Rebecca Stewart is the sole survivor of a horrific night that claimed the lives of several people, including her closest friend Jessica. Six months after the terrifying experience, Rebecca is forced to re-examine the events of that night when police find a murder with similar characteristics to information she gave them, leaving her as their primary suspect. While she is certain that they are making a terrible mistake, unfortunate events and gaps in her memory cause her to doubt herself and the memories of that fateful night. Will she be able to prove her innocence, or will she discover a dark secret she's not ready to face?
Rebecca Stewart is the sole survivor of a horrific night that claimed the lives of several people, including her closest friend Jessica. Six months after the terrifying experience, Rebecca is forced to re-examine the events of that night when police find a murder with similar characteristics to information she gave them, leaving her as their primary suspect. While she is certain that they are making a terrible mistake, unfortunate events and gaps in her memory cause her to doubt herself and the memories of that fateful night. Will she be able to prove her innocence, or will she discover a dark secret she's not ready to face?
Rebecca stared out over the bleak early morning horizon and felt the familiar icy fingers of despair wrap around her heart. The snow covered landscape before her was a perfect reflection of the frozen stillness within her. It had been like this for months. At first, this now familiar emptiness had only lasted for a few minutes each day until, over time, it became the new normal. After the second week, any hope of escaping the fathomless darkness inside of her was lost, like a star consumed in the crushing void of a black hole. After a month those people who'd initially been so worried about her after the events of that fateful and horrific night stopped calling, stopped texting, and stopped coming by. Everything and everyone was moving forward, except her, and seemingly without her. At first this newfound crushing isolation was nearly unbearable but even that subsided in time.
Letting out a long sigh, Rebecca tried to remember what day of the week it was. She'd lost all sense of time. Days and nights blended into each other more and more. The alcohol wasn't helping with that. She knew the dramatic increase in how often she drank was an alarming trend but she didn't care. Nothing mattered to her, nothing except whatever temporary escape she could find.
Rebecca's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing. She looked at the caller ID and closed her eyes in exasperation. Fuck I need a drink she thought as she silenced the call. Stepping off of her deck back inside her house she shook off the cold, closed the sliding glass door, and walked into the kitchen. The first bottle of wine she picked up was all but empty, so she went in search of another. To her dismay every bottle she found was empty. Returning to the first one she put her lips to the rim and tipped the bottle upwards. Warm, but cheap, merlot hit her tongue and burned its way down her throat. As the last drops slid across her tongue she heard her phone ding; a voicemail.
Putting the bottle back onto the kitchen island she opened the voicemail and put it on speaker. The all too familiar voice of Detective Barnes echoed through the empty kitchen.
"Hello Ms. Stewart, this is detective Rory Barnes with the Bloomdale police department. I've left you several messages and I really need you to call me back. I have important information to give you and some questions I need your help with. My number is…"
Rebecca deleted the message. She knew his number by heart after all the messages he'd left her. Scouring the kitchen one more time, she prayed that she'd missed a bottle; finding none, she let out a sigh. Either it was time to sober up, or it was time to leave the house to get more wine. Neither option felt like a good one.
Weighing her choices Rebecca decided she would leave the house. Becoming a complete shut-in wasn't on her to do list, not that she really had one of those anymore. As she walked towards the door that led out to the garage, she wondered how many days it had been since she'd actually left the house. Trying to scour her memories for any sense of time while she put on her winter coat, a troubling thought occurred to her. Detective Barnes had mentioned having questions for her. She couldn't recall if that was something he'd said in the recent messages. Usually he just talked about having some information for her but she was fairly certain this was the first time in a long while that he mentioned having questions.
As she buttoned up her coat she felt dread creep into her stomach. Was it possible he'd uncovered why she'd been there to begin with? That would definitely complicate things. At the time of him first questioning her she'd lied about how she got into the situation. She'd told him that she and Jessica had been staying at a friend's cabin before all the horrible things had happened but that wasn't really true. They'd been squatting, as it were, at a cabin of someone they knew was going to be out of town. They'd had no permission whatsoever to be there and had, by all accounts, committed a crime by breaking into the million dollar lakeside home.
