“I’m not . . . I didn’t mean . . . listen, Mrs. Kremer was here yesterday. You can ask the new girl, she met her. But . . . if it ever got out how much she leaves us alone then this sweet deal, and our independence, will disappear.” He watched her eyes roll when he mentioned the new girl; he wasn’t getting through to Cori. If she ruined his plan, she’d be the one to disappear; he’d make sure of it. But he didn’t want to start from scratch again; it would be best if he could convince her to shut up until Megan was happily established and there was no chance of Mr. Felker or a school counselor or a social worker getting wind of the arrangements here.
The silence stretched as Cori chewed. “Fine.”
Ben got up and went back into the kitchen for some tools. He looked into the living room where Adam sat, arms folded, hat tipped forward, hair sticking straight out the sides. “Hey, Adam.”
“Hey, Ben.”
“Is Chuck staying in your room all day?”
Adam used an index finger to tap back the front end of his Fedora. He winked at Ben. “That he is.”
“Tell him Cori got back safe.”
“He knows.” He leaned back, re-crossed his arms and, from where he was sitting, stared from underneath the hat brim into the dining room at Cori.
Ben cracked his knuckles and stifled a sigh. He took the stairs two and three at a time, but quietly. He reached Megan’s room right as he heard her ask Emily, “What did Cori mean about Mrs. Kremer not being here for three months?”
“Knock, knock. It’s the bell boy slash locksmith.” Ben entered armed with dimples, hammer, and screw driver.
“Oh,” Megan dug through her pockets. “I’m supposed to give this to you, right? Since Mrs. Kremer isn’t here?” She held out two tens and a five.
“Uh, no. You have to stick it in an envelope with your name on it and shove it under her door. There are envelopes in the kitchen.”
Megan stuffed the money back in her pocket. “I was just asking Emily about what Cori said–.”
“Forget it. She’s nuts. Mrs. Kremer’s here a lot, though she does travel. She’s weird, kind of reclusive . . . but she’s kind-hearted or else why would she let a bunch of misfits live in her lovely house?” He paused. “Especially the ever-sweet Cori.” He glanced toward Emily. She wouldn’t raise her eyes. “So . . . door lock?”
Chapter 4
Megan locked her special things in her closet before she left her room. The latch on the bedroom door only worked if she was in the room, keeping people out. While she was at work or school her belongings would be vulnerable to Cori. Ben offered to drive her to Home Depot to pick out a new doorknob with a locking mechanism, but he confessed that he didn’t think he had the skills or proper tools to install it. She told him she’d be fine with what he brought. The closet already had a metal clasp that the padlock easily secured and the hammer was all they needed to nail in the hook and ring on the bedroom door. She wasn’t about to start off in this new situation acting all paranoid.
Paranoid? She laughed to herself. Ben was the only normal one so far. Cori was a maniac, Emily super shy, and Adam acted like an observer, as if he were solely here to take mental notes on everything. She wondered what Chuck was like. Ben told her yesterday that he was a nutcase. What exactly did that mean?
She had at least a half an hour before she needed to walk to work. She looked out the window to check the weather. The sun was out and the snow gleamed.
There was a timid knock at the door.
“Come on in, Emily.”
The door creaked open and Emily stood there pulling at her sleeves. She looked down the hall and then back at Megan. “He lied,” she whispered.
“What?” Megan took a step forward, watched Emily back up a half-step. “Come in. Shut the door.” The hair on her arms prickled. “What do you mean?”
Emily took another step back and shook her head. “This house isn’t lovely . . . what he said. It’s . . . it’s haunted.”
Megan would have burst out laughing if Emily didn’t look so pathetic and dismal. Maybe her problem wasn’t shyness; maybe she too was psycho.
Emily glanced down the hallway again and started moving her lips. There were no words that Megan could hear.
