The Deadlock Trilogy Box Set

by P. T. Hylton

  Frank didn’t know if Brett meant Will or Zed, but he didn’t care enough to ask. He walked back into the living room and saw Brett fiddling with one of the locks he had left lying on the coffee table. Frank felt his face flush with anger.

  “Dude. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  Brett grinned at Frank. “What? I’m not hurting anything. I’m trying to figure out the trick.”

  Frank took a deep breath. Every time it was the same. No matter how often he asked him not to, Brett always messed with his locks. His livelihood. And when Frank called him on it, it was always the same argument.

  “They are not tricks. They are puzzles. And the ones I leave sitting out are the ones I’m working on. Which means they are not ready. You could twist something the wrong way and snap a tiny component as easily as snapping your fingers, and that would create hours of work for me.”

  “Yeah,” Brett said, setting the lock on the table. “Sorry.”

  Frank glanced up at the window and saw a large man in a black wool shirt walking toward his cabin. “Well, here he is. You staying for this?”

  Brett chuckled. “No sir. I’ve had enough crazy talk for one morning. In fact, I think I’ll slip out the back.”

  Frank waited until Zed knocked on the door. Then he waited a little longer. After a few moments, he shuffled over and opened the door.

  “Good morning,” the big man said. His voice was soft and had a boyish quality.

  “Hi,” Frank said. “Can I help you?”

  The man smiled. “I am new in town and I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Zed.”

  “Zed what?” Frank asked. Zed tilted his head at Frank questioningly. “What’s your last name?”

  Zed waved his hand. “No need to be formal. You can call me Zed.”

  “Okay, Zed. I’m Frank Hinkle. Pleased to meet you.”

  Zed’s smile widened. “And I as well am pleased. Thank you for your warm greeting.”

  “I’m just glad you're wearing pants.”

  Zed’s smile didn’t waver. “Ah, you heard about my little episode. Not the way one wants to be introduced to one’s hometown. But what’s done is done, and now I am going around making my proper introductions.”

  Frank leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “Can I ask you something, Zed?” Zed nodded. “Do you think it’s a little strange that you’re knocking on every door in town and introducing yourself?”

  “No,” Zed said. “I think we live in a strange time in which common courtesy is perceived as odd.”

  “Well, you call it courtesy. Some folks might call it a nuisance. In my experience, strangers who come knocking on doors are selling magazines, cookies, or religion. Which one are you peddling?”

  Zed spread his hands out at his sides. “I am selling only myself. Rook Mountain is my new home. I want to know her, and I want her to know me.”

  “Yeah.” Frank put his hand on the door. “Well, now we know each other.”

  “There is a time coming, Frank, when you will need me. The world will spit out this town like a watermelon seed, and we will be alone. Death will come, first by night and later by day. That is when I will save this town.”

  Frank squinted at the big man. “You’re going door to door spouting this nonsense? Scaring kids and old ladies with this?”

  “Fear is sometimes a temporary side effect of truth.”

  Frank had heard enough. “Okay. Good luck with your introductions. You’re really making a great impression.”

  He moved to shut the door, but Zed looked him in the eye before he could. The smile was gone from Zed’s face. That stare held him like a vice. It was like a physical force, the way the man looked into him. He felt Zed’s gaze worming its way past his eyes and into the darkest corners of his mind. It was an invasion, and Frank’s stomach turned. He was powerless to look away.

  Then Zed blinked and the spell was broken.

  Frank staggered backwards, struggling to keep his balance. “What was that? What did you do?”

  Zed smiled again. “It was very nice to meet you, mister Frank Hinkle.” He turned and walked away.

  CHAPTER FOUR: CASES

  1.

  Christine held her hand out the window as she drove. Her fingers didn’t quite brush the pine needles on the trees along the side of the road, but it was close. She had all the windows down, enjoying the autumn breeze blowing through the car and the pleasant, rich smells of the forest around her. When she’d lived here, she’d driven this route two or more times each day. It had been a commute no different than any other. Now that she rarely made this trip, she noticed its beauty.