Sliding her feet into her snow boots she grabbed her keys and purse, and stepped out into the frigid garage. Closing the door behind her and unlocking the car, she consoled herself that there was no way detective Barnes knew about what they'd done. The only other person that knew was Jessica and she was dead.
Rebecca opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat, but didn't start the car. After closing the car door the familiar tormenting train of thoughts came to her: Jessica was dead. She was gone, and it was all Rebecca's fault. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and rested her forehead on the steering wheel of her Honda SUV. Her eyes began to fill with tears as these thoughts washed over her again and again and again. It's all my fault, she's dead because of me. Several minutes of tears passed by before Rebecca sat back in her seat, wiped her eyes, and turned the vehicle on. Fuck I need a drink.
Opening the garage door she tried to steel her nerves. Crying about Jessica's death wasn't going to bring her back to life. Nothing was going to help, not even the alcohol she was about to go buy. The alcohol only served to numb the pain, to temporarily wash away the crushing emptiness she felt whenever she thought about Jessica. Rebecca backed out of the garage into her driveway which had several inches of snow on it. Unlike her, all of her neighbors had kept up with shoveling their driveways. Thankfully some kind soul, likely her neighbor across the street whose name she could never remember, had taken to shoveling her sidewalks for her. She decided she'd have to thank them some day as she backed out onto the street and put the car into drive.
Luckily the liquor store wasn't far away; less than a 5 minute drive. She initially tried to listen to the radio but had shut it off after a few moments because it was early in the day and nothing but talk shows were on the air. The quiet hum of the vehicle was almost soothing so she didn't mind the radio being off. The one thing that she hadn't considered on this trip to replenish her self-medicating cabinet, as it were, was just how early in the day it was. The error in her judgment became clear to her as she pulled into the liquor store parking lot only to find that all the typical fluorescent lights advertising the different brands of alcohol were turned off.
Pulling into a spot and putting the vehicle in park she murmured, "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
She looked at the clock on the car dash and closed her eyes in disappointment. A wave of rage welled up inside of her, almost out of nowhere. Like lava bursting up from an erupting volcano she felt it overwhelm her. Slamming her palm against the steering wheel several times she let out a scream of frustration. Can't even plan a trip to the liquor store the right way, no wonder why Jessica is dead, a voice inside of her seemed to say as she threw her head back against the headrest.
It was 8:41 and the liquor store didn't open for another 19 minutes, which felt like a literal eternity at that moment. Feeling the pain begin to throb in her hand from hitting the still cold steering wheel she turned the heat dial up and let out a long sigh. It's only 19 minutes, only 19 minutes… 19 minutes of nothing but time to think.
A memory flashed before her eyes and it was enough to steal the breath from her with a feeling akin to having been punched in the stomach. Almost as if it was happening all over again she could see Jessica sitting in the passenger seat and could hear her say, "It will be so peaceful out there. We'll have nothing but time to relax and to think about life while we sip cocktails next to the lake."
The tears began to well in Rebecca's eyes again. They'd been so excited to go on their little mischievous trip together to the outskirts of the city where the rich people built absurdly large houses and cabins surrounding a big peaceful lake. They’d been so excited to get away for a long weekend living in the life of stolen luxury. Rebecca mouthed the words she'd said all those months ago, "You mean time to get drunk and think about how neither of us have a life!"
The silent words drove an icy spear through the center of Rebecca's heart. She understood now the cruel, wicked irony of her words. Jessica no longer had her life and Rebecca was living one utterly devoid of anything resembling life. She felt like she'd also died, but had been sentenced to a hell of having to keep breathing, to keep remembering, to keep feeling.
8:44
There was nothing she wouldn't give to go back in time and stop them from taking that trip. Nothing she wouldn't trade to hear Jessica's laugh one more time. More memories flashed before her eyes and all sense of the present moment seemed to melt away as the images flooded through her mind.
Blood. Warm and sticky. It was all over her hands and seeping through her clothes. The urge to vomit was so powerful but there wasn't time. Jessica's hand was in hers, her grip so tight yet slipping from the blood on their fingers as Rebecca practically dragged Jessica behind her while they ran.
