The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  He knocked again. That brought more barks from Brownie, which almost got her kicked. Any signs of life inside would make her late night visitor think someone was here. She hoped he’d eventually give up and go away. Another set of knocks convinced her otherwise.

  She stopped short of the door. Something about him being out in the rain threatened to overpower her judgment—she almost asked what he wanted through the door. Brownie wasn’t barking anymore, but the door had her complete attention now.

  “Allo?” he had an accent she didn’t recognize. “Allo? Is there anybody home? I am locked from my home and need a telephone. S’il vous plaît?” she recognized French from the television. What was a Frenchman doing outside her trailer? “I am desperate, it is an emergency. I must use your telephone! Please come to the door.”

  Brownie’s resurgent yipping stopped her from opening the door. She started and looked down at her trembling hand hovering over the knob. With a deep breath she pulled it back and stepped away. She didn’t even remember deciding to open the door. Even now it still seemed like a sensible thing to do.

  “Madame Soptik, I know you are at the door,” his voice had changed. He didn’t sound desperate anymore. It sent a cold shiver through her body. “It is safe to open the door. I will not hurt you, I am your friend.”

  She was breathing so hard she heard her lungs rattle. She hadn’t sweat like this in decades. Not much got her heart going like this anymore, but she knew there was something else going on here. There had to be a reason why she had to fight to keep away from the doorknob, and it wasn’t just Brownie barking.

  Abbie backed away. She felt like she was deserting a baby on a railroad track, but she had to get away from the door. The further into her home she got, the less she felt the pull to open the door. When she reached the bedroom she couldn’t even hear his voice anymore over Brownie’s barking.

  She panted, but the energy coursing through her body numbed the pain of so much movement. After flipping on a light, she went to her dresser. So dedicated to the task at hand, she failed to notice the young man sitting on her bed.

  “Looking for this?” She looked up from the open drawer to see a pale face smiling at her in the mirror. He held something, but to her it was a black blur.

  Her blood froze and a rush almost knocked her to the floor. She looked down at the drawer again just to make sure it wasn’t there. The blue cardboard box was empty, save for a grease-stained cotton cloth.

  When Abbie turned, he was in her face. Brownie stopped barking and the stranger looked down on her through black sunglasses. It was ten thirty at night, but he was wearing sunglasses. She thought that was unusual, but she’d never seen him without them. He took them off.

  His eyes were little yellow globes with tiny points of black in the middle. When he smiled, she saw rows of pearly teeth so shiny she could almost see her reflection in them. Before she could scream, he put his finger to his mouth and shushed. She obeyed, and he smiled.

  Another came into the room. She recognized him from the porch. Seeing him made her want to scream, but she didn’t. The pasty skinned stranger kept his eyes locked on her while he spoke to the Frenchman.

  “What did you do to the dog?”

  “I told it to be quiet.” He paused. “No, ami, I did not kill the dog. I’m not an animal!”

  “Good.” He looked at Abbie. She trembled. He tilted his head to the side and put his hand on her face. “Hey, relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” She calmed, even though she didn’t believe him.

  “It is no fair,” the Frenchman said with a chuckle. “It is too easy if they can see your eyes. I had to do it through a door.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He smiled and ran his fingers over Abbie’s cheek. “Open your hand.”

  She did at once. He placed the revolver in her palm and closed her fingers around the grip. It felt like it had just come out of the box. After patting her on the hand he stepped back and smiled. She didn’t know why she wasn’t shooting him.

  “Ami, why are you giving her the gun?”

  “Abbie, I want you to put that in your mouth.”

  She did. It tasted like gun oil. She must not have done it the way he wanted her to, because he took her hand and adjusted it until the barrel pressed to the roof of her mouth.

  “That’s better.”

  She wasn’t sure why this seemed like the thing to do, but it did.

  “You’re going to make her shoot herself?”

  “You don’t think I’m going to feed on an old woman, do you?”

  “No… but how will this Maxwell know you did this if she shoots herself, eh?”

  He smiled and patted her on the cheek. He never once took his eyes off of hers.

  “He’ll know. Abigail, do you know what I want you to do next?”

