OUT THERE
Chapter Nine
"I want you to be concerned about your next door neighbour. Do you know your next door neighbour?" (Mother Teresa of Calcutta)
Adam tried the door but it was locked. He called out but there was no reply. The whole world seemed to have fallen into silence.
His keys were in his shaking hand, so he darted along to his own apartment and fumbled his way in as quickly as he could, tossing bag, coat and letter aside as he snatched the borrowed set from their hook and hurried back to Elma's door.
"It's Adam," he called out. "I'm here." His imagination was running wild by now, picturing every conceivable thing from masked intruders to a fallen ceiling - and all at once, he was very, very grateful that Mac had sent him home from work.
As the door swung open, Adam peered in cautiously. He liked to think that he was as brave as the next man (always assuming that the next man wasn't Detective Flack or his boss) but he really hoped that he wasn't walking into some kind of home invasion, unarmed and unprepared. Pulling Elma's keys from the lock, he poked them between his fingers and clenched his fist; the best weapon that he could manage under the circumstances.
To his amazement, the first thing that he saw was Elma, sitting in her chair, wide-eyed and looking as startled as he felt. She was wrapped in a blanket and a dream-like air still clung to her, as though she had wakened abruptly. Seeing Adam, she gasped and drew back.
"I'm sorry," he said, unsettled. "It's me - it's just Adam. Are you.. are you okay?"
"Help me," she whispered. "There's somebody in here."
He nodded. Moving through the room, he motioned her to silence, listening carefully for any clue to the intruder's location. As he edged towards the bedroom door, which was closed, he heard the sound of heavy breathing, punctuated by the occasional gasp of frustration and a peculiar slithering noise.
Adam's heart thumped painfully in his chest. Behind him, Elma had risen from her chair and was started to hobble towards him. No, he mouthed, full of concern for her safety, but she kept on coming. Now he knew that he had to act, before she reached him. Stepping forwards, he swallowed his fear and reached for the handle...
"I'm so embarrassed," wailed a familiar voice, as the room was revealed in all its chaos.
Elma reached Adam's shoulder. "Beth-Anne," she cried. "What happened? What are you doing here?"
The girl looked up from the floor, where she lay beneath a shifting pile of books and an overturned bookcase. "I bin here for ages," she said, confusion mingling with the pain and discomfort on her face. "I let myself in. You were sleepin' in the chair, so I thought I'd clean the bedroom... Please get me up," she added woefully.
Her plea broke the spell that seemed to have fallen over Adam. Feeling guilty, he leapt to her aid; crouching down beside her as he took stock of the situation. "Are you hurt?" he asked her gently.
"I guess so. Everything's fallen on top of me - and these books, they're harder than they look. Plus my arm's kinda stuck. Hey!" She regarded him with suspicion. "It's you. The psychic guy. What happened to your face?"
Adam winced and shook his head. "I'm not psychic. I told you that, remember? I'm Elma's neighbour, that's all."
"You can trust him, Beth-Anne," Elma said as she shuffled closer. "He's a policeman."
"I'm not that either..." Adam began to explain and then tailed off, as he saw their confusion. "Okay, look, this isn't the time," he told the girl. "I'm going to move the bookcase now. If something hurts, you tell me. You can even yell out loud if you want to - we don't mind. Right?"
"Of course," Elma nodded. Adam could tell by the way her fingers twisted around the knob of her stick that she yearned to help, in spite of her wasted limbs. "Beth-Anne, you silly goose; I thought you were an intruder. What on earth were you trying to do?"
Beth-Anne's face was a picture. "You thought I wanted to steal from you?" She shook her head violently. Taking advantage of Elma's distraction, Adam squared his shoulders and tried to raise the bookshelf. To his surprise, it wasn't all that heavy - not with its contents dumped all over the floor. Clearly shock, not wood, had pinned the young girl down. He swung the shelf higher and settled it back into place.
"Thank you," Beth-Anne squeaked, as she rose from the mound of books like a mole from a mole hill, blinking and biting her lip. "Ow!"
"Bruises?" Adam said with empathy.
"Ev-er-ywhere." She stood in the centre of the mess, forlorn and helpless. Reaching out, he took her good arm and steadied her so that she could leap across to the clear patch of carpet where Elma was standing. "Ow!" she said again, louder this time, as she landed awkwardly and wobbled, falling back against his shoulder. He caught her - just - and sighed with relief. She smelled faintly of citrus and furniture polish. She was also far more solid than she looked. "I want to sit down," she told him in a small voice. "My wrist hurts."
Adam put his arm around her and steered her carefully out of the bedroom, followed by Elma. "Tea," the old lady said, shuffling towards the kitchen, and he allowed himself a tiny smile. The answer to everything, it seemed.
He settled Beth-Anne clumsily on the couch but when he tried to look at her wrist, she covered it primly. "Want some ice for that?" he offered. "A bag of frozen peas...?"