  She drove up the driveway and stopped in front of the second cabin. The one Frank had lived in.

  Frank. She hadn’t figured out what to tell him about why these people were living in his former home and why he couldn’t have it back. She hadn’t had to; he’d been so shell-shocked from the things he had learned about Rook Mountain in the past week that he hadn’t been asking too many questions. But the time was coming when she would have to make a decision: trust him and tell him everything, or don’t and tell him nothing. She wanted to trust him, but after nine years in that prison and an unexpected release, she’d be a fool to take anything he said at face value.

  She parked the car and pulled out her roller bag filled with medical supplies. Gus Hansen stood on the porch, leaning against the railing, making no effort to hide the way his eyes were glued to her.

  As she reached the steps, Gus said, “Doc, Candace is going to be glad to see you. She's worried sick about that boy.”

  Christine sighed. Gus was a proud man, too proud to say thank you straight out and too proud to admit his concern for his own son.

  “Hi, Gus. How long has he had the fever?”

  Gus looked away. “Oh, a day or so, I guess.”

  Christine knew he was also too proud to call a doctor unless he was really scared. “Maybe it’s been a little longer than that?” she asked.

  Gus nodded. “Yeah, maybe a little. Maybe three days, I guess.”

  Christine frowned. “Okay. Can I take a look?”

  Gus led her into the house. She’d been in here a dozen times since the Hansens had taken up residence, but it never failed to catch her off guard. She always expected it to look the way it had when Frank lived here. When she had spent three nights a week here, drinking, playing games, and acting like a fool with the guys, and whatever girlfriends Will and Frank had at that moment. Those had been good times. She had felt so alive. She had felt like she and her three boys could take on the world. Nowadays she could barely get through the day.

  Frank would have had an aneurysm to see the old place like this. The Hansens may not have had the nicest clothing, but there sure was a lot of it. It lay around the house in piles Christine swore hadn’t been touched since the last time she’d been out here eight months ago. Frank had plenty of faults in those days, but he sure kept a damn neat house. His work with tiny and delicate parts for locks necessitated a certain level of orderliness, but Frank had taken it to the next level. The place had been spotless. That was probably why they had hung out in this cabin so much –no matter how badly they treated it in the night, it always seemed to be ready for the white glove test by the time she saw it the next day.

  Gus led her to the back bedroom where little Hal lay on the bed covered to the neck with a thin sheet. His hair was matted to his head with sweat and his complexion was pale and drawn.

  His mother sat in a chair across the room from him. “Oh, thank God,” she said.

  Christine shuffled her way to the bed. “Hello, Hal.”

  The boy gave her a weak smile. “Hi, Doctor Christine.”

  “Hi,” she said. “I understand you aren’t feeling well.”

  He shook his head. “My throat feels bad. And I keep having the weirdest dreams.”

  “Can I sit down?” she asked.

  He nodded, and she sat on the bed next to him. She spent five
minutes examining him—taking his temperature and blood pressure, listening to his heart and lungs, and looking in his throat and ears.

  She turned to his parents. “I don’t suppose you would let me take him to my office?”

  Gus and Candace exchanged a glance. Candace said, “By your office, you mean the clinic. And no. Gus and I agree that he needs to stay here with his family. Just tell us what’s wrong with him.”

  Christine took a deep breath and tried to summon the courage to avoid the same old debate she’d had with the Hansens a dozen times. They didn’t trust anyone in town and they wouldn’t come to the clinic even for their son’s benefit. For once, Christine forced herself to steer clear of that line of conversation. She pulled a rapid strep test kit out of her bag.

  Ten minutes and one throat swab later, she had a diagnosis.

  “Hal has strep.”

  Candace sighed with relief. Gus smiled. “Shit, is that all it is? Give him some of that pink stuff and let’s call it a day.”

  “Strep is nothing to smile about,” Christine said. “Especially not these days. In the Before, it was a little simpler, but now we have to be careful. There is less we can do if things escalate. Having a fever this high for so long isn’t good, especially for someone Hal’s age. You need to call me sooner next time.”

