Night Latch

by Anela Deen

  “I apologize for intruding on your Christmas gathering,” I said as I held it out to her. “Please accept this small token in honor of your family and the season of mercy.”

  Sam covered his snort with a cough and I nearly elbowed him in the gut. She obviously required a certain level of formality and esteem to smooth the way. Honestly, sons could be such oafs when it came to this.

  Her eyes remained guarded, but the hard set to her mouth softened slightly as she took in my words and offering. She accepted the bouquet, careful not to bend the stems or fronds, fingers brushing over the holly and pinecones with appreciation.

  Inclining her chin and tucking a strand of fair hair behind her ear, she said, “I suppose if you’ve nowhere else to go, we can add another place setting to the table.”

  Not welcoming words, but not unkindly spoken. I could live with that.

  Sam apparently missed that detail, sighing again. “Magnanimous of you, mom. Can we come in out of the cold now, or do we need to show ID?”

  This time I did elbow him in the gut. That earned me a slight smirk from his mother.

  When the door closed behind us, she extended her hand to me. “I’m June.”

  “Alice,” I answered, matching the slight pressure of her handshake. “Fine to meet you.”

  She turned to examine Sam, mouth quirking downward. “You’re wearing denim to a Christmas brunch? I guess I should be glad these aren’t the pair with patched holes.”

  “I threw out the other ones. These are new,” Sam told her with a smart grin. “See, when you tell my pants have crossed the line from hobo chic to just hobo, I do listen.”

  She made an exasperated sound. “Just behave yourself, that’s all I ask.”

  It was a beautiful home, I noted as we left the foyer. A renovated farmhouse, given the location just outside of Bellemer and the polished oak walls. It had been remastered into something much more upscale. The generously-sized living room and dining room were side-by-side, brightened by the floor to ceiling windows along the far outer wall and the impressive chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Accent rugs dressed the dark stone floors in islands of warm, russet tones beneath cream-colored sofas and chairs. A long breakfast bar separated the marble-topped kitchen from the rest of the open space. Comfortable and elegant. To one side of a crackling fireplace, the Christmas tree twinkled in red and green.

  Introductions continued there. The older gentleman, of an age with June I’d guess, seemed oddly excited to meet me. He wasn’t handsome, though his earnest manner leant an appealing quality.

  He shook my hand vigorously. “I’m Matt. It’s great to have you join us,” he said, surprising me with a completely opposite reaction to Sam’s mother. Indeed, June shot him a strange look before he leaned to her ear and whispered, “Blue eyes.” This inspired a new and speculative look on her face when she looked my way again.

  Curious. Sam hadn’t have spoken of me to anyone, had he? I couldn’t imagine how he’d explain who I was and my role in his life. They obviously didn’t know the specifics or a frosty greeting at the doorway was tame indeed.

  I didn’t get a chance to do more than send a pointed frown Sam’s direction before Matt moved to clap a hand on the shoulders of a young man and woman standing nearby.

  “Sam, I want you to meet my kids. My son, Kenneth, is a consultant at an investment firm in New York, and Mallory here is finishing her internship over at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines. Getting ready to specialize now, aren’t you Mal?”

  “In internal medicine, yes,” she said, adjusting the wire-rimmed glasses on her face before shaking Sam’s hand.

  “That’s amazing,” Sam said, amiable as ever, though his smile seemed a bit tight when he glanced at his mother. “You must be proud, Mr. Lindonbury.”

  The other chuckled. “Son, how many times have I told you to call me Matt?”

  “More than once I think.”

  “Well, then, don’t you think you should?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “What is it you do?” Kenneth asked.

  “I own a locksmith business here in Bellemer.”

  “You’re a locksmith?”

  “Yes.”

  “How big is your outfit?”

  “It’s a solo operation.”

  He squinted. “Just you? So, it’s a start-up.”

  “Nope,” Sam said. “I’ve had it a couple of years.”

  “Oh, so you’re planning to expand down the road.”