Rebecca became aware of the present moment again and started pounding her palm against her temple. "Stop!! Please make it stop!" She pleaded to the empty car.
8:52
More images came, this time back toward the beginning of the trip. Jessica had a grin on her face as she said, "I met this really cute guy at the gas station. He invited us over for drinks at his place."
"Please tell me you didn't say yes," Rebecca had groaned. Jessica put her hands together and swayed side to side with a don't-hate-me expression. Rebecca frowned "I don't know Jess…"
"Come on Rebecca! It will be fun!"
Rebecca was back in the car again.. "Why did I say yes? I should have said noooo…" she pleaded, the tears streaming down her face, sprinkling her jacket as they fell.
8:57
She felt insane, like her entire sense of reality was coming apart at the seams. Every day was like this, and sometimes even the nights. The nightmares were the worst. She couldn't remember the number of times she'd woken up screaming with rage and terror, certain that she was there again fighting for her life. The dreams were almost always about one or the other of them. About the knife in her hand, fighting with all of her might until each of them was no more.
This is why she needed the alcohol. Nothing else seemed to keep these moments of torment at bay. Nothing helped her fall asleep when the dread of the nightmares was enough to keep her awake for days on end. She fished out a box of tissues from the backseat floorboard and blew her nose. To her relief the episode seemed to be at an end, as no additional memories came flooding back. Taking a moment to try to calm herself down, she closed her eyes and focused on the hum of the engine. After a few moments she opened her eyes again and much to her relief the Miller Lite fluorescent sign turned on in the liquor store window, followed by several others.
9:00
Rebecca got out of the car and stepped up to the store entrance just as the clerk inside unlocked it. For a brief moment they're eyes met and she could tell immediately that the woman before her pitied her. She'd become a regular customer recently and while the woman benefitted from Rebecca's descent into alcoholism, a certain quiet sorrow seemed to fill her eyes each time she recognized Rebecca. Rebecca stepped through the doorway as the clerk held it open for her.
"You're awake bright and earl…" the woman started before trailing off as she got a closer look at Rebecca, "or are we still awake from yesterday?"
Rebecca did not appreciate such an inquisitive interaction. She didn't want to talk to this woman, not because she disliked her but rather because she feared how far her questions might probe. "Trouble sleeping," Rebecca replied sheepishly. The clerk seemed to take this as a sign that Rebecca wasn't in the mood for conversation, so she returned to her opening duties.
Rebecca headed for the wine aisle and quickly found her preferred brand of Merlot named Belle Chateau. The french name was absurd as it was bottled in some vineyard in California, but she didn’t care. It did the job and it was cheap.
To her relief there were two cases, each holding nine bottles. Squatting down she lifted the boxes with some degree of difficulty but managed not to drop them. She waddled her way up to the cash register and sat the cases on the counter. She could tell right away she was in for more undesirable conversation.
"Okay honey, I have to say, I'm starting to get worried about you. Don't get me wrong, I love a repeat customer, but are you sure you're okay?"
Rebecca leveled her with a leave me the fuck alone gaze before saying, "I never claimed to be okay."
This was not the response the clerk had expected. Raising her eyebrows in increasing concern she asked, "Do you need someone to talk to? My cousin Stella is sober, I'm sure she would be happy…"
Rebecca cut her off, "Are you going to ring me up or not?"
The clerk furled her brow and shook her head in defeat. She didn't say anything as she scanned the bar codes of the cases and rang up the total. Rebecca handed her a credit card and watched impatiently as she completed the transaction. Handing the card back to her she asked, "Would you like any help putting these in your car?"
Rebecca shook her head but did not respond. Taking the cases into her arms again she made her way out of the store back to her car. One by one she loaded the boxes into the backseat. As she got into the driver's seat she noticed that the clerk was watching her with that same expression of concern. Rebecca tried to ignore her as she started the vehicle, put it in reverse, and made her way out of the empty parking lot.
