Page 37 of In Her Fears
Eric removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, suddenly looking much older.“Elias,” he said softly.“I’ve known him for over thirty years.We were at university together—both art majors, both with grand ambitions.He was always the more talented one.”He gestured to the landscapes on his walls.“He had a gift for capturing light, for finding beauty in ordinary places.”
“What happened?”Jake prompted.
Eric replaced his glasses.“Life happened.I realized I wasn’t good enough to make it as an artist, so I opened this gallery instead.Elias married Lina—brilliant woman, troubled but brilliant.They seemed happy for many years, though looking back, I wonder if that was just what I wanted to see.”He paused, gathering his thoughts.“Then seven years ago, Lina took her own life.Elias found her body.After that...he was never the same.”
“How so?”Jenna asked.
“He cut himself off from everyone—friends, colleagues, the few family members he had left.Until then, he’d always kept a studio in town.But after that, he isolated himself at home—in his family’s old house on the outskirts of town and became a complete recluse.”Eric’s voice grew quieter.“And he developed this terrible condition—Chronic Traumatic Insomnia.CTI, they call it.It’s incredibly rare, triggered by severe trauma.He hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in seven years.”
Jenna felt a chill run through her.Seven years without sound sleep.Her own bout of insomnia had left her barely functional after just a month.
“How do you know about his condition if he cut everyone off?”Jake asked.
“He wrote to me, about a year after Lina died.Just one letter—clinical, detached, explaining his diagnosis and informing me that he wouldn’t be in touch again.”Eric’s expression darkened.“Then about a year later, several paintings showed up.Jay found them outside the gallery door in the morning.No note, just Elias’s initials in the corner.”
“And you knew they were his work?”Jenna asked.
“Unmistakably.The technique, the brushwork—it was Elias, but twisted into something I barely recognized.His style used to be all about finding beauty in everyday scenes.These new paintings...they’re technically brilliant but disturbing.It’s like watching someone’s mind disintegrate on canvas.”
“Why did he want you to have them?”Jake asked.
Eric shook his head.“I don’t know.Maybe he thinks I’ll display them.Maybe it’s his way of showing me what he’s become.I’ve never asked because we don’t speak—not since Lina died.Eventually, I asked Jay to start going to his house to collect the paintings directly.I thought maybe establishing some kind of regular contact might help, but Elias refuses to engage.”
“And Jay resents this assignment,” Jenna observed.
“Jay doesn’t understand.”Eric’s tone grew defensive.“He sees a creepy old man who paints disturbing images.I see my friend drowning in his own personal hell.”
Jenna leaned forward slightly.“Mr.Edwards, do you have any other paintings by Elias?Anything not in that storage room?”
“No, that’s everything.Why do you ask?”
“Just being thorough.”Jenna deliberately avoided looking at Jake.“How can we reach Elias, just to speak with him?”
Eric’s eyebrows rose.“Reach him?You can’t—at least not remotely.He has no phone, no internet.The only way to contact Elias is to physically go to his house.”He hesitated.“But I should warn you, Sheriff, he’s unlikely to be receptive to law enforcement.He values his privacy above all else.”
“Would you be willing to come with us?”Jenna asked.“Perhaps if you appealed to him, reminded him of your friendship...”
A flash of genuine pain crossed Eric’s face.“I wish I could help you, Sheriff.But my presence would only make things worse.Elias made it very clear that our friendship ended the day Lina died.He blames me, in part, for not seeing how troubled she was.Actually, he blames everybody.I can’t think of any former acquaintances who might be of help.”He sighed heavily.“Whatever you need from him, you’d have a better chance without me there.”
“I understand,” Jenna said softly.
Eric studied her face for a long moment.“You still haven’t told me anything about the nature of your investigation.”
Jenna hesitated, weighing how much she could ethically reveal.“We’re looking into some...incidents that may connect to the themes in Elias’s paintings.”
“You’re investigating actual deaths?Something as … unusual… as those images?”
“Something like that.”
“Sheriff,” Eric said earnestly, “I’ve known Elias for most of my life.He’s troubled, he’s isolated, and yes, his art has taken a disturbing turn.But he’s not violent.He’s never hurt anyone except perhaps himself, through his self-imposed exile.”
“I appreciate your perspective,” Jenna said diplomatically.“But we still need to speak with him.His address?”
Eric sighed in resignation, then wrote an address on a notepad and slid it across the desk.“It’s an old house about three miles outside town.Used to belong to his great-grandparents.It was a station on the Underground Railroad back in the day—has all sorts of hidden rooms and passages.Just...be gentle with him.The man you’ll meet isn’t the Elias I knew.”
“Thank you for your help,” Jenna said, rising from her chair with an effort that she hoped wasn’t visible.
They left Eric in his office and made their way back through the gallery.Jay watched them from behind the front desk, clearly curious, but neither Jenna nor Jake volunteered any information as they passed by.
