Eximere (The River Book 4) (12 page)

“She zapped you, huh?” Roy said.

“Is that what that was?” Steven asked.

“You felt like you were in hell,” Roy said, “except hell was
an empty place fifty degrees below zero, with nothing around you for miles?”

“You’ve been there,” Steven said.

“Yes, once,” Roy said. “Not many ghosts have that kind of
power. You got a little taste of her misery. Happened to me once years ago. One
of the reasons why I consider them so dangerous.”

“Was your father around to explain what it was?” Steven
asked.

“No, he’d passed on at that point,” Roy said. “I was working
with Dixon. A friend of his had discovered a ghost ship, called Dixon about it.
Dixon roped me in. A megayacht floating in the ocean, a hundred miles off
Moclips. Not a living person on board, but several ghosts. One nearly killed
Dixon. I’m gonna run a hot bath for you, that’ll do the trick. You all right if
I step out and check on Eliza?”

“Yes, go,” Steven said, pulling the sheets and bed spreads
more tightly around himself. He felt the coldness start to leave, but as he
heard the water begin running in the bathroom he knew the hot bath was what he
really wanted. He fought to eliminate the memory of the experience from his mind.
Just thinking about it made him colder. He wondered about the ghost ship Roy
had mentioned.
I’ll have to ask him to relate the whole story sometime,
he thought. Then it occurred to Steven,
that’s why he told me the story – to
distract me. The bath may warm my body, but the chill in my mind needs to go
away, too. It’s just as bad as the physical, maybe worse.

Steven pushed the bedcovers away and stumbled to the
bathroom. The water was slowly rising, and he stripped down and got into the
oversize tub, letting the heat sink into him. Whenever he thought back to the
attack from the dark woman, his whole body shivered in the warm water.
Don’t
think about it,
he reminded himself. He imagined Roy and Dixon prowling
around the hallways and decks of a large boat, searching for clues.
Where
did the crew and passengers go? Moclips – that’s near Native American
territory. Many whaling and fishing grounds were sacred – maybe the boat
crossed into some areas it shouldn’t have.
He let his thoughts drift as he
felt warmth return to his body, and soon he was asleep in the tub.

Steven popped his head inside the open door at the back of
Brenda’s Batch House and shouted, “anyone home?” He heard some rustling inside
and a faint voice said “come on in!”

Roy, Eliza, and Steven had left the house and gone back into
town. The others chose to stay at the house. They hadn’t told the others about
their real intentions, just that they wanted to get out of the house and maybe
chat with the locals at the restaurant again. Steven told Roy and Eliza that
since he had lied to Roger about competing with his dad to get information, it
might be best if he followed up with Roger on his own. Roy and Eliza agreed,
and were having coffee at the restaurant, awaiting his return.

Roger emerged from the back of the shop and smiled at Steven.
“Did you make it to the passageway?”

“We did,” Steven said, smiling back at Roger and shaking his
outstretched hand. “We even made it to the door.”

“What’s inside?” Roger asked, his eyebrows raising.

“Don’t know,” Steven said. “It was welded shut. Couldn’t go
through it.”

“Damn!” Roger said. “I tell ya, that door is a mystery.”

 “I guess so,” Steven said. “But it’ll make a great chapter
in the book, if we write it. I was wondering if you happened to know of any
other aspects of the house that you think would be interesting reading. You
said you had a ton of stories about the place.”

“Oh, well – it’s full of strange things,” Roger said. “Did I
tell you about the peepholes?”

“We saw them, going through the passageway,” Steven said.

“Oh, of course you did,” Roger said. “Did you see Mrs.
Unser?”

“We did notice something strange on the staircase, right
around dawn,” Steven said.

Roger smiled. “See, I told you! She’s as predictable as Old
Faithful. If they had marketed the house tours so people could see her walk
those stairs, this town would be rolling in dough.”

“I can imagine,” Steven said. “What other stories about the
place do you think I should include in the book?”

“Well, let’s see, there’s the grounds,” Roger said. “They
would never let staff be on the grounds after dark. Tours were always from 10am
to 4pm, which seemed strange to me. Some of my co-workers were convinced there
were wolves on the property. There’s a grandfather clock in the library that
always stops at 4:37 every day. They’ve had people in to fix it, but it does no
good. I heard that 4:37 was the time that Mrs. Unser died in the house.”

“That’s interesting,” Steven said. “I think I should check
that out.” He was egging Roger along, not wanting him to stop. “Any more
passageways? Empty rooms?”

