The Coffin (Nightmare Hall)

by Diane Hoh

  But there was no prepared meal on any of the shelves.

  Tanner closed the door. No problem. She’d make her own sandwich. Heaven knew she’d been doing it most of her life. Wasn’t a bad little cook herself, if the truth were known. But it was so unlike Silly to leave without fixing something. That toothache must have come on before she’d got around to cooking dinner. She’d be apologizing all over the place when she returned. She’d probably cook a bunch of meals at the same time and stick them in the freezer, just in case.

  In fact, maybe she’d already done that, sometime before Tanner arrived. There could be all kinds of goodies in that wide, squat freezer on the back porch. Anything in there would thaw quickly in the state-of-the-art microwave beside the stove.

  First things first. She’d call Charlie and talk for, oh, maybe an hour now that no one was here to say, “Did you not speak with this person today on campus? What could possibly have happened between then and now that you must discuss at length, I wonder?”

  Yes, she would talk for hours, first to Charlie, then to Jodie and Sandy. If she lived on campus in a lovely, noisy dorm, she wouldn’t have to spend so much time on the telephone.

  She got up from her chair. Her right foot caught on something, almost tripping her. Glancing down, she found an inexpensive fake-leather strap looped around the toe of her black flat. She reached down and tugged gently on the strap.

  Attached to it was a purse, brown and worn and overstuffed.

  Silly’s purse. She only had one. Tanner knew that was so, because no matter what brightly colored, sometimes gaudy, outfit Silly was wearing, she always carried the shabby brown purse. She liked colorful things, and if she had had a bright yellow or red or kelly green purse, she would have carried it.

  What was Silly’s purse doing under the kitchen table? Had she left in such a rush that she’d forgotten it? Wasn’t her bus pass in it? Without that pass, how had she got to the dentist’s office?

  Maybe the bus driver knew her so well by now that when he’d seen how she was suffering, he’d relented and let her travel for free.

  But why hadn’t she called by now to make sure her purse was indeed safely at the Leo house? Could she still be at the dentist? Maybe she was home, but her mouth was still numb from novocaine and she couldn’t talk.

  Tanner went to the cork bulletin board, found Silly’s number, and dialed it.

  No answer.

  Still at the dentist’s? After all this time? She had to have left early, since she hadn’t had time to fix anything for dinner.

  Tanner hesitated. Maybe the number of Silly’s dentist was in her purse somewhere. She could call the dentist’s office, ask them to tell the housekeeper that her purse was safe, and that if Silly needed it before morning, Tanner would be happy to drop it off once she knew Silly was home. A ride downtown on such a beautiful spring night might be fun. Maybe she’d call Charlie and ask him to join her. It wasn’t that late. And it wasn’t as if she had to sign in when she came home. That was one nice thing about not living in a dorm.

  Feeling a little guilty about invading Silly’s private property but telling herself it was necessary, Tanner hunted until she found a small, black telephone notebook. The only doctor was a “Dr. Leidig.” Maybe he was the dentist, maybe not. It was worth a try.

  She called, aware that it was late in the evening. If they weren’t still working on Silly’s mouth, no one would be there.

  A woman answered on the third ring, saying in answer to Tanner’s first question that yes, Dr. Leidig was a dentist. She sounded impatient. They had just finished an emergency procedure, she went on, and she devoutly hoped that Tanner didn’t have another one, because she was late getting home as it was.

  “No, it’s not an emergency,” Tanner explained. “But a friend of mine is a patient of Dr. Leidig’s. In fact, I think she’s probably there now. I need to tell her that she left her purse at my house.”

  “You said she,” the woman replied. “Our emergency isn’t a she. It’s a he. Emergency root canal. What’s your friend’s name? She’s not here now, but I can tell you if she came in today.”

  “Mavis,” Tanner said. “Mavis Sills.” She smiled to herself. Mavis Sills, who sang country songs at the top of her lungs, baked a fantastic chocolate cake, suffered from bad teeth, and was friendly and funny, bringing warmth into a chilly house. “Mavis Sills,” she repeated.

