by Roger Hayden
Harris placed a hand on Dobson’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “Talk to me, buddy. You okay? What’d you forget?”
“Rachel. She graduated from Summerville. Same class,” Dobson said, grabbing his coat. “She went to school with all of them.”
Harris said no more as they left the office together. Dobson paused and glanced at his desk office before shutting the door. The cluttered files and boxes would have to wait as he struggled with the unthinkable. He recalled his initial unease about the Betsy Wade murder occurring so close to his home. Now, Rachel had a letter from a sender whose identity was no longer in question.
Awake
Sterling lay in silence for hours, unsure if she was alone. She sensed an opportunity, but her throbbing bruised back was a reminder of what could go wrong. She rose to her feet and limped to the door with the flashlight in hand. Ear against the door, she listened and heard nothing outside the room. She recalled Landon mention going into town. Perhaps he really was gone.
Her heart beat wildly as she glanced down and watched the exposed light under the door for movement. Electricity was a good sign. If she managed to escape, there were bound to be other homes around. She remained against the door where the smell of sawdust and gun powder seeped into her room. Landon had been hard at work.
Several ideas of what he was building crossed her mind. Explosives or a bomb was at the top of the list. There seemed to be no limits to his malice. He had earlier tried to run down two children in a minivan that belonged to their mother. No one was safe, apparently, and nothing was off limits. He had to be stopped.
Sterling turned the doorknob, unsurprised to find it locked. Escape wasn’t going to be so easy, especially with a reverse deadbolt. The thick wooden door seemed impenetrable. She turned around and shined the mini-light around the empty room. Photos still lay on the floor of his victims. As a detective in-training, Sterling had learned the importance of detachment toward evil. But Landon was like no one she had ever studied. Pure vengeance didn’t explain the brutality of his crimes alone. His cause was his own. Sterling turned back to the door and pounded against its surface.
“Hey! Are you out there, Landon?” she shouted.
No response followed. She balled her fist and bang on the door again. “You hear me, you piece of shit?”
She waited again as silence followed. He was either gone or asleep or simply testing her. Either way, she had to think of something. Sterling moved away from the door and began pacing the room. The thick plywood was nailed shut against the window. She couldn’t even budge them if she tried.
She shined the flashlight around, finding nothing beyond the bare walls that confined her. The mattress was of no use nor was the bucket he had left her. She then stopped at the lone rusty metal chair in the middle of the room.
“Find a way out,” she said to herself. “Think, damn it.”
An idea came to her out of sheer desperation. She lifted the chair, folding it together as she approached the door with steely resolve. Her vision aligned with the door knob. Further hesitation was not an option. She raised the chair and swung it like a bat, clanging against metal with each solid hit.
Tremors rushed up her arms. She paused to catch her breath, examining the door knob, only to see it still intact. The chair fell from her hands as she backed away from the door and brushed back her hair. Landon’s absence seemed like a real possibility as she struggled to take advantage of the situation. If he was gone, she knew that it wasn’t going to be forever. She pushed against the door and felt its weight. No clear means of escape came to mind, but she wasn’t ready to give up.
She thought of Dobson and the other detectives. They had to know that she was missing by now. Feelings of shame followed the thought of them looking for her. Only a few days on the job and she was already a liability. Her only hope was that she could stop Landon before it was too late.
Sterling picked the chair up and set it against the wall. There was a fresh dent in its side. She backed away from the door and took a deep breath, readying herself. With one decisive step forward, she cried out and kicked the door right in its center as hard as she could. The impact sent her stumbling back. She regained balance, marched forward, and kicked it again. A hammer-like thud followed, but the stubborn door wouldn’t move. Sterling leaned against the wall and gripped her ankle, stifling the pain.
