety precautions and she would be alive right now. Why must you be so mawkish over every stray that comes into town?”
“Jade. What is wrong with you? Jessica is our friend, she is not some stray,” Rylee could not believe what she was hearing. She searched Jade’s face for some feeling, something that showed she cared about Jessica at least a little bit.
Jade watched a tear slip off one of Rylee’s eyelashes, landing with a tiny splash into her coffee, “Simply because you were her friend does not mean she behaved any less irresponsibly. Really, Ryles, you have to stop being such a bleeding heart for every little puppy that comes along.” Jade made a big show of playing with the nails of her right hand, “Shit, the manicurist fucked up my nails again.”
“She is one of the most intelligent, caring people that I know. How can you possibly be so unsympathetic?” Rylee pleaded on Jessica’s behalf. The heat was rising in her face. She could not tell if it was pain or anger. She decided it was a mixture of both.
“I’m not being unsympathetic, Ryles. She more than likely let an individual, which she did not know, in with a sob story and this is how they repaid her for it. Now, I have to get back to the office. I will call you tonight and check in on you.” Jade dropped a twenty on the table and walked out of the café.
Rylee stared after her in a state of shock and disbelief. She contemplated Jade’s reaction as she picked over what was left of her lunch. Jade could be intolerant but this seemed excessive even by her standards. Rylee reasoned that Jade presented a barbed wire fence to the world to keep people from seeing how wounded she really was, especially with her having to go into an office filled with male attorneys. She began to feel cruel for saying anything to her. As her friend, she should understand how tough it is being a female in the corporate world.
“Don’t listen to her, Rylee. That woman has a heart as black as her hair dye.” Rylee looked up at Caroline Garcia, the café owner. Her salt and pepper hair pulled up in a loose bun, sharp dark eyes and hint of an accent that Rylee had never been able to discern. It reminded her of the Gypsy matriarch that the clan looked to for guidance. Then again, Caroline was the small town of Crescent Valley, Georgia’s matriarch so she did not consider herself to be too far off.
“She doesn’t mean it, you know. She really is a lot nicer than people give her credit for, Miss Caroline.” Words Rylee had repeated to anyone that would listen over the years.
“There you go, always trying to see the best in people when sometimes, darlin’, there just ain’t none to be found. Now I know you been that girl’s friend since you were knee high to a grasshopper but that don’t mean she can talk to yo u any old way.” Caroline snapped her towel over her shoulder while tapping her finger hard on the table in front of Rylee.
“Jade is like the sister that I never had. She thinks I don’t know how to take care of myself when I’ve been doing it since Momma and Daddy died.” Rylee saw the hurt immediately in Caroline’s eyes; “With the town’s help of course,” She put on her best forgive me face.
Caroline took the seat across from Rylee that Jade had left vacant, “Baby girl, that woman does not have anyone’s best interest at heart but her own. She clings to you so hard because you are the only person that will put up with her, well, you and poor Doug. How she ever got that man is a mystery.” She shook her head then continued, laying her hand gently on Rylee’s, “You are her possession, her favorite dolly if you will.”
“Everybody deserves a friend, Miss Caroline, even those that haven’t learned how to be one yet.” Rylee glanced up from the coffee she had been studying while absorbing Caroline’s words.
“How many more years are you going to let her drag you around by the pigtails?” Caroline watched her eyes.
“I can’t just stop being her friend, I love her. She is a part of me. Has been my whole life.”
“I didn’t say stop loving her, goodness knows I do. Stop letting her push you around and controlling you, Honey. Learn to say No when you need to.”
“Yes ma’am, I understand. You’re right. I know you are. I just feel sorry for her.” Rylee did feel sorry for Jade. For a woman that appeared to have everything in the world she continued to remain so unhappy. Rylee couldn’t remember a time when Jade had ever been truly happy. Give her everything and she still wanted what someone else had, even if her things were better, newer. She kept chasing happy, thinking if someone else was happy it must be because of what they had. Never would occur to Jade that happiness had to be found in herself.
Both Caroline and Rylee turned at the bells clanging above the wooden café door as it opened, letting in all of the July heat and humidity. In walked a man that had only a few gray hairs left to create his comb over and he took advantage of each one of them. His tall, lean figure sported his latest tailored suit. The dark color of it made his washed out blue eyes appear even paler, reminding Rylee of the white eyed blind men in the movies.
“Morning Caroline.” His cologne invaded Rylee’s nostrils as if someone had poured the Old Spice directly up her nose.
“Morning, Ben. I’ll be right with you.” She turned to Rylee, “You think over my words while I go deal with Ole Two Hair Godfrey.” Caroline winked then gave a rap on the table with her knuckle as she walked away.
