The Eyes of Darkness by Dean Koontz

Posted by admin_akashic on Aug 7th, 2022 in Stories

Maybe someone’s just dropping a series of hints, trying to wake me up to the fact that Danny isn’t dead.”

‘Too many maybes,” he said. “Maybe not.”

Elliot put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Tina, you know this theory doesn’t make sense. Danny is dead.” “See? You do think I’m crazy.”

“No. I think you’re distraught, and that’s understandable.” “Won’t you even consider the possibility that he’s alive?” “How could he be?”

“I don’t know.”

“How could he have survived the accident you described?” Elliot asked. “I don’t know.”

“And where would he have been all this time if not . . . in the grave?” “I don’t know that, either.”

“If he were alive,” Elliot said patiently, “someone would simply come and tell you. They wouldn’t be this mysterious about it, would they?”

“Maybe.”

Aware that her answer had disappointed him, she looked down at her hands, which were laced together so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Elliot touched her face, turning it gently toward him.

His beautiful, expressive eyes seemed to be filled with concern for her.

“Tina, you know there isn’t any maybe about it. You know better than that. If Danny were alive, and if someone were trying to get that news to you, it wouldn’t be done like this, not with all these dramatic hints. Am I right?”

“Probably.” “Danny is gone.” She said nothing.

“If you convince yourself he’s alive,” Elliot said, “you’re only setting yourself up for another fall.”

She stared deeply into his eyes. Eventually she sighed and nodded. “You’re right.” “Danny’s gone.”

“Yes,” she said thinly.

“You’re really convinced of that?” “Yes.”

“Good.”

Tina got up from the couch, went to the window, and pulled open the drapes. She had a sudden urge to see the Strip. After so much talk about death, she needed a glimpse of movement, action, life; and although the Strip sometimes was grubby in the flat glare of the desert sun, the boulevard was always, day or night, bustling and filled with life.

Now the early winter dusk settled over the city. In waves of dazzling color, millions of lights winked on in the enormous signs. Hundreds of cars progressed sluggishly through the busy street, taxicabs darting in and out, recklessly seeking any small advantage. Crowds streamed along the sidewalks, on their way from this casino to that casino, from one lounge to another, from one show to the next.

Tina turned to Elliot again. “You know what I want to do?”

“What?”

“Reopen the grave.”

“Have Danny’s body exhumed?”

“Yes. I never saw him. That’s why I’m having such a hard time accepting that he’s gone. That’s why I’m having nightmares. If I’d seen the body, then I’d have known for sure. I wouldn’t be able to fantasize about Danny still being alive.”

“But the condition of the corpse . . .” “I don’t care,” she said.

Elliot frowned, not convinced of the wisdom of exhumation. “The body’s in an airtight casket, but it’ll be even more deteriorated now than it was a year ago when they recom- mended you not look at it.”

“I’ve got to see.”

“You’d be letting yourself in for a horrible—”

“That’s the idea,” she said quickly. “Shock. A powerful shock treatment that’ll finally blow away all my lingering doubts. If I see Danny’s . . . remains, I won’t be able to entertain any more doubts. The nightmares will stop.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you’ll wind up with even worse dreams.”

She shook her head. “Nothing could be worse than the ones I’m having now.”

“Of course,” he said, “exhumation of the body won’t answer the main question. It won’t help you discover who’s been harassing you.”

“It might,” Tina said. “Whoever the creep is, whatever his motivations are, he’s not well- balanced. He’s one sort of sickie or another. Right? Who knows what might make a person like that reveal himself? If he finds out there’s going to be an exhumation, maybe he’ll react strongly, give himself away. Anything’s possible.”

“I suppose you could be right.”

“Anyway,” she said, “even if reopening the grave doesn’t help me find who’s responsible for these sick jokes—or whatever the hell they are—at least it’ll settle my mind about Danny. That’ll improve my psychological condition for sure, and I’ll be better able to deal with the creep, whoever he is. So it’ll work out for the best either way.” She returned from the window, sat on the couch again, beside Elliot. “I’ll need an attorney to handle this, won’t I?”

“The exhumation? Yeah.” “Will you represent me?” He didn’t hesitate. “Sure.” “How difficult will it be?”

“Well, there’s no urgent legal reason to have the body exhumed. I mean, there isn’t any doubt about the cause of death, no court trial hinging on a new coroner’s report. If that were the situation, we’d have the grave opened very quickly. But even so, this shouldn’t be terribly difficult. I’ll play up the mother-suffering-distress angle, and the court ought to be sympathetic.”

“Have you ever handled anything like this before?”

“In fact, I have,” Elliot said. “Five years ago. This eight-year-old girl died unexpectantly of a congenital kidney disease. Both kidneys failed virtually overnight. One day she was a happy, normal kid. The next day she seemed to have a touch of flu, and the third day she was dead. Her mother was shattered, couldn’t bear to view the body, though the daughter hadn’t suffered substantial physical damage, the way Danny did. The mother