by Anya Allyn
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Yeah you can. It’s been decided.”
“I want to tell you something.” I breathed deeply. “I’m with you on Henry Fiveash. Something’s wrong—and it all points to him.”
Ethan sat up. “Then you understand why I need to stay up here on the mountains.”
I didn’t know what or why, but Henry had to know something. I’d had that weird dream about him, and some of it had remained in my head, like coffee grains in a cup that refused to dissolve. Maybe he wasn’t directly guilty of anything, but something was being concealed. I only hoped Ethan wasn't involved, didn't know something he wasn't telling us.
It was time for confessions.
“Ethan... Last night ….”
“Don’t say a thing. You don’t need to.”
I glanced at Lacey. She still seemed fast asleep.
“I’ve been beating myself up.”
He winced in acknowledgement, staring hard at the floor. “I know what beating yourself up feels like.”
“I didn’t mean to do... what I did. I regret it.”
His jaw hardened. “No regrets. No way to live a life.” He lifted cool brown eyes to me. Anyway, what were you doing a minute ago? You looked like a demented chicken.”
I knew Ethan was just trying to change the subject—to ease my discomfort.
“This is stupid ….” I hated myself as I spoke. “But I didn’t see a pipe organ. You know, the one we heard the other day? I was trying to figure out where it could be.”
His expression froze. “Me either. How did I miss that!”
Nodding dumbly, I wrapped my arms around myself. “There has to be another room.”
Ethan touched his fist to his forehead.
I tried to remember the sounds, tried to remember the up-and-down melody. “There’s probably some stupidly simple explanation. Like it’s a recording or something.”
“It’s not a recording,” he told me. “I know that one hundred percent. I’m going to stake out the house until I find out where that thing is. I’ll wait until the morning, when the old guy goes out for his favorite hobby—chopping wood.”
Lacey woke yawning.
“New plan, Lacey,” Ethan told her. “We're staying here overnight. Let’s pool our food and see what we have.”
I checked my bag. “I’ve got a liter of water, breakfast bars, hard bread, cheese and cracker packs, and dried apricots. Enough to share.”
Lacey chewed the inside of her cheek. “I brought water too. And coffee. And um, sultanas I think ….”
“You were supposed to be the camping expert, Lace,” I told her.
Ethan grinned at me, amused at my annoyance. Lacey squeezed her eyes shut, as though she wanted to slide back into sleep. I calmed myself—stopping myself from saying anything else. Lacey couldn’t help how she was. She’d provided all the camping gear, but it was too much to expect she’d care about food supplies.
“How about you, Ethan?” I asked him.
“I was hoping you girls would have the nosh. I’ve got some chocolate, but it’s probably pretty mushed.”
“But you’re planning on staying here for months—what did you expect to eat?”
Ethan pointed towards the house.
“You’ve been stealing food from the kitchen?” I gasped.
“So what?” Ethan protested. “He stocks up months or even a year ahead—you should see his stash. I saw him drive a load back the day before you girls came here. He used a wheelbarrow to cart it all into the house. Took him a few trips, and maybe a few hours.”
“Guess it makes sense for him stock up when there’s not exactly a supermarket around the corner. But if he sees you, he’ll be on the phone to the police.”
“I sneak in at night—he’ll never see me.”
I decided it didn’t matter if Ethan was stealing food. He had to survive out here somehow.
“You made out like it was the first time you’d been in the house—the night we all searched it,” I accused him.
He shrugged. “Yeah—so I already looked through the house. But I was hoping you girls might see something I missed. And if I told you I’d already been in there, you might not want to go.”
Lacey shot me a look I interpreted as, See? He can’t be trusted.
I handed around portions of food just before night closed in. Lacey took a bird’s sized bit of bread and handed the rest back. Ethan ate noisily, barely closing his mouth. I guessed his half-deaf grandfather wouldn’t have taught him how to eat in company. At first it was cute, but soon started to grate so much I was glad when he finished.