Her kicks had so far left scuff marks against the door but little else. She shouted out and kicked it once, closer to the frame. She paused to catch her breath and examined the split between the door frame near the deadbolt. She ran her hand down it and could feel air. If only she had a crowbar. The door opened from her end, which made it harder to break out. But there had to be away. She looked from the door knob to the dented chair against the wall. It could make a handy weapon if needed.
She couldn’t say the same about the plastic bucket and mattress. She grabbed the chair and paced around, worried that her escape window was closing. From the opposite end, she turned toward the door and flung the chair across the room. It slammed against the door with a starling clang. She felt pumped and ready. For what, she didn’t know. She then grabbed the mattress and pulled it across the room, laying it at the bottom of the door. A plan was forming.
She recalled her earlier days as a rookie police officer when she regularly practiced kick boxing and martial arts. It used to be a regular part of her workout routine. She stretched her arms and legs while conducting a series of breathing exercises, just like in the good old days.
She was younger and at the peak of her physical fitness. Now thirty-three, she hadn’t been to the gym in weeks. She had been busy with the move, among other things. The thought of performing a high kick after so many years later both frightened and amused her. She took a charging stance while maintaining her distance from the door.
She hoped to hit it dead center where pressure would apply against the deadbolt. The challenge in busting the door wide open was clear enough but worth a shot. There weren’t many other alternatives. “Come on,” she said to herself, arms out and at her side. “What are you waiting for?”
She took a deep breath, charged forward, and jumped at the door at top speed. Her feet smacked dead center of the door just as she closed her eyes. She plunged onto the mattress below, lying on her back, briefly startled and breathing heavily. She had heard the sound of wood cracking when she hit it, but she wasn’t sure how much damage had been done. She sat up and saw that while the door was still intact, a crack had formed above the deadbolt. Success!
It was a good start, but it was going to take more than a single air kick to make any difference. She leaned against the wall and pushed herself up, ready for another go around. Her left ankle felt slightly twisted and she couldn’t help but to limp back to the starting line. She spun around and prepared to rush forward in another stance. The door seemed to stare back at her in a mocking fashion. “It won’t be long,” she said. “I’ll be out of here soon.”
She sprinted forward with a shout and charged at the door as her hair flew behind her shoulders. She leapt over the mattress and into the door with both feet, crashing against the door. The collision tossed her onto the mattress in a split second. She heard another crack but didn’t know if it was the door or her legs. Lying on her side, she massaged her left ankle through her pant leg. She had definitely twisted something this time.
She glanced up and saw that the door was still closed. A disappointed sigh followed. She rose to her feet and placed both hands onto the door’s seemingly impenetrable surface. The crack above the deadbolt had grown. Satisfied, she stepped away, but could barely put any pressure on her ankle. She used the wall to guide her to the nearby chair she had thrown moments before.
She used the chair for balance and approached the door, examining it along the frame. A fear suddenly gripped her that Landon had returned. She froze and listened but didn’t hear anyone. To get caught was certain death. He wasn’t going to be gone forever. She held the fol
ded chair up with both hands and swung it against the door frame nearest the deadbolt. To her immediate surprise, a small chunk of wood flew off and hit her in the face.
She held the chair up as her arms trembled from the impact. She swung it hard against the same spot as a clang echoed throughout the room. She swung the chair again and again, gripping it by the legs as hard as she could. Each hit continued to chip away at the door frame, which motivated her more. A sizable chunk of frame flew off after her last hit. Sterling paused and observed the damage, pleasantly surprised to see a wider gap between the door and its frame. But she wasn’t done yet.
She raised the chair in the manner of a baseball bat, took another deep breath, and swung it against the door as hard as she could. The chair rattled as it flew from her hands and sent her stumbling back. She caught herself against a nearby wall and eyed the obstruction with anger, prepared to deliver the kill shot.
She stepped forward, swung her right leg back, and kicked the door with deft precision. The deadbolt busted out from the frame as small shards of wood flew past her. For a moment, she stood in awe as the door creaked open, revealing a dim hallway. She cautiously pushed the door further open, half-expecting Landon to jump out at any moment. But he was nowhere to be seen or heard. She dug into her pocket for the mini-flashlight and turned it on.
