When she received no answer, Donna looked up quickly. “You don’t mean… now?”
Katie looked back silently.
FOUR
The nursery door was closed.
So was the bay window overlooking the sea when Donna unlocked the nursery door and Katie followed her in. I followed Katie. Slowly. Not without trepidation, something I sensed the two women were feeling as well.
The room’s stuffy interior was proof enough that the nursery hadn’t been entered for days, probably, I guessed, since the incident of Nathaniel’s strangely brief absence and reappearance.
Donna hurried over and unlatched the window, letting in fresh sea air.
Even so, her gait had a hesitant hitch to it, as if her feet were of one mind and her head another. She wasn’t anxious to move at all, much less hurry.
Like the other rooms in the big house, the nursery was large even with the steeply pitched roof at the window side and seemed even larger with only the two twin cribs against the north and south wall, the single small dresser between them, and the complete lack of any children’s toys or paraphernalia. More than large, it was cavernous; and enigmatically dark given the wide single window, showcasing bright blue sky and sea and the far away strip beyond with a stately lighthouse at its point.
Donna turned from the window, the baby asleep in her arms, and regarded us a moment, expressionless, or perhaps slightly pensive. “That’s the Point Loma lighthouse,” she nodded behind her, “you can see the turning light at night.”
“It’s lovely,” Katie smiled weakly, meaning the view, of course, certainly not the brooding air of solemnness pervading the nursery, and I thought I detected her clutching Nathaniel just slightly closer in her arms, as if reluctant to put him down.
“Katie--?”
Donna was gazing about the mote-floating rays from the window, her morning shadow stretching away long and yearning from her toward the nursery door as if giving direction. “I might as well be honest with you. I’m not comfortable with this…”
Katie came to her, back suddenly straight with sympathetic confidence, like an older sister. “I know you’re not, Donna. Neither am I, nor is Elliot. If we were comfortable with it, we wouldn’t be here. You have to trust me.”
Donna met her eyes with an evenness that was nearly a challenge. “Believe me, I am. With all my heart.” The delicate throat moved uneasily again.
Donna squeezed the blonde woman’s arm once warmly. The two stood looking at each a moment, each with a child bundled in her arms. Katie looked down at the softly soughing Nathaniel, his pink cheeks, pink pearl of mouth parted in oblivion, delicate eyelids like shells of porcelain. “I won’t let anything hurt your children,” she said, tone holding an edge of defiance.
Donna’s expression seemed to soften a fraction, cool green eyes holding a gleam of admiration. Katie bowed above the children like an alert lioness.
Donna broke the spell by carrying baby Natalie to her, easing her down gently, head supported by her palm. “I’ll need to get fresh linen and blankets from the hall closet,” she said, cupping the baby’s cheek a moment.
“I’ll help you,” Katie promised.
She turned to look at me, spotted the camera near the door. “That’s the video monitor? Is it on?”
Donna crossed and flicked a button on the small HD camera, igniting a red dot of light. “It is now.”
She turned, appeared deliberately to not appraise the cribs again, and addressed Katie with hitched shoulders, hands clasped before her casually, if uneasily. “So! What now?”
“I’d like to see the rest of the house, of course,” from Katie, “but your computer station downstairs first, if you don’t mind.”
Donna led the way to the door quickly as if she didn’t mind at all.
Outside in the hall, she hesitated before the nursery entrance, key raised uncertainly in her hand. Should I lock it? her posture said.
“What did you do in the past?” Katie asked. “Before the incident?”
Donna stared reproachfully at the opening. “We shut the nursery door when the children were down. The old plumbing in the bathroom next to them rattles pretty loudly sometimes, wakes them.”
“Did you lock it?”
“No. And we have audio baby monitors in our bedroom. We just shut it against the noise.”
Katie nodded. “Then do that now.”
* * *
Donna had her work station on the first floor to the left of the main staircase, the hutch and adjacent end table in one corner of what was either a second dining room or an extension of the main living room, I couldn’t be sure. Part of the plaster had been removed around the adjoining door and hall; there was a small stack of fresh lumber next to the opening and the room smelled lightly sweet of sawdust.
