Haunted House Murder

by Leslie Meier

  Daylight savings was still in effect, but the sun was low in the sky and would soon set, plunging the town into darkness. Furthermore, soccer practice, which was usually a noisy affair with screams from the players and blasts of Coach Janet’s whistle, seemed unusually quiet today. The playing fields were behind the school, hidden from view when Lucy exited through the side door, and she figured Coach Janet was probably wrapping up, giving the kids a pep talk. When she glanced at her watch, she realized with a shock that it was almost five, which meant that soccer practice had been over for almost half an hour. Why didn’t anyone come to tell her? What about Lori’s and Karen’s promise to keep an eye out for her? They were busy, sure, but it would only have taken a moment to stop in at the gym to let her know they were leaving. And even more troubling, why didn’t Patrick himself follow her careful instructions and report to her when the practice ended?

  No reason to panic, she told herself as she gave her friends a quick wave and hurried away on the path that ran alongside the school. She knew that some of the neighborhood kids stayed on after practice to kick a ball around, and she figured Patrick had joined them. He much preferred playing soccer to doing homework, and this was a rare opportunity to hang with his new friends. So when she rounded the corner and she saw a handful of players on the field, she was relieved.

  It was only when she drew closer and began to recognize the individual kids that she realized Patrick wasn’t among them. There was the notorious Jared, and the two kids who lived on School Street near the school, Caitlin and Henry, along with several others she didn’t know by name, but no Patrick.

  That couldn’t be right, she thought, taking a closer look. Patrick must be with the group. Kids all looked pretty much alike, she thought, watching as they ran around and trying to remember what Patrick was wearing this morning. A blue jacket, that was it. But none of the kids were wearing blue jackets, or jackets at all for that matter. What color was his shirt? she wondered, wracking her brain. Then it came to her: a black and white plaid flannel shirt, seemingly brand-new, she remembered, thinking he looked pretty sharp when he sat down at the breakfast table. But none of the kids was wearing a snazzy black and white plaid shirt. There were five in total, two girls and three boys, and Patrick was not among them.

  “Hey!” she yelled, wishing she had Coach Janet’s whistle. “I need to talk to you.”

  The kids ignored her, running down the field after the ball.

  “Hey! Stop!” she yelled, trying again.

  Henry had miraculously snagged the ball and was kicking it back in her direction, followed by the others. He wasn’t very fast, however, and Jared quickly stole the ball and headed back downfield. Lucy sighed. There was only one way to handle this, so she dropped her bag and coat on the ground and took off after the pack. She hadn’t been running in quite a while, but her legs were longer and her adrenaline was kicking in, so she was able to keep up with the kids. Seeing her chance to get the ball she scooped it up in her hands.

  “No fair! You can’t use hands,” protested Jared.

  “Yeah!” added Henry, red-faced and panting.

  “I’ll give the ball back in a minute. I need to talk to you guys. Where’s Patrick?”

  Jared screwed up his face. “Who?”

  “You know,” said Caitlin. “The new kid.”

  “From Alaska,” added Henry.

  “Oh, him,” said one of the kids Lucy didn’t recognize.

  “Yeah, him,” said Lucy. “When did you last see him?”

  “Dunno,” said Jared with a shrug. “Can we have the ball back now?”

  “No. I need to know what’s happened to Patrick. Did one of the moms give him a ride home?”

  The kids exchanged glances but didn’t answer.

  “Was he playing soccer with you or not?” she demanded, losing patience and fighting down a growing sense of panic.

  Again, the kids remained silent, until Jared spoke up. “No, he wasn’t here.”

  Well, that was progress, thought Lucy. If he hadn’t stayed to play, somebody must have given him a ride home. Not time to panic, yet, she told herself. Tinker’s Cove was a safe town, where everyone knew each other. There was no way some horrible predator could have snatched Patrick. There had probably been some sort of miscommunication and he’d been picked up by Bill, or even Sara.

  “Okay, thanks,” she said, turning and heading toward her car. As she walked she pulled out her cell phone and called Bill.