  “Oh, yes, Mavis,” the woman said. “Don’t you just love her? She’s such a card! But she hasn’t been in today. In fact, if you see her, you might remind her that she’s late for her annual checkup.” She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “I know she hates to spend the money, but every time she ignores her checkups, she suffers for it. You scold her for me, okay?”

  “Sure. I’ll do that.” Tanner hung up.

  She walked back to the table and sat down in a chair again. She picked up the note and studied it, deeply puzzled.

  Silly had left early. Hadn’t even cooked tonight’s dinner, had only taken time to scribble a note about ice cream in the freezer. Had left in such a rush, she’d forgotten her purse. Didn’t you have to be in a really terrible rush to forget your purse? Everything was in your purse, everything important: keys, change, bus pass, money … wouldn’t you remember the minute you were outside, on the steps or sidewalk, that you didn’t have anything hanging from your shoulder?

  Silly had left in a terrible rush.

  But she wasn’t at her apartment.

  And she wasn’t at the dentist’s office having that bad tooth fixed.

  Then … where was she?

  Telling herself that Silly was probably out with friends having a good time (and ignoring a little voice in her head that said, without her purse?) Tanner went upstairs to shower.

  Fifteen minutes later, comfortable in royal blue sweats and bare feet, she returned to the kitchen. Her stomach was complaining that she should eat before settling down with the telephone. She was so eager for the taste of ice cream that instead of taking the time to thaw and heat something, she tossed together a sandwich and ate it with a handful of chips and a glass of milk.

  She was heading for the sink with her plate and glass when she thought she heard something in the hallway, a muffled sound that could have been Silly carefully closing the front door. Returning to collect her purse.

  Tanner turned around, glancing up at the small screen high on the kitchen wall reflecting the view from the cameras outside. The screens were in every room except her bedroom. She saw nothing but the front yard, the picket fence, and the walkway to the front door. “Silly? Is that you?”

  No husky, hearty voice responded with a cheerful, “Yeah, it’s me, forgot my purse. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on.” There was no answer at all from the darkened hallway.

  Disappointed, Tanner swiveled back to the sink.

  She rinsed her dishes, and was bending to stash them in the dishwasher when she heard another sound, this one louder than the first. This one was an “oof” sound, as if someone had bumped into something, possibly the small telephone table in the hall.

  Silly wouldn’t have bumped into anything. She knew this house like the back of her hand.

  “Silly?” Tanner said again, her hands pausing in their task. No answer. Her heart began to pound in her chest. She had locked the front door, hadn’t she? “Silly?”

  “If there’s one thing I’m not,” a voice said from behind her, “it’s silly.” Then, before Tanner could turn around, something as hard as a rock slammed against the back of her skull. She felt no pain at all, nothing but a numbing disbelief that swept over her like a dark curtain. Then her eyes closed and she toppled forward, crumpling onto the open dishwasher.

  Chapter 4

  WHEN TANNER CAME TO, the first thing she became conscious of was the quiet. She had never heard such quiet. There wasn’t a sound. No ordinary indoor sounds, like voices from a television or music from a radio or footsteps tapping across a hardwood floor or the metalli
c “pop” of a can of soda being opened in the kitchen. No outside sounds, like the chirping of tree frogs or the rumbling of car engines, no dogs barking, no doors slamming as people arrived home, no lawnmowers, no birds singing, no distant train whistle.

  Quiet. The air was full of it, as thick as the frosting on Silly’s cake.

  Silly. Where was she? Why wasn’t she here, where she was supposed to be, when Tanner needed her?

  The sharp irritation she felt toward Silly brought Tanner all the way back to consciousness. She lifted her head, opened her eyes.

  Her heart sank as she realized where she was. In the music room. That explained the silence. The entire room was completely soundproof. No sound at all entered or exited. She had hated that about the room on the one occasion when she’d been in it. She had been alone then, and the feeling of isolation had been almost unbearable.

  A second wave of distress hit her as she remembered. She wasn’t alone now. She’d been in the kitchen and someone had come up behind her and hit her. Panic brought Tanner upright, her eyes wide with alarm.