The hallway beyond the door was damp and stuffy. Sterling stuck her head out and listened, hearing only the distant sounds of crickets chirping outside. The remote location of the home seemed evident. She stepped out of the room and waved the mini-light down both sides of the darkened hallway. A light beamed from the end of the hall to the left where she saw a counter and kitchen cabinets. To her right were three rooms, one across and two beside her, all with their doors closed.
The option was clear. She needed to get out of there with whatever time she had left. She moved quickly toward the kitchen with a limp, leaving the room of her confinement behind. The quaint kitchen was surprisingly tidy with a sink in the middle of two counters and a single light above. Past the kitchen, she saw a darkened living room, minimally furnished, and a fireplace.
The walls around her were of a wood-stained oak variant. She glanced at a nearby portable stove where an envelope with her name on it rested on one of the two burners. Sterling paused and looked around in panic.
Had he been waiting for her to emerge this whole time?
She cautiously approached the letter and grabbed it. She then fled the kitchen across the creaky hardwood floor without hesitation. Her flashlight shined in all directions. The thought of Landon was never far from her mind. She was ready to scream and fight to stay alive.
Strangely enough, there didn’t look to be a window that wasn’t boarded with plywood. That explained the stuffiness of what she realized was a cabin after all. A few more steps, and she was at the door, scanning it with her flashlight. There were two deadbolts and a chain lock up top.
She turned around, mindful of being watched from the shadows, but it was now or never. She unlocked the door and removed the chain. Her hand hesitated at the doorknob. The letter stuck out from her the side pocket of her jeans. She slowly turned the knob and opened the door as a cool breeze rushed inside. A black forest awaited from beyond the wooden deck. Trees loomed ahead, shrouded in darkness under a crescent moon.
Sterling hurried outside and closed the door behind her. The air of freedom reinvigorated her as she rushed down the three steps leading to a dirt path. She refrained from the using the flashlight and instead hurried to find a cover amid the strange animal noises of the night. Under normal circumstances, she’d be frightened, but the alternative was much worse. Her mind raced with images in the darkness.
As she hobbled off the path, she thought she could see someone standing near the nearest tree. Her heart seized and she halted, prepared to run in the opposite direction. But no movement followed other than the light sway of branches.
She looked around for a vehicle but didn’t see anything. From behind her, the cabin was small and well hidden. The boarded windows gave it an uninviting feeling, which she supposed was the idea. Above its arched roof looked to be a camouflaged tarp, concealing it. She turned back to the forest with no idea where to go.
She maneuvered down the nearest hill and into the woods, past thorny bushes and vines, where she found a large oak tree to sit behind and listen. Landon was yet to be seen or heard. Curious, she pulled the envelope from her pocket and opened it, pulling a folded letter out. She cupped the flashlight and turned it on, partially lighting the page. The handwritten message had addressed her as “Detective Sterling,” and she was eager to read on.
If you’re reading this, it means that you’ve escaped. Congratulations! I knew you could do it. I’ve left and will not be returning. This secluded cabin has been my home for many years. And in that time, I’ve been developing a wonderful surprise for the residents of Summerville.
As a detective, I’m sure you’d love to know. There are all sorts of clues in my cabin if you’re interested. Who knows? Maybe you can stop me. You’re ten miles from the nearest town. What will you do? P.S. Sorry about kicking you. Best - Landon
She read the letter over a few times, concerned of falling into a trap. If he had already left with no intention of returning, she feared that it might already be too late. Sterling struggled with her options, wondering what Dobson would say. She rose from the tree and walked back toward the cabin, pushing lower branches aside. Sap clung to her hands as she walked up a hill and reached the path.