11. WHEEL OF DEATH
I woke on Ethan’s shoulder.
Was I in Ethan’s tent?
I checked my surroundings. And then remembered the shed—and settling in behind the bar last night.
Relieved, I wiped the drool from the side of my mouth. Ethan and Lacey were still asleep. I stood, stretching stiffly.
I felt a lingering want—something leftover from having been so close to Ethan all night. I tried to shake it, but it clung to me like a lonely ghost.
The world outside the tiny window was caught in that deep patchy gloom just before daybreak—the air hung with swirling mists.
The loud slam of a door shook me completely awake. It had to be the back door of the house.
I ran to kneel in between Ethan and Lacey, shaking them both roughly. “Henry!”
Both woke startled, confused.
I peeked through the window again. Henry threw large pieces of animal to the dogs—then made plodding steps through the mist into the dogs’ enclosure.
“Mornin’ mutts,” he said. “Get into that tucker.”
I ducked as he unlatched the door. The door slammed shut and his feet shuffled across the floor. He cursed as he kicked his foot into something. He stacked wood into his arms—the unmistakable sound of wood hitting wood. Then offloaded it somewhere, with a heavy clunk.
A metallic noise echoed through the shed as he moved something heavy. It had to be the water tank lid. He grunted with the effort. A weird series of clicking noises followed. Closing my eyes, I listened hard. Desperately, I wanted to peek over the top of the bar, but I’d be too easily seen.
A clanging noise sounded as his boots hit something—the bottom of the water tank? A grinding clamor wound downwards. I glanced over at Ethan and Lacey. The muscles at Ethan’s neck strained. Lacey’s eyes were stony.
Ethan and I stared at each other as the first strains of the pipe organ played. He jumped to his feet.
“No.” I pulled him down. “Don’t go rushing after Henry now. Wait until he leaves.”
Breathing hard, Ethan crouched to the floor.
“What if it’s just, I don’t know, a wine cellar or something?” said Lacey in a small voice.
“Who plays piano in their wine cellar?” I whispered.
Ethan flexed his hands. “Whatever it is—it’s not staying secret any longer.”
Henry didn’t stay down there for more than a few minutes—it hardly seemed worth the effort to go down there to bash out a few notes and then leave. But the grinding sound echoed through the shed again and he trudged out through the door.
I edged my nose around to the window. Henry walked off into the woods with his axe.
“He’s going off to chop more wood,” I said.
Ethan ran to the water tank—Lacey and me following.
He lifted the lid away, and then turned back to us. “I don’t get it. Once you jump down there, you can’t get out again. He must have used a ladder—but there’s no ladder here.”
“There was a ladder in the basement,” Lacey said.
“He didn’t bring anything with him—especially not a ladder,” I told her.
Ethan cursed in frustration. “Well what the hell did the guy use? Sounded like he chucked a load of wood in there.” He trod over to the pile of wood on the other side of the shed, piling a load of it into his arms. With a gr
unt he offloaded the wood into the tank. It hit the bottom with a series of clunks.
“Well that did sweet nothing.” He cursed under his breath.
Lacey brushed wispy strands of hair back from her face. “What about all those other noises? That clicking?”
Ethan stared at her. “Yeah you’re right. But what made the clicks?”
Frowning deeply, he fitted the lid back onto the tank. He knelt—and instead of lifting the lid, tried to turn it.
The lid clicked.
You wouldn’t think anything of it ordinarily—it just sounded like the lid had hit a groove or something. But Lacey was right—there had been at least five clicks before Henry had left for the space that held the pipe organ.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hear the sounds again. “It’s a lock!”
Gazing around at Ethan and Lacey, I pointed at the lid. “It’s some kind of lock—like a safe.”
Ethan blew out air. “If you’re right—there’s no way we’ve going to fluke it—could be any combination.”
“It sounded like the lid was dragged one way, then back—then maybe completely around,” I said.
