by Anna Willett
When she reached the top of the stairs, she understood what Jace meant by not what I was expecting. The room below looked bare and unremarkable. A couple of free-standing wine racks were pushed against the wall on the right, their shelves almost bare save for a handful of bottles. She tasted the stale, hot air and moved down a few steps noticing coarse concrete flooring and a stack of cardboard cartons piled near the wine racks, but otherwise the room was empty.
She should have been relieved, but felt only disappointment. Am I that desperate for excitement? Like a child, she’d hoped to find a monster under the stairs. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.
She didn’t bother going lower, instead she sat down on the step and watched Jace pull bottles out of the rack. “I don’t know anything about wine, is this stuff expensive?”
She tucked the hem of her dress under her legs and leaned her elbows on her knees. “Give me a look.” She’d lost interest in the wine, not really caring if they found a bottle they could drink or not. What she really wanted now was to go to sleep and, with any luck, block out her problems for a few hours.
Jace moved towards the stairs. He held the bottle up towards her with the label turned so she could read it.
“Nothing special.” She scanned the bottle noting the familiar logo. “We can easily replace it when we go into Mandurah.”
“That’s weird.”
“Not really,” she spoke without looking up. “Just because he’s rich doesn’t mean he has to be into fancy wine.”
“No.” The edge to Jace’s usually calm voice caught her attention. “There’s a door.” He pointed to the area behind the stairs.
Caitlin put the bottle on the stair below her feet and stood. She turned and half bent to look around the staircase. Set into the far corner of the wall was a door. She could only see glimpses of it between the slats of the staircase, but there was no mistaking the bolt and padlock just above the handle. Her stomach flipped as though she were inside a fast-moving elevator.
Jace left her standing on the step nearest the floor and went towards the newly discovered door.
“Don’t open it,” she whispered, stepping down.
“I can’t open it, it’s locked.” His voice sounded tight, almost anxious. She didn’t think she’d ever heard him sound so grown-up.
He stopped, blocking the door with his body. For a moment, neither of them spoke. He bent over, examining the lock. Caitlin clutched the hem of her dress, wanting him to come away from the door so they could go upstairs and pretend they’d never found the locked room.
“I don’t like this, Jace. Let’s just leave it and go upstairs.” Beneath the stale air, she could smell something else, a sour odour that reminded her of sweat. “Jace,” she raised her voice just above a whisper.
To her relief, he turned and walked back to the stairs. “There’s no way we’re getting in there without a crowbar.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s probably where he keeps valuables and stuff he doesn’t want to leave lying around the house.”
Caitlin let out a breath. As much as she wanted a distraction, the cellar unsettled her. Maybe whatever the owner kept behind the locked door was better left alone.
“We probably shouldn’t even be down here.” Maybe it was the joint affecting her, but she felt edgy, eager to be out of the hot, stale air that filled the small space.
“No arguments from me.” Jace’s eyes looked glassy under the yellow lights, he seemed jittery as if being under the house in a confined space bothered him as much as her.
Caitlin turned and clamoured up the steps, forgetting the bottle of wine she’d set down until her bare foot kicked it and sent it crashing over the side of the stairs. The bottle hit the concrete, exploding on impact in shower of fractured shards and splattered liquid. The sound was so loud in the silent cellar that Caitlin could hear the clang of glass reverberating in her ears.
“Holy shit.” Jace stared up at her, his mouth open in surprise.
For a second, she was too stunned to speak. The mess from the bottle covered at least a quarter of the floor space with the acrid smell of wine now filling the room.
Jace must have read the look on her face. His surprise turned into concern. “It’s okay, Cat. I think I saw a sweeping brush on the deck, I’ll–”
A clearly audible scraping sound followed by a thump, cut through Jace’s words. Both he and Caitlin turned towards the locked door. Silence followed, only broken by Jace’s rapid breathing. They waited. Caitlin felt her nails digging into her palms and realised she’d curled her hands into tight fists.
“Maybe it was–”
The scrape came again, louder this time, as if long nails were being dragged across a gritty floor. Jace turned to her, his mouth set in a tight line. He looked younger than his twenty-eight years, uncertain as if waiting for her to speak.
“It might be an animal.” She took a step down, drawing closer to her brother-in-law. “You know,” she whispered now almost level with his ear. “Trapped in there or something…” She let her words trail off waiting for him to agree.
He turned back to the door. “Stay here,” his voice wavered but he stepped away from the staircase and moved towards the door.
Caitlin wanted to grab his sleeve and pull him back but he was out of reach, moving across the confined space of the cellar, taking cautious steps as if ready to jump back if something moved. When he reached the door, he side-stepped, reminding her of the way TV cops get ready to burst through doors. For an insane second, she almost laughed, but the sound dried up in her throat.
Jace looked back at her, she gritted her teeth and nodded. We’ll be laughing about this in the morning. It’ll turn out to be a rat and we’ll laugh. Even as the thought ran through her mind, she didn’t quite believe it.