She giggled and he shrugged. "It works," he said defensively. "Don't knock it till you've tried. I'm a scientist, okay? I know what I'm talking about."
"I thought Elma said you were a cop."
"I..." Adam paused and closed his eyes. Really, what was the point? He was so tired of explaining himself. "Close enough." He perched on the edge of the couch and sighed.
"Don't be sad." The girl's voice grew soft. "You're a nice man, Adam."
Her words, unexpected as they were, touched his heart and made a lump rise in his throat. Adam swallowed. "Thank you," he said huskily, just as Elma hobbled into the room, leaning on the rail of a sturdy little tea-trolley laden with goodies. Leaping up, he went to help her but she waved him away, pale and independent. He grinned, and went in search of ice instead.
Opening the freezer, the first thing that he saw was a bag of peas. Unable to resist, he fished them out and wrapped them in a flowery tea towel. Carrying his icy bundle back, he laid it carefully on Beth-Anne's tender wrist. She squealed, and then sighed with relief.
Elma handed him a cup of milky tea and he sank into a nearby armchair, feeling it settle around him like a hug.
"Drink up," Elma said kindly. "Then you can take Beth-Anne to the hospital."
He nodded - but the girl's mouth fell open in horror.
"No way," she protested. "Doctors are creepy. It's just a bruise, okay; don't get no big ideas..." Turning to Adam, she pointed. "He's got a bruise, and he didn't go to no hospital - tell me I'm right."
"Oh! Yes - I mean, no," he said warily. Elma was staring directly at him by now, as though she had only just noticed the state of his face. "I didn't; you're right. But look, Beth-Anne, all I did was fall against a table. You dropped a bookcase on your arm. There's a difference."
"A table?" Elma repeated. Her face was troubled.
Beth-Anne folded her arms and stuck out her jaw; the very picture of defiance. "Not going," she insisted.
Adam took advantage of the heavy pause that followed to sip at his tea. It stung his throat on the way down, but the act of drinking saved him from answering Elma's question. For a while, there was silence and the atmosphere in the room began to feel uncomfortable. "At least I can pick up the books," he offered finally, trying to put things right again. "Call it a 'thank you' for that awesome cake."
"Did you like it?" Elma's eyes lit up, and he sighed with relief. At last, an easy topic.
"Best cake I ever tasted. That jam... and the sugar... amazing! I couldn't stop eating it," he confessed with a sheepish expression. "There's only one slice left - and that's because I made myself save it for a treat after work." After work. What a joke...
Elma beamed with pride. "You've been so kind, looking after me," she said. "I had to do something."
"No, you didn't." He stared at the old lady with a sudden surge of affection. "Neighbours help, okay? That's how it is."
"Not always," Beth-Anne murmured, reminding them of her presence. "Mine are rude and noisy. Plus, they smell."
Adam snorted. He couldn't help himself - but he felt a twinge of regret when he saw Beth-Anne's face. "She made you a cake?" the girl continued.
"Beth-Anne," Elma told her firmly, "I baked cookies for you all the time until you went on that ridiculous diet of yours. No need to be jealous."
"Sorry." The apology was grudging. Beth-Anne's green eyes lingered on Adam's face, making him feel quite uncomfortable.
Draining the rest of his tea, he rose from his seat and headed into the bedroom. As he began to collect the scattered books and slide them onto the shelves, the rhythm of his actions left his mind free to wander unchecked. In the last few days, he had begun to feel as though he were trapped in some kind of nightmare. The more he tried to make sense of it all, the more his memories turned to smoke and drifted away. Adam knew that he was capable of some stupid - okay, really stupid moves, but his job meant everything to him. Losing it would break his heart; and he swore, right then and there, that he would never let that happen. Time to pull up his socks. Time to get some proper sleep...
"Penny for your thoughts."
He looked up and smiled at Elma, who was standing in the doorway. "Almost done. Don't know if you had them in any kind of order, so I went for size and colour..."
"Aesthetics - I like it. But you didn't answer my question."
Elma and Mac should get together, his tired brain decided as she shuffled closer. They'd make a great team. Bad guys would crumble before them. "Oh... my thoughts. Right. Well, I was just thinking that - if you're okay now - I should go home. You are okay..?" He peered at her white face.
"I'm fine, Adam. I had a shock, that's all."
"Me too," he agreed. "That was some crash."
She sighed. "My whole life is in this apartment. Sometimes, when I'm all alone, it frightens me. Such a small world. So easy to destroy."
The pang in her voice found an echo inside him. Life could overwhelm you if you stopped to think about it. "You're not alone," he told her firmly. "You've got me, alright, and Beth-Anne too."
"Beth-Anne." Elma's face brightened. "Silly girl. I convinced her to ring her brother, at least. He's coming to fetch her."
Oh, thank goodness, Adam thought. It was selfish of him, but he really couldn't face another trip to the hospital right now. "Done," he said, shoving the last book into place and leaning back on his heels with a satisfied expression.