  “Just checking with you,” she began. “Did you pick up Patrick after soccer practice?”

  “Nope. Was I supposed to?”

  “No. I was decorating the gym and I’ve lost track of him. . . .”

  Bill’s voice was abrupt, almost accusatory. “What? Have you lost him?”

  “Well, he isn’t where I thought he’d be, but he’s probably perfectly fine somewhere else,” she replied, resting her hips against the car and wishing her heart would stop pounding quite so hard in her chest. “Maybe he’s already home. I’ll check with Sara.”

  “Well, let me know as soon as you find him, okay?”

  “Okay.” But Lucy didn’t feel as if everything was going to be okay. This was no time for hysterics, she told herself as she quickly called Sara.

  “Hi, it’s me. Are you home?” she asked, her voice sharp.

  “Yeah, Mom, I’m home,” replied Sara, defensively. “Have you got a problem with that?”

  “No. No problem. I’m glad actually.” She took a deep breath and crossed her fingers. “Is Patrick there with you?”

  “No, Mom. Just me and the smelly dog.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Lucy, pinning her hope on the slight chance that Sara hadn’t realized her nephew was home. “Would you just check around the house for me?”

  “What’s going on, Mom?”

  “Well, I was decorating the gym for the Halloween party and he was supposed to come find me when soccer practice was over but now there’s no sign of him here at the school.”

  “Golly. I hope he’s okay.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure he is. He probably went home with one of the other kids or something. I’ll make a few calls. Meanwhile, if he does show up, give me a call.”

  “I will, Mom. I’ll search the house right away.”

  While she waited for Sara to call back, Lucy flipped through her contacts and found no soccer moms. She was of a different generation; her kids had graduated from elementary school years ago and she hadn’t developed a fresh network of contacts. She didn’t even have Lori’s and Karen’s numbers. She did, however, have one for Coach Janet and she dialed it.

  “Hey, Lucy, Patrick had a great practice,” said Janet, having seen Lucy’s name pop up on her phone.

  “That’s great,” said Lucy. “But I’ve got a bit of a problem. I’m here at the field and I can’t find Patrick.”

  “Probably went home with somebody,” said Janet.

  “I was in the gym, getting ready for the Halloween party, and he was supposed to come and find me when practice was over.”

  “You know how kids are, in one ear and out the other. Something better probably came along.”

  “I hope that’s the case,” said Lucy. “Just tell me, did you see him when practice ended?”

  “I can’t say I did, Lucy. Sorry. It’s so busy then, you know. There’s always a few moms with schedule conflicts and the kids are all over the place. . . .”

  Her phone was signaling an incoming call, so Lucy quickly went to call waiting, expecting to hear Sara’s voice. “Yeah?” she barked, fingers crossed, hoping that Sara had found Patrick upstairs, playing quietly in his room.

  “Lucy?” It wasn’t Sara, it was Molly on the other end.

  “Oh, hi, Molly,” said Lucy, trying to sound upbeat. “How are you feeling?”

  “Pretty good, actually. I’m between operations so I decided to come and spend some time with Patrick. I really miss my little guy. I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience.. . .”


  “Oh, no, not at all. Patrick will be so happy, I think he’s been missing you.”

  Molly was right on it. “Has he been homesick?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. Sometimes he’s a bit wistful, that’s all,” said Lucy. “So when will you be coming?”

  “Didn’t I say? I’m actually in New Hampshire; my flight to Boston got diverted. I figured I’d rent a car and drive myself. It’ll be quicker than waiting for the airline to sort things out. I can be there in three hours or so.”

  Lucy swallowed hard. “Three hours?”

  “Well, probably a bit longer because I haven’t got the car yet, and I’m going to try to get some sort of refund from the airline, at least get them to cover the car rental.”

  “Right,” said Lucy. Three hours, she told herself. Three hours to find Patrick before his mother arrived. Three hours and she didn’t know where to start. What if she hadn’t simply miscommunicated, or misplaced the boy? What if some sicko had lured him into a car and carried him off? What if they never found him?