As Rebecca pulled onto the snowy street, her phone started to ring again. The console of the car flashed Detective Barne’s phone number. As much as she hated the idea of talking to this man, her curiosity about the questions he had was too strong and there was no guarantee she’d be anything near this sober any time soon. She pressed the answer button on the display.
“Hello?” Rebecca asked.
“I’m glad to know you are still alive Ms. Stewart. Was starting to think I was going to need to do a wellness check on you.”
An almost comical image of a police officer checking her house to find her dead in the bathtub with an empty bottle of merlot in her hand flashed through Rebecca’s mind. She stifled the urge to laugh. “Yes, I’m alive. What did you need?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to need you to come down to the station for some questions. Or, if you’d prefer, I can come to your house in about an hour.”
“Is it really something that we need to do in person?” Rebecca asked in dismay. “I’m not exactly… suitable”
“Yes, I’m afraid it has to be in person Ms. Stewart.”
Fuck! Rebecca thought. This was not how she wanted to spend her morning. “Fine, come by my place. I’ll try to clean it up.”
“Okay, sounds good. See you soon.”
Rebecca angrily slammed her finger down on the end call button. What could he possibly need to see her for? She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the situation felt off. Her mind wandered for the remainder of the drive, guessing a hundred different reasons why he might need to see her, but nothing seemed to make any sense. Given that she wasn’t going to be drinking the wine she’d bought, she elected to leave the cases in the car once she’d pulled into the garage. She didn’t need Rory Barnes giving her the judgmental stare that she’d seen from him all too many times already.
Heading inside the house, she kicked off her shoes and surveyed the wreckage that was her home. Months of isolation, depression, drinking, and the loss of a will to live had not been kind to her surroundings. If her grandmother could see the state of the house she’d left her only granddaughter, she’d probably be terribly disappointed in her. If Rebecca was being honest with herself, even a disappointed grandmother would be a welcome addition at this point. Rebecca’s parents had died when she was 11 years old, and her only living grandmother had taken her in. She was an angelic woman who had cared for her all the way through high school and then into college before she died 9 years after Rebecca’s parents.
When she passed away she’d left Rebecca her house, along with the money she dutifully invested from the life insurance policies Rebecca’s parents had left her. More than that she’d built up considerable savings through her many years working as a nurse which she also left Rebecca. It was because of this completely paid off house and the not-so-small fortune that Rebecca had inherited that she was able to stay afloat, despite her downward spiral to and beyond rock bottom. No need for a job meant no need to stay sober, and no need to leave the house. No more friends meant no more need to keep that house clean. The result of which was enough now to overwhelm Rebecca as she stood in the middle of her living room taking it all in.
There was no way she was going to be able to clean the house the way she wanted to, not with only an hour to work and she definitely needed a shower as well. She lifted the collar of her shirt and sniffed to see how bad it was. She immediately regretted that decision. It had easily been a week since she’d showered. That meant deep cleaning was off the table. Shaking her head, she headed into the kitchen to grab a handful of garbage bags. The least she could do was dispose of all the used tissues, empty takeout containers, and empty wine bottles.
After she’d done that, she started in on the dirty dishes lying around all over the place. there was no time to do them but they could at least reside in the kitchen rather than the living room. Once these were dealt with Rebecca felt a surge of panic as the process had taken nearly forty minutes. Frantically picking up the dirty clothes lying around the house, she rushed them into the bedroom before heading into the bathroom.
If it had been a week since she’d showered, it had been much longer than that since she’d tended to her appearance in the slightest. While she waited for the water in the shower to warm up, she stripped out of her clothes and stopped to stare at herself in the mirror. She looked beyond awful. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever looked so tragic in all her life. Well, except maybe one time, the morning after Jessica’s death.
Her long black hair was a tangled mess from a bun that had long since come unraveled. She pulled the hair tie out of her hair and ran a brush through the knots. Once she was done she sat the brush down and leaned closer to the mirror where she stared into her blue gray eyes. They seemed… hollow; like the light that used to inhabit them had long since gone out. The bags beneath her eyes were beyond belief. Had she really been crying that much? Her face also looked much more gaunt than it ever had before. Clearly she hadn’t been eating enough, although it was hard to have an appetite when you didn’t want to live anymore.