“Come on, sit on the mattress.” She reached out to pull Emily in and noticed stains of blood around her sleeves, a smear of red on one thumb. She touched Emily’s shoulder instead and steered her toward the bed. “I’ve got a few minutes before I leave for work. Are you afraid to be here alone?”
Emily allowed herself to be directed to the edge of the mattress and plopped herself down at the foot end. She shook her head, “No, I’m used to it.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Megan stated. “But I can see how this house could be creepy.” She tried to laugh. It sounded fake to her own ears. “Ask me what I think tomorrow.”
“Demons, too.” Emily gave her warning in the tiniest of voices. Megan wasn’t sure she even heard correctly.
“How about vampires?” She was growing uncomfortable, afraid she’d have to run down the snowy streets to be on time.
“Not real.”
Well, that was encouraging, only two out of three impossible threats to her newfound independence.
“Emily, I need to leave for work. Can we talk about this when I get back? Around nine-thirty?”
***
Emily stayed out of Cori’s way while she cleaned up and then left for work. When Ben came down from Megan’s room Emily heard Adam ask him to move his car so he could leave. It wasn’t much later that Ben took off; Emily suspected he was going to that other address she had seen on his license. She didn’t mean to snoop, but he had left his wallet on the kitchen counter once.
After Megan left for work Emily sat in the living room, listening to the sounds in the old home.
It was Chuck’s turn to make supper, but it didn’t look like he was coming out of his cave. As long as he wasn’t going to cook Emily wished he would leave like everyone else. She was aching for a chance to explore the basement again. Of course she went down there once a week to do her laundry, but there had only been one time when she was sure she was home alone. That was over a month ago. She had peeked in their rooms, but not gone in. Something niggled at her memory. Was that when the nightmares started? Did she see something that bothered her?
Maybe she should look again.
Emily gathered up an armload of dirty clothes and went downstairs, switching on more lights along the way. At the top of the basement stairs she noticed that both sets of the twins’ boots were gone. Maybe Chuck had left with Adam. She stared at the floor a moment and replayed the few words Adam had said to Ben: move your car, got someplace to be. Well, he could have meant we not I. She started down the stairs.
“Chuck? . . . Chuck, I’m coming down to do laundry.”
At the bottom of the steps she stared toward the first bedroom. “Chuck?” and a little louder: “You in there?” There was no music, no snoring, nothing.
She went to the utility room and stuffed her things in the washer, added soap, and adjusted the dials, but she didn’t start it. It was her chance to know Ben better: to be in his room. She disregarded the little battle in her conscience debating right and wrong, privacy and trust. She could punish herself later. Her heart began to pump faster. Maybe she should work up the nerve to enter Ben’s room by investigating Chuck’s first.
She knocked and jiggled the doorknob before pushing it open. She stared into the room. They had bunk beds that were too short for such tall guys. No wonder they were often unpleasant. There was a third mattress on the floor. Perhaps they took turns stretching out there. Music posters hung on the walls, and across from the beds was a bookcase filled with everything except books. Two piles of clothes filled the corner near the small basement window; one pile was stacked neatly with the plain, logo-free shirts that Adam favored and the other pile looked like Chuck’s grab-and-go stash. Maybe they were clean, maybe not. The place smelled like a locker room
.
Before she left the room she picked up a certificate and read the inscription: Charles Burdick, 1st place, boy’s 100 yard dash. It was dated five years ago. Chuck had won first place in his sixth grade field day. Why would he still have this out? She set it back down exactly where it had been and left the room.
Her heart settled down a bit, but she had two more rooms to explore. She told herself that looking at the twins’ room was innocent because she actually didn’t care about them; she wouldn’t need to cut herself for that trespass.
The basement bathroom was gross. She didn’t step all the way in. Funny, there were only two toothbrushes at the sink. Emily decided that Ben was smart enough to keep his stuff in his room.
Now the adrenaline surged. She touched Ben’s bedroom door knob and held her breath.
