An Absence of Light

Graver went first. The bedroom was a mess. The bed was unmade, and the only light on was a lamp beside it The bathroom door was open and the shower seemed to be running full blast. She sneezed, and then blew her nose. She coughed. The smell of soap and the dank of steam drifted out into the bedroom. A closet door was open and a tangle of clothes draped off crooked hangers above shoes and shoe boxes piled carelessly on the floor. There was a television under the windows that looked out to the canal and a large digital clock with red numbers sat on top of it. Her underwear was at the foot of the bed where she had shed it as well as a pair of shorts and a halter top. A bottle of suntan lotion lay on the floor in front of an armchair beside the bed. There was a copy of Cosmopolitan on the wadded sheets, its pages folded back to an article she had been reading.

“We’ll let her get out of the bathroom,” Graver whispered hoarsely. “Don’t want her to lock herself in there. Stand back out of sight beside the door, and when she’s out I’ll identify myself. Don’t let her get back in there.”

Neuman nodded and started toward the wall and immediately the shower stopped. Neuman plastered himself against the wall adjacent to the bathroom door, and Graver moved back out of sight near the closet.

Both of them thought she would take some time to dry off, maybe brush her teeth, or blow-dry her hair, but to their surprise she came straight out of the shower and into the bedroom dripping water and without a towel. When she cleared the door Graver stepped away from the closet.

“Police,” he said. “Freeze right there.”

The minute he saw her he knew it wasn’t going to work that way. She immediately bolted, not back into the bathroom, but toward the bedroom door.

“Police,” they both yelled.

“Stop,” Neuman blurted and then lunged at her before she got to the door, knocking her sideways onto the bed where she fell into the tangle of sheets and started screaming. Neuman was on top of her instantly, wrestling her into the sheets as he tried to get his hand over her mouth, get the sheets into her mouth, the two of them rolling over and over as she flailed her arms and legs and squealed, tossing Neuman first one way and then the other from the sheer strength of her panic. Graver jumped on the bed too and together they managed to pin her between them, Neuman beneath her on his back with his arms locked around her, pinning her upper arms to her sides, his fists gripping each other under her heavy breasts, her wet hair in his face.

She was facing Graver who was on top of her, pressing his knee into her sternum as he held a part of the sheet over her mouth with one hand and his shield in front of her face with the other. She stared at the shield wall-eyed. All three of them were heaving for breath.

“Goddamn it,” Graver hissed. “We’re police.”

Pause.

Her eyes went back and forth between him and the shield.

“You got that?” he asked.

Pause.

“Police,” he repeated.

She nodded frantically.

“I’m going to get off you,” he said. “Let you get some clothes on.” He shook his head. “Don’t fight this, okay?”

She nodded, her wet hair flapping in Neuman’s face.

He eased his hand off her mouth. “Say ‘okay,’ “he said.

“Okay,” she panted.

Graver eased off her, pulling the sheet up over her as best as he could as he did so.

“He’s going to let go of you,” Graver told her. “Don’t try to get away again. Okay?”

“Okay,” she blubbered, snatching at the sheet from all over the bed as Neuman gladly scrambled out from under her and rolled off the foot of the bed.

The front of Neuman’s sport coat and trousers were dark with the water he had soaked off of her backside. He wiped his face which was dripping from the water from her hair. “Great,” he said, looking at his clothes as he slung the water off his hands.

Valerie Heath quickly got the sheets around her and sat up against the headboard of the bed, gaping at them.

“Do you understand that we’re police?” Graver repeated, standing at the foot of the bed and holding his shield out in front of him.

“Yeah… yeah…” she stuttered. She looked at Neuman who was running his fingers through his rumbled hair.

“You remember me?” Neuman wheezed.

“Yeah…”

“Do you have any idea why we’re here?” Graver asked, putting his shield back into his pocket.

She shook her head.

“I believe you do,” Graver said. He stared at her. “Speak to me,” he said, “so I’ll know you’re understanding me.”

“I fuckin’ understand you,” she said, “you son of a bitch.” Her black hair was plastered to her forehead, and without her makeup her face was as featureless as a sheet of paper.

“Good,” Graver said. “Now listen to me. We’re going to take you in for questioning.” He would explain later that he wasn’t exactly taking her in. “You’ve got yourself in a hell of a mess, Ms. Heath.” He put his gun away, made a swipe at his own hair with his fingers and sat down at the foot of the bed.