The Waiting: A Supernatural Thriller (26 page)

He
glanced at the stairway and then back to Becky’s father as he set the gun on the table and bent to pick up something from the floor near the workbench.

This is your chance
. Go while he’s not looking, get Shaun safe and then call someone to get this man some help.

All of his thoughts ceased when he saw what Becky’s father held in his hands.

The can of mineral spirits looked old, the top holding a slim layer of brown rust, and cobwebs first stretched from its handle and then broke, floating back to their tethers on the wall. Becky’s father held the can at arm’s length, then spun the cap off.

“Tessa’s always after me to stop smoking,” he said, digging in one front pocket. “Now I’m so glad I haven’t
, because I don’t see any matches down here.”

He drew out a silver lighter, the refillable butane kind, and pivoted toward the clock. Before he turned, Evan saw a manic s
mile stretched across his lips.

Evan ran.

He didn’t wait to see if Becky’s father would actually go through with what he intended. He didn’t try to talk him out of it. He ran. A solitary pain lanced through his heart as he realized his chance to make things different, as insane as it seemed, would be a pile of ashes soon, possibly with the rest of the house. He almost stopped and turned back, a powerful pull trying to lock his feet to the stairs.

You’re giving up
the chance to save Elle, to save Shaun from the disabled life he is cursed to lead. You’re running away again.

The last words came in Elle’s voice
, and he stumbled, nearly falling into the kitchen. Evan grunted and continued to move, shoving away everything else besides the need to get to Shaun.

He stepped into the kitchen and
ran across the floor, for the first time noticing the chill on his bare legs.

Wait around, it won’t be cold for long
.

He nearly brayed insane laughter at that
.

Hope you have good homeowner’s, Jase
. ’Cause this one’s gonna catapult the old premium!

A loud bellow came from the basement
, followed by a metallic clang.

Evan slowed and then stopped, breathing with his mouth wide open, listening over the pounding of his blood.

Silence. No
whoompf
of the clock igniting, no crackle of flames eating wood in burning bites. Serene quiet. He gulped down air, trying to slow his heart and the racing thoughts in his head. What the hell happened? All this buildup and no fireworks? The feeling of laughter came again, and he squashed it, because he knew if he started now, he might not stop.

Shaun’s snores came from the partially open door of his room. Cold sweat formed on Evan’s back
, and he shivered as a bead ran down the groove of his spine. Still no sound from below.

Get Shaun out of the house, that
’s your only concern right now.

He
nodded and took a few steps back the way he’d come, stopping to listen every other second. Nothing. Afraid that he would see the shiny barrel of the handgun appear in the doorway at any moment, Evan walked closer and closer to the stairs. With a quick movement, he poked one eye around the doorjamb and then drew back.

The stairway
was empty. As silently as he could, he moved down the first two treads, ready to run back at any sign of approach from below. Another step. Another. Evan stopped at the landing and peered around the corner, mimicking the move he’d used at the top of the stairs.

The basement was empty.

The absence of Becky’s father startled him more than if the man had been inches away, the gun pointed directly at him. He blinked, searching the floor and corners. Where was he hiding? Evan moved from the safety of the stairwell and took the last steps down. The cold cement leeched heat from the soles of his feet, sending frigid runners up through his calves. He scanned the boxes to his right, the sewing area, the table—everything was where it should be. He knelt, making sure the other man hadn’t crouched beneath the worktable. Only shadow and dust lay there. He walked forward, a new, unnamable fear falling over him like a wet sheet.

Turning
in a circle, he looked at every possible hiding place. Outside of Becky’s father being a professional contortionist, the options were limited. He opened each of the cabinet doors above the workbench to quell the need to be sure. After making his way to the end of the bench, he stopped, staring at the glass encasement below the clock’s face. A man could hide in there. Definitely.

Evan walked around the table and approached the clock, his hands blocks of ice at the ends of his arms. The air in the basement seemed to have dropped several degrees
, feeling more like a meat locker with each passing second. With one hand, he reached out and touched the brass knob on the center door and tried to turn it. It wouldn’t budge. He tried harder, the flesh of his fingers turning white with effort. The knob squawked and then turned, and the door opened. A waft of air smelling of dust brushed past him as he leaned in closer. The pendulum and its surrounding darkness were all he could see. No man, no gun, nothing but shadow.

Evan stepped back
and shut the door, a thought striking him. He’d heard the mineral-spirits can hit the floor, but where was it? Where was the spilled thinner that should’ve assaulted his nose the moment he walked down here? He bent his knees again and looked under the table, sure he would spot the can on its side. Evan stiffened, one hand braced against the cement for balance, his neck craned down, his eyes wide—

—
as he stared at the mineral spirits can in the corner beside the workbench. His mouth opened, and a word tried to come out. Instead, it stayed on his tongue and resounded in his head.

No. No. No. No.

Evan stood, the unreal quality of a dream surrounding him as he walked around the length of the table and moved to where the can sat. Bending down, he touched the cap, tight with rust on its spout, the cobwebs clinging to its top, unbroken.

Dizziness washed over him
, and he staggered away from the corner. The basement swayed as if though rested in the middle of a titanic teeter-totter. Evan moved with it, the unreality of everything compounding at once. His mind strained at its bindings, stretching them, forced by the incongruence of what he’d seen.

“It didn’t happen, it didn’t happen, I’m not here right now,” he said
, taking the first step on the stairs.

