The Lost Door (32 page)

He lifted the metal ring out of the box wondering what had made him keep it. Just a piece of a missing cabin, yet when he’d found it he’d felt something in it, felt it now in fact. A warmth. He set it to the side.

There was the flask Elliott had added. He ran his thumb across the engraving:
Amor Meus.
He never had learned its meaning. He twisted the cap off, sniffed the opening. While it was empty he still smelled a hint of fifty-year-old booze.

The lure was still there, exactly as he remembered it. The watch Elliott had stored here was gone, then he remembered Beth placing it in Elliott’s pocket at the funeral. He wondered when Elliott had come back.

Next he picked up the photo of all of them smiling at the park. He remembered the day being warm and sunny. Their mother had packed a picnic lunch—blanket and all—and brought their new Polaroid camera. Their father had driven them to Blue Gill Park, a grassy area with a playground next to the river. He’d asked a passerby to take a photo who’d obliged.

Happy. This is how his family should have been, what he’d longed to return to, if not for his father.

A flicker of remembrance emerged and Willem grasped at it. Something about the picnic. His father… It was around that time his father changed. He stared at the photo. It had faded considerably over the years, the colors bleeding to orange and yellow. What looked like a tiny pin-sized lens flare hovered over his head. He’d forgotten about that, and how he’d found it oddly surreal.

What had happened during the picnic, or shortly thereafter, that caused his father to start hating him? What had changed?

Anyone that may have been able to tell him—his mother, his father, Elliott—were dead. He was the last of his family and had no answer.

Sometimes you just have to let it go, Willem.

Maybe Elliott was right. He’d hung onto this for so long it had infected him, allowed the anger and hate and all the emotional baggage to dictate his life. Well, no more.

His eye wandered back to the ring, picked it up. His finger traced its smoothness.

DeMarcus. A man who hadn’t aged. He’d only seen him from a distance and that had been when he’d been drunk and stoned. Even then that grin had made him uneasy, and he could only imagine what his presence was like sober. Definitely something off with him, something dangerous.

He thought about David and Lilly’s confrontation with DeMarcus and his associate. If Emily had gotten involved with him she was definitely out of her element.

Demarcus’ associate. There was something about him…

And then he suddenly knew where his father disappeared to all those years ago. Somehow he’d become involved with DeMarcus.

He stared down at the ring, his finger tracing.

And then suddenly he knew where he could find them. All of them. It was so obvious.

* * *

Stavic was tying his shoe when he heard a knock. Who the hell? He wasn’t expecting anyone. He went to the door and opened it. Claire looked like hell, her nervous eyes bloodshot.

“Why am I not surprised?” he said.

“What?”

After the things he’d seen, the least of which was discovering his father was still alive, seeing Claire was not surprising. And if Claire existed that meant Willem did too. He was sure it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed.

“Nothing. Come in,” Stavic said and stood to the side.

“What happened to you?” she asked as she entered his apartment. She tried to hide her shock and failed. It sounded false even to her.

“Doesn’t matter. What can I do for you Claire?”

“My daughter’s gone.” She wanted to cry, to shake him, to make him understand. “She’s not answering her phone, she’s not at home, and none of her friends know where she is.”

“Emily, right?” He sighed. “What makes you think I can help?”

“The cabin. That’s where DeMarcus is, and you know where it is.”

He scowled at her.

“Please!” she begged.

He ran a hand through his damp hair. Daylight was burning, and he wanted to get out of here. But first he needed something. Coke was off the table—he wouldn’t do that with someone in his home—but he could have some liquid courage. He went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. When he’d collected his thoughts after a long drink, he said, “Everything that’s happening revolves around David, Lilly, and DeMarcus. DeMarcus was holed up at the cabin in the past, and I’ve no doubt that’s where he is now. It’s just…”

“What?”

“I was there a few days ago, and the place was deserted. No one had been there in decades.” Not a complete lie, he just didn’t want to talk about the body.

“You were going to go there. Before I showed up that’s where you were headed.”

“Yes.”

Claire perked up. “I’m coming with you then.”

“Nuh-uh. No way. Too dangerous. Look at my face for Christ sake! DeMarcus did this to me.”

“And he’s got my daughter.”

Stavic considered debating her but realized it was futile.

“Fine,” he said begrudgingly. “Let’s get going.”

* * *

Willem was stopped at a light. Coming from the opposite direction was a Ford Explorer and, behind the wheel, Stavic. Claire sat next to him in the passenger seat. He flashed his lights at them, got their attention, and pointed to the Dale’s Supermarket lot. They parked next to each other, and Willem rolled down the window.

“Hey, hey, the gangs all here,” Stavic said with mild amusement. His eyes flicked up. “What happened to you?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Where you headed?”

“On our way to find Emily. Hop in.”

Willem killed the engine, grabbed the metal ring on the passenger seat, and got out. He didn’t bother to lock the doors; River Bend was still small and friendly enough that people trusted each other not to mess with someone else’s stuff.

“Where were you headed?” Stavic asked as Willem slid into the backseat.

“Mr. Rottingham’s place.”

Stavic turned and looked back. “Really? Why?”

Willem smiled. “Forty-six and two. 462. It’s his address.”

“Jesus. A fucking
address?
And what’s there?”

“Lilly’s necklace.” Stavic gave him a look, so he continued. “The necklace was the key to unlocking the passageway to Turmoore.”

“What makes you so sure?” Claire wanted to know.