Stepping back she took the whole image in. Her ribs were more visible than they’d ever been, and her once full breasts appeared to have dramatically decreased in size. When was the last time I looked in the mirror like this? she wondered to herself. Had it been that long, or was it possible she just hadn’t noticed how drastically her appearance had changed until now?
The mirror began to fog from the shower, but Rebecca was transfixed. She couldn’t stop staring at the stranger that was standing before her. She knew that Jessica’s death and the unspeakable things she’d done in order to survive that night had impacted her mental stability, but it was clear that it had also done a number on her physical body as well.
The final thing her eyes fixated on was a string of scars that began over her right hip and ran upwards slightly onto her stomach all the way to her other hip. There was no greater reminder of all the horrors she'd experienced than these lines carved into her skin. Runes in some unfamiliar language stretched across her abdomen from where they had cut them into her body. She ran her fingers across the skin like she so often unconsciously did, feeling the grooves from where the blade had done its work. She only had a shadow of a memory of them doing this to her, but elusive spectres standing over her while she felt the pain of the cuts and the blood running along her abdomen haunted her dreams most nights. She often wondered what the runes meant, but part of her hoped she never learned what they said.
After another minute the reflection was becoming too obscured from the steam issuing from the shower for Rebecca to continue her self-examination, so she turned and stuck her hand in to test the water. It was gloriously warm, so she stepped into the tub and pulled the curtain closed. The warm water felt divine against her skin, Almost as if it was replenishing her body with radiant light. She could feel herself almost coming back to life and It felt good, even if it also felt painful. Being alive meant feeling her emotions, and feeling those wasn’t something she’d done much of in recent months.
As she washed her hair and then her body, Rebecca’s mind was flooded with memories of Jessica. This was part of the reason she’d avoided showering so often since her death, because spending time in the shower made her think of the last night she ever spent with Jessica.
To her dismay Rebecca heard the doorbell echo through the house. “Fuck! Already?” she swore. “JUST A MINUTE!” she shouted as loudly as she could, uncertain if her voice would carry far enough for Detective Barnes to hear her. She frantically rinsed herself off as best as she could and shut off the water. She got out of the tub so quickly that she nearly fell flat on her face after her foot caught the side of the tub, but thankfully she was able to catch her balance just in time. Once she was stable footed she grabbed a towel that definitely needed washing and quickly wrapped her sopping wet hair in it. She took the other towel and did a quick once over dry off and then pulled on a purple fluffy robe that was hanging on a hook of the bathroom door.
The doorbell rang again. Again she shouted she needed a minute. Putting on slippers and ensuring that the robe was securely fastened to her body she quickly shuffled her way out of the bathroom to the front door. Checking the viewer she was both pleased and displeased to see Detective Barnes’ bristly ginger mustached face staring back at her. She undid the dead bolt and the handle lock, and opened the door.
“Eh… I guess I’m a little early,” he said, clearly surprised by Rebecca’s appearance.
“Yeah, a little,” she replied curtly, beckoning him to come into the house. “I just need a minute to get dressed. You can wait in the living room.”
Detective Barnes nodded and followed Rebecca into the living room. Just as she suspected, that expression of judgment that he always seemed to get was on his face again. He didn’t say anything as he sat on the couch. He had a manilla envelope with him and it didn’t look like it was carrying a letter. It was bent in a funny way and appeared to be thicker at one end compared to the other. Is that why he needed to come in person? She wondered as she rushed back into her bedroom.
Finding the only clean pair of leggings she had, she pulled them on along with a black tank top that may, or may not, have actually been clean. It didn’t smell and that just had to be good enough for now. She slid on her slippers again, tied her wet black hair in a bun, and put on a gray zip-up hoodie before returning to the living room.
Detective Barnes was sitting quietly, his gaze apparently transfixed on the sofa to his left. Rebecca walked over the sofa and realized that what he was looking at was a bra that was mostly wedged between the cushions. Mildly embarrassed she fished it out and tossed it in the bedroom hallway as she said, “Oh, sorry, I haven’t had company in a long time.”
“I can tell.”