  She felt a tear trickle down the side of her face as she nodded. The barrel sight rubbed the roof of her mouth. He gave her a sympathetic look.

  “I know.” He stepped back and put his hands together. “Abigail, honey, someone is waiting for you in heaven, isn’t he?” She blinked. Her tears made the room foggy. “Yeah, it’s something you’ve thought about before, isn’t it?” She blinked again then nodded. He reached up and pulled back the hammer. His fingers were cold against her flesh.

  He stepped back and gave her a big, friendly smile. Right now he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Even though her brain kept screaming at her to stop, she didn’t. Some part of her mind compelled her to act. It told her she wanted to do this, and that made it okay. If she really didn’t want to, he couldn’t have made her. That made it her choice, not his. He wasn’t controlling her. This was what she wanted.

  At once, she felt peace. He seemed to sense it and gave her a smile as he backed away. His eyes fixed on hers and she felt her heart speed with excitement and joy. She wasn’t afraid anymore. He held open his hand and gave her a single nod.

  “Go.”

  Abigail pulled the trigger and went to Heaven.

  Chapter Thirty

  “What the hell happened to you?” Jack was the first to comment on his bruises, but he wasn’t the first to notice them. That morning had been a gauntlet of winces and grimaces from everyone he saw on his way to and from the fax machine.

  “Not now.” Max kept walking. He’d been in the office an hour longer than anyone else and filled his gut with a gallon of coffee.

  “Whoa… someone’s in a bad mood.”

  Max ignored him. He was to the opening of his cubicle when he heard Brian shout his name. He looked up and saw him gesturing for him to come to his office. He groaned and dropped his bag in his seat.

  Brian closed the door of his office and got very close to Max before speaking in a hushed tone. “I thought I told you to keep this quiet!”

  “I am being quiet,” Max mocked.

  “You had a cop drag both of Penny Winnans’ parents into our office.” He pointed towards the conference room on the other side of the building. “Why are the cops are involved in this?”

  “Not cops, just one cop. He’s a friend, and I trust him.” Max had called James last night. He didn’t expect him to get here so soon.

  Brian walked behind his desk. “What the hell… oh, and I got a visit from two FBI agents yesterday afternoon.”

  Max grinned.

  “Turns out, lo and behold, Michelle is a material witness in a Federal case and will be in protective custody for three months. And I have to keep her job safe until she gets back.” Brian held up a signed piece of paper with a little raised seal at the bottom. “Did you have something to do with this?”

  “I can say with complete honesty that I did not get the FBI involved in this case.”

  Brian gave him a skeptical look. “Fine. Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Oh, don’t do this,” said Max.

  “What?”

  Max crooked an eyebrow. “This is Dan Hadeya yelling at Billy Crystal and Gregory Hines in Running Scared.”
/>   “Oh…” Brian put his hands on his hips and nodded. “Or Joey Pantoliano with Will Smith and Martin Lawrence in Bad Boys.”

  “A vastly inferior movie by comparison.”

  “Okay, but there’s only one of you, so are you Crystal or Hines?”

  Max rubbed his whiskers. It was pointless to shave around the stitches, so he’d probably just regrow his goatee. “Okay, it’s Larry Poindexter yelling at Samuel Jackson in SWAT.”

  “So you’re Nick Fury, and I’m Larry Poindexter? I don’t even know who that is!”

  “What?” Max shook his head. “Larry Poindexter is awesome! He was in American Ninja Two, and Blade: The Series. He dated Catherine Bell’s character on JAG. You should be honored to be metaphorized as Larry Poindexter.”

  “Oh, that guy!” Brian gave him a look of realization. “Yeah, all right. I’ll take that. He’s cool.” He nodded. “You watch a lot of television.”

  Max nodded. “I watch a lot of television.”

  Brian gestured to his face. “What happened there?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Was it about this case? Do you need to file a workman’s comp claim?”

  “You don’t want to know what I was doing when I got this. I doubt the State will pay for injuries sustained during the commission of a felony—”

  “Aw, Max, what the hell did you do?” He threw up his hands. “Wait, no… no don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Just go do… do what you do.”

  Max went to do what he did.

