Chapter 2

Staring in horror and shock, he covered his mouth. Wrestling back and forth with many questions as to what he should do, he pondered:

Should I go near her? What if someone is watching me? Who is she? Who did this?

The feeling of nausea swelled more deeply in his stomach with knots as a horrible thought filled his damaged mind—Could I have done this?

Suddenly, a swirling of red and blue flashing lights danced across the walls. He switched off his flashlight and dropped down to the ground. Stuffing the flashlight quickly into the inside pocket of his coat, his fingers brushed against something made of cold steel. His fingers gripped around the handle of the object as he pulled it out. In his hand, he held a .38 caliber pistol. His eyes grew wide with horror as it fell to the ground with a loud cluttering sound. Holding his breath, he waited for the loud bang to follow.

Nothing.

He pulled the pistol back and began to pant as he held it in his hand. Sliding the chamber open, he saw that there were no bullets left inside. The barrel still felt warm as if the weapon had been fired just somewhat recently. As the swirl of red and blue lights faded from the walls, he stood back to his feet. He had no idea who this dame was. She was a raven-haired broad with very pronounced cheek bones and a soft, beautiful face. However, he felt no memory spark when he looked at her. He tried his best to remember while also trying to figure out what he should do.

He thought to himself, If I stay here, the cops will think I killed this girl. I can't just leave her here, though. What if I killed her? What if I shot her with this gun? Think, THINK!

He dared not walk to the door or by any of the windows, so he knelt down and shined his flashlight with his hand covering the front to dim the beam. Near the back corner of the dining room, he caught sight of a door. Turning off the light, he made a break for it as quickly as his condition allowed.

Feeling the effects of whatever was making him so ill, he scattered across the floor in a stupor. He peered through the crack of the open door and saw a small backstreet in front of him. A steady rain was splashing on the ground. Near the door was a parked black sedan.

Looking both ways to make sure no one else was watching him, he stumbled to the driver's side door, which was unlocked. He plopped down on the seat, holding his
stomach and rubbing his right temple. He looked around for any clues as to what was going on or who he was, but
there was nothing immediately available. He reached for the glove box handle, and a tiny black purse rolled onto the passenger floor. As he leaned forward to pick it back up, he held it out towards the dash so the water dripping from his clothes would not ruin whatever he might find inside.

Rummaging through the contents, he found a driver's license with an address in Logansport, Maine, issued to Betty Hanscombe, and a money order written for $500 to the same name was folded inside. The money order was signed, P. Stoddard.

"Stoddard?" He paused as a recognizable voice and conversation flashed through his mind.

"As we discussed, I'm paying your fee first with a little extra. As soon as you come back when the job is completed, I'll reward you with a generous bonus. Don't come back here until it's done. I don't want to arouse any suspicion. You will speak with me and only me."

"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Stoddard. I'll let you know and keep it quiet."

He mumbled, "Stoddard? Stoddard...that was the woman's name. Mrs. Stoddard." His mind worked furiously to piece together the blurry face with the voice. He remembered the name from the IOU in his wallet. Opening the wallet and flipping through the cash, he pulled out the IOU. He tried to reason within himself about how this name connected with him. Is this where the money came from? This money...for a job? What kind of job? Was it to murder that girl?

Anxiety began to grip tightly and burn inside his chest. His face grimaced in pain and frustration as his thoughts began to race. What should I do? I can't remember who I am? What if I committed murder? If I go to the cops, they'll find the money on me and they'd lock me up for sure. I couldn't even go to the hospital if I knew where one was. They'd ask so many questions that I couldn't answer.

His hand slid in his pocket and felt the steel of the pistol sliding across his fingers. This gun...there's no way I can explain this. Panting heavily, he tried to calm himself down. I...I can't tell anybody or take a chance on being seen. Not until I know what's happened to me. I need to get rid of that body for now and hide it where nobody'll see it.

Looking around the street in front of him and behind, it was completely empty. He found a handle for the trunk release near the bottom of the dashboard and gave it a tug. With a slight click, he watched in the rearview mirror as the trunk door popped loose from its latch.

Carefully opening the car, he moved quietly toward the back door of the Blue Whale to peer inside again. It was just as he had left it a moment ago. The body was spread across the bloody tablecloth, the jukebox sat silently in place against the wall, and the floorboards creaked as he made his way to the victim's position. Rather than taking a chance of spilling the blood on the floor, he wrapped her in the bloody tablecloth and carried her as steadily as he could in both arms. Pressing his own weight against the door to open it, he carried the body out into the street toward the trunk. Using his knee as leverage, he raised the trunk and neatly laid the girl's body inside. Before shutting the trunk, he paused, frowning in guilt for what he was doing.

He thought to himself, When I find out what happened to you, sweetheart, I'll make it right and make sure they get what they deserve...even if it was me that did this to you.

He carefully lowered the trunk and fastened the latch.

However, when he looked up, a man stood about a dozen yards in front of him and was making his way towards him.

(DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to Dark Shadows. This story is a creation of my own within the universe of Dark Shadows with the sole intention of entertaining the reader. I do not profit or receive any royalties from the owners of the property, Dan Curtis Productions)