  The even expression on Sam’s face began to look strained. “Not really.”

  Kenneth paused, as if uncertain how to proceed. “I suppose it is a small town. I suppose there’s nowhere to expand to anyway.” He gave a sympathetic smile, apparently unaware of how condescending that remark sounded.

  “Ken, don’t be such a snob,” his sister admonished. “I’m sure he’s just waiting to finish his degree before making bigger plans.”

  “Actually, I’m not—”

  “Sam,” his mother interrupted brightly. “The two of you are still in your coats. Why don’t you hang them up in the entry closet for me?”

  “Sure, mom,” he said easily enough, but his shoulders had a slumped quality that fanned my ire. The glare I leveled toward Kenneth formed on my face of its own volition, though he appeared blissfully ignorant that anything was wrong.

  “So, Alice,” Matt said, looking pained and pleading as he addressed me with a change of subject. “I understand you’re from out of town?”

  “Correct,” I said, unbuttoning my coat.

  “East coast?” Mallory hazarded. “I couldn’t help but notice your amazing boots are from an outfitter in New York.”

  “The boots are borrowed. I am from a place between coasts.” I slipped out of my coat and handed it to Sam. “Though, I was born in a land now known as Palestine.”

  “Palestine?” Kenneth’s gaze gave me a thorough look. He smiled in a way that made a dimple form on his cheek. “That’s really interesting. What line of work are you in?”

  I answered with the crisp finality of a guillotine. “Tax audits. Specifically, an enforcement subdivision of the IRS that investigates unpaid debts.”

  He went slightly pale at that. “Really. That must be intriguing work.”

  “Truly. There is nothing quite so satisfying as delivering the consequences of unethical behavior to those who deserve it.”

  Stunned silence followed. A log on the fire shifted, erupting in sparks.

  “Brava, Alice. You do the country a service,” Mallory said then, smirking at her brother. “Imagine how much better off our economy would be without that kind of shenanigans going on, eh Kenny?”

  “Right,” he said, perhaps a bit hoarsely, tugging his shirt cuff over an expensive watch on his wrist. “Couldn’t agree more.”

  I turned to Sam who lingered by my shoulder. His jaw had started to dangle. “Shall we hang up the coats?”

  “I think we’d better.”

  When we stood alone beside the vestibule’s open closet, Sam gave me a long look.

  “Something to say?” I queried.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I will not have that gnat of a man make you feel shame for who you are.”

  “I’m not ashamed. Really,” he insisted at the doubting tilt of my head. “I love my town and I love my job. It’s just…” He looked at his mother who sipped wine beside Matt while Mallory splashed what looked like scotch into a glass Kenneth held out. Then his eyes moved to the floor. “It’s just hard to come off as anything but lazy when all you want is a quiet life, not an extraordinary one.”

  “You are not lazy.”

  “Maybe, but I’m hardly impressive. I guess I always thought I’d have time to make my family proud of me.”

  “You are very young. You have much time.”

  “Right,” he turned away to hang the coats. “Course I do.”

  There was that sadness again. That strange melancholy that seemed to fore
cast things I could not see. Did he worry he would fail at the task he would be called upon to fulfill one day? Because his mother wished loftier things for him that he didn’t wish for himself? I could not let this stand, these thoughts that distressed him so and cast a pall on his opinion of himself. When he closed the closet door, I shifted to keep him from walking back.

  “She is already proud of you, Sam.”

  He winced as though he found my words excruciating. “Please, don’t.”

  “I say this not from pity, but from experience. In my living days, I was a mother too. A distant one and never pleased with them, but I had thought them my greatest legacy. Would that I had told the same to them.” Which I never did, and as they grew, their faces ceased to light up when they saw me. Such regret I nursed through my shadowed afterlife.

  “It is often we do not realize the things we should have said until the moment to say them is gone,” I told him quietly. “A hard-learned lesson. One I don’t care to repeat, thus I implore you to listen.”

  His expression softened. He nodded.