Rebecca frowned at him as she sat down but did not reply to the statement. “So… what did you need to see me for?”
He took in a deep breath before saying, “Well, for a few things Ms. Stewart. First I wanted to return some personal items to you. You never came back to get them, so I thought maybe I’d do you a favor and just bring them to you.” Opening the manilla envelope, he poured a handful of items out onto the oak coffee table in front of him. There was a black smart watch, two silver rings, and two cell phones, one of which had a cracked screen. These were items that had been confiscated at the time of her arrest and kept as evidence initially. Once they’d dropped the case, ruling that she’d acted in self-defense they’d called to tell her she could pick these items up, but she’d never gone back for them; mostly because the cracked cell phone was Jessica’s phone. The temptation to read through her messages would have been too great and would have come at too great a mental toll for her to ever justify having it. She’d hoped that they would simply toss these items.
More than that, seeing these items only brought back painful memories of being hauled away in a police car, taken to the station, and being fingerprinted like a criminal. All before she was forced to wear a gray jumpsuit and wait in a jail cell as her clothes were entered into evidence and the judge decided her fate.
“Thanks,” she said, forcing a smile.
“The other reason I wanted to talk to you was that I have some questions for you about that night,” He said. Rebecca felt confused about this. She’d already told him everything several times. He seemed to read her thoughts and offered, “I know it probably seems odd that I’d have questions after all this time but something has come up, and I need to go back over this case in close detail.”
Rebecca’s stomach dropped. Had he found out about their unwelcome entry into the cabin? “What do you mean something’s come up?”
Barnes held his hand up and made a calming gesture, “I promise I will get to that, but first I need to know a couple things. I won’t make you go over everything again, I know that will only bring everything back. What I do need to know is this, do you recall anyone besides the two assailants you described previously? Were there any other people around, even just for a brief period during that night?”
Rebecca blinked, struggling to comprehend what detective Barnes was getting at. "I'm sorry, what?"
Barnes hesitated before continuing on, "Look, I'm sorry to be bringing this all up again but it's really important that you try to think back on whether anyone else was around that night."
Rebecca shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Something about the way he was looking at her made her feel uneasy. His brown eyes seemed to be soaking in every detail about what she was doing, how she was reacting. Is this some bizarre test? She wondered to herself. Shaking her head she said, "Detective Barnes the only people there were me… Jessica," saying her name aloud was harder than she anticipated, "and those two fucking psychopaths, Jimmy and Dale."
Barnes frowned and thought about this for a moment. He leaned back into the couch and tapped his right index finger on the back of his left hand as it rested on his lap. Rebecca just stared at him bewildered, still unsure of the purpose of this intrusion into her typical routine of day drinking and self-loathing. Barnes leveled Rebecca with another piercing gaze and asked, “Do you recall where you were and what you were doing two weeks ago on the 3rd of this month?”
Rebecca blinked at Detective Barnes in disbelief. “Excuse me, what?”
“Please just answer the question Ms. Stewart.”
Rebecca shook her head and said, “I was here, by myself, probably drinking if you must know.”
“And can anyone verify that?” Barnes asked, his eyes searching every detail of Rebecca’s reaction.
“What the fuck are you trying to get at Rory?”
“I have to ask, so please just answer,” He said with a slightly pained expression passing across his face.
“No! No one can verify that, now what the fuck is this about?”
Barnes let out a long sigh and seemed to be lost in thought for several seconds before he replied, "there's been another murder and the circumstances of the death are eerily reminiscent of what you described about that night."
Rebecca struggled to process this information, but as it chewed its way through her hungover brain the implications became painfully clear. She felt like the floor was falling from beneath her. "No, no, no… that can't be."
"Normally I wouldn't divulge information about an open investigation or tell you that you are a person of interest that needs to be ruled out, but the similarities here are too striking for it to be coincidence."
Rebecca shook her head fervently, "No that's not possible. They're both dead. I… I… I killed them… they can't be…" words seemed to escape her as her mind spiraled. Images of a knife in her hand flashed before her eyes. A knife and blood and the sound of her heart thundering in her ears. The feelings of terror and rage poured through her veins as she sat there fighting the pull of the memories. “And what? You think I have something to do with this other murder?”