He raised his hand and rapped on the door. Two sharp knocks bounced off the wood sounding incredibly loud in the silent room. Almost instantly, something bumped against the other side of the door. Jace flinched and drew his hand back as Caitlin gasped and shoved her clenched fist against her lips.
“Is someone there?” came Jace’s deep, steady voice.
A moment passed in silence. She held her breath listening for any sound and then when it seemed too much time had passed, she let out a breath. In the same instant a muffled response came from behind the locked door. Not so much a reply but more like a muted groan.
“There’s someone in there.” Jace turned to her, blinking rapidly. “I think someone’s locked in there.”
“Oh God, what should we do?” Despite the hot stale air, she felt cold, as if an icy finger touched her spine.
“Go get Eli.”
Chapter Three
“Wake-up.” Caitlin’s throat felt dry, as if the words were trapped behind a layer of air.
She flicked the lights on, not bothering to wait for her husband to respond. She crossed the room, leaping on the bed. Bouncing the mattress under her weight, she grabbed his shoulder.
“Turn the lights off,” his voice was slurred with sleep, his head buried deep in the pillows.
“Get-up, Eli, something’s happened.” She jerked his arm trying to pull him towards her. Any other time, she’d hesitate to wake him, knowing how grumpy he’d be if raised from a deep sleep. But her husband’s mood was the last thing on her mind. For once she didn’t give a damn how angry Eli would be.
“What’s wrong?” He sounded impatient, as if speaking to a panicky child. She had the sudden urge to slap him on his bare shoulder but pulled her hand away and stood up.
“Will you stop asking questions and get the fuck out of bed.” He sat up and faced her, eyes blinking at the light. He looked like he was about to protest, but something, most likely the panic on her face stopped him. He threw back the sheet and got up.
“Okay. I’m coming.”
Satisfied he was following, Caitlin turned and raced back to the stairs. Jace was alone in the cellar, if whoever was behind the door got out, he could be in real dan
ger. She knew the door was secured with a padlock, but to her mind it made no difference. Something was terribly wrong and whichever way she looked at it, things were about to get worse.
“What’s going on?”
Eli’s feet pounded down the stairs behind her, but she kept going. “Caitlin, will you stop and tell me what’s happened?”
He caught up with her at the archway leading to the kitchen and grabbed her arm. “Has something happened to Jace?” He was out of breath, panting. Wearing only shorts, his chest looked pale in the light that spilled from the kitchen into the darkened sitting room. Even in the shadows, she could see the fear in his eyes. In an instant, all the bitterness she felt towards him that day evaporated and she wanted to put her arms around him.
“No.” She put her hand over his. “He’s fine. At least he was when I left him.” She kept moving towards the cellar door, pulling him along with her. “There’s someone in the cellar.” She could see the confusion on his face but didn’t know how else to explain. “Just come down there with me and see for yourself.” She stopped at the open door and pointed at the stairs.
Eli hesitated. His dark hair stood up in clumps, a creased line ran down his cheek from where it had been pressed into the pillow. She wasn’t used to seeing him look unsure of himself, it rattled her. He was supposed to be the mature one, the guy with all the answers.
“He’s down there on his own.” She tried to steady her voice, but couldn’t hide her anxiety.
He blinked once as if waking up to the moment for the first time, then nodded and headed down the stairs.
At the foot of the stairs, Eli paused. She could see him staring at the smashed remnants of the wine, his eyes narrowed and he glanced over his shoulder not quite meeting her gaze. She felt a quiver of guilt blossoming in her chest. It was obvious what she and Jace had been doing in the cellar and she had no doubt that in her husband’s mind she was already to blame for whatever was about to be played out.
Jace appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his face bleached under the artificial yellow light.
“There’s someone locked in there.” He pointed towards the door. “We heard them moving and trying to speak.” He glanced up at Caitlin looking for confirmation.
“He’s right, there’s someone on the other side of that door,” her own voice, high and breathless. She wanted Eli to say or do something, to take charge and tell them what to do next. It fleetingly occurred to her that she should suggest finding something to prise the door open with, but the words stuck in her throat.
“It’s probably a possum or something.” Eli, not wearing shoes, moved past his brother and side-stepped the broken glass. He approached the door without hesitation. “The thing probably came in through the roof and ended up trapped.”
“It’s not a possum.” Jace followed him to the door and stood next to his brother.
Caitlin wanted to believe Eli’s reasoning but couldn’t see how an animal could make its way from the roof to a room under the house. Even if it managed to get inside the wall cavity, there was no way it could end up down in the cellar.
“If we break the door open and it turns out to be rats or something, how’s your mate going to react?” Eli took hold of the padlock and gave it a yank as if to make his point.
“This is stupid.” Jace threw up his hands. “It’s not an animal.” He stepped around his brother and banged on the door using the side of his fist. The thumping of his hand was so loud, Caitlin flinched.
They waited. The three of them silent, straining to hear movement from the other side of the door. After thirty seconds of nothing, Eli shrugged. “I can’t believe you got me out of bed for–”
His words were cut off by a groan that started strong and then turned into a muffled thump.
Jace was the first to react. “I’m finding something to smash that lock.” He pushed past his brother and began pulling open the cardboard cartons stacked haphazardly next to the wine rack.
