"Hartley?"
His voice is probably the kindest I've ever heard it, but even then it still holds a sharp edge.
///
I can't move.
I honestly can't move.
What is happening right now?
"Hartley?"
Ace again.
My hand falls, dropping to my side, and I whisper, "Ace, something is wrong."
It's not much of an explanation, and honestly, I don't know why I'm even telling him, because he's been nothing but a dick to me, but he is a cop, and whatever is happening right now, it isn't right. One thing, I can overlook; two, I can brush off; but this … no. No. Something is very, very wrong.
"You're not making any sense. Hey, look at me."
I look over to him, and my eyes meet his.
"I think someone has been in my house."
* * *
I stare at the floor, suddenly starkly sober, trying to get my mind in order, trying to figure out why someone would be trying to mess with me, and who that might be. Because that's what they're doing, right? They're messing with me. Why else would someone place things from my husband all around my house? There is no valid explanation. None whatsoever. Except that someone is doing it on purpose. But who? Why?
Raymond couldn't have done this, could he? I mean, is this some sort of P.S. I Love You re-enactment? No. If it was Raymond, it would have happened earlier. This is just too off for it to be some old supernatural romantic gesture coming to the surface.
"Tell me what's been happening," Ace says, sitting on the sofa across from me.
The power came back on a couple of minutes ago, and we came out here. I open my mouth, and I know he's not going to leave now until I tell him what I know. Will he think I'm crazy? Am I going crazy? I don't know if I'm overreacting, or if this is a real thing. I don't know what to think, to be completely honest. It's all just too … strange.
"Well, I first noticed something off when I found a shirt of Raymond's, my deceased husband, on the kitchen table one morning. I was sure I'd packed the shirt away, but I have a history of sleepwalking, so I figured maybe I'd come across it and placed it there without knowing. Then I woke up one morning, and my wedding video was playing right there on my television. Again, I wondered if I had somehow put it on myself … "
"Do you often do things when sleepwalking?" Ace asks, cutting me off.
I give him a look, but his face is serious and I realize he's not being rude, so I answer him honestly. "Well, Taylor, my best friend, told me I did it a few times in college. Raymond never mentioned it. I have been known to get out of bed, and I've sometimes found myself sleeping in odd places, but I've never actually moved things, as far as I know. But I have been thinking of Raymond more of late, and I wondered if maybe he was playing on my mind and that would explain why I was gravitating towards his things."
He seems skeptical, and that only makes my heart clench more. "But you saw something in that office tonight that made you second guess."
I meet Ace's eyes. "His laptop. I haven't been able to find it anywhere, I went through all my boxes, all my things, and couldn't find it. That's not to say it wasn't here-it could have been stored somewhere I didn't look-but the thing is, if I couldn't find it awake, what are the chances of me finding it sleepwalking?"
Ace is deep in thought as he stares at me, then he murmurs, "Anything else been happening? Strange phone calls? Anyone talking to you on the street? Anything out of the ordinary at all?"
I think about that for a minute, but no, I can't think of anything else that might count as strange.
"I went on a few dates recently, but honestly, I feel like they were normal enough to not do something like this."
Ace nods, studying me. "I'd like their names, just to be safe."
I nod back, frowning.
"Is it possible you've sleepwalked and actually done all of this? Really ask yourself, is that something you believe to be possible, at all?"
I do as he asks, I really think about it, I dig deep into the depths of my soul. And the answer is the same. I don't honestly believe it's all sleepwalking. I haven't truly believed that from the start. I know something isn't right, I can feel it right in the pit of my belly. I just wanted to put it down to something simple because I felt like that would make more sense, but the fact of the matter is, I just know it isn't simple.
Something is off, I just don't know what it is.
I meet and hold his eyes. "No. For the first few things, I could brush it off, but-this is going to sound stupid-my gut just felt … I don't know how to explain it, but something just didn't feel right."