Penfield gave him the address for the house on Ruckman Road.
“Popular house,” Hagerty said.
“What do you mean?” Penfield asked.
“You’re the second person in a month to ask me about that house.”
“Who was the first?”
“I don’t remember his name, exactly, but he’s the tenant of that house,” Hagerty said.
“Joseph Talbot,” Penfield replied.
“Yes, Talbot. That’s the name. What did you want to know about it?”
“Mainly, I’m wondering if there’s anything unique about the house.”
“It’s one of the more inconsequential houses at the fort. None of the generals stayed there.”
“Anything of interest happen there, though?” Penfield asked.
“The house did burn down in the mid-1930s, just before World War II. I did a little research on it after Talbot asked me about the house, but I wasn’t able to find much. I did find one photo that was taken after the fire, but all it shows is a burned-out shell. The house burned all the way down to the foundation.”
“Did anyone die?” Penfield asked.
“Yes, a young girl. The house has always been a duplex, at least as far as I can tell. I’m not sure which side caught fire first, but the girl was the only one who wasn’t able to escape.”
“Do you know the name of the family?”
“Let me look it up on my computer. I’ve been compiling a history of all the military tenants.”
Hagerty clicked open a file on his desktop and scrolled through a list of addresses.
“Here it is,” he said.
Hagerty opened the file for Talbot’s address on Ruckman Road and scrolled through a long list of names.
“The Army kept records of all the officers who lived in the larger homes, not so much for the enlisted, actually not at all for them. Nobody seems to ever care about the enlisted, do they?” Hagerty asked.
He chuckled and looked at Penfield for a response. Penfield gave him a weak smile. He instantly figured Hagerty for retired military, a retired officer to be exact.
“The FMA asked me to print all the names for each house. They’re going to put them in a folder or on a plaque and present it to the civilians when they move into the houses. Lots of great history,” Hagerty said.
He concentrated on the tenant history list on his computer screen for a few seconds and then clicked the cursor beside the correct name.
“Shackleford - William Shackleford. He was a lieutenant colonel,” Hagerty said.
“Does it say in your files if it was his kid who died?” Penfield asked.
“I’m afraid not. I do have his wife’s name, though. Sarah Shackleford.”
Hagerty turned from the computer and looked at Penfield.
“I heard a rumor that something happened to Mr. Talbot. Is that true?”
“He’s missing. That’s all I really can say at the moment.”
“You don’t know what happened to him?” Hagerty asked.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Penfield asked.
“Probably when he came by the office. He swung by one day, and I told him to come back in about a week after I’d had time to do some research. He did come back, and we spoke about the house for ten minutes or so, and then he left. I haven’t seen him since.”
“How did he respond when you told him about the fire?” Penfield asked.
“Nothing out of the ordinary, at least nothing I can remember.”
“Did he ask you about the wife, Sarah?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember that, either.”
“Thank you for your time. You’ve been of tremendous help,” Penfield said.
“Really?” Hagerty smiled. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Both Penfield and Hagerty stood.
“I can walk myself out. Thanks again,” Penfield said.
Penfield left the museum, but he didn’t go to his car. He walked past the houses in front of the museum and stopped when he could see the back of Talbot’s house on Ruckman Road. He didn’t walk any closer, though. Instead, he removed his cell phone from his jacket and called Torres.
“Any luck?” Penfield asked.
“Took me a while to find the co-worker, but he had nothing. Said he hasn’t seen or heard from Talbot since their last work-day together. The guy seemed genuinely concerned. I think he was telling the truth.”
“Probably.”
“What about you? Find anything?” Torres asked.
Penfield related his conversation with Hagerty, including the details about the house fire, the girl dying, and the wife’s name.
“You there?” Penfield asked after not hearing a reply from Torres.
“Yeah, just trying to absorb all that. So is the name ‘Sarah’ just a bizarre coincidence?”
“I’m more and more convinced Talbot is still out there. I think he’s playing all of us. I don’t know why, but he is. He finds out the lady’s name after doing research on the house, and it coincides with his imaginary, childhood infatuation. Maybe it’s all that was needed to push him fully into his fantasy world.”
“We still don’t have an answer about that girl,” Torres said.
“I know,” Penfield said. “I know.”
Chapter 18
The Windows – Part 2
Penfield and Torres met back at the hotel. They took the elevator to one of the top floors, but split up again. Torres checked on Hannah at one end of the hall, and Penfield checked on Atwater at the other end. Penfield had called him on the way over, and he found that Atwater had left the door open by swinging the security lever open on the top of the door to prevent the door from latching shut. Penfield still knocked once and slowly pushed the door open. He saw Atwater in the exact same place he’d left him, sitting by the window and staring out at the marina below.
“How are you feeling?” Penfield asked.
Atwater didn’t answer him, and Penfield assumed he was lost in thought as was his apparent tendency. Penfield went to ask him again, but then Atwater addressed him.
“You know there’s no answer to your investigation,” Atwater said.