  “Lucy, is everything okay? You sound a little funny.”

  “Just a bit short of breath,” admitted Lucy, who couldn’t seem to get any air into her lungs at all. “I was chasing a ball.”

  “Is Patrick there?” Molly’s voice was excited and eager. “Can I talk to him? Give him the good news?”

  “Sorry,” replied Lucy, desperately trying to think of a reason why Patrick couldn’t come to the phone. Any reason except the real one. “Wouldn’t you know. He’s in the bathroom.”

  “No matter.” Molly was disappointed. “I’ll be seeing him in a little while anyway.”

  “Yup, that’s right,” said Lucy, praying it would be so.

  “And the sooner I get that car, the sooner I’ll be there. Thanks for everything, Lucy.”

  “See you soon,” said Lucy, ending the call and wishing desperately that Patrick would suddenly materialize, walking around the corner of the school building, or popping out from behind a tree or a bush. She took a few deep breaths, trying to decide what to do next, when she spotted a lumpy shape beneath one of the benches that lined the soccer field.

  Lucy was running back to the field when her phone rang again. This time it was Sara, reporting there was no sign of Patrick in the house. “Your line was tied up. I couldn’t get through.”

  Lucy had been so involved with Molly’s call that she had ignored the beeps from call waiting. “Molly called; she’s on her way here.”

  “Molly’s coming?”

  “Yeah. She’s between surgeries and she misses Patrick. She’ll be here in three hours.”

  “Talk about bad timing,” said Sara. “We’ve got to find Patrick. Fast.”

  “I found his backpack,” she said, stooping down and retrieving the bag. It was definitely Patrick’s; it had his initials embroidered on the flap.

  “You should call the police,” said Sara.

  Lucy scanned the field and saw the five kids huddled in a little group, across the street from the Moon house.

  “Not yet. There are some kids here and I think they know something.”

  “Keep me posted, Mom,” said Sara, her voice breaking.

  “Will do,” replied Lucy, fighting back her own tears. Not now, she told herself, straightening her shoulders and marching across the field. Now was not the time for tears, it was time for action. She pulled out her notebook and pen and confronted the little group.

  “First of all, I want names,” she said. “I know you, Henry, and you, Caitlin. Jared, what’s your last name?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  Lucy narrowed her eyes. “I want to send you a birthday party invitation, okay? What’s your last name?”

  “It’s Winston,” he admitted. “Really? A party?”

  Lucy ignored the question. “And you?” She pointed to the girl she didn’t know. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Lily Lennart, and my address is One Forty-Five Front St. I love parties and cake.”

  “Great,” said Lucy, jotting down her name and address.

  “And you?” she demanded, turning to the last kid.

  “Jackson Keilly,” he admitted, looking at his shoes.

  “Okay, Jackson,” said Lucy, sensing a weak link in the group. “What happened to Patrick?”

  “Nothing, nothing happened,” answered Jackson, resorting to a typical juvenile answer when pressed by an adult. “He wasn’t even here.”

  Lucy had heard it all before and wasn’t impressed. “Well, Jackson, I know you’re lying because I just found his backpack. Patrick was here. I’ve got the proof.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” claimed Jared. “Maybe he left it yesterday.”

  “No, Jared. He had it this morning when he left home.” She glared at each of the kids, one by one, watching them squirm. “There’s something you’re not telling me, something you’re hiding, and if you don’t tell me right away, this instant, I’m going to call your parents.” She let her threat sink in. “I don’t think they’ll be very happy to learn that you wouldn’t help me find your missing friend.”

  “We didn’t do anything wrong!” declared Jackson.

  “Okay,” said Lucy, swiping her phone and asking for directory assistance. “It’s up to you.”

  The two little girls were holding hands and looking worried, so Lucy asked for the number for Lennart on 145 Front Street. She activated the speaker app and soon the sound of a ringing phone could be heard, and with each ring Lily’s face grew paler. On the fifth ring, she broke.