“Byron’s tearing down a few walls in this area, opening up the old architecture a bit, putting in a window for me, so please pardon the mess. He only gets weekends to work on it and, well…since the incident he’s lost a little steam trying to keep the house quiet for the kids.”
And quiet for you, I thought, so you can listen for the kids.
We moved over to her computer monitor, which was filled with spreadsheets.
“I was finishing some bookkeeping when you arrived. Here…”
She bent, punched a key. The spreadsheets disappeared and the interior of the nursery came into focus, both cribs visible. Donna twisted a knob on a small black receiver tableside. A shushhh of white noise rose from hidden speakers along with the gentle soughing of Nathaniel’s snoring. Both children were still asleep, easily seen on the screen through the bars of their cribs.
Donna leaned closer, face intent. “And this is the way it was set up the evening Nathaniel disappeared. Momentarily.”
Donna nodded. “Just as you see it. Minus toys on the floor and a bit more furniture. God, even from here I can see the place needs dusting…”
Katie gazed quietly at the screen. Listening.
“And you were working here at the console when you heard the noise?”
“Yes,” from Donna, “the speakers remain open and live even when the screen is full of work material. It only takes an instant to switch the video back and forth, work to nursery…” she flicked a key, the spreadsheets reappeared, “…and back again,” she flicked the key and the nursery once more bloomed.
Donna straightened with a deep sigh. “If I’d had any brains I’d have connected a second monitor to the nursery here beside the main console, to avoiding having to switch back and forth. Byron went out and purchased one, but I couldn’t bear having the kids out of sight after what happened with Nathan. So they sleep with us now.”
“What about recordings? Didn’t the nursery camera record the events of that night?”
“Yes. All it showed was footage of the kids in their cribs, then a short burst of static-filled screen, then the kids again, except Nathan is missing.”
“What about the sound that alerted you? Did the camera record that?”
Donna’s brow knitted. “I…don’t remember.”
Katie glanced at me a second, then back to Donna. “May I see the recording?”
Donna wiped at her mouth nervously. “The police wanted to see it too. It doesn’t exist anymore.”
Katie squinted. “Doesn’t exist? What do you mean?”
“Before the police arrived and Byron got home, I replayed the file. Saw the scene as I just described it. Later, when the police tried to play it, the file wouldn’t open. They kept asking me if I’d dropped it or something! I hadn’t. I gave the hard drive to them and their lab checked it over thoroughly. They couldn’t retrieve an image. Nothing. The thing was dead.”
“Where is the hard drive now?”
Donna shrugged. “Back in the computer. All my accounting records were on it.”
Katie’s eyes drifted momentarily. “I see.”
Donna looked forlornly askance at me.
Katie was standing to one side, be
nding close to the back of the computer. “What kind of noise did you hear that evening that alerted you to the nursery?”
Mrs. Sanderson might have hesitated an instant. “Nathan.”
Still bent over, Katie craned up evenly.
Donna waffled. “I’m pretty sure it was Nathan. It sounded like him.”
Katie remained craning. “Sounded like him how?”
Donna gave her an uncomprehending look. “Like him. Like his voice.”
“His voice?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“On the phone your husband said you heard crying.”
Donna rubbed absently at her wedding ring finger. “It…might have been a little cry.” She made an exasperated face. “Look, I was working. The moment I heard the sound I turned up the speaker volume and hit the key, switching to the nursery camera.”
“Which first?” Katie pressed, “The speaker or the key?”
Donna expressed impatience. “What difference does that make?”
“Try to remember, Mrs. Sanderson,” I said.
Donna whipped around to me, making me wish I’d addressed her by her first name instead. “The volume!”
“Are you sure?” Katie asked gently.
“I’m sure!”
“Okay. One thing at a time now. Try to remember but don’t rush yourself. Give me the exact order if you can.”