Penfield took a step closer as Atwater turned to him.
“You can’t arrest it. You can’t kill it. The only thing you can do is understand it, but that won’t bring Mr. Talbot back,” Atwater continued.
“We have reason to believe he’s still alive.”
“He may be, but it doesn’t change what’s in that house.”
“What do you suggest then?” Penfield asked.
“I would tell you to leave it alone, but I don’t think you’re going to do that,” Atwater said.
“Then why even come down here and offer to help?” Penfield asked.
“Because you asked me,” Atwater said.
Penfield didn’t reply, but he did absorb Atwater’s words. There was no proof that Talbot was dead or that he had even been attacked by someone for some unknown reason, but the injured girl was there. He didn’t know who she was or even what she was. Someone had done something horrific to her. There had to be someplace she went when she ran away from the house. She had to be in need of help. Penfield couldn’t just walk away. He couldn’t just pretend she didn’t exist.
“Is there a way to reach that girl again, to make her come out again?” Penfield asked.
“I suggest we go back tonight. Hannah will need to be there. This thing wants her there. The girl wants her there, too. She’s our best chance,” Atwater said.
“If they do reveal themselves, what do we do then?”
“We can try to get them to leave the house before they hurt anyone else,” Atwater said.
Penfield left the room. He turned the latch on the way out and shut the door completely. Penfield walked down the hallway and joined Torres in Hannah’s room. He told them about Atwater’s plan, such as it was. Atwater hadn’t explained how he intended to confront whoever or whatever it was that was
causing the problems in the house. Penfield knew it was unfair to ask Hannah to be the bait, but he couldn’t think of another plan to bring the girl back or the male that was responsible for saying the name Sarah in the basement.
He still thought it might be Talbot’s voice saying the name, but that didn’t explain why Hannah didn’t recognize her brother’s voice when Penfield played back the enhanced audio clip from his FBI friend. Penfield knew his brother’s voice so well that he knew there’d be no way he could ever disguise it from him. He assumed most siblings were like that. On the other hand, maybe Hannah was different. Maybe her fear and depression kept her from seeing and hearing things clearly. Penfield knew he was suffering too, and he’d been doubting everything he saw and heard.
Penfield and Torres had discussed whether to tell Hannah the results of the fingerprint analysis on the blood-covered windowpane. It lent credence to their still-forming theory that Talbot was responsible for most of what was going on in the house. They ultimately decided it was better to keep her as informed as possible. Hannah was understandably shaken when they told her the handprint belonged to her brother. Penfield and Torres both expressed confusion as to how the handprint got in between the window and the storm window, let alone how her brother managed to reach the second-story window to begin with. Still, it gave her hope that her brother was still alive, and it renewed her determination to find him. They turned their attention back to Atwater’s plan.
“Are you okay with this?” Torres asked.
“I’m fine,” Hannah said.
They agreed on a time later that night to meet Atwater and Hannah at the house.
Penfield and Torres got to the house a few hours early. Penfield walked through the house while Torres checked the security system and made sure the DVR was recording. She changed the record settings to record every second versus every few frames each minute.
Penfield started his walk-through with the basement and worked his way up to the top floor. The pain in his side had returned an hour ago, and he had trouble making his way up and down the staircases. He knew Torres was aware of his difficulty, so he didn’t bother trying to hide the discomfort.
Penfield found himself spending extra time in the third-floor bedroom where Atwater had collapsed the night before. He approached the closet and turned the doorknob. It was stiff and squeaked as he rotated it from one side to the other. There was no way it could simply turn on its own. Penfield swung the door open and walked into the closet. It was large enough for a person to enter, especially a little girl. He examined the roof and floor of the closet. He looked for a hole large enough to allow a draft that might be strong enough to blow the door open. There was nothing, though. The closet seemed air tight, at least as air-tight as a closet might be. He walked out of the closet and shut the door behind him. Something had happened to Atwater in this room. That much was clear. Penfield was no medic, but he knew how to check for a pulse. There hadn’t been one in Atwater’s neck after he collapsed. There were only two possibilities. Either Atwater could control his own heartbeat, or something had temporarily incapacitated the man.
Penfield left the bedroom and walked across the landing to the attic door. He opened the door and walked across the dusty attic to the windows that overlooked the military parade field. He looked out the window just in time to see Atwater and Hannah walking up the sidewalk to the front door. They’d either driven over together or arrived at the exact same moment.
Penfield walked to the first floor and found Torres opening the door for Atwater and Hannah.
“What do we do first?” Hannah asked.
“We wait,” Atwater replied.
“Wait for what?” Torres asked.
“We can’t force it to reveal itself, but it will come,” Atwater said.
Torres removed her phone from her pocket and opened a voice recorder app on it. She pressed the record button and laid the phone on the fireplace mantel just a few feet from Atwater. She then walked into the kitchen. Penfield didn’t follow her. Instead, he turned to Atwater just as he was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room like he did on the first night. Hannah walked over to Atwater.