  “In all the time I’ve observed this world, the most extraordinary thing I’ve seen is kindness, not ambition. You care for others in a way I can only aspire to. You may seek a simple life, but you are extraordinary.” I pressed my palm to his chest. “Your heart is extraordinary.”

  Sam closed his eyes. His chin dipped and his hand reached up to cover mine.

  “Thank you, Alice,” he whispered. When he opened his eyes, the smile he gave me brightened some part of my soul I thought long devoured by my sins.

  ***

  It wasn’t until after the meal that I noticed the footprints outside. Matt had drawn Sam into his office to admire his collection of beer steins—and no amount of pleading looks from Sam would persuade me to follow—while June and Mallory sought a post-brunch wine in the cellar. As Kenneth paced in the kitchen, speaking in a low voice to someone on his phone, I lingered beside one of the floor-to-ceiling windows beside the fireplace. The bright afternoon sun glanced off the winter grounds behind the house, turning the snow-filled lawn into a crystalline expanse.

  Then I saw the footprints. Just beneath the window they trampled the snow, as though someone had walked right up to the house and stared inside. My seat at the table had been facing this direction. I would have seen if a person stood here. Boot treads gouged the powdery frost, the shape and size alike to a man’s. Could they have been made the night before by Matt? But it had been snowing yesterday and these appeared fresh. They led around the house. I followed along beside the windows until a wall blocked my view.

  I went to the front door immediately, and stepped out of the house. Footsteps were there too, on the steps leading to the threshold. An unshaped anxiety rose in my thoughts as I hastened beside their trail, pace quickening when I realized to where they were leading. Sam’s truck.

  Boot treads clustered at the driver and passenger’s side door. Trying both handles to confirm they were still locked, I went behind the trailer.

  There the footprints stopped. I spotted the path they’d made coming up the driveway, but not one that returned or branched away. My eyes narrowed on a pair of boot impressions standing opposite me at the other end of the trailer. They were separate from the rest.

  As though someone was standing right there. Right now.

  My gaze drifted slowly up.

  A man stepped around the corner, and I lunged, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him against the truck.

  “Woah, easy, Alice. What’s the matter?” Sam looked down at me startled, his hands lifted. One held my coat.

  I adjusted my stance to fling a protective arm out in front of him. Though no sound had been made, new footprints had materialized, ones that weren’t there a moment ago. They possessed a rushed quality where they led away from the truck.

  “Stay here,” I ordered Sam and sprinted after them.

  Before I reached the end of the driveway, the start-up growl of a motorcycle erupted from behind a trio of evergreens. The same one as before? By the time I arrived, I was too late. Only the grooves of tire tracks and kicked up snow marked the area. The vehicle should’ve been visible on the road, but I couldn’t see it, the shrill curl of its engine speeding into the distance the only evidence it was there.

  “What’s going on?” Sam, predictably not adhering to my command, jogged to my side. He looked toward the road, brown eyes scanning for what could not be seen.

  I turned, my apprehension solidifying into anger. “Indeed, what is going on?”

  But he didn’t answer, instead pulling his phone from the inside pocket of his coat. His mouth tightened and he tucked it away again. “When is she going to call me back?” he murmured to himself.

  “Who?” I demanded.

  “Jo. She was,” he paused, “checking on something for me.”

  “On what? Something related to this?” I indicated the footsteps and the tire tracks.

  He nudged at the snow with one foot and fell quiet again.

  “You are being followed,” I said, sharp enough to catch his attention. “Tracked by something that can hide itself from living eyes. You know the reason behind this.”

  “Yeah.” He grimaced. “I don’t suppose you’ve found a way to see what my death looks like, have you?”

  “What does that have to do with this?” With exquisite suddenness, the formless anxiety I’d felt when I came outside shaped itself into thorny fear. “What is your witch meant to call you back about?”

  “She saw something in my future,” he said, though the regret on his face served to make my worry all the more acute. “It’s not supposed to happen yet though.”

