by Alexie Aaron
She got no further than the living room when she saw someone on the deck. “Shit.” She was looking at the back of Whitney Martin. She opened the door.
“How...”
“Did I get here? Boat.” He pointed to a small aluminum boat pulled up on her shore.
“Why...”
“I had a bad dream. You were in trouble. Murphy was chasing me with an axe, and Sherry was egging him on. I remembered I left my cell phone in your truck, so I came over, and you don’t have a frigging doorbell on that gate. So, I get’s to thinking, and that’s when I came up with the boat.” He smiled.
“Your wife was here,” Mia said. “She hasn’t moved on. She wants me to destroy her killer.”
Whit’s mouth dropped open.
“She’s been in your house, watching you sleep.”
“You’re creeping me out.”
“Go away, run, vamoose. I’ve got a migraine.”
“Is she here now?” Whit asked and spun around.
“No, I saw her at the gate and let her in.”
“Just being neighborly?”
“It was not fun. Her way of communicating is not pleasant.” Mia looked at him. “Are your pants wet?”
Whit looked embarrassed. “I did it trying to land the boat.”
“Come in. I’ll throw them in the dryer.”
“I don’t know. What if Sherry comes back, and I’m not in my pants?” Whit asked gravely.
“She’ll kill me. No, I don’t know. She’s confused. She seems more set on defeating the bastard that did her in. And then I get this overwhelming feeling of regret. Something to do with painting.”
“Her goal was to get a painting of hers hung in the MoMA.”
“I beg your pardon, MoMA?”
“The Museum of Modern Art in New York City. It’s the pinnacle of an artist’s career to have a showing at the MoMA.”
Mia opened the door, and Whit walked in.
“Is she, um, was she that good?”
“I don’t know, she thought so. I was worried once she got there she would dump my butt. Speaking of butts... You do have a juicy butt, you know. It says so right here.” He reached out and smacked her behind.
Mia resisted the urge to deck him. He wasn’t right in the head. His behavior was all wrong. “Take off your pants.”
Whit smiled with all his teeth, said, “Now you’re talking,” and started to undo his zipper.
“Whitney, you are way too hyper. Are you on something?” Mia waited until he had his pants off and walked real close to look into his eyes. “You are. What did you take?”
Whitney grabbed the jeans back, reached into a soggy pocket and pulled out a prescription bottle.
Mia snatched it from him and read. “This is for Tom’s mother. What the fuck is it?” She tried to read the rest, but the lake water had gotten to it. “Honestly, this is illegal. Both of you are law enforcement professionals. Wait till I tell his mother.” She started dialing the phone.
“Tom said it made his mom feel better, but I...” Whit sank to the floor. “Damn pills were supposed to last longer,” he moaned and curled into a ball while he listened to Mia on the phone.
“Tom, this is Mia. Whit’s here and whacked out of his mind. I have your mother’s pills in my hand... Oh, how long? Okay... I’m not giving him anymore, he may grow breasts... No, of course you didn’t think of that, moron... Okay, deputy moron... Any news on Rose? Lightning... Beats me, ask God... Okay, I hear the PEEPs are back in business... Me? No, I have my hands full thanks to you and your mother’s pills... Yes, I’ll call... Okay, night.”
She walked back into the living room and found Whit in the fetal position. At least he was quiet. “I can’t believe this is what I yearned for all through high school. Thank God for unanswered prayers.”
“Did you say something?” Whit asked, lifting his head.
“Just talking to myself.” Mia bent down. “Come on, time you had a long hot shower.” She hauled him to his feet and directed him to the bathroom and shut the door after him.
Could life get any more bizarre than this? Her high school crush was in her shower right now, hopped up on enough menopause medication to make him crazy for her, and she didn’t want him. She and her big mouth ruined her chances with the only man thus far that seemed to understand her. She had a ghost at her gate, a migraine building, and even though she knew she should just get in the car and drive far away, she couldn’t. It was time to face her fears.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Ted let the pickaxe fall, dropping his weight at the same time, and he was rewarded with the sound of a piece of the cellar door crashing inwards. The musty smell of earth and rot escaped upwards, and Burt pulled Ted out of the way.
