Imagine Shadows

Home Sweet Home

Smudged red footprints greeted Tom Locke on the pine floorboards when he stepped into the house. Having served as the Vista Grande Police Superintendent for the past year, his mind naturally jumped to the worst case scenario. It would be tragic if some low-life with a personal vendetta broke into his home, and it was a genuine risk. Tom knew he had a lot of enemies. It was a pity they had to try it on the one day he finally got off work early to join his friends for dinner.

His muscles tensed in anticipation as he silently placed his leather bag against the wall. He took out the revolver in his girdle and flipped the safety off, and without hesitation edged his way across the floor. There were strange short hissing noises coming from Andrea's room near the back of the house. A fluorescent forked tongue and luminous reptilian scales flashed through his mind from a distant, disturbed memory. Tom shook his head sharply, forcing the thought away, and refocussed on the present.

He held the revolver ready and aimed, glanced into every open door, as he followed the footprints down the hall. They looked small, and still fresh if the glint on the still wet liquid was anything to go by. Another short hiss sounded, louder now that he was closer to the source. It had to be something – or someone – dragging an object, or it could be someone trying to get away. The footprints definitely didn't belong to Dee, because Dee would have had the intruder knocked out cold and probably in jail before he would have known about the break-in. It wasn't Audrey's, because Tom had seen her and Michael fussing in the Oriental Cuisine aisle at the market only ten minutes ago.

That narrowed it down to two possibilities – Summer or Andrea. Even as he thought it, Summer appeared in front of him suddenly. She wore a blue bandana and had blood stains on her cheeks and on her blouse.

Her blue eyes went wide in fright when she looked right into the barrel of his revolver. "Tom!" Summer cried, hands flying to her lips.

Tom pinched his eyes closed and inhaled deeply, relaxed his finger on the trigger and lowered his gun. "Damn it, Summer!"

"Are you okay?" Summer yelped. "Why did you have your gun out?"

Tom glanced down at the footprints again and chided himself mentally – there was no smell of blood, he should have noted that before. There was a thick sticky scent of paint coming strong from the room behind Summer, and Tom put his weapon away while he slowly exhaled. "I thought... never mind."

The last thing he wanted was to create anxiety and paranoia in his household. They didn't need any more of that. Tom stepped past her to peer into the bedroom and rubbed the bridge of his nose, abruptly and explicably irate.

Red paint was splattered against velvety black walls, mixed with deep grey, pale blues and spots of neon yellow and green that reminded him of something unpleasant. "Now what are you doing, Andrea?" Tom asked, making no attempt at hiding his annoyance as he scowled at the occupant of the room.

She had her back turned to him as she stretched up and painted a crescent of red with a single swipe. Sssssssss, the sound echoed in the bare room.

"You're home early," Andrea said over her shoulder as she stepped back to examine the wall.

She was as tiny as Summer was, and had her thick golden hair tied back in a ponytail. It made Tom's scowl deepen – he didn't like her hair pulled back like that. Andrea dropped the paintbrush on a tarp on the floor and wiped her palms on the side of her dungarees before she turned to him. Her pine green eyes were distant and indifferent, and created a pit in his stomach. Tom's shoulders sagged and he found himself leaning against the doorframe. He saw that same expression far too many times in Jenny's eyes, and it helped none that Andrea was a near carbon copy of her. Andrea's gaze softened and she wrapped her arms around him spontaneously in a friendly hug.