She blew out slowly as she entered, then noticed a much better smell than in Chuck’s room. Ben’s room contained two windows. The room was fairly neat, sparse even. It looked like he didn’t live here. The bed was neatly made though there was no bedspread. Emily touched her heart unconsciously and gaped at Ben’s decorating: hockey posters.
She ran her fingers along the edge of the bed and traced an outline of his head on the pillow. She buried her nose in the pillowcase and took more pleasure in the faint scent of his cologne than she should have allowed herself. The pounding in her ears was muting her hearing. What if she was caught in here?
She raised her head too fast, light headed. She panicked at the thought of fainting here and having Ben discover what a trespasser she was. Emily dropped to her knees and started crawling out of the forbidden space.
And that’s when she saw them. The exposed parts of the basement floor, where the throw rugs didn’t cover, showed dark red and brown stains exactly like in the laundry room.
***
Megan got a ride back from one of the busboys who, she was sure, had a crush on her. When they pulled into the driveway there were no cars there. She got her key ready, expecting that although there were plenty of lights on, the house might be locked.
She was right. And after pulling off her winter things she relocked the door. She paused a moment to listen. There was a frantic tumble of feet on the staircase above her head. She didn’t want to scare Emily so she called out right away, “It’s me. It’s Megan. I’m home.”
Emily rounded the corner of the kitchen and slid to a stop. She was paler than before.
“Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a–” Megan stopped herself. “Are you all alone here? Did something happen?”
Emily pulled at her sleeves and shook her head, her hair flapping in little tremors. Both girls jumped at the sound of the dryer buzzer. Emily crooked her finger at Megan to follow her downstairs; she still didn’t say a word.
She broke the silence at the bottom step when she pointed to the left and said, “Twins.” Then she identified Ben’s room and the bathroom as she led Megan into the utility room. She pulled her things out of the dryer as Megan surveyed the room.
Ben’s open hockey bag was sitting on the freezer chest, a flap hanging down covering the padlock on the freezer.
Megan gasped as she looked at the floor. “Are those mouse turds?”
Emily followed her gaze. Mice were the least of their problems. Didn’t Megan find the stains disturbing? She clutched her clean laundry to her chest and said, “Maybe, I don’t know.” She started out the door and Megan reached for the pull string on the single light bulb. Emily stopped her, “No, we always leave that on.”
Megan trailed after her up two flights and stopped at Emily’s door. She could see into her room and spotted the twist of blankets on the floor by the window. It looked like a nest.
“Can I see your room?”
Emily nodded and stepped in. Megan followed.
The walls were plastered with pages from magazines: everything concerning the Twilight saga.
“Nice,” Megan said, not meaning it. “Oh, this is cool.” She meant that. She picked up Emily’s knitted satchel. It was light, stylish and pretty.
Emily opened her closet and started putting her things away. She spoke then, finally sounding normal. “Are you hungry? I made some mac and cheese.”
“No, thanks, I ate at the restaurant where I work.” A pause, she set the satchel down. “Where do you work?”
Emily named a clothing store in the strip mall a couple of miles away. Her reluctance to give a longer answer made Megan think they were back to square one again. Was she going to have to start over with this girl every five minutes? She started to open up earlier today. Now she was like a vault.
“Well,” Megan turned toward the door. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. I don’t go to work until four.”
“Sundays,” Emily shook her head, “I work eight to five.” And then Ben drives me to all the shelters looking for my mother, she wanted to say aloud, but that was too much to share yet.
***
It was after midnight when Emily thought she was waking up because of a car door slamming. She heard that muted yet crisp thump that certain sounds echoed when the temperatures dropped below freezing.
But she wasn’t awake.
And she wasn’t dreaming.
Something was pressing against her chest. Her arms were pinned down and her feet felt bound at the ankles. Her eyes wouldn’t, or couldn’t, open.
The scraping started at her neck. Claws or nails or needles were making at least a dozen scratches down her throat, over her shoulders, toward her elbows, stopping abruptly where the razor cuts began.