“Let’s wait and let some good air get down there,” he instructed. “Maybe a ladder too.” He picked up his walkie, “Beth, over.”
“Beth, here.”
“Go to the garage. I think I saw a ladder in there. Bring it to us at the back of the house, over.”
“Mike said not to leave the command post, over.”
“Fine, I’ll go.” Burt clicked off and headed for the garage. He just wanted this job done, so he could get back to Kansas and his ordinary life.
The garage was renovated from the original barn that Stephen Murphy built. It had an upper loft and a lower cellar that Restoration had filled in before pouring the cement slab over it to modernize the space. Burt still could see how each timber had been hand-hewn. “There’s a lot of love in this place,” he said aloud.
A distinct crack sounded near him and reverberated off the walls.
“Murphy, if that’s you, you did a great job with this barn.” Burt felt a bit odd talking to something that may or may not be there. He walked over to the back wall and disengaged a ladder. As he moved towards the exit, he thought he saw a shadow of a man come out of the corner. “See you later, Murphy,” Burt said as he left the barn.
He returned with the ladder to find Mike ready to take the lead. Ted held the camera, and Burt continued to clear away the debris.
He lowered the ladder and ten feet later found purchase. “I suggest you let me go down first before you film Mike and Amber climbing down,” Burt said to Ted.
“No, we’re going down, and Ted shoots us going down the ladder. And then we go back up, and Ted goes down and shoots us coming down,” Mike insisted.
“It isn’t safe,” Burt argued.
“Beth for Burt, over.”
“Burt here, over.”
“Confirming Amber is with you, over.”
Burt looked around him, and no Amber. “When did she leave the command center, over?”
“She was following Mike, over.”
Mike turned around and held his hands up. “She was behind me, I swear.”
“Which way did you come around?” he asked Mike.
Mike pointed to the sidewalk which followed the north side of the house. Burt took off running. “If she shows up, call me,” he yelled as he disappeared around the corner.
“What is his freaking problem?” He turned to Ted. “Ready?” Ted nodded, and Mike stepped on the ladder. “Roll film,” he said and started down the ladder.
~
Mia decided that enough was enough. She left Whit showering and walked into the garage. She flipped on the overhead light and jumped in the back of the pickup. She approached the toolbox with determination. She was not going to let Sherry, or any other entity, rule her life. After the truck’s box was opened, she looked at the altar-cloth-wrapped bundle lying there benignly.
“Gloves.” She almost forgot. She gazed around her garage from her perch on the truck and spied the gloves she used to spread rock salt in the corner of the garage. Mia climbed down and grabbed them. She pulled them on and inspected their fiber, checking for holes. “Okay, now we’re in business,” she said as she climbed back into the truck bed and headed for the box.
“Was there anything else he said?” Mia thought for a moment and did
n’t come up with anything. “Dear lord, I mean no harm, please protect me, Whit, and my home as I bring this into it. I’m hoping to find out how to defeat the evil that is taking hold. In this I ask in Jesus’s name. Say hi to Misty Mom, Amen.”
The weight of the box was considerable, but she managed to lift it straight up and out of the toolbox. The gloves gave her insulation, the prayer gave her courage, and she had inherited the stubbornness from her Grandma Fred. She walked out of the garage and closed the door by leaning the heavy box on one hip and punching the button fast and running out under the closing door.
Outside, the peninsula had adjusted to nightfall. “Okay, so now I may be doing something foolish by bringing this inside. I hope, if I keep it on the altar cloth, the contents won’t move into the house. If they do, I’ll sell the fucker and move somewhere else. Sorry about the bad word, Lord.” Mia continued to have this conversation with God all the way to the house where a sobered Whit waited by the back door.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Saving the world, you?” Mia asked.