“You know,” Roger said, “I gave a local historian a tour
there once, he seemed to think the place was involved with liquor running
during prohibition. I didn’t give it much thought when he said it, but then the
idea of the peepholes made me think of speakeasys, and I wondered if maybe the
rooms that were sealed shut were used for that purpose.”

“Could be,” Steven said.

“The historian said there was a cave or tunnel nearby that
had a reputation during prohibition. He thought it was connected to the house
somehow. I certainly wasn’t going to go prowling through the woods to search
for it. But I thought it was interesting, the idea that they might have run
booze through the place back in the day. Mr. Unser did have a reputation for
parties. And it fit in with the peepholes, like I said.”

“It does fit,” Steven agreed. “And it is interesting.”

“In fact,” Roger said, “there’s a bookcase in the library
that slides back into a wall to reveal a small room that looks like it was
meant to hold bottles of wine. We always showed that during the tours.”

Even though he was repeating himself sometimes, Steven
listened patiently while Roger continued to describe oddities of the house.
Bathrooms with faucets that turned on by themselves, hallways that always
contained a breeze, soft moanings you could hear through doors. None of it
intrigued him as much as the idea of the prohibition tunnel.

“There’s a painting in the library,” Roger said, “its eyes
follow you as you walk past it. Just like the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland.”

“You’d think the tours would have been popular,” Steven said.

“People like it when they know it’s fake,” Roger said. “In
that house, it was too real. Just creeped them out, made them not want to
come.”

They chatted a while longer before Steven thanked him and
Roger offered to help again, if needed.

“By the way,” Steven asked, “have you seen Kent Percival
recently?”

“No, why?” Roger asked. Steven looked at him trying to
decipher any dishonesty. He decided Roger wasn’t lying.

“Oh, I’m just trying to connect with him, that’s all,” Steven
said. “I’ll give him a call later. Thanks again for your help.”

Steven left the back of the shop and walked the couple of
blocks to the restaurant, where Roy and Eliza were inside. There was no one
else in the restaurant. He joined them at the counter.

“Welcome back!” said Bess. “Your friends here are having
coffee. You?”

“Please,” Steven answered. She poured him a cup and
disappeared once again into the kitchen.

“Any luck?” Eliza asked.

“There might be a tunnel,” Steven said. “Prohibition era, used
for liquor running. An historian he met told him about it. He never saw it
himself.”

“Anything else?” Roy asked.

“There’s a bookcase in the library that’s hiding a small
room,” Steven said. “They used to show it off during the tours.”

Steven heard the bell ring on the door as Howard and Jerry
entered. They slowly walked over to the counter and sat on their two favorite
stools.

“Well, if it isn’t the Seattilites!” Howard said. “Although
fewer in number.”

“Hope you didn’t go up to that house,” Jerry said.

“We did,” Steven said, turning to address the two gentlemen.
“Spent the night.”

Jerry crossed himself and muttered something under his
breath.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Howard said, walking around the counter
to retrieve his own coffee. “Religion clouds his mind.”

“They should tear that place down,” Jerry said. “Very evil
place, you know.”

“Now why would they tear down the town jewel?” Howard asked
Jerry. “Ain’t never gonna happen. It’s on the historical register.”

Bess came out of the kitchen. “You two are late today!” she
said to Howard and Jerry.

“Had to drop something off at the Grange first thing,” Howard
said. “It won’t happen again.”

Bess disappeared back into the kitchen.

Steven decided to try his luck. “I heard the Unser house used
to be involved in liquor running, during prohibition.”

“Sure was,” Howard said. “This town was the wettest around.
People came here from Olympia and Tacoma to get booze. Those years were the
best this town ever saw.”

“I talked to an historian who said there was a tunnel under
the house that they used to run the booze,” Steven said.

“Probably,” Howard said. “They had to get it in and out
somehow. The highway used to go straight up to Canada, and the feds used to
monitor it closely. The old Benson hotel on main street was built to give the
boys a place to stay when they worked the road.”

“It’s vacant now,” Jerry said. “Tried to make it a bank for a
while, but there’s not enough going on in this town to support a bank.”

“So you think there might be a tunnel into the house?” Steven
said. “Any idea where it might be?”

“There was a network of small logging roads back in the day,”
Howard said, “used to run everywhere in the forest. Weren’t on any map, people
just knew where they were. County Road 15 used to run behind the house, I
expect that’s how they got in and out.”