“If I’m being honest, I sincerely hope not, Rebecca; but if there was no one else there that night then I have to entertain the possibility. Believe me this isn’t something I want to do but I need to know if there is anything else you remember from that night.”
“No, Rory, I don’t. I already told you everything there is to tell. I never leave my house except to buy alcohol, so how the fuck can you think I had something to do with another murder? I told you the truth about that night. They tried to kill us, they wanted us dead and the only reason I’m alive is because I managed to… to…”
Rebecca felt herself stand up unconsciously and begin to move towards the kitchen. She couldn't be in that room anymore. She had to be somewhere else, anywhere else. The urge to move, to flee, was overwhelming.
"Ms. Stewart?" Barnes asked in an alarmed tone.
The sound of her heartbeat thundered through her ears just like it had that night. The memories of the countless horrors that so often plagued her nightmares came flooding all at once, and almost as if watching herself from a distance she saw her body pace one direction, then the other, and then quickly move into the kitchen where she felt her hand grab a knife. She felt herself hold it flat against her chest, clinging to it as if it were her only chance at safety. Pacing back and forth in the kitchen, she felt lost and unsure of what to do. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the knife as she fought the sensation that the walls were beginning to collapse in on her. Terror washed over her and flooded every cell of her body as her eyes searched every shadow, every corner, every crevice in the room.
Barnes had gotten up and followed after Rebecca. He was standing at the edge of the kitchen with a look of complete alarm. Raising his hands until they were outstretched in front of him in a gesture he hoped signaled that he wasn't a threat, he said, "Rebecca… Rebecca you are safe. There is no one here but you and I."
Rebecca looked at him wildly, he felt very far away and yet her mind was screaming that he wasn't to be trusted. More memories of driving the knife into someone’s neck flashed before her eyes and she felt an overwhelming fear that she would have to defend herself again just as she had done all those months ago.
"Rebecca, please put down the knife. I'm sorry I upset you, but I need you to put the knife away."
More images flashed before her eyes. This time they were of Jessica. Her eyes were wide and blank as Rebecca tried to resuscitate her. She heard her own voice sobbing, pleading for Jessica to come back. She had to come back. This couldn't be real, it just couldn't be.
"Rebecca!" Barnes shouted. The shout seemed to snap her back to the present. "I NEED you to put the knife down!" Rebecca's eyes darted to his hands. One of them was still outstretched while the other was reaching for his waist.
In an instant Rebecca realized what he was reaching for and a new kind of panic set in. If she didn't somehow get ahold of herself she was about to be shot by the police officer that had been so kind to her the morning after Jessica’s death. Every impulse inside of her told her to cling to the knife, to never let it go, and that to do so would mean certain death, but she knew she needed to fight those impulses. The best Rebecca could do at that moment, however, was to simply let go of the handle and drop the knife to the floor. She flinched as the metal clanged against the tile and the blade spun in circles until it came to a rest just below the island’s cabinets.
"Thank you. Now I need you to step away from the knife and take a seat over at the table. Can you do that?" Rory asked in a cautious but serious tone. Rebecca nodded and turned toward the table. Again she sensed her body begin to move but felt completely disconnected from it. She didn't want to sit and she didn't feel safe enough to let her guard down like that, but something inside of her knew she had to tolerate the panic, tolerate the overwhelming certainty that she was a heartbeat away from death.
As she sat in the wooden chair she put her feet up in front of her and wrapped her arms around her knees. Burying her face between them she began to sob as wave after wave of terror and grief overcame her. Barnes moved slowly into the kitchen and picked up the knife, never once taking his eyes off of Rebecca or his left hand away from the handle of his gun.
"Rebecca, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Rebecca cried for what felt like an eternity before she felt calm enough to respond. Barnes was still in the kitchen but was keeping his distance, probably to keep from alarming her. Rebecca took a napkin from the center of the dining room table and blew her nose. After wiping away the tears she managed to say, "it's… it's not your ff-fault…"
"It is though, I should have known how upsetting this would be for you. I just… I just need your help if you can give it to me."
