His Favorite Sin

5.1: SUMMER

Nine Years Ago

Flashes of lightning sliced through the room in ghostly bursts just as the rumbling growl of thunder echoed from a distant, rousing Dahlia from her sleep. She had always been a light sleeper, and the weather in that town just wasn’t meant for her, but that wasn’t what troubled her the most, because apart from being a light sleeper, she was scared out of her wits being in that house.

Sitting up on her bed, she hugged her knees to her chest as the covers slid down. She usually wasn’t scared of the dark, but now she had to wrestle the strong urge to spring up and turn the lights on just so she could see everything hidden in the dark.

Dahlia could presently be living under the roof of a serial killer. That thought had left her jumpy for days and unable to get proper sleep. Mr. Dvorak didn’t seem like a killer, but she couldn’t get the stories Hannah had told out of her head. She had even surfed the internet for any news about the deaths that occurred in the woods and expected to find none since the Dvoraks were very private, but to her surprise, the deaths had been reported on. There were news articles on the incidents, but just as Hannah said, they were ruled as victims of wild animal attacks. She saw that of Johnathan Thomas, or “old Johnny Thomas” as Hannah had called him. According to the article, he had been officially declared missing for two weeks. But after a heavy storm, his already decomposing body was found beside the tiled road, floating along a stream of muddy water, an aftermath of the storm.

The Dvorak name and the fact that the body was found on their property were kept out of it. The same with every other article Dahlia found on “wild animal attacks.” There were no pictures of the bodies, just descriptions of scratches, nicks, cuts, bruises, and long gashes on their skin, which made the “wild animal” story believable. But something about the news reports didn’t feel right to Dahlia. Every article she found all reported the exact same thing, used the same words, no variations whatsoever, which was not unusual, especially if they were all getting their story from the same source, basically whatever the cops gave them. But that was the issue. They were all only writing what the cops gave them; no other source, not even from the hospitals where the bodies were examined, or the witnesses who found the body. And when only the cops were giving the story, Dahlia believed something fishy was going on.

She struggled to make a decision – stay or leave?

The check Mr. Dvorak had handed her was still in her drawer, uncashed, and every time she thought of returning it and leaving, she never actually dared to go ahead.

Dahlia's throat felt parched, begging for a glass of water. So she rubbed her tired eyes and dug herself from the thick covers of the duvet. She shuddered as her feet touched the cold floor and, weary-eyed, she searched for her fluffy slippers. When she went out into the hallway and passed by Lance’s room, she discovered his door slightly ajar. His bed was left ruffled with the covers tossed aside, and she could easily make out that he wasn’t in there.

Before going down, she took a peek into the library, his favorite part of the house, but he wasn’t there either, and that had her start worrying. He wasn’t supposed to be moving around this late at night without her help. He could get hurt!

She quietly checked some more rooms before going downstairs. It was while alighting the last stairs that she heard the silent mewl of a cat. Fortunately, whenever one saw a cat in that house, it was always glued to Lance’s side like an extra limb.

The sound came from the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, where Dahlia found Lance in the dark, sitting on a stool with a glass of milk in front of him. It was one, and also the smallest, of the two dining rooms in the house. His face was being supported between his hands, his eyes bare of his usual dark glasses, as he rested his elbows on the table. It was unusual to see him without his glasses, even when he was inside. He almost always had it on.

‘Lance?’ He didn’t budge at the sound of his name, and she took it that he must have heard her coming. ‘Couldn’t sleep?’

He nodded, still quiet, and her eyes shifted to the cat, curled on the table, its yellow eyes glowing in the dark as it focused on her. ‘The storm bothering you?’

‘No. I had a nightmare.’ His voice came out gruff.

‘Oh.’ Dahlia located the light switch and flipped it. He let out a groan, and she turned to see his head bent even lower.

‘Are you okay?’ His cat had its eyes squeezed shut from the glare of the light, and she thought maybe Lance had been sensitive to it also.

He finally lifted his head as she walked over, but her feet faltered, her heart thudding in her chest.

Lance had the darkest pair of brown eyes that Dahlia had ever seen, almost black even, as if his irises were nonexistent. But for a moment there, they had turned pale, like the moon’s reflection. But then she blinked, and they were back to their original dark color.