She couldn’t breathe.
The scraping started at her neck again and this time the claws gouged over her breasts and down her middle and down farther.
And stopped.
Emily struggled to open her eyes and when she thought she had, all she saw was pitch blackness. No street light glow, no flicker from the candle she left burning on the dresser.
Her whole body tingled with bubbles of adrenaline, rushing to all parts at once. If only she could move. What, or who, was holding her down?
Fear heaved through her small frame, rushing up from her feet, meeting the claws at her middle, and flooding up to her brain.
Fear made her gasp for air. She tried to break free of the demons that held her down.
A soft undertone of air or breath spoke words to her anxious soul. Be calm. Go back to sleep.
But instead she groaned.
***
Megan didn’t fall asleep. She had too much on her mind and the creepiness of the old house, and the loneliness, got to her. She explored the first floor again, trying not to be too snoopy, hoping the others wouldn’t arrive to find her boldly going through the cupboards and drawers. She even jiggled Mrs. Kremer’s door knob when the radio in her room started up at eleven p.m.
On her knees at the door she could see underneath and into the room several feet. She shoved her rent under the door hours ago, as instructed, but now she couldn’t see any sign of her envelope.
She stood up and felt the upper ledge of the frame above the door. Dust.
She went to the bathroom door and did the same. Nothing. She hoped to find one of those little metal things you stick in the knob to release the mechanism. A bobby pin or paper clip might work, too.
She looked toward the den and had a thought.
Yes! Above the door frame rested a metal pin, hooked at one end.
Chapter 5
Ben loved Saturdays. He could always count on his mother staying sober until evening when his step-father would take her out and he’d have the house to himself. The office was off-limits to him and he had been harshly disciplined the first time he used the desk top computer in there. But it was routine now for Ben to hack into Rose Properties, Inc.’s accounts and make certain adjustments.
His step-father’s company bought, sold, renovated, and rented foreclosed homes and condos, and lucratively exploited the economic downturn. A luxury suburban home that some laid off car executiv
e borrowed half a million dollars against was snapped up by Rose for as little as $200,000. Renting it back to the same family put money in both their pockets. Ben knew that Ed Rose wasn’t philanthropic, so he liked to check through the accounts receivable and give a little electronic help to those whose payments were late or short.
A year ago Ben conceived his plan when Rose Properties bought six city houses in a dilapidated but safe area. All six were bank owned and languishing in neglect. Rose bought them all and offered them for rent at break-even prices with three year leases. His step-father alternately carped and crowed about the deal and Ben got his idea. He jumped on the one that came with furniture, negotiating through the mail. Then he told Ed that a lady came by and he’d given her the keys to the house. At first his step-dad was furious, but then Ed patted Ben on the back, the only friendly contact they’d had, when Ben handed him the imaginary Mrs. Kremer’s money order for the first three months’ rent. From then on Ben split his life between hockey-playing-honor-student and invisible-landlord-to-emancipated-and-needy-teens.
“Holy cow,” Ben mumbled as he opened the last program and looked up his step-father’s finances. Something wasn’t right. A jolt went through his body along with a hunch. He clinked on the history button and scrolled down. “No way . . . no way!” Ben’s agitation grew as the realization dawned on him that his mother must have given Ed the passwords to his own accounts. His inheritance, the government’s death gratuity and a small life insurance payout, were under his mother’s control. He found the passwords two years ago and became his own secret executor, funneling small amounts to a teen savings account he held jointly with her, but which she ignored.
He unclenched his fists and cracked his knuckles. If he changed the passwords now would his step-father be suspicious? He needed to think this through. He didn’t want to rock the boat.
He cleared the history cache for the last hour and logged off. He leaned back in the desk chair and stared at the blank screen. Several illegal ideas sprang to mind, but he’d watched enough TV to eliminate them all as foolish. As much as it burned him Ben decided he’d have to pretend to be ignorant of the situation.
Sheltered Page 4