She laid a grateful hand on his shoulder. It was shaking with exhaustion.
"Come on," he told her, rising to his feet. "Let's get you settled before I go..." And he led her back to her armchair, followed all the way by a pair of watchful eyes.
-xx-
Reaching his own apartment at last, Adam avoided the couch with a shudder and dropped, fully clothed, on top of his bed. That was the last thing he remembered for quite some time. Lost in a lead-heavy sleep, full of twisted dreams, he lay without moving as the day rolled on around him. When he did lift his head from the pillow, hours later, it was with some difficulty. "Wha...?" he mumbled, trying to sit up. Something had caused him to stir - not a noise this time, but a gnawing, empty feeling in his stomach.
He pushed upwards. Moments later, the room settled around him as his equilibrium returned. Hunger could make you feel sick, right? Easing himself off the bed, he padded through to the kitchen.
Elma's tin sat on the table, yet he couldn't bring himself to eat the last piece of cake. His stomach was begging for something savoury and the thought of jam and sugar had suddenly, violently, lost its appeal. Clearly, he had overdosed on sweetness lately. He opened the fridge and groaned. It was even worse than he had remembered. Two shrivelled tomatoes stared back at him, alongside a carton of milk so far out of date that it was probably cheese by now. His cupboards were almost as bad. Dry cereal, mouldy bread. Some ancient spaghetti. "Well," he said, out loud, "guess I've got two choices. Crackers with peanut butter and mustard - killer combo - or a trip to the store."
No contest.
With a deep sigh of resignation, Adam headed out of the kitchen - only to find that his front door was standing wide open.
He stopped and stared. Truth be told, he didn't know which fear was worse - that he had left it open himself and couldn't remember, or that someone had actually broken in as he lay fast asleep. Peering at the lock, he saw that it was still intact. His keys were hanging neatly on their hook beside Elma's spare set. His bag, coat and letter were on the floor where he had abandoned them earlier. The rest of the living area was a wreck but it had been like that since Jade and Kevin's visit. "My fault, then," he realised. Thank goodness no one had taken advantage of his dreadful mistake. They could have cleaned him out in seconds. Or even worse... He turned his mind away from the image of what could have happened to him.
He picked up his wallet, cell phone and keys, then stepped out into the corridor, pulling the door shut with a bang that would be memorable, and testing several times that it was locked before he dared to leave it.
The nearest store was a tiny bodega known as Corner Joe's, because of its angular situation and the friendly owner who liked to perch on a stool outside and watch the world go by. Today was sunny and Joe was in his usual place, long nose twitching as though he were sniffing for customers. He tracked Adam's progress towards the store, then gave a nod of satisfaction before slipping down to follow him inside.
The narrow aisles were claustrophobic. Glancing up at the convex mirror overhead, Adam saw that Joe was using it to study his progress. The discovery made him feel quite uncomfortable. He grabbed a random selection of groceries - milk, bread, fruit (that was healthy, right?) - and hurried to the front of the store. On the way, he passed a stand of flowers. They were beginning to wilt already but their colours were cheerful. Adam thought of Elma and gave a tiny smile. Why not?
"I'll take these as well," he said, pulling out a bunch of chrysanthemums, the perkiest flowers on offer.
"Girlfriend?" Corner Joe quipped.
"Neighbour," Adam said firmly, dropping his money into the gnarled and eager hand.
As he left the store, another customer entered, keeping Joe inside. Adam set off back to his apartment. Sweat was trickling down his back by now and the afternoon heat was making his head spin. He tucked the chrysanthemums under his arm and tried not to mangle them too much.
A man brushed past him, arrogant in his haste, making Adam stumble. He called out, but the figure was already striding away and did not turn to offer any kind of apology.
As he carried on down the street, he could have sworn that there was an echo of footsteps behind him. He paused - and the echo paused as well. Looking back, he saw only Joe's empty stool in the distance. At this time of day, and in this heat, the neighbourhood was quiet. He shrugged and carried on. "Stupid, Adam," he grumbled, feeling quite cross with himself by now. "You really think you're so important that the whole world is watching you?"
And then, from out of nowhere, he was yanked through an open gateway.
Struggling to keep his balance, Adam tried to call out - just as a clammy hand wrapped itself around his mouth, turning his yell into a muffled squawk that died in his throat, almost choking him. With the back of his head pinned tightly against the stranger's shoulder, there was no way to see who held him. His flowers, the shopping, his wallet - everything fell to the ground as he bucked and heaved in his attacker's unyielding arms. He scuffed at the dirt with his heels, trying to find a purchase, but all that he managed to do was lose his balance altogether. The next thing he knew, he was face-down on the ground, feeling worse than dizzy, with the stranger's knee planted firmly in the small of his back. A new sound caught his ear, soft and deadly; a knife unfolding, followed by a whisper.
"Where shall we start?"