  He was sitting opposite her, lounging casually on the blue pin-dotted sofa, legs up, feet resting on one arm of the sofa. Green plaid flannel shirt. Khaki pants, seriously wrinkled, inkstains on one pocket. She couldn’t see his face.

  She couldn’t see his face because it was completely hidden behind a grotesque rubber Halloween mask of an old, old man, the skin gray and wrinkled, the brows frowning furiously, the nose hawkish, the mouth cut thin and mean and narrow. A cheap wig made of tufts of white hair covered his own hair.

  Fury flooded Tanner. Coward! Hiding behind a mask! But then, what did she expect from a thief? Weren’t they all cowards, sneaking into people’s homes to skulk off with whatever valuables they could get their hands on?

  She had no idea what she was supposed to do. She had never, not once in her life, imagined someone intruding into the privacy of her own home, wherever that might be. Their neighborhood in Ashtabula hadn’t been the best, but even in an area as modest as theirs, they’d felt safe. At least, she had. She had never thought seriously about how she would behave if something this horrible should happen.

  She struggled to gather her chaotic thoughts together. Maybe thieves were like dogs. Maybe they smelled fear, and it made them attack.

  She would hide her fear. Try, anyway. Give it her best shot. She had to do something.

  The telephone rang.

  “Ignore it,” he said coolly, rubbery lips moving.

  “My friends know I’m here,” she said shakily. “They’ll think it’s weird if I don’t answer.”

  “No, they won’t. They’ll think you’re in the shower. Don’t sweat it. Relax.”

  Oh, right. That should be no problem. Didn’t she have thieves in her house just about every night? No biggie.

  “What do you want?” she said coldly, marveling at the sudden, surprising control in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just relaxing. This is a very comfortable couch, by the way. And I’m trying to do some thinking here, so would you please just shut up? I’ll tell you when you can talk.”

  Tanner’s jaw dropped. This is my house! she felt like shouting. But she didn’t. He had hit her on the head. He was dangerous.

  The telephone rang again. He waved a hand in dismissal and although every nerve in her body shrieked at her to snatch up the receiver and scream into it, she didn’t dare. Her screams would summon help, but what would he do to her in the meantime? Help would arrive too late.

  Don’t be so melodramatic, she told herself to calm down her singing nerves. He’s a thief, not a killer.

  But he’d already knocked her out once, her aching head reminded her, and she didn’t want another blow. It hurt. Maybe he wasn’t a killer, but it obviously didn’t bother him to inflict pain. She didn’t want any more of that, if she could help it.

  “Just take what you want and get out,” she said, leaning forward slightly, her voice intense. “Please. Just go.”

  He turned his head to look at her through the narrow little eye slits in the rubber mask. “Go? You want me to go already? I just got here!” He shrugged and returned his gaze to the huge, stone fireplace, “You’re not much of a hostess. Now, shut up while I think.”

  Frustrated and confused, Tanner gave up, sinking back into the black leather chair. Her father’s chair. This was where he sat every evening, reading the newspaper, smoking his pipe. He had never invited her to join him, but she wouldn’t have, anyway. Not in this room.

  The musical instruments, all six of them, were worth a lot of money. Also the rare manuscripts on the shelves. Was that why the intruder was here? If he was, why didn’t he just take them and go? She couldn’t stop him. He was bigger than she was.

  It really was a pretty room, she thought dispassionately. The turquoise carpeting was thick and expensive, and the furniture was nicer than anything they’d had in Ohio. But what she hated most about the room was that it was soundproof. Her father had said, “Well, of course it is,” making Tanner feel stupid. It made her skin crawl, knowing that when she was inside, no one beyond the four walls could hear a sound she made. The sense of unreality that came over her in the soundless room reminded her of a question her father had slyly asked her at dinner one night: “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make any sound?” When Tanner went into the music room that first time, she had thought, If no one in this world can hear me right now, how do I know I really exist?