  “Okay,” Gus said. “Sermon delivered. Can you help him or not?”

  Christine pressed her lips together, hoping to mask her scowl of frustration. She unzipped her roller bag and sorted through the contents until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out the translucent red bottle and held it out to Gus.

  “Here,” she said. “One pill twice daily.”

  Gus grabbed the bottle, but Christine didn’t release it. She looked him in the eyes. “Have him keep taking it until the bottle is empty. Don’t stop when the fever goes away. You hear me?”

  Gus nodded and gave her a grin that displayed a wide expanse of yellow teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” She released the bottle. “I’m going to need to spend a little time out in the shed before I go.”

  Gus nodded. “I figured you would. You never miss the opportunity when you’re out here.”

  Christine squeezed Hal’s hand. “You take your medicine and you’ll feel better tomorrow, okay?”

  “Yes, doctor,” the boy said.

  She nodded farewell to Candace and walked out. Gus followed her.

  “How’s Ty?” Christine asked.

  “He’s okay.” They had reached the porch. “Did we do the right thing last week? When Frank came calling?”

  Christine thought for a moment. She didn’t even know what the right thing was herself. How was she supposed to tell Gus? She said, “I told you not to let anyone on the property except for me and Will. Yeah, you did good.”

  She started to walk away, and Gus called after her. “What if Frank comes out here again? Do I let him on the property or do the normal rules apply?”

  Christine paused but didn’t turn. “No one but me and Will.”

  Gus whistled through his teeth. “You’re a tough woman.”

  Christine smiled, glad her back was turned so he couldn’t see it. There weren’t many people that Gus considered tough. “I am,” she said. “And you’d better remember that.”

  She heard the screen door bang shut behind her as Gus went back in the cabin. She started toward the driveway but veered off onto a dirt path leading away from the road. Thirty yards down the path stood an old shed. Christine pulled out her keys and unlocked the padlock. The door let out a high pitched squeal as she slid it open. She stepped inside and flipped on the light. She slid the door shut behind her.

  The shed was filled with the usual items. Tools, shovels, the chainsaw she had used to play that prank on Frank so many years ago. There were a few half-empty paint cans and a couple bags of fertilizer. Frank’s old guitar case sat in the corner. And in the back of the shed there was an old freezer.

  Christine put her hand on the lid of the freezer and felt it humming. She breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, sure that the freezer had broken down. Still, no matter how much she worried and obsessed about it, she didn’t allow herself to come out here more than twice a year. There was always the chance, however small, that someone would wonder why she was coming out here so often when everyone else in town was staying away. And maybe that person would mention it to a friend in passing, and maybe the wrong person would overhear.

  She couldn’t risk that. She had given up far too much. She simply didn’t come out unless the Hansens needed her for something.

  Christine reached back into her roller bag, unzipped an inner compartment, and pulled out a single key. Though the key looked mundane, she didn’t keep this one on her key chain. She put the key into the lock, turned the key halfway, pressed the hidden button on the lock, and turned the key the other direction. The lock popped open.

  The lock was one of Frank’s creations of course. Another reason to keep him away from here. Even with the key, only Christine, Will, and Frank knew how to open this particular lock. And Jake, she reminded herself. If indeed he was still alive.

  Christine took the chain off her neck and lowered it into the freezer. Another key dangled from the chain—the key she had found on Jessie Cooper.

  She quickly surveyed the contents of the freezer to make sure it was all there. There was the large pocket knife, the kind that folded. There was a mirror. There was the lighter, wrapped in cloth and sealed in a Ziploc bag. A three-foot long cane lay wedged in diagonally across the bottom of the freezer. The cane was a rich mahogany. The knife, the cane, the mirror, and the lighter all featured the same broken clock symbol as the key.

  The final item in the freezer was the severed head. It was a light shade of blue, and tiny icicles grew from the eye sockets.

