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Chapter Forty - Esther *

"That poor man, he didn't deserve that."

"I agree, there is no doubt in my mind that it was murder."

"It was ruled an accident because the old man drank too much and drowned, not his son's fault."

"I heard the son did some type of demonic ritual. Think about it! First his wife, then his dad, who do you think is next?"

"How about y'all shut the hell up," Carol stated in a protective tone, "Eat your damn breakfast and leave."

All week I've been out of it, but not like this. Since the reporters got ahold of the unfortunate incident, the whole town has been talking. It's been hard to accept that I am certainly worried that Neil will pack up and move again.

"Thanks, Carol."

I don't remember when we got back on speaking terms, or maybe I just didn't care about ignoring her anymore.

Roland died.

As much as he was a pain sometimes, the image of him floating in his soiled bath water still pops up from time to time. I think I feel more sorry for Neil, though. He hasn't spoken much to me or anyone else since last week which gives me all the more reason to think he's plotting to get away from here.

He may be trying to cut connections.

"How about you go home for the rest of the day? The lies are gonna continue to spread and I don't want you to hear anything, okay?"

The opportunity to be home with someone who needed comforting was too much of a temptation, "I can't just abandon my shift, I need the money and you can't do this all by yourself."

Carol just waved a hand and began to untie my waist apron, "Go home and be with him. He needs you."

I nodded my head and did as she dictated, "Take care, I'll be back after the weekend. Thank you, again."

The walk home was pretty brutal. The wind was gusting a light drizzle in all directions and I forgot my jacket when Neil dropped me off this morning.

When I finally get to the front door, it's sleeting outside and I can't do anything to keep from shivering so hard my joints ache. But when I try to head inside, the door is locked.

"Neil? I forgot my keys, open up!"

Could he hear me through all of this weather?

I ran to the garage door, locked.

I went through the back fence to look through the glass door, and I find nothing out of place.

Why am I always searching for him? It's getting old.

Just when I'm about to pound on the back door, I see him slowly, and I mean so delayed that he doesn't seem to be moving, creep from the stairs and into the foyer. He must be investigating my knocks at the front minutes earlier.

I stay still because I don't want to alarm him, he thinks I'm at the other door afterall.

Neil finally makes it to the entrance, and just stares at the heavy wood. His hands are loose at his sides and his head turns to the right, which is just one wall to the foyer, and he begins to speak with it.

Just when I thought he would shake whatever this was, he snapped his head so quickly to the other wall on his left that I was sure he gave himself whiplash.

I had to understand that he wasn't expecting me home so early, so he's probably freaking out and thinking that this was all in his head.

Why did I have this interest to watch him in this private moment? It didn't seem like something I should be peering into, but I'm here.