Eli hesitated for a second before joining the search. Caitlin’s heart beat in her throat. She had no idea what would happen when they smashed the lock, but a feeling of pressure built in the enclosed space. It reminded her of the day she lost the baby. The situation was completely different but the sickening dread blossoming in her chest, growing tighter by the minute, felt all too familiar.
She realised she was clenching her fists again and forced her hands to relax. She couldn’t just stand by and watch, not if there really was someone who needed help. There was nothing she could have done when her baby slipped away, maybe this time she could make a difference. But how?
Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on what they needed. Something sturdy and solid, long enough to wedge under the bolt, not the padlock. It would be easier to wrench the sliding bolt off than attempt to smash the padlock. Retracing her steps since entering the house, she scoured her memory, moving slowly from the point where they first explored the house.
They’d checked out the kitchen first then the study just off the main sitting room. She recalled admiring the desk, an oversized dark wood antique with a maroon blotter. An old-fashioned chaise lounge sat opposite the door upholstered in the same shade of leather as the blotter. As her mind sifted through each room, including the bedrooms, something nagged at her memory.
An image popped into her mind with the speed of a bullet. The fireplace. She turned and raced up the stairs, running through the kitchen so fast she almost lost her footing as she rounded the island bench.
The lights in the main room were off; only a short arc of illumination spilled through from the kitchen. With no idea where the switch was located, her only option was to move slowly and dodge the shadowy hulks of furniture.
Edging her way forward, Caitlin bent slightly with her arms out feeling her way past what she knew from memory was a large brown leather couch. She moved around the first obstacle and towards the centre of the room. With no moonlight or street lamps, nothing but blackness spilled through the high windows. All she could see were outlines, the largest, in the centre of the room, had to be the fireplace. She shuffled forward expecting to feel the lip of the grate with her bare toes.
Another metre or so and her shin collided with something solid. The impact was minor, little more than a bump, but it smarted. She winced and rubbed her leg, if she’d been going any faster, it could have been a lot more painful.
“Where are you?” she asked into the darkness.
A few more steps and her toe made contact with something raised. Dropping to her knees, she slapped her hands around the floor and felt the five-centimetre lip that fronted the fireplace. She gave a little laugh, more of relief than triumph, and began feeling around. Flapping her hand to the left, she encountered nothing but the curved edge of the dome. Changing direction, her wrist hit something that gave a metal on metal ching.
“Yes.” She hadn’t noticed the fire tool set when they first arrived, but her gut told her that where there’s an open fire, there’s bound to be tools.
She took hold of the set, the iron implements hanging from a free-standing frame, clanged together making a ringing sound like an old-time dinner gong. She ran her fingers up and down the various tools until she found the one with the pointed end. She lifted the poker off the frame with a tiny flicker of satisfaction. Maybe she wasn’t completely helpless after all.
It was easier making her way back to the kitchen, all she had to do was head for the light and avoid the sofa and coffee table. By the time she entered the cellar, she could hear Eli’s voice harsh with frustration.
“That’ll never work. We need something longer that won’t bend.”
She clamoured down the stairs and picked her way around the broken glass.
“Try this.” She held the poker out, its point dangling towards the floor.
Seemingly unaware of her presence, Eli continued to work at the lock using what looked like a letter opener. Jace turned to face her his eyes brightening when he saw the poker.
&nb
sp; “Perfect. Where did you find it?”
“I remembered the fireplace and thought there had to be a poker.” She handed him the fire tool. “I thought it might be easier to ram the point under the bolt and try to prise it off.”
“Yeah, good idea.” He gave her an appreciative nod and then turned the poker so he could examine the point.
“What’s a good idea?” Eli turned away from the door, his face shiny with sweat. “Oh yeah, perfect.” He nodded to the tool in his brother’s hand. “That should do the trick. Here, let me.” He held out his hand.
“No. I’ll do it.” He didn’t often refuse his brother. Caitlin could see the surprise on Eli’s face. She wondered what went on while she was upstairs, but knew now wasn’t the time to ask.
Jace wedged the poker under the thick steel bolt and rocked it towards himself like a lever. He pulled with enough force to make his already impressive biceps bulge under the effort. She heard him grunt and a second later came the ragged creak of wood splintering. She stepped closer and stood beside her husband. There had been a time when she’d have reached for his hand, but it seemed those days were over.
She felt her nails digging into her palms again but didn’t care. Sweat hung from the blond hair on the back of Jace’s neck. With one final grunt, he forced the entire bolt away from the wood. It swung down, held only by the two remaining screws that secured one side of the thing to the door frame.
Jace swiped at his forehead with his left forearm. She could see the smear of perspiration on his skin. Still holding the poker in his right hand, he turned to look at her and Eli.
“Ready?”
Eli nodded. “Be careful.”
Catlin didn’t know what she thought would happen when he opened the door. A small part of her still wanted to believe a possum would come scampering out. But she kept remembering the scraping sound. That slow drag of something heavy and deliberate hadn’t come from a small animal.