  It wasn’t only the soundproofing that made the room seem so isolated. In order to keep damaging light and dust off the instruments and manuscripts, all four of the room’s windows were set high up in the wall, almost to the ceiling. There was no way to see out, and no way for anyone to see in. It was as if the outside world had been sucked up into a giant vacuum.

  Thanks to a skylight in the roof, the space was bright, and should have been cheerful. But it didn’t seem so to Tanner. It seemed to her that a graveyard, with the sounds of birds singing and traffic passing by and the smells of fresh-mowed grass and spring flowers, would feel more alive than this room.

  She didn’t want to be here.

  “Will you please just take what you want and get out?” she cried. “I hate this room, and I want out of here!”

  His head snapped around. He jumped up off the couch and strode, in two steps, to stand before her. “I didn’t come here to take anything!” he shouted. “Not some stupid musical instruments and manuscripts, anyway.”

  It took a few seconds for the remarks to register. When they had, Tanner looked up into the grotesque rubber mask, confusion on her face. “You didn’t come to steal anything?” The confusion was quickly replaced by uneasiness. “I don’t understand. Then … then why are you here?”

  He threw his head back and laughed, a crude, harsh sound that seemed to insult the peaceful silence of the room. “The daughter of the prominent psychiatrist doesn’t comprehend?” He crouched in front of her, the mask so close to her face she could have reached out and ripped it off his head if she’d dared. She didn’t.

  “Let me explain,” he said slowly, patiently. “I am not going anywhere just yet. And you are not going anywhere any time soon.” He stood up. “This,” he said, waving his hands to encompass the entire room, “is where you are going to be living from this moment on. In this one room. And it’s not such a bad room, is it? I’ve seen worse. Oh, yes, I have certainly seen worse.”

  While she stared up at him, totally bewildered, he fished in his back pocket and withdrew something. He held it up in front of her, letting it dangle tantalizingly close. A key. The key, she knew immediately, to the music room. It was in his possession now, and he wanted her to know it.

  He had locked them in.

  Why?

  He left her then, got up and went back over to flop down on the couch again. He began talking, lazily, casually, staring up at the ceiling as he spoke. But his words, Tanner realized with growing horr
or, were anything but casual.

  “You’re not going to leave this room,” he said. “This is where you’re going to spend your days. And your nights. You’re going to sleep in here, and eat in here, when I feel like bringing you some food.” He spread his hands again. “This is your room now, Tanner. So it’s really too bad that you hate it. Personally, I think it’s very nice. Lots of space for you to move around in. You’re luckier than some, if you ask me.”

  Tanner had been stricken speechless. She sat forward in the chair, her fists clenched, trying desperately to digest what he was saying. She was to stay? In here? In this room? Eat here, sleep here, spend her days here? No, that couldn’t be, it had to be a joke of some kind. A joke would explain the stupid mask. Her friends knew how she felt about this room. Had they gotten together and decided to play a little prank on her to celebrate her father’s trip?

  One hand went to the back of her head, where a dull ache had begun to throb mercilessly. No. No, her friends would never let anyone hurt her like this. Never. Charlie wouldn’t. Charlie would jump in front of a speeding car headed in her direction. He would certainly never give anyone permission to hammer on her skull.

  This was no prank.

  “You can’t keep me in here,” she said slowly, carefully. “That’s … that’s ridiculous. That’s kidnapping! Keeping me a prisoner in my own house? That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”

  The masked head turned toward her, the gray rubber “skin” around the mouth creased, and although Tanner couldn’t actually see the smile, she could feel it. “Actually, you’re wrong,” he said. “It’s not at all ridiculous. I think it’s close to brilliant. And it was really thoughtful of your father to have this room soundproofed. Perfect. Absolutely perfect!”

  Tanner sat very still. He meant it. He meant to keep her there, in this room. For how long? Days, at least, he had said. Days? Days?

  This couldn’t be happening. How had he gotten in? Had she forgotten to lock the front door? She sometimes did. But Faculty Row, with its lovely, big, white houses and neat yards and respectable professors behind the closed doors, had always seemed perfectly safe. Forgetting to lock the front door hadn’t seemed like a dangerous oversight. Until now.