“We all saw what happened in the past. When I went there with William the cabin was missing. A few years later Lilly and David and their friend went there to save you.” He nodded toward Claire. “Lilly did… something… and the place materialized. Right? I don’t know how it was hidden before or why it’s not now, but that cabin is the doorway.”

“I’ve been to the cabin. There’s nothing there; no door, no lock, no nothing.”

“That’s why we need the necklace.”

Claire cut in. “I still don’t understand what all this has to do with Emily. Why does DeMarcus want her?”

“She obviously has some part to play,” Willem said. “Let’s just hope we’re not too late.”

twelve

There was a gloominess when they pulled up to the old Rottingham house. Gray clouds were moving in blanketing what was a fantastic blue autumn sky in dreariness. The yard was unkempt, and the once immaculate home faded. Stavic felt uneasy, as if something was moving in to intercept them.

“Dear Lord,” Claire mumbled as she took it in. “I haven’t been back here in years. It used to be so cared for; my father was always jealous of it.” She glanced to the house next door. “That’s where I grew up,” she said, pointing.

“Do you feel it?” Willem asked as he stared out the window.

Stavic waited a full three seconds before glancing over his shoulder. “What?”

“It’s like a… presence.”

Stavic figured Willem was just having a heebie-jeebies moment until Claire chimed in. “I feel it too.”

He looked back at the home, stared at it. The way the shadows fell on the windows made it look like the house had eyes, the door its mouth. It was unsettling, as if the house was warning them away. But a presence? No… must be their imaginations. “Like it or not one of us has to go,” he said. “If you two want to stay here that’s fine. I’ll go. You said this necklace was in the basement? Anything more specific than that?”

Willem shook his head. “No, but we should all go.”

“Stay behind me,” Stavic said as he took the lead. He unholstered his weapon and walked up the front door. It came as no surprise it was locked. “Around back.”

They made their way around the side of the building. At each window he peered in and only saw abandonment.

The backyard was worse off than the front. Not only was the grass long and unruly, the maple tree’s leaves had begun to blanket the ground. A gust of wind caused a wave-like movement.

The back door opened easily, and Stavic gave Willem and Claire a nonchalant shrug.

“Do you feel like we’re walking on eggshells?” Willem asked. “I mean… whatever is in here… it doesn’t sense us—not yet—but if we make one false move…”

“Yes,” she whispered. “That’s exactly what it’s like.”

“You two are just being paranoid.” While Stavic wasn’t in on whatever it was they were feeling, their mood was infectious. If he wasn’t careful it would begin to cloud his judgment.

The warmth that must once have dominated this house was no more, replaced by a rot that permeated throughout. A wisp of decayed breath coursed through the cold under belly, as if the house were now a living breathing creature.

Stavic looked in the empty pantry, tiny mouse turds littering the corners. He moved to another door, this one open an inch, though what lay beyond was shrouded in darkness. Stavic aimed his gun, finger alongside the trigger, and opened the door with his foot. It creaked, the sound deafening in the stillness. The room dimmed as the sun fell behind a cloud. “Perfect,” Stavic mumbled.

“Downstairs,” Willem said, pointing. “That’s where we have to go.”

Through the doorway stairs descended, the basement barely lit. Just inside the stairwell was a light switch, though flipping it yielded no results. Stavic pulled a small flashlight from his pocket, pressed the ON button, and a thin stream of light illuminated the stairs. He started down, Willem and Claire following.

With each step a wooden stair groaned. He felt he was moving towards the entrance of an immense labyrinth of unseeable evil. The hair on his arms stood up, sensitive to the barest touch of the fabric of his shirt, almost painful. He wondered if this is what Willem and Claire were talking about. It didn’t feel like a presence, but his flight instincts were up to the max.

Stavic reached the bottom and moved the light across the room. Half windows near the ceiling allowed a fraction of light in. A wooden door was set in the wall ahead, and to the right was an open entryway that went deeper into the bowels of the house. He hoped they didn’t have to go that way; a stench waft from that direction.

“Ideas?” Stavic whispered. “I don’t want to be down here any longer than needed.”

There was a moment of silence before Willem responded. “It should be just through that door.”

“How can you be sure?”

“No, but I’m getting a definite vibe and it’s not the bad kind.”

He reached for the door handle and the knob turned easily. The light from his flashlight was swallowed by the inkiness.

“Where?” Stavic hissed.

“Just ahead.”

Stavic crept forward, passing the beam across wooden shelves. “You sure? There’s nothing here.”

Willem was at his side, pointed. “Right there.”

“I don’t see anything.”

Willem pointed to a hole in the wall. “In there.”

Perfect. The last thing he wanted was to stick his hand in the wall. He’d seen movies, and he knew what usually happened. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

He reached toward the hole and stopped, hand quivering. “How do you know?”

“Same way I know something is here.”

Stavic reached into the hole and felt only coarse brick and dust. He shined the light in the hole, saw no necklace. “You sure this is right? There’s nothing there.”

“Impossible!” Willem slid next to Stavic and peered in. He was sweating, a tiny droplet dangling from the tip of his nose. “But… this isn’t right. It’s supposed to be here.” Willem reached into the hole and felt around. His shoulders slumped as he slowly pulled back, hand covered in dust. “Where is it?” he hissed.

Claire asked from behind, “How long has it been buried? Could someone else have found it?”

“If it was gone I don’t think I’d be sensing it. No… it’s here somewhere.”

Willem grabbed the light from Stavic and waved the light across the floor, going in circles, careening it every which way. A piece of dirty red cloth caught his attention. He grabbed it, shook it. No necklace.

“Fuck!”

“Slow down! You could be missing it,” Claire offered.