Benedict Godfrey was the town Mayor. Nobody in the town seemed to care for him as far as Rylee could tell yet he always won the election. She figured he was the only one that really cared for the job. The old man strutted around Crescent Valley as if he more or less owned the place instead of being an elected official. Rylee often wondered how Vivian Godfrey put up with his inflated sense of ego. Midway through that thought it dawned on her that Mrs. Godfrey was in all probability too nice and naïve to notice her husband’s behavior. Rylee thought that the basket full of baked goods Vivian was always delivering and her willingness to help everywhere possible was Benedict’s one redeeming quality. She reminded Rylee of a sprite hard at work, flittering from one place to the next. She even had the silver pixie haircut and petite build to match.
After paying for her meal, Rylee decided to browse around Dave’s Book Emporium, next-door to Caroline’s, for the remainder of her lunch. The rows and smells of the books brought back memories of sitting in her mother’s lap just before bed. Marissa Whitmore would read her new adventures every night before tucking her in to dream about the faraway places and long lost treasures. Rylee’s father, Dillan Whitmore, would help her re-enact stories during the day, he was always the villain and she was always the hero that defeated him after a battle to the bitter, overly dramatic, end.
The books were consistently there for her, unchanged and filled with their many adventures. Who needed Paris when you could slip down a rabbit hole to a wonderful world, take a train to a magical experience or hang around with hobbits? She could always count on the security they gave her. No pressure to be what anyone else thought she should be. She breathed in the smell of paper and ink, grabbed her current adventure and flopped down in the big soft, comfy chair in the back that Dave put in especially for her when she was a small child.
“Spoiled. I am so spoiled,” She said happily to herself.
After she read the same sentence for the third time, she finally gave up to the fact that she would not be able to focus on her book right now. She kept drifting back to a conversation that she had with Jess a few weeks before. Jess had told Rylee that she did not believe her parents’ accident had indeed been an accident. Jessica said Henry Artisan, the garage owner, mentioned something to her to make her believe Marissa and Dillan Whitmore had been murdered. Rylee told her that was crazy, she would have known. Now she could not help but wonder if Jessica did know something and that had gotten her killed as well. Closing her book, she decided she needed to go have a chat with Henry. He would straighten it all out.
CHAPTER THREE
Rylee took great pleasure in the way it felt unlocking the heavy oak door to her studio that was her gallery, workshop and home, Rylee’s Treasures. Whiskey potting barrels sat on the sidewalk at either side of the entrance. Each barrel overfilled with rosemary and peonies. Wisteria crawled across the walls of the brick building, purple flowers framing the dark threshold and large windows. Looking through the antique window of the door as she turned her key gave her a sense of belonging. A feeling lost when she left Whitmore Manor behind after the death of her parents. The bells jingling above her head welcoming her home normally made her smile but not today, they unnerved her a little. She walked past the multitude of shelves and display cases containing all her beloved Treasures in the gallery, hoping to finish her current project. The contrast from gallery to workshop was as different as night and day. The showroom was chaotic, expansive and dimly lit, while her workshop was organized to perfection, smaller and so bright your eyes had to adjust upon entry. Classic rock permeated the entire studio from speakers hidden in the exposed beams, creating an upbeat vibe that kept her moving long after her coffee wore off.
She stepped into her workroom, exhaust fans quietly purred, drawing the chemical fumes away from the gallery, through a filtration system before exiting the building. The full spectrum daylight lighting guaranteed she wouldn’t miss any important details. Walking around the easel sitting just inside the door, she faced the large, tilted, white artist table that was against the wall that separated work space from show space. Across the top, it was lined with hundreds of colored pencils, pens, markers, chalks and coal. Color coded. All, but the pencils, tip down. Down the left side were brushes and spatulas of varying sizes and material. Down the right side were tubes of paints and bottles of oils. She climbed up on a stool putting the table in front of her and the easel to the right while she mixed paints. This painting was commissioned by a collector she had never met. That’s the way it was with most of her commissioned pieces. Their assistant would call, request something and she would do her best to produce it. Most of her clients only had a vague idea of what they wanted. From time to time, she would get a client that was extremely specific, but usually it was a spark of an idea they wanted her to bring to life for them. Rylee got comfortable on her stool, uncovered the canvas, eyed it intently for a moment then picked up her brush. Almost immediately she was lost in the woodland fairies as they went about wreaking havoc and mischief here and there deep inside of the dark, foreboding forest. She thought how fun it must be to be them without a care in the world.
The sound of the bells over the entrance door broke her out of her trance, making her jump. She spun around bumping into a ceramic sun that had been awaiting its final touches, causing it to crash onto the floor. A slight twinge of pain shot through her chest at the shock from the noise and the sight of something so cheerful shattering to bits and dust before her eyes. She stared at it for a moment, lost in thought before she blinked hard and came back to the here and now.