“Watching you save the world.”
“Cool beans. Ah, could you move out of the way? This is a bitch,” Mia instructed.
“Want me to grab it?”
“Not yet, grasshopper. Be patient,” Mia said as she moved into her home. She went directly to the small dining table and set the box down. Rubbing her sore arms, she examined the space. The round table sat on top of polished hardwood. Each of the four chairs had a coat or something hanging on the back. She moved these off and subtracted two of the chairs.
“Can I help?” Whit asked with a hand on her shoulder.
Mia turned into him and studied his eyes. “You still high?”
“Nope. Is that the stolen box from the library?”
“Yes, I’ve been afraid to open it.”
“So you’ve been holding on to it. Why?”
“Whit, I think it may contain some information to fight what killed Sherry,” Mia explained.
“Okay, what can I do to help?”
“I’m way over my head here. Let’s prepare the space. I need the living room carpet rolled back a few feet. I need to be able to encircle the table and me with an unbroken line of salt which...”
“You have four cases of in the laundry room,” Whit said. He began to roll the carpet, and Mia paced off three feet. Whit brought back the salt, and before Mia started to pour, she asked, “Inside or outside?”
“What do you mean?”
“Inside, you stay with me and help me research. You can’t leave the space until the box is secured. Outside, you have freedom of movement but can only come in if I am in desperate trouble then grab me and run like hell.”
Whit thought a moment. “Inside, but let me pee first.” He turned on his heel and walked to the bathroom. Mia stared into the space he had just left and started to feel that maybe Whit really did have her back.
~
Burt worked his way to the van, and no Amber. Beth was checking out the leads into the monitor and jumped in her chair when Burt climbed in.
“No Amber, did she have a walkie on her?”
“That’d be a no. We only have four. You, Mike, Ted and command. Check out the cam in the foyer,” she said, tapping the screen.
There stood Amber. She walked over and started to open the door. Burt whirled around and stared at that door. In a few seconds he was on the porch. As the door opened, he stared at Amber, but she didn’t see him.
“Amber, come out of the house, honey,” Burt encouraged. He reached out, grabbed her and was sent flying as a terrific electrical shock repelled him. “Beth, call Ted, get the group over here.”
“Beth for Ted, over. Beth for Ted, over. He must be filming. He’s got his walkie off. Beth for Mike, over, Beth for Mike, over.” Beth shook her head and ran over to pull Burt to his feet. “Look at her.”
Burt and Beth watched helplessly as Amber ran her hands up and down her body. Her face showed an anticipation of ecstasy.
“Water,” Burt said.
“Way ahead of you.” Beth ran into the house, straight for the kitchen and grabbed one of the buckets April had used for soft drinks on their arrival. She jammed it under the faucet and ran the cold as fast as it would go. “Come on, come on.” She waited until the bucket was three quarters full before lifting it out of the sink. She rushed to the porch where Amber was doing a great impression of a porn star.
Burt had moved behind her and nodded his head as Beth threw the contents of the bucket on Amber. She screamed as the cold water ran down her body, and she fainted into Burt’s ready arms.
Beth thought her ears were playing tricks on her. She had emptied her bucket seconds before hearing another splash. “What the hell?”
Mike felt the icy water surround him as he plunged into the well. His weight combined with his heavy clothing pulled him downward. He fought frantically until he managed to stop his fall and move upward. He broke water and took a much needed breath of air. It was stale but sufficient enough to keep him alive. He grabbed the sides and levered himself over the edge. Coughing and sputtering curse words, he didn’t hear Ted call to him.
“Can’t hear you, water in my ears, hold on.” Mike tilted his head and shook until the water drained from one ear. He repeated the procedure with the other, and soon he had his auditory system back in working order. “Say again?”
“Do you need any help? Are you alright?” Ted enunciated as if Mike was a deaf mute reading lips.