The pleading sound of his voice scared him
; it was hollow and detached, the voice of an automaton going about its commanded task. He shut off the lights with a swipe of one hand and trudged up the stairs, his left forearm sliding along the wall to keep him upright.

The air in the kitchen smelled wonderful compared to that of the basement
, and he hauled in several deep lungfuls before turning off the last light and shutting the door behind him. Evan moved through the house on numbed feet, the feeling growing steadily up his legs, as if he’d stepped on bed of Novocain syringes.

Without thinking about it, he stri
pped his bed of blankets and pillows and laid them down in Shaun’s room, only inches from his bedside. He collapsed onto the floor, the blankets barely padding the hardwood, but the relief of being next to Shaun more than offset the discomfort.

One of Shaun’s hands dangled off the bed
, and Evan reached up to place it back under the blanket but stopped. He held it in his palm, closing his eyes as he did. He fell asleep that way, as the darkness in the east bled to gray.

20

Evan sipped his coffee and watched Shaun across the table.

The simple act of feeding Shaun his morning cereal grounded him,
anchoring his mind in the normal, keeping his thoughts from returning to the night before. Evan clamped a hand on to his forehead and rubbed his temples. Nothing had happened last night, nothing. There was no gun, the mineral-spirits can wasn’t moved, there was no man. He sighed, rubbing his bloodshot eyes before draining the rest of his coffee.

“Wawee?” Shaun asked.

“What, honey?” Evan said, sitting forward.

Shaun furrowed his brow and tried to point
toward the bedrooms. “Wawee?”

Evan glanced in the direction and then turned back. “I do
n’t know what you want, buddy.”

Shaun’s eyebrows drew down
, and he struck the cereal bowl with one hand, causing the spoon to fly free. Milk and soggy flakes spattered the table, and a few dollops landed on Evan’s thigh.

“Shit! Stop it, Shaun,”
he said, grabbing Shaun’s flailing arm.

“Wawee! Wawee!” Shaun cried, tears beginning to run down his cheeks.

Evan stood and hugged his son’s arms tight to his body.

“Shhhh, honey, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t, don’t, don’t.”

The boy continued to struggle, but his movements became less frantic, and gradually he lapsed into simply crying.

“I know, buddy, I know it’s hard. I’m sorry I can’t understand sometimes.” Evan
looked at the kitchen counter and saw the iPad there. “Do you want your iPad? Flash cards?”

He grabbed the slim case and held it out
to Shaun. Shaun shook his head.

“Na
.”

“Okay, okay, buddy.”
He set the device down, and his shoulders sagged. “Let’s just get ready to go.”

~

They left the island in the pontoon half an hour later, the day warm but muddled with shining silver clouds in the sky. Evan began to steer toward the little marina on the mainland, but a thought struck him like a hammer.

A boat.

If Becky’s father had really come to the house last night, he would’ve come in a boat. Evan scanned the shoreline on the west side of the island. No crafts jutted out into the water, and from what he could see, none were pulled up into the woods.

“Let’s take a little side trip, buddy,”
he said, turning the pontoon south.

They cruised over the calm water
, around the end of the island, the little clearing with the fire pit coming into view after a few minutes. When they rounded the heavily wooded southeastern side, Evan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Small waves lapped against rocky shore. He could see no boats anchored along its edge. To be sure, he throttled up and cruised the entire length and turned left, until he could see their dock again.

A strange relief came over him
, followed by a layer of fear on its heels. Not seeing a boat made him believe that nothing had happened the night before, but the absence of one confirmed the cold inkling that had been with him all morning.

You’re going crazy.

That’s what’d been happening since they arrived. All the unsettling occurances, they were all in his mind.

He looked at Shaun,
who was enraptured by the approaching land as he always was. What would happen to Shaun if he lost it completely? He would have nowhere to go. Evan’s parents lived in southern Florida and didn’t have the capabilities to care for Shaun, and he had no other close relatives, since Elle’s parents were deceased. There was only Jason and Lisa, and although Jason meant well, he wondered if his best friend could care for Shaun in the way he deserved.

Stop it, he chided himself. Just stop. He wouldn’t lose Shaun
, and he wasn’t going crazy. It had been a dream, a horrible and realistic dream, but a dream nonetheless. There were no other explanations.

Ghosts.

The word floated through his mind, wrapped in absurdity as well as a niggling fear.

“Ghosts,” he said, tasting the word while feeling foolish at the same time.

So you don’t believe in ghosts, but you believe in time travel?

“How about a dream, Shaun?” he said, drowning out the voice’s annoying musings.
“How about that’s what it was. No more fried food for Dad before bed.”

Shaun looked at him and smiled. The simplicity of joking out loud did wonders for
him, and he breathed in the fresh air, feeling better. Or maybe it was putting distance between them and the island.

Evan focused on the approaching dock and shut all other thoughts off.

“Too much thinking never does anyone any good,” he said, in a bravado he didn’t feel.

Shaun didn’t respond
, and Evan wondered if he would agree if he could.

~

After dropping Shaun off at the hospital for therapy, Evan drove through town, not entirely sure where he was going. He found himself back at Collins Outfitters, and sat looking at the side of the building for over a minute before he climbed out and headed for the door. Arnold and Wendal were at their customary posts, and Evan realized their seats had been empty when he and Shaun came through earlier.