A small muscle ticked on Donna’s cheek. She drew a sharp breath. “I heard his voice. I reached over and turned up the audio volume. Then I hit the camera key.”
Katie straightened from the computer, eyes still on Mrs. Sanderson.
“Take it easy, Donna,” I soothed, “we’re on your side.”
She flashed me an angry look. “Don’t you think I’ve played this over in my mind a million times?” Her eyes brimmed a little.
Then she shook her head, shook it off. Blew out breath. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help. Forgive me.”
“It’s fine,” I said, watching Donna’s eyes snap back worriedly to the monitor screen, the safely sleeping children.
“Donna--?”
Donna turned to Katie.
“A moment ago you said voice.”
Donna frowned. “What?”
“When describing the sound you heard from the nursery, you used the word ‘voice.’ Used it twice, actually.”
Donna frown deepened, shoulders set. “No, I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Mrs. Sanderson’s eyes narrowed. “I did not!”
Katie gave me a reluctant glance, pulled the recorder from her shoulder bag, played back the last minute’s conversation. Donna jaw tightened when she heard herself say ‘voice.’”
She folded her arms tight across her breasts, looked like she was about to eject us from the premises. “How long have you been recording us?”
“Donna. Try to focus. ‘Cry’ or ‘voice.’ Which was it?”
Donna’s neck reddened, eyes glued to the little recorder in Katie’s hand. “Pretty cute. Little invasive though, don’t you th—“
“Donna!”
The timber in Kate’s shout made me jump too.
Donna seemed to go momentarily limp.
I started for her but Katie’s eyes warned me off.
The room roared with icy silence.
Finally Katie sighed, switched off her tape recorder, put it away.
“It was a voice,” Donna whispered, staring at the monitor screen, a tear not quite ready to loosen itself from one eye.
“You’re sure?” from a now gentle Katie.
Donna nodded quickly, loosening the tear.
“Could you tell what he was saying?” Katie asked.
Donna swallowed thickly, eyes still riveted to the screen. “I’m…not sure.”
“You’re not sure?”
Donna swallowed phlegm convulsively, oblivious to the tears. “I’m not sure it was Nathaniel’s voice!”
Something cold broke inside me.
I looked over at Katie. She remained fixed on the Sanderson woman, tense but calm, assured. “Donna, are you saying—“
“I’m not sure it was either of the children!”
Katie’s mouth dropped open.
“I…think it may have been an adult! A man’s voice!”
The lights went out.
There was no window in Donna’s shadowed work area, just a soft filter of light from part of the living room window thirty feet away; it felt as if all the lights in the house had gone out.
Donna made a strangled cry.
I followed her widened eyes to the dimming white dot that was her computer screen.
There was no white noise from the speakers.
“It’s the electricity,” Katie whispered.
Donna screamed.
Katie and I whirled in tandem.
The archway to the living room had become a wall of coiling mist.
From which a man’s dark figure emerged…moving toward us, glowing green...
* * *
I felt a stomach-whoop of adrenalin, the sting of conflict that accompanies the fight-or-flight response.
Two helpless, unarmed women stood beside me; and abandoning either wasn’t an option. The idea of anything happening to Katie pushing away all fear; I knotted the muscles to immutable rocks along my shoulders and spine, bracing my legs for any onslaught.
“Donna--?”
My teeth jarred painfully as Donna shouldered past me blindly in a wild rush, the lithe little blonde amazingly sturdy.
I heard a metallic click behind me as I regained my balance. Katie cried “Freeze!”; it went through my skull like a knife as I swiveled and glimpsed the silvery gleam of her .45 automatic at the periphery of my vision.
The shimmering apparition glowed a momentary bright green, then a burst of brightness shrank my pupils to painful points.
In white opaqueness I heard Donna cry, “Byron!”, felt the pulse of Katie beside me, her free hand on my shoulder, as Donna’s blurred form merged with the green man and the house lights stuttered back on.
Through a gelatinous glaze I saw Donna clinging to a tall young man with beach-bleached hair, deep tan, and china blue eyes.