Ahead, she only saw death. Escape appeared to be of no consequence to Landon, which frightened her the most. The only possible answers were in a place she did not wish to return. With little options left, she stuffed the letter into her pocket and walked back. Questions flooded her mind. Landon’s whereabouts and what he was up to was her main concern. It was the middle of the night. The high school reunion, if she hadn’t already missed it, was the following evening. There was still time.
She walked up the steps and reluctantly opened the door. Stepping inside, she flicked the nearest light switch, and an old lamp flickered on in the corner. She saw a coffee table sat on a bear skin rug that she hadn’t notice before. The black eyes of an eight-point buck deer head mounted to the wall seemed to watch her from above.
Sterling continued into the kitchen as she resisted the urge to simply leave. She opened the cabinets and saw only a few stacked plates and cups stored inside. She turned to a nearby pantry and opened the door. Canned goods lined the shelves but little else. She then approached the hall, following the scent of burnt wiring in the air. Mini-light in hand, she shined it ahead and walked past her room to the other three at the end.
The slow sound of water dripping could be heard from the one room on her left. She turned the loose, rusty knob and opened the door with a quick thrust. Her light immediately went up as she scanned the inside where there was a sink and a leaky faucet. She stepped inside and observed the grimy mirror ahead. There was also a toilet and shower tightly compacted in the small bathroom. Sterling flipped a light switch and saw three bulbs of varying power flicker on above the mirror.
She glanced at her gaunt reflection. Her T-shirt was sweaty and her jeans dirty and torn at one knee. Her frazzled blonde hair hung around her shoulders, a mess of split ends. There were circles under her eyes and a bruise on her face. She barely recognized what she saw.
She noticed a toothbrush on the counter with worn bristles next to a nearly empty bottle of toothpaste. Eager to find anything of value, she opened the cabinet below the sink and shined her light inside. It was packed with endless cans of creams, saline solution, and various ointments. She’d never seen anything quite like it. The bathroom was interesting, but she knew there was more to be seen elsewhere.
Emerging into the hall, she approached the first door across from the bathroom. A turn of the knob and push of the door revealed a normal-looking bedroom in the darkness. She flipped the light switch and stepped inside
to see a twin bed, dresser, bookshelf, and desk set about. A glance into the nearby closet revealed dress shirts, pants, and a line of black shoes below. A hat rack hung from the closet door, displaying several fedoras and ball caps.
She turned from the closet and explored the rest of the room, finding a similar pattern. There were two deer heads mounted to the wall on opposite sides of the room, facing each other. The windows on both sides of the centered bed were boarded up. Farther past the bed, Sterling saw her strangest sight yet in the form of a vanity mirror in the corner, complete with table and chair.
Large bulbs aligned the mirror on all sides. Along one table were five faceless mannequin heads. The first three wore short male wigs while the other two wore bald latex masks that resembled authentic human faces. The opposite table was filled with rows of facial creams, foundations, and mixtures like some kind of demented beauty shop.
Sterling glanced above the mirror and saw pictures posted upon the wall. Some were sketched drawings of facial dimensions and general human anatomy, others were generic pictures of men’s heads and faces cut from old magazines. She found a switch near the mirror and turned it on. The bulbs lit up in unison, surprising her in their brightness.
She leaned forward against the desk and examined the chiseled faces of magazine cutouts adorning the wall. Dobson had earlier leveled a theory about their suspect being adept in disguises. The vanity mirror, stock piles of makeup, and drums of latex below were definitive proof of that.
She turned from the vanity mirror and approached a dresser against the wall. Not a single item rested atop its surface. Pulling each drawer open, she saw nothing more than clothes stuffed inside. It seemed as though he had left most of his belongings behind, while his letter had stated a promise not to return. The possibilities were endless. He may have decided to disappear. Sterling knew that they’d be so lucky. With Landon, she had to expect the worst, which had her worried that he was on a suicide mission. And she didn’t even have a picture of him.