  I gripped his arm. “You will tell me everything. Not tomorrow. Now.”

  This declaration lost some of its potency when a shiver wracked me. I’d been outside a while now wearing only the dress. The cold made itself known, biting at me through the thin fabric.

  “Let’s talk inside,” Sam offered. “It’s below zero out here. As thrilling as it was to have you collapse on top of me last night, I’d rather not risk hypothermia.”

  Sam held open my coat and I fed my arms into the sleeves. “Thrilling. If not for your entry rug, you’d have cracked your head on the floor.”

  “What can I tell you? My dating life has been on the sparse side. I’ll take thrilling in any form it arrives.” He chafed my arms when I turned to face him, though I felt much warmer already. “Besides, it’s not like I hadn’t imagined it once or twice.”

  “Imagined what?”

  “Well, you. Knocking on my door. As a living person.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “And in this fantasy you’d contemplated my falling atop you as soon as you opened the door?”

  “I, um…” He must have been cold as well. His cheeks had brightened beneath the chill. “Nevermind. Misfired metaphor. Feel free to ignore it.”

  He’d stopped rubbing my arms, though his hands remained at my elbows. The heat of his fingers and palms pressed all the way through my garments to my skin.

  I stepped out of his reach and pointed a finger at him. “Stop stalling. You owe me explanations and I demand you give them.”

  He might have obeyed, but the door to the house opened and Matt came out wearing a brightly-colored reflective vest, speaking urgently to someone on the phone. He wore a utility belt around his waist with a flashlight and a two-way radio hanging from it.

  “Is everything okay, Mr. Lindonbury?” Sam asked when the other put the phone in his pocket as he approached.

  “There are two kids missing in town,” he said. “Volunteer SAR has been called in to help find them.”

  “SAR?” I asked.

  “Search-and-Rescue,” Sam said. “I didn’t know you were a volunteer, sir.”

  He pulled on his gloves. “Not for Bellemer, since my house is outside of your county, but with so many folks away for the holiday, they’re calling in anyone nearby.”

  “The kids are from Bell
emer,” Sam startled. “Who are they?”

  “A pair of twelve-year-old brothers, Ethan and Noah Sanderson. You know them?”

  “Yes. How long have they been missing?”

  “Since this morning. Their parents thought they’d just gone out to tramp about, but it’s getting colder and they haven’t come back.”

  Worry creased Sam’s brow. “They usually hang around the woods by their house and sometimes wander too far in. Search teams should start there.”

  Matt nodded. “They did, and by the river, though I sure hope they aren’t goofing off by the windmill this time of year.”

  “How can I help?”

  Matt smiled as though he hadn’t expected Sam to say anything else, but was still glad to hear him say it.

  “If you know any spots in town they might’ve gone, that would help a lot since most of the volunteers are covering the woods.”

  “Let them know I—” he glanced at me and I nodded, “Let them know we’re on it. I’ll call your phone if we find them.”

  Matt pounded Sam’s shoulder and gave mine a squeeze. “Good luck to all of us, then.”

  ***

  In the half an hour it took us to drive to and inspect three local haunts, Sam explained everything to me; from the blood and the screams in Jo’s prophecy, to the spell they’d worked together in his kitchen, the foretelling of his death before the New Year, and the way his dark future tried to gnaw its way out of the bowl. He provided every detail, answered every question.

  Now that he had, I found myself without words. I knew I had to tell him something. I was his mentor, his guide in this part of his life. I should have advice, or at the very least a few platitudes to ease his fears, but I couldn’t think of any. There was a pressure in my throat, squeezing off my voice, a throb at my temples that made me want to shut my eyes.

  “Is—Do you have any more questions?” Sam asked quietly as he drove. “You haven’t said anything.”

  “No,” I said. “There are no more questions.”

  I’d seen foretellings like this before, as potently rendered as a soothsayer warning of the Ides of March. This would happen. The how and the where might fluctuate, but not the inevitability of it.