“That’s the best we’ve got. I’m going with that,” Ethan told me.
Ethan dragged the lid clockwise, and then followed my instructions.
He lifted the lid off. Nothing had shifted.
We tried it again counter clockwise. Ethan tore the lid up again.
Nothing happened.
I tried to recall the clang of Henry’s boots hitting the metal of the water tank. “It sounded hollow—kind of tinny when he jumped in.” I eyed the tank. “Almost like he didn’t. I mean, almost like he jumped on the lid itself.”
Ethan stared at the water tank cover. Sweat beading on his upper lip, he pushed the lid around again—this time going back to the clockwise start.
“Now what?”
Shrugging, I jumped on the lid.
A knocking sounded underneath me, and the tank began to drop.
Wide-eyed, Ethan and Lacey jumped onto the lid next to me as the tank descended.
I fumbled through my pocket for my torch as a dark hole opened up above the top wall of the tank. The entrance to some kind of cave.
Cold, stale air rushed up.
We had to bend to step from the lid to a rock platform. I edged onto and along the platform. A rope ladder swung beneath—falling away into darkness.
“It’s not a pit of snakes down there?” Lacey peered over the edge.
The tank ground upwards as soon as we were all off the lid. I felt entombed. But Ethan's eyes spoke of grim anticipation. He was completely in his own space. I couldn't allow a wheedling voice—mine—to intrude. A large grimy, red button was set into the rock wall. I had to hang onto the sight of that. The way back up.
Ethan dropped himself over the edge, moving quickly down the ladder. I doubted anything would have stopped him now.
Turning myself backwards, I stepped onto the rickety rope. Within twenty steps I put my foot on solid rock.
I shone my torch around the space. “Can’t see anything.”
Lacey bumped into me as she jumped from the bottom of the ladder. We all stayed together in a tight bunch, looking for something—anything. Dark things squashed into my mind. There could be unimaginably worse things in places like this than Lacey’s pit of snakes.
I shrieked as something brushed my face.
Reaching up, my hand grasped a rope with a wooden handle. I pulled it.
Light flooded the cave. The pull-cord above my head dangled from an immensely high ceiling—a fluorescent light dimly illuminating the cave’s rocky ceiling and edges.
My stomach knotted at the sight of a line of lofty, thin people standing not far from me. Then I realized they were wooden clown statues—taller than Ethan.
I stared about the cavernous room. Whatever I’d imagined finding, it wasn’t this.
Just about every available space was crammed with circus paraphernalia and weird curios. Broken carousel horses littered the floor near big-wheel tricycles and penny-farthings. A store dummy wore a Victorian blue dress. Two long racks held antique dresses and costumes. Massive shelves were filled with puzzles, carousel horses, masks, clowns, theatre, theatre posters, game machines—and a thousand other things.
The pipe organ stood on a wooden platform. We stood before it—not speaking for a moment. The pipes of the organ disappeared into the rock above—that had to be why Henry came down here to play the thing—it couldn’t be moved.
Walking away, I investigated the dolls on one of the many shelves. I picked up a set of wedding dolls, twisting the heavy wooden base that they stood upon. A droning wedding march played for a few seconds.
Lacey winced visibly, placing a slim hand over her face.
“Lacey hates dolls,” I told Ethan. It sounded stupid when you said it out loud. But it was no more stupid than my fear of the dark. Perhaps less stupid. Dolls had a face whereas darkness had none.
“Maybe he comes down here to play with all his toys.” Ethan pulled the cord on a small, waist-coated metallic monkey. The monkey clattered up the pole it was attached to.
“Like a collector?” I said.
“Maybe.”
For the second time that week, I was glad we hadn’t attacked Henry Fiveash.
“Why would he need to hide this junk?” said Lacey.
“It’s not junk,” said Ethan. “Some of this stuff would be worth a mint. It’s old as the hills and is in nice condition. Maybe that’s why he hides it.”