‘Yeah,’ he answered, flashing her a lazy smile. Had she imagined the change in his irises?

‘Did... did you get down here alone?’ She got a hold of herself and walked to the sink to pour a glass of water before taking a seat at the table with him. His cat had stood up and leaped off the table onto a chair, then to the floor, to slink around the table. Its eyes were no longer on her, which was a rare occasion that she was thankful for.

He nodded. ‘My cat helped me.’ She was surprised because the cat had no harness attached to it, so how did it guide him? Did he follow its sound? Ben did say Lance could move around the house with ease.

‘You should have called me. That’s what I’m here for. It’s my job.’

‘I didn’t want to disturb your sleep. You’ve seemed... agitated lately. Your heart’s always racing and skipping a beat from the slightest sound.’

She paused. Puzzlement marred her forehead as she blinked back at him. ‘What?’ He could hear her heartbeat?

An expression flickered on his face, but only briefly, that she didn’t have the time to decipher before it was gone.

‘You’ve been like that since you returned from town. You’re barely paying me any attention when I’m talking, you get lost in your thoughts, and you are easily startled. Like yesterday, when you screamed in fright just because my cat walked by and touched you with its fur.’ Oh.

Had she been that obvious? She felt a pang of guilt for having unintentionally made her anxiousness so obvious even to him.

Lance was a smart kid who, despite his impairment, quickly detected everything around him with his sharp senses. Dahlia had come to notice.

‘Sorry about that. I’m just not used to the environment, especially the weather. I have never seen it rain like this before anywhere I’ve been to.’ She wove a lie with the truth. She couldn’t tell him about the rumors circulating in town about his father. He wasn’t even fifteen, and no child should have to hear things like that about their parents. But did he know about them, the things their townsfolk say about his father? And did he know what the real truth was? She would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious to ask, to know what he knew.

‘My mum used to travel a lot. She couldn’t take me with her always, but she did a few times. I always liked going with her to Italy, especially in the fall; it’s relatively warm and sunny, at least compared to here, the grapes and olives are fresh, the food is good too.’ He smiled and then c****d his head to ask, ‘What’s the weather like in your city?’

‘Well, it’s rainy in spring, foggy and colorful in fall, extra chilly in winter, and sunny in summer as it should be.’ He laughed at the end. She was serious, though. The beaches in her hometown were crowded by this time of the year, but in that little town of his, there was an endless downpour. It rained abnormally in her city, too, but not as badly as it did there.

Lance was easy to talk with. He was an expert charmer, and Dahlia knew he wouldn’t have trouble making friends when he finally went into the public. His charisma would instantly attract anyone. He wasn’t shy, perhaps a bit reclusive, she had noticed. He was the type who would prefer to read in a quiet library rather than attend a party.

There was something else that had been bothering her, and she had always wanted to ask, so she saw this as an opportunity to do so. ‘Lance? What happened to your mum?’

She watched as the smile on his face dimmed at her question till his expression turned completely somber. The silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken. She already had an inkling of what his answer would be, but no one had confirmed it for her yet. She had heard some things about her, not just from Lance, but from Mr. Dvorak also. Dahlia knew his mum had been overprotective of Lance and devoted most of her time to him, more so than to her other children. However, there was a specific way they spoke about her, as if they didn’t want to, but because she had been central in their lives, she slipped into their conversations.

Dahlia also noticed how there were no pictures of her anywhere, not in the living room, in Mr. Dvorak’s office, or even in the hallway. He could have one in his bedroom, but Dahlia had never been there.

‘She’s gone.’ Lance coolly replied and downed his milk till the glass turned empty. She wanted to ask more about what happened, but the scraping sound of his chair against the floor interrupted her as he abruptly got to his feet. ‘I’m done. Can you help me get back to my room, Miss Dahlia?’ He sounded polite, but his stiff posture betrayed his emotions.

Respecting his boundaries, she nodded, even though he couldn’t see the action, and first took their glasses to the sink. She returned to link her hand under his arm, and his cat followed suit as they left the dining room in silence.