Excerpt from "Skin Deep" by Jamie Cortland

James tossed and turned. In his dream, he lived a nightmare of the past. He tried to block out the scene that played on the canvas of his mind, but neither the images nor the voices would disappear.

“Go then, and good riddance.” Brakes screeched as a fire-engine red Pontiac raced over the bridge and struck Elaine. Her shrill scream cut through the early evening hours. She flew up onto the hood of the car, bounced twice, and landed hard on the pavement. Traffic on Palmetto Park Road backed up for miles as she lay dying just across the street from her favorite restaurant. Blood oozed from her head and puddled on the hot asphalt.

James sat straight up in bed. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. Screams echoed in his mind, along with a vision of his wife dying just a few feet away from him. He’d had this dream on every anniversary of Elaine’s death for the past twelve years. Had he pushed her? He might have wanted to, but in his right mind, he would never have killed anyone. Even though he’d never been baptized, he’d been brought up Christian. By the time he was six years old, he knew the Ten Commandments.

It was now August of 2003. Though the fatal accident had happened years ago, the day still remained crystal clear in his mind. When he’d awakened that morning, he’d gone for his usual walk on the beach. It was hot and humid, unbearably so for 6:30 a.m., although this weather was not unusual for Florida. The heavy, rain-laden clouds and warm waters of the Atlantic promised that a tropical storm was brewing.

Lately, his mind had been as stormy as the weather forecast. He’d been hearing voices again, voices that drove him past the edge of sanity. When Elaine had been killed, Bobby had only been three years old. After that day, he’d raised his son alone. Perhaps Bobby had been better off without a mother, like the voices had said.

Elaine had been unfaithful to him for as long as he could remember. Steve had told him he’d seen Elaine in restaurants with men when he’d been out of town. Since Steve had been a friend of his mother’s for most of her life, he had no reason to doubt him. When he’d accused Elaine, she’d denied it. She’d wanted a divorce, full custody of their son, alimony, child support, and their home. He’d desperately wanted her out of the way. Maybe he had pushed her. Was this Elaine’s way of punishing him if he had? By haunting him?

His grandmother had once told him about earthbound spirits who could not or did not want to move on. Most were unfortunate souls who were lost or had been killed suddenly. Others were addicts, still craving their addictions and feeding off the living, particularly those who were alcoholics. She told him how lost spirits hover over drinking establishments, waiting to possess an inebriated warm body. He didn’t believe it. He didn’t want to. He shuddered and tried to remember what had happened that evening, just like he did every year on the anniversary of Elaine’s death.

He’d been drinking heavily during the week before her accident, trying his best to mask the voices he heard inside his mind, voices insisting Elaine was fooling around. He raked his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t remember clearly, but he recalled they’d had a fight. After that, he’d blacked out. What did it matter? She was dead. He was alive.




He needed a wife. He was tired of rotating girlfriends who wanted money, fancy cars, and a big house. He needed someone to love, someone who would love him unconditionally.

He rose and moved into the bathroom, shrugged out of his black silk pajamas, and stepped into the oversized marble shower of the villa in which he was staying. He turned on the water and adjusted it until it was steaming hot. Standing under the soothing stream, he thought about the villas and how to solve their sales problems. He and his partners had built eighteen luxury villas in Paradise Valley thinking they’d sell quickly. They’d kept one for themselves for their frequent visits to Arizona. They’d miscalculated the market, however, and the villas hadn’t sold well. This morning, after he’d had breakfast, he planned to have a talk with the salesperson on duty.

After he showered and dressed, he set out for a popular nearby coffee shop. A petite woman with highlighted blond hair caught his eye. Stepping out of a silver Jaguar, she walked around to the passenger side and helped a little girl with long, curly, chestnut-brown hair from the car. As they moved toward the restaurant, the child clung to the woman’s shapely leg while she walked. The woman stopped and bent down to speak with the child, then took her hand and entered the restaurant.

When he followed them inside, he saw that there was a wait. She and the child were sitting on a long sofa near the front door. He left his name with the hostess and moved to sit near the woman. Maybe God had answered his prayers.