“It would be stuff from his family heritage too.” I nodded. “Lacey and I looked him up before we came.”
Ethan sat on a clown’s tricycle. “I was hoping this—coming down here—was going lead somewhere.”
I eyed him sympathetically. I felt it too. Although I desperately didn’t want to find Aisha’s remains—at the same time I ached for resolution.
I stepped over to the dark recesses of the cave. Large oil paintings, much like the ones in the house above, were stacked against the wall. None of these were framed.
The first depicted a river—gum trees thick along the far edges. I recognized the scene—it was the one you’d see looking out from the top story of the Fiveash house—if all the land was cleared. The next was another forest scene, but the trees were gnarled and devoid of anything green. A path ran straight up and then forked to the left and right. The left-hand path headed into a blackened tunnel of trees. There was ugliness and intent about the brush strokes, a sense of foreboding in the tunnel.
I quickly flipped to the next painting. A young girl ran through tall grass—her wheat-colored hair loose and her white dress unfettered with ties or bodices. She ran towards the forked path I’d seen in the last painting.
The last of the paintings illustrated the dour face of a woman in her late twenties. She wore her fair hair severely back from her bovine features. Her eyes had a crystalline sharpness. As I stared, I felt the eyes cut into me—like blades.
I pushed myself away, letting the paintings clatter back against the wall.
Ethan whistled. Stepping past me, he moved towards a huge dark outline. I trained my torch at the shape. He ran a hand along the body of a car that looked as though it belonged to the early 1900s.
Past the car, my torch beam hit a rock wall. Ethan stepped into the beam, investigating the wall—then turned back to me sharply.
“Looks like this is it,” said Ethan. “We’ve seen everything that’s down here. I’ll come back again and have a better look by myself. I don’t like this place, and I want you girls out of here.”
“Is there something you don’t want us to see, Ethan?” Lacey stepped beside me, her face taut.
“Not now, please?” I asked her.
Ethan looked from Lacey to me. “What’s going on?”
Lacey took another step towards Ethan. “If there’s someone you’re protecting, you should remember Aisha. Remember her, and tell the truth. Who is it, Ethan?”
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I tugged at Lacey’s arm. “I think we should leave. Now.”
Ethan’s face shadowed. “Both of you think I’m hiding something? I thought you were the only people in this whole town beside granddad who... never mind.”
The three of us stood rigidly for a moment.
I was first to move.
“Ethan, I still believe something’s up with Henry Fiveash. You can hang your hat on that. But if there’s any evidence of any kind down here—we shouldn’t be putting our handprints on it. Get yourself away from the mountains—well away—before we call the police.”
His eyes were heavy, almost closing. I could tell he didn’t want to hear anything I’d had to say. For the second time in two days, I’d been a traitor to him.
I needed to go before I hurt him any more than I had already. As I moved to leave, something entered my head, something I'd meant to look for but forgotten.
The wood.
Henry had brought wood down here, hadn’t he? But there was no fireplace. And no wood.
I turned my head back. “Did anyone see the stack of wood?”
Lacey wrapped her arms around herself. “Maybe we missed it.”
Ethan stood with his arms akimbo. “I’ll figure it out later. You’re obviously in a hurry to run away.”
“I’m not trying to run away,” I said stiffly. “Anyway, you told me I should go.”
“Then go. Maybe I’ll figure out more without people around who think I’m a bad person.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t think you’re a bad person. This—coming down here—was supposed to be to find out more about Henry, or whatever it is that he knows.”
A furrow deepened in Lacey’s delicate forehead. “Maybe we should have copied everything Henry did exactly. Except Ethan threw the load of wood in the bottom of the water tank instead of bringing it down here...." Her voice trailed off.
His face tightened at the temples. “Are you saying I did that deliberately?”
I should have left when I said I was. Mentioning the wood had been a bad idea. I hated tension—it made me ball myself up inside. Ethan and Lacey were like a married couple who’d just let their long-held, bitter resentments fly loose on each other.
