Page 39 of In Her Fears
“No car,” Jenna noted as they got out of their vehicle and approached the front steps.
“Eric said he hasn’t left in years,” Jake reminded her.“Probably doesn’t need one.”
The porch boards groaned with each step they took.Jake reached for the old-fashioned knocker on the front door, bringing it down hard three times.The sound echoed inside the house, but no response came.
“Mr.Harrow?”he called.“Sheriff’s Department.We’d like to speak with you.”
Silence.
Jenna stepped back, scanning the house front.Most of the windows were obscured by heavy curtains, but some on the upper floor were open to the light.She caught a glimpse of movement in one of them—the flutter of something pale, a face perhaps, retreating from view.
“He’s watching us,” she said quietly.
Jake tried the door handle.Locked.He knocked again, harder.“Mr.Harrow!Please open the door.We just want to talk.”
Minutes ticked by with no response.Jenna’s fatigue-dulled brain searched for options.They had no warrant, no probable cause to force entry.Elias had broken no laws that they knew of.Painting disturbing scenes wasn’t a crime.
An idea formed.She stepped forward again, closer to the door.
“Mr.Harrow,” she called.“My name is Sheriff Jenna Graves.I understand you’ve barely slept for seven years.I haven’t slept well in over a month now.I think I might understand a little of what you’re experiencing.”
She paused, listening for any movement inside.Nothing.
“We’re not here to accuse you of anything,” she continued.“We just need your help understanding your paintings.They might help us prevent another tragedy like what happened to Lina.”
The mention of his wife’s name was a calculated risk.For several long moments, nothing happened.Then came the faint sound of footsteps inside, slow and uneven, approaching the door.
A lock turned, then another, and another.The door opened a crack, revealing a sliver of darkness beyond.
“You know nothing of what I experience.”The voice was thin, raspy with disuse.“But come in, if you must.”
The door swung wider, revealing Elias Harrow.He was tall and painfully thin, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes that seemed to glow with feverish intensity in his gaunt face.His gray hair hung limply to his shoulders, unwashed and unkempt.He wore a stained once-white shirt, loose pants cinched at the waist with what looked like a length of rope.Most striking were his hands—elegant despite their tremor, stained with various colors of paint.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Jenna said.
Elias didn’t respond, simply turned and shuffled into the gloom of the house.They followed, Jake closing the door behind them.The entry hall included a wide stairway and arched openings to rooms on each side.The air smelled of must and turpentine and something else—the indefinable scent of long-term isolation.
Elias led them into what might have once been a comfortable living room.Heavy curtains blocked most of the light, leaving the space in murky twilight despite the afternoon sun outside.A fireplace contained the smoldering remains of a small fire.Two worn armchairs faced it, one clearly Elias’s regular seat judging by the depression in the cushion.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the other chair before lowering himself into his own with the careful movements of a much older man.
Jenna took the offered seat while Jake remained standing, positioned slightly behind her.
“Mr.Harrow,” Jenna began, “we’re investigating two murders that seem to be related to your paintings.”
“I know nothing,” he said.“I paint what I see.”
Jenna and Jake exchanged a glance.Did this man have some kind of odd skill similar to Jenna’s?
“What you see?”Jake asked.“Or what you imagine?”
“Is there a difference?”Elias countered, his lips twisting into something that wasn’t quite a smile.“Reality, dreams, visions—all the same to a mind that never truly sleeps.”
Jenna leaned forward slightly.“Mr.Harrow, where were you last night between the hours of 10 PM and midnight?”
“Here,” he answered immediately.“I haven’t left this house in seven years, three months, and sixteen days.Not since Lina.”
“And a month ago, on August 12th?”
