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Tuesday - September 21

"Julie is dead?"

"Yes. But apparently, I'm the only one, besides her killer, and Victor."

"Victor? Victor Parks? He is... he's dead?"

"Yes. I thought you might know something about their deaths."

"Me? What could I possibly know about their deaths?"

I look at Aunt Ruth and wonder if she's telling the truth, or just using her conniving ways to make me believe she knows nothing about anything.

I take her hand and look intensely into her eyes and ask, "Aunt Ruth, I want the truth. No more lies, no more deceptions. Is Claire alive?"

Aunt Ruth looks into my eyes, and when her eyes begin to water, I knew then that Claire is gone, never to return. I smile at her and release her hand.

I go to the window and notice a small group of people trudging through the snow, hoping to find nourishment of some kind. As I watch them mull around mindlessly, I notice the fresh car tracks in the snow. I turn around and grab Aunt Ruth by her arms, lift her out of the rocker, shaking her furiously, yelling, "Who brought me here, Aunt Ruth? Don't lie! You know something! Tell me! Tell me now, or I swear I will kill you here!" Realizing what I said and what I was doing, I released Aunt Ruth from my horrifying grip, and in remorse say, "Forgive me, Aunt Ruth. I'm so sorry. I'm... I'm so sorry." I flop on the couch and begin to weep like a frightened child.

Aunt Ruth runs her fingers over my hair and says, "It's okay, dear. I understand. I'll get you a cup of coffee while you pull yourself together. I'll be right back." I nod my head to let her know I'm listening. She steps out of the room.

As I watch Aunt Ruth go to the kitchen, I dash to the hallway closet and quietly open the door to search Aunt Ruth's coat pockets for her cell. Finding it, I look at her call log and see the same number six times within the last three hours. Boldly, I hit redial and mute the phone. It rings; then I hear a voice.

"Well?"

I make sure the phone's muted before I take a breath, and then stand still as if I'm frozen in time. There's no breathing, or ambient sound emitting through the receiver. The caller disconnects. I hang up.

Quickly, I put Aunt Ruth's cell back into the pocket, close the door, and sneak back to the living room just in time to make it look like I've been staring out the window.

"Oh, dear, it's good you're stretching; helps the mind as well as the body. Jonathan, dear, do you take cream or sugar?" she asks, as if I'm a child, or helpless adult.

As I continue to stare out the window, I kindly say, "No, thanks, Aunt Ruth. Just black, please, and... thank you."

"You're welcome, dear." She turns around to head back to the kitchen, when we both hear a ringing sound; it's her cell.

I reluctantly comment, "Your phone, Aunt Ruth."

"Thank you, dear," she says, and goes to the closet to retrieve her cell.

Not wanting to act suspicious in anyway, I continue to stare out the window. Her conversation only took a few seconds, but it seemed like a lifetime. I hear the closet door shut. Aunt Ruth's footsteps sound like a herd of elephants charging towards me, ready to impale their tusks into my ass. Shit! It was the guy! I just know it was the guy! I keep my cool and notice that her footsteps become fainter. She's going to the kitchen. A heavy sigh of relief is exorcised from my body in more ways than one.

No longer wanting to stand, I decide to sit and wait for Aunt Ruth to return. If it was that guy, I don't know, wouldn't she be like, doing something. God, I'm only forty-three. That's too young to die! Get a grip on yourself, John. You're acting like you're a character in a spy novel or something. Here she comes.