Rebecca nodded and blew her nose again. "I don't remember anyone else, I'm sorry."
A flash of disappointment passed across his face before he composed himself. "Okay. Thank you for trying to remember. Would you like me to stay for a little bit? Just until you feel okay again?"
Rebecca laughed at the absurdity of the question, "Detective you're going to be waiting for a long time for that."
"You know what I mean..."
Rebecca gave him a sad smile and said, "No it's okay. You can go. I'm used to this by now."
Barnes frowned and pulled out his phone. A moment later he took a pen and small pad of paper from his pocket, and wrote down a phone number. Cautiously approaching Rebecca he slid the piece of paper on the table. "This is the number to a therapist I have sent some of the victims in my cases to. She liaises with the department and owes me a favor. She's really good. It might help to talk to someone, Rebecca."
Rebecca nodded, suppressing the urge to laugh again, and said, "Thank you Rory."
"Look, if you remember anything else, please call me, okay? And please don't leave town, at least for a while, got it?"
Rebecca nodded. Barnes put the pen and paper back into his jacket pocket and made his way into the living room. He hesitated for a moment, seeming to decide something and then turned to leave the house. Rebecca flinched as she heard the front door shut. After a few more minutes of sitting quietly she felt the residual effects of the panic start to subside and slowly it was replaced by exhaustion.
Her body felt heavy and she felt sick, mostly likely from dehydration. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a glass of water. Slowly she got up from the table and found a clean glass to put water in. As the faucet filled the glass in her shaking hand her mind drifted back to Barnes's questions and him talking about another case. Logically she knew that Jimmy and Dale were dead, but something felt very off about the situation. Maybe there was something she'd missed, something she'd forgotten. There were definitely blank spots in her memory and parts of that night she could not recall at all, but If there was something worth remembering, it wasn't going to be discovered now.
She raised the glass to her lips and started to swallow the water. She felt her body almost yearn for the cool liquid. She drank the whole glass before putting it back on the counter. Another wave of exhaustion overcame her. She needed sleep. As she leaned against the kitchen counter with her hands resting on the cold granite, her eyes shifted over to the knife lying a few inches away. She didn't really understand why but she felt an impulse to bring the knife with her to bed. Deciding not to fight that impulse she grabbed the handle and brought it with her into the bedroom. Sitting the knife on her night stand she turned to shut and lock her bedroom door. She checked the windows to ensure they were also locked before crawling into bed.
The last thought Rebecca had before drifting off to sleep was, maybe I won’t wake up this time.
Six months after her near-death experience Rebecca has not forgiven herself. She has survivor's guilt because she was unable to save her best friend, Jessica.
You know what's going on in Rebecca's head. She knows she's a wreck. It's hard for her to muster the will to live. She has PTSD. It's an obvious sign of a mental health issue. She doesn't think she has anyone until Taylor steps up. It's a good thing because Rebecca was close to committing suicide. It's becoming a habit; her thinking about harming herself.
Taylor knows her friend needs help. She makes her take showers and attend to her basic needs. Rebecca's saving grace has arrived. Taylor is a lawyer married with a family staying at Rebecca's house because she's having marital issues.
There's more trouble ahead. Another dead body is found with the same ritualistic carvings on the body in Rebecca's case. Someone is killing women who look like Rebecca's ex.
This could have easily been a story about isolation, but R.T.Edwins managed to advance the story with each chapter.
Rebecca has to hide her drinking problem. She can't trust her own judgment. And there's another trope I won't spoil because it's an essential piece in Dark Offerings.
The author used different POVs to show what Rebecca and Detective Tabby Foster were thinking. At first, I didn't understand why she told it from Tabby's viewpoint but it made sense by the end. Many things happen in Dark Offerings but it's appropriate for a psychological thriller.
I was emotionally invested in Rebecca's well-being. Edwins stays true to the genre with complex characters and psychological exploration. The protagonist is more of a forgiving type and I'm OK with that. It's not typical crime fiction and I believe it was written the way it needed to be told.
Readers who enjoy suspense with a new spin on unreliable narrators will like this book.