“What the hell--?” the man said as Katie put away the shiny, semi-auto in her handbag.
“It’s okay!” from an excited Donna, “it’s the paranormal people!”
“The who--?”
It sounded weird even to me.
“The ones you called! The Brackens! O-Or the…Bledsoes, or--anyway they’re here to help!”
Byron Sanderson closed the lid on his green cell phone light, cigarette smoke coiling like mist from his open mouth. “Oh. Oh! Shit! I’m sorry! I saw the gun--”
“My fault,” from Katie, already smiling back a chuckle, “it got a little tense there for a moment and my partner here’s not as quick on the uptake as usual! Do not offer him a drink, by the way!” She held out a disarming hand. “Katie Bracken! And 007 here is my associate, Elliot.”
Sanderson shook her hand, turned and offered me his. “So glad to meet you, glad you could come! You’re the reason I left work early today, Mr. Bracken!”
I shook, nodded. “It’s Bledsoe.”
“Damn electric’s been giving us trouble lately! Sorry about that, Bled-nose!”
“No. It’s Bled--never mind. Maybe it is Bracken by now, it’s been a long morning. Mr. Sanderson, pleased to make your acquaint—“ I started, and was almost knocked off my feet again by the wildly rushing Mrs. Sanderson as she fled fearfully back to her work station. She hit buttons, pounded keys. “Shit, shit!” The computer whirred, began a lengthy reboot.
“Goddamnit!”
I stepped aside again quickly as she went vaulting for the staircase. “Nathaniel!”
Mr. Sanderson gave me a panicked look. “What’s going on?”
“Donna!” Katie called before I could answer. “Wait! Please!”
Too late, Donna was halfway up the stairs, leaping long and smooth
as a decathlon runner.
Her husband whirled, started after her. “Honey--?”
I started after Sanderson but Katie grabbed my arm, pulled me toward the work station.
In a few moments, under the sounds of Donna’s urgent cries from the floors above, the screen lit with spreadsheets. Katie hit the right key with one hand, cranked up the speakers with the other. The nursery appeared. Nathaniel in his crib, Natalie in hers. The room as quietly settled as we’d left it.
Katie flopped down in Donna’s swivel chair, flung her head back, ran a hand through her hair with a weary groan, eyes closed. “Jesus, Joseph and Mary.”
I sidled-up, put an arm around her shoulder as the screen displayed a hysterical Donna Sanderson rushing into the nursery, shouting her kids’ names breathlessly.
The children both woke bawling in tandem from the sudden clatter. Nathaniel shrieked like a wounded banshee. Donna tripped over her husband trying to get to the boy. Poor little Natalie wailed inconsolably until her father could reach her.
Katie turned from the screen, swung the swivel around and looked up at me, eyes lidded and red with ennui.
I smiled down companionably, ruffled her hair. “Going well so far, isn’t it!”
FIVE
We split up after that.
I’m not entirely sure why but I think my complete ignorance of anything involving cyberspace may have been a factor.
To say nothing of my chief phobia.
As my father used to say while sweating in 90 degree heat over a newly broken simple plug-in house fan: “You touch it, Elliot, and it dies.”
I am to computers what the ice box is to the Eskimo.
What the Californian is to the New Yorker.
It’s like that billboard I once (truly) saw on a Midwestern highway: Illiterate? Write for help!
None of which really matters, because somebody needed to take a look at the rest of the Sanderson’s huge house and there was no prying Katie away from Donna’s computer at the moment. This became clear when the Sandersons came downstairs again with both wailing progeny in their respective arms. “Sorry I panicked!” Donna smiled crookedly, rocking Nathanial desperately, and Katie finally turned from the computer a split second, looked at Donna and jerked her head at me. Donna walked over and handed me Nathaniel. I looked back at Katie. Katie jerked her head in the other direction. “House,” she said flatly, turned to Donna, pulled over another chair and ordered: “Sit.”
NIGHT CHILLS: A Bracken and Bledsoe Paranormal Mystery Page 4