Steven turned to look at Eliza and Roy. Roy smiled – he
obviously thought it was a good lead.

“If you know what’s good for you,” Jerry said, sipping his
coffee, “you’ll leave that old place alone. It’s as evil as the day is long.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Howard said.

“Well, thank you gentlemen,” Steven said, rising from the
counter and placing money next to his emptied cup. “Hope to see you around.”

Steven, Roy, and Eliza left the restaurant and walked to
their car. Once inside, Steven pulled out his cell phone.

“Please, let there be topographical maps online,” he said,
performing a search. Within a few moments he let loose a victorious “yes!” and
handed the phone to Roy. Roy took one look at it and handed it to Eliza.

“So, what do you think?” Steven asked him.

“Didn’t look at it,” Roy said. “I don’t know how to work
those things.”

“Dad,” Steven said, “it’s a topographical map of the area.
You can see the area behind the house where a tunnel might be.”

“He’s right,” Eliza said, swiping the phone as she talked.
“It shows lot lines, too. There’s not more than half a mile between that road
and the back of the property.”

“It’s there,” Steven said. “That’s our way in.”

“Let’s drive down that road,” Roy said, “and see what we can
find.”

◊

They parked their car a hundred feet down a small path that
left County Road 15 at about the right spot behind the Unser property.

“Looks like this used to be a road,” Roy said, swinging his
feet to move leaves and branches from old ruts on the ground, “but it’s all
grown over.”

“No need to run booze anymore,” Steven said.

“Shall we try it, as far as we can?” Eliza said, looking into
the forest where the road used to go. “It looks pretty thin as far as I can see
– we might make it through.”

“Well,” Steven said, “the car is parked far enough off the
road that people won’t see or notice it. And we’ve got plenty of daylight left.
As long as we stick to the road and not veer into forest, I’m OK with it.”

“Let’s go,” Roy said, heading down the road.

The three of them maneuvered around fallen trees and branches
as they progressed down the old road. “A vehicle hasn’t been down this road in
fifty years at least,” Roy said. Steven looked into the forest on either side
of them as they progressed. You could only see ten feet into it before it
became so dense you couldn’t see anything further. He began to feel his
claustrophobia kick up, but he kept it in check by focusing on the path ahead
and keeping up with Roy, who was bulldozing through the brush.

After a half hour on the path, Steven was about to ask them
to stop for a breather, when they abruptly came to a short clearing, not more
than ten feet wide. In front of them was the side of a mountain that rose at
least fifty feet into the air, blocking the sunlight. And straight ahead of
them, on the path, was a round entrance into the side of the mountain. At first
Steven thought it was a cave, but after looking more closely, he saw that the
opening was man-made. It was the prohibition tunnel.

Eliza turned to look at him, and a wide smile broke out on
her face. “We found it!” she said.

Roy quickly walked up to the tunnel entrance, examining the
walls. He looked down. “Look,” he said. “You can still see the ruts where the
trucks went.”

“They drove right into the tunnel?” Eliza asked.

“Yes,” Roy answered, “although who knows how far. You got the
flashlight, Steven?”

“Right here,” Steven answered, producing it and turning it
on. The three of them started into the tunnel.

After a few steps the light became useful. “Up ahead,” Roy
said. “Fencing.”

They walked up to a stretch of chain link fence that had been
constructed from one side of the tunnel to the other, at a place where the
shape of the tunnel was almost rectangular.

“This is good news,” Roy said. “It means there’ll be no
animals inside to worry about.”

“How are we going to get through?” Eliza asked. “Did anyone
bring wire cutters?”

“No,” Roy said, “but we won’t need them. Look, the fence is
stretched to these tensions bars. We only need to undo the nuts and bolts
holding the tension band.”

“Did anyone bring a…” Eliza said, but before she could
finish, Roy produced the tool from his back pocket.

“Wrench, madame?” Roy said.

Eliza laughed. “Roy, you never fail to amaze me. Or make me
laugh.”

Steven held the flashlight on the tension bar so Roy could
work the wrench on the bolts holding the tension bands in place. It took
several minutes. Steven turned to look behind him. The entrance to the tunnel
was about twenty feet back, enough that the light from outside wasn’t enough to
illuminate the fence very well. He noticed light rain falling in the light at
the opening.

“There,” Roy said, pulling the tension bar from the bands and
letting the fence sag down enough that the three of them could easily walk in.
He replaced the fence behind them without tightening the bands back up, so it
still looked blocked off.