  A knife, a lighter, a cane, a key, a mirror, and a head. Would they be enough when the time came? Would they be any help at all? Christine had no idea, and not knowing weighed on her heart. There was no way to know, not until it was too late to make a difference. When the time came, they would work and save her, or they wouldn’t and she would die.

  2.

  “Uncle Frank? Uncle Frank?”

  Frank looked up and saw the cereal bowl on the table in front of him. It had happened again. He had been drifting. He blinked hard to clear his mind of the cobwebs.

  “Uncle Frank!”

  Trevor stood near the table. The boy was dressed in only blue jeans, and he held two shirts, one in each hand.

  “Yeah, man, what’s up?” Frank asked.

  “What do you think? The red shirt or the blue?”

  Frank stared blankly at both shirts for a moment. “They, uh, they both look great to me.”

  Will chuckled from across the table. “Your uncle has been a little out of the fashion scene for a few years, Trev.”

  “I’m only looking for, like, a second opinion,” Trevor said.

  “The blue,” Frank said. “Definitely the blue.”

  Trevor grinned. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” With that, he ran back toward his room.

  “Trevor loves you, dude,” Will said. “He hardly talks to me anymore. You gotta tell me your secret. I guess he missed you.”

  Was that even possible? Frank wondered. The kid had been three years old when Frank went away. “I missed him too.”

  Christine walked into the kitchen and began making herself a bowl of oatmeal. “So what’s on the docket for today, Frank?”

  Frank shoveled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth to give himself a moment. That was an excellent question. What was on the docket? He had been out a full week, but—aside from talking to Sally Badwater on his second day of freedom—he hadn’t accomplished much. The last few days he had seldom left the house. He was still shaken by the things Will and Sean had shown him at the edge of town.

  But it was more than that. The whole town seemed to have gone c
razy. Crazy/naked Zed was a hero? Will was in charge of some certification program? And now Trevor was going to go to some weird school where they trained kids to pass a test to leave town?

  He had known finding Jake would be challenging, but he had no idea where to go from here. After talking to Sally, he had hit a dead end. Jake said he wanted Frank to bring him the Cassandra lock, but the Cassandra lock didn’t exist. Frank had never finished it.

  Finally, he swallowed his cereal and said, “I’m thinking I might get out a bit today. Maybe go for a hike.”

  “On the mountain?” Will asked.

  Frank nodded.

  “Good for you,” Christine said. “It’ll do you good.” She took a seat across from Frank and dug into her oatmeal. “Make sure you drop by City Hall first. You need a permit. Not a big deal to get one, but you don’t want to be caught without it.”

  Frank felt a little guilty looking at Christine. She had let him into her home and asked only the most basic of questions. She wasn’t pushing him to talk about anything before he was ready, and for that he was grateful. Yet, he still hadn’t told her that he was here to find Jake. He had told her he was here as part of a temporary release program. He would be out for a month, and if he could prove he was ready he might get to stay out longer. It wasn’t a lie exactly, but it certainly wasn’t the full truth. She had taken his story at face value.

  Trevor came back into the kitchen wearing the blue shirt. “Ready to go, Mom?”

  “In a minute,” Christine said.

  Will squinted at Trevor. “Did you use gel in your hair?”

  Trevor blushed. “So?”

  Will shrugged, trying to hide the grin on his face. “I’ve never seen you use anything in your hair.”

  Trevor’s shade of red deepened.

  Christine gave Will a stern look, but she was grinning too.

  “I understand,” Will said. “New school. New girls. Wait, do they have girls at this school?”

  Trevor smiled. “They definitely have girls.”

  The morning routine always baffled Frank. The whole thing seemed hectic but well-orchestrated. The three of them flowed in and out of the kitchen, the bathroom, and bedrooms in a blur of constant motion. The schedule never seemed quite the same, but there was never any discussion about whose turn it was in the single bathroom. They never got in each others’ ways. Frank, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get in sync with them. He was always standing in the wrong place, blocking someone’s access to the bananas or the lunchboxes.