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He dips his chin at me in greeting and then faces Dara. “You ready for your session with Dr. Madison, Dara?”
Some of the light-heartedness fades from her face, and I hate to see it go. “If I have to,” she grumbles.
For some reason, when he takes her arm like she’s an invalid and helps her up from the chair, it irritates me.
“Will you be here next week?” Dara asks with a hopeful light in her eyes.
I grab her hand and squeeze it. “Of course I will.”
“Thanks, Savina. See you then.”
Jackson leads her away, and I don’t miss the way his body is too close to hers. Dara’s head is tipped down, and her steps are more like shuffles, as if she’s being led to a place of doom. I also don’t miss the way she tries to pull her arm from Jackson’s grasp. He doesn’t let her go.
Getting up from my seat, I press my lips together, watching them walk through the door.
Jackson has always given me a weird vibe, and I don’t like the way he looks at Dara.
Like she’s a possession that he owns.
I decide right then to find and talk to Margie about the situation before I leave today.
CHAPTER NINE
HER
The car pulls to a stop outside a run-down cabin-style house. The Cove. I didn’t give it the name. It’s just always been that.
“We won’t be long, David. You can leave the car running.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the driver responds.
Marcelo and I get out of our respective sides and close the doors. He follows me, but he won’t go inside, instead staying just off the porch. I prefer to go in by myself, so this arrangement works in my favor. This is my private space, and I like to be here alone.
My feet crunch across the leaf-covered ground. The cabin is sheltered by a canopy of trees from above, which hides the structure from the sun, except for a few slivers of light that peek through. The porch is rickety and sags on one side, threatening to topple off with a stiff wind.
I ascend the three steps and go to the door. It’s not locked because no one ever comes here. It’s too close to the Ellington Estate, and everyone knows to stay away from that place.
When I open the door, the creak of the wood echoes in my ears, and the rotten stench of mold and mildew mixed with mothballs fills my nose.
Back when I first found this place, it gave me the creeps, and I made the decision to never return. And I didn’t for a while. But then something happened, and I ended up back here. It’s still just as creepy as before, but oddly, this place now gives me a weird sense of comfort.
The living area is small. The floors and walls have matching dark wood. There’s an old floral sofa with the back cushions missing, and an oval glass coffee table with an inch of dust covering the surface in front of it. Across from the sofa and table is a brick fireplace with several charred logs still inside it. A small stack of logs sits on the hearth. Behind the sofa is the kitchen area. There’s a four-seater wooden table with the chairs missing. The counters are mostly clear except for a thick layer of dust, and the cabinets above them, with the doors open except for one, are empty. The windows in the whole place have a layer of dust and grime so thick that you can’t see out of them.
With the box in one hand and a jug in another, I go into the kitchen and set both down on the counter below the cabinet that’s closed. I open it and take out an empty wide-mouth, quart-size mason jar and screw off the lid. The cap on the jug comes off next, and I pour the clear liquid into the jar until it’s halfway full. My nose wrinkles at the vinegar and burnt match smell.
I flip off the lid to the box and reach inside for the heart. The blood and body fluids have mostly dried, but it’s still sticky. I place the heart inside the jar of fluid, having to jam the organ through the top when the widest part gets stuck. It plops down with a small splash. The liquid doesn’t quite meet the top, so Ipour in a little more until it stops just below the rim. I screw the lid back on and pick up the jar to look at it. There isn’t a lot of light in the cabin, but I have plenty enough to see the heart floating. The clear liquid has turned a pinkish color.
I swirl the jar around and watch as the heart slowly floats in a circle.
I don’t know why I have this compulsive need to keep the heart. Probably because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen one outside of a body. Or other organs and body parts that have been detached. There was one time I watched my brother cut out a man’s eyes. That wasn’t the most gruesome part, though. The grossest part was when Bishop made the man eat them.
I set the jar in the cabinet and grab out the disinfectant wipes beside it. I use five to clean off my hands, making sure to get beneath my fingernails. I drop them in the old trash can beneath the sink, along with the box. I kept the ribbon. It’s sitting on my vanity where I left it last night.
Closing the cabinet, I walk back across the dusty room and head to the front door. Marcelo is still waiting for me where I left him. His stance is stiff with his muscular arms crossed over his equally muscular chest. His attention is on the forest surrounding the cabin.
“Are you ready?” he asks when he hears me approach.
“Yes.”