“What do you want me to do?” Hannah asked.
“Stay her with me,” Atwater said.
Hannah sat down beside him. She looked up at Penfield.
“We’ll be right here. We’re not leaving either of you,” Penfield said.
An hour went by, and nothing happened. Penfield joined Torres, who by now had migrated to the back room. She stood by the window and looked outside to the backyard. It was dark by now, and she could barely see the empty playground.
“How long are going to let this go on?” she asked without turning around.
“Let’s give it another hour and then shut it down.”
“I’m still not sure what the hell he’s expecting,” Torres said.
Penfield didn’t answer her because he wasn’t sure what Atwater expected either. He heard rain strike the metal roof of the house’s side porch. He looked past Torres and saw beads of rain appear on the window pane. He removed his phone and looked at the radar app.
“Looks like we’re on the front edge of another storm,” he said.
Torres didn’t reply. Penfield walked over to the sofa and sat down. He was half-temped to turn on the television but instead just leaned his head back against the sofa. He knew he’d never fall asleep on the uncomfortable furniture, but it was good to get off his feet. His side was still throbbing, and he tried to position his body to ease the ache. Penfield heard the rain pick up as the pings on the metal roof increased in number and volume.
“How bad is it?” Torres asked.
“I’ll be fine. I just want to get on with this.”
They didn’t need another hour to wait for something significant to happen. They heard one of the windows in the living room suddenly smash. Hannah screamed a half-second later. Penfield and Torres rushed into the front room. Hannah was standing against the far wall by the door to the basement. She pointed across the room, and Penfield and Torres saw the broken window that was on the right side of the fireplace. Penfield turned to Atwater. He was still sitting on the floor, and shards of glass surrounded his body. His eyes were closed as if he had fallen asleep in the seated position.
“I’ll go check it out,” Torres said.
Penfield walked over to the broken window as Torres ran out the front door. There was a considerable amount of glass on the floor, and the shards crunched under his shoes as Penfield walked to the window. Penfield didn’t see an object like a brick or rock that would have caused the window to shatter. He examined the window and was stunned to see almost every inch of the glass was gone. There were only tiny shards of glass on the edges of the wooden window frame. He didn’t know what would cause a window to shatter like that. It was as if someone had taken a metal rod or hammer and chipped away at the window until all of the glass had been cleared away. He looked out the window and saw Torres standing in the rain just beyond the side porch. She made eye contact with him and shook her head.
They heard a second window explode a moment later, followed almost immediately by a third window. Penfield ran over to the broken windows that were on the opposite side of the fireplace. Glass covered most of the living room floor now. Penfield looked over at Atwater. His face was cut in several places and blood ran down his cheeks and onto the front of his jacket. Despite his injuries, he remained still and quiet. Torres ran into the house but left the front door open. The wind and rain had picked up as the worst part of the storm was now directly over them.
“There’s no one out there,” she yelled over the roar of the wind.
Penfield walked over to Atwater.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Atwater ignored him. Two more windows exploded. These two were located by the front of the house. All of the windows in the living room were now gone. Hannah apparently had enough, and she ran up the stairs to protect herself from the sea
of broken glass. Torres took one quick glance at Penfield, and then she ran up after Hannah. Penfield took a step closer to Atwater when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned toward the kitchen and saw the little girl standing in the doorway. Penfield ran over to the little girl. Her face was still covered with the hideous burns.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Penfield asked.
The little girl pointed toward the stairway where Hannah and Torres had just run.
“I want her.”
Before Penfield could ask why, the little girl shoved him in the chest a second time. He flew across the room and almost crashed into Atwater. Penfield rolled onto his side and looked toward the girl, but she had vanished as before. Penfield looked over to Atwater just as the old man opened his eyes.
“He’s here,” Atwater said.
Penfield didn’t have time to ask who Atwater was talking about. He struggled to his feet and stumbled into the kitchen. He hoped he’d find the girl in the other room, but his gut told him she was gone like before. He found the kitchen and the den empty. Penfield walked back to the living room. Atwater was standing by now. He looked down at the broken glass that covered almost the entire living room floor. Penfield walked past him and headed out the open front door.
He was soaked from the heavy ran in just a few moments. He walked around the house. He started with the side of the house where the majority of the broken windows were located. He saw nothing on the ground that could have caused the windows to shatter the way they did. He didn’t see the girl either. He removed a small flashlight from his jacket and scanned the ground for footprints. There were a few shoe prints, but they looked far too large for a little girl. Penfield assumed they belonged to Torres when she’d come outside just a few minutes prior. He circled to the back of the house and then around to the other side. There were no more footprints and no signs anywhere of the girl. Penfield shined his flashlight at the roof of the house. The light beam wasn’t very powerful, and it barely reached the third floor windows. He didn’t see anything, though.
Penfield walked back into the house and saw Torres standing beside Atwater. By now, his face was covered in more blood from the cuts caused by the broken glass.
Ruckman Road: An Alex Penfield Novel Page 16