  “Jared dared him to knock on the door of the haunted house. That’s what happened,” she said, bursting into tears.

  “And what happened then?” asked Lucy.

  “The door opened and he went inside,” whispered Caitlin. “He’s in there. We’ve been waiting for him to come out.”

  Chapter Ten

  This time Lucy didn’t hesitate. She immediately dialed 9-1-1 and reported that her grandson had entered the house at 66 School Street and had not come out.

  “That’s the Moon house, right?” asked the dispatcher, Jodie Kirwan. “The house everybody calls the haunted house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Lucy, why don’t you knock on the door and ask for him? This doesn’t seem like a police matter.”

  “I’m afraid it is. I have a history with the husband. He’s violent, he’s threatened me. I’m truly afraid for my grandson’s safety.”

  “Why did he go into the house? Was he abducted?”

  “Possibly.” Lucy glared at the little group of kids. “He went there on a dare.”

  “I see,” said Jenny. “I’ll send a car over right away.”

  “Thanks.”

  It was only a matter of minutes before a squad car turned the corner and sped down School Street with its lights flashing and halted in front of the Moon house. Lucy hurried over, followed by the pack of kids, reaching the car just as Officer Barney Culpepper was hauling himself out. Barney was a big man, approaching retirement, and getting out of the department’s aged squad car was a bit of a challenge for him. When he was finally free of the low-slung sedan, he shook himself, adjusted his heavy belt, and settled his cap on his crew cut head.

  “So you say your grandson is inside that house?” he asked, as Officer Sally Kirwan came around from the passenger side of the car and joined them.

  “What’s the problem?” asked Officer Sally. “An abduction?”

  “Not exactly. The kids say they dared Patrick to knock on the door, and when he did, the door opened and he disappeared inside. I’m worried, because, well”—Lucy lowered her voice, aware of the kids’ big ears—“I suspect Ty Moon is an abuser.”

  Officer Sally stepped close to Lucy and spoke quietly, mindful of the group of kids. “I think you mentioned this particular situation to me, is that right?”

  Lucy nodded.

  “We need some facts here,” said Barney. “Name and age?”

  “Patrick Sto
ne, my grandson. He’s eight.”

  “Right.” Barney turned to the kids. “Is this true? You dared him to knock on the door?”

  There were solemn nods all around.

  “But what happened then? Was he grabbed? Or did he just walk in?”

  “I don’t believe he would have walked in,” protested Lucy. “He must’ve been grabbed.”

  “Is that true?” asked Officer Sally, speaking to the kids.

  “He walked in,” said Lily. “He wasn’t grabbed.”

  “You can tell me the truth,” said Officer Sally. “You guys aren’t in trouble. We just want to know what happened.”

  “He walked in,” said Jared, and the others all nodded in agreement.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” said Lucy. “He knows better. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Calm down, Lucy,” said Barney. “Maybe he was offered candy or something, a chance to pet a dog; could be anything that would get a kid to forget everything he ever learned about stranger danger. Happens all the time.” He paused, thinking. “The question is, is this a hostage situation or what?”

  “We need more info before we go in,” said Officer Sally. “Do you have any clothes, anything that Patrick was wearing?”

  Lucy held up the backpack and unzipped it, producing a hooded sweatshirt. “He wore it this morning.”

  “Let’s get the K-9 unit over here,” said Sally, taking the sweatshirt. “That way we’ll know for sure if Patrick’s inside.”

  Lucy’s heart sank at this delay; at this rate Molly would be walking into a terrible situation. “Couldn’t you just knock on the door?” she asked.

  “Sorry, Lucy. Department policy,” said Barney, as Officer Sally got on the radio to request the K-9 unit and backup. “Times have changed. Everybody’s got guns for one thing. These days we never know what’s on the other side of the door.”

  It was then that the rat-a-tat-tat of an automatic weapon was heard, and everyone hit the ground. Then there was a sharp, piercing scream and the lights in the house began to dim and brighten.