“A towel, dry clothes and a shot of old snake eye,” he said in good humor. “That fucker Murphy - is that his name? He dug a well just to the right of the opening, and I stepped down off the ladder and crashed right through the old cover. Hey, my flashlight’s down, give me yours.”
Ted tossed him the flashlight, mindful of the open well. Mike caught it and turned it on. The beam barely cut through the darkness, but he was able to confirm that he was under the house. The cellar was built with stone reinforced in later years with concrete and brick. A hodgepodge of shelving and old furniture littered most of the space. Mike moved carefully to the area under the kitchen and was rewarded with a rickety staircase leading upwards.
“There’s stairs, but I’m not climbing them. They lead up to the kitchen area.” He let his beam climb each tread until he had illuminated the door. Deep grooved scratches marred the otherwise perfectly planed door. “God, it looks like something tried clawing their way out,” he called to his team. “By the height, I’d say it was human.” Mike shivered from the cold but more from the thought of what would make someone want to claw their way out of the cellar. “I’m coming back up.”
Amber had started to come around. “What... why am I so wet?” She sat up. Burt was holding her from behind, and Beth stood over her with an empty bucket. “What the ef did you do to me, you crazy...”
“She saved you. I think you were possessed,” Burt said as he got them both to their feet.
“Did you get it on film?” Amber was excited.
“I think the foyer camera got some of it,” Beth said, puzzled by her behavior.
She jumped up and down, distracting Burt with her big, enhanced breasts.
“I want to see.” Amber grabbed ahold of Beth and was dragging her to the van.
Burt shook his head and went in search of a towel.
~
Whit grabbed their cell phones, paper, pens, and a couple of containers of salt. He said a small silent prayer as he returned to the dining area. He handed one of the containers to Mia and watched as she quickly encircled them and the table.
“This should keep anything from leaving and anything from getting in. I hope. It does on television and a couple of books I read.”
“So there’s no guarantee.”
“None. But there may also be nothing bad in the box. This is just a precaution. Ready?”
“Ready,” Whit replied as he watched her cut the cord binding the cloth. Mia unfolded the cloth with care. As each fold
was lifted off the box, Whit could see more of the material. The ornate, embroidered chalice, dove and sign of the holy trinity bore witness to the prior use of the worn but beautiful cloth. “Are we going to hell?”
“I just borrowed it. I’ll take it back. That goes for the box too,” Mia assured him.
She kept the box on the cloth and moved in to open the lid. Whit moved behind her and held on to her with both hands firmly on each side. Mia lifted the lid. A faint smell of cedar wafted out of the box. Mia’s gloves made it difficult to extract each of the four bundles contained within. She closed the lid and eased back into Whit a moment to feel his warmth and strength.
Whit still held her. He sensed she needed his protection. He lost Sherry, and he would be damned if he would lose another person on his watch.
Mia wasn’t happy in the cocoon of his arms. She felt restrained. “Thank you,” she said simply and Whit let go. Mia lifted the box and placed it on the upper part of the cloth, giving her and Whit an area to open up the bundles and start their investigation.
“This box was carved by the same artisan that did the staircase in the white house. I recognized it immediately and knew where the box belonged and what possibly may be in it,” Mia explained. “I know it was wrong to take it. I know it was wrong to lie to you. But I had to follow a compulsion.”
Whit stayed silent for a moment and just smiled. “I knew you took it, but I didn’t know how.”
Mia smiled. “I knew you were intelligent, but not this smart.” She picked up a packet and undid the string holding the papers. Eight deeds of property lay before her. “Deeds,” she explained. She tried to open them, but her gloves made it impossible.
“Here let me,” Whit insisted.
He opened each one up and laid them side by side. “You have to be freaking kidding me. Not one of these are of the existing houses.”
“These are the ones that burnt down. The other deeds would be filed somewhere. These are important. It gives us an idea of who else was there. Go ahead and read them to me, and I’ll copy them down.”