  James was outside the conference room. He made quite an impression on the ladies in the office in his uniform. Max thought that was funny.

  “Hey, before you go in there…” James stopped him at the door. Max didn’t quite get the look on his face. Was he worried or upset? He hadn’t seen him look either very often, so it was hard to tell. “Never mind… it can wait.”

  “You want to come in with me?” James nodded and followed. He stayed by the door of the office with his hands on his belt. Max took a seat.

  Janet gave him a nervous smile when she saw him. Larry didn’t smile. Max sat down across from them and put a file on the table with his coffee cup.

  “Hope you haven’t been waiting long?”

  “I’m missing work,” Larry replied. He was in well-worn blue overalls and a pair of scuffed, steel-toe boots. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in almost as long as Max. “What do you want?”

  “Mrs. Winnans and I met before. We talked about our workers coming out.” Janet’s smile disappeared as her eyes shifted to her lap. Larry looked at her. The expression on both their faces told Max this was the first he’d heard about the visit.

  “Why would you come see us?” Larry asked.

  Max opened the file. “I was there about your daughter—”

  “We don’t have a daughter,” Janet interrupted. “I told you that before.”

  Larry gave him an angry look.

  “I believe that you do.” He pulled out a piece of paper.

  “Why would we say we didn’t have a daughter if we did?” Larry sat forward a little too fast. James moved a little closer to Max. Larry seemed to notice and backed away a bit. The angered look on his face twisted to confusion.

  “I’ll get to that in a minute.” Max sat the paper on the table and turned it to them. They didn’t look at it. “You moved here from Montana six months ago. I did a statewide phone and address check. Larry and Janet Winnans came up together only once, in Custer, Montana. The phone book doesn’t take you out for like two years.”

  Janet was still looking down, but Larry had Max fixed in wide eyes.

  “You know there are less than one hundred people in Custer? In a town like that, everyone knows everyone else. Last night I called the Yellowstone County Sheriff’s office and they put me in touch with the mayor of Custer. Nice lady, she remembered you both. She also remembered Penny.”

  Larry shook his head, but it was Janet who spoke. “She has us confused with someone else.”

  “With Penny’s approximate age, I was able to get some additional information from Montana’s department of Social Services. They faxed it to me this morning, which is nice of them since it must be pretty early there.”

  He tapped the paper on the table. Larry picked it up and looked it over.

  “That’s a Medicaid application for one Penelope Lynn Winnans. It has her exact date of birth, and the names of her parents, Larry and Janet Winnans. You haven’t been Missouri residents long enough to apply for Medicaid here, but your Montana Medicaid is still active. Also, the application has your signatures.”

  “It has to be a mistake,” said Larry. “It has to be some other couple—”

  “I thought of that.” Max nodded. “I emailed the mayor of Custer a photograph of Penny.”

  Janet’s eyes widened as she looked up. “You have a photograph?”

  Max took it out of the file and sat it on the table in front of her. She picked it up as Larry dropped the application. Janet’s eyes watered as she examined the picture. Larry looked at it over her arm before looking back at Max.

  “That just means she knows whoever this girl is. It doesn’t mean—”

  “Larry, stop!” Janet cried. She looked up at Max with tears streaming down her face. “How do you know this is our daughter?”

  “I have copies of your driver’s licenses.” Max took those out of the file and put them on top of the application. “We can get those easily through the DMV.” That wasn’t a lie, but it took a little time. Max had needed these fast, so he had James get them. The cops could get them immediately. “The signatures on the application match. Now, are you going to try and convince me that there is another Larry and Janet Winnans from the same tiny town in Montana who moved to Joplin and lost a daughter?”

  “I don’t remember.” Janet shook her head without taking her eyes off the photo. Max took a box of tissues out of the desk—people cried a lot in this room. He slid them across to Larry. He took one and tried to hand it to Janet. She didn’t take it.

  “We think…” Max steadied himself and took a breath. “The skinheads, there in the park… we think they may have used mind altering drugs to make you forget about your daughter.” Christ—that was an asinine explanation, but it was believable. Vampires stole your baby would have just knocked them out of the room.

  “What?” Larry shook his head. “Is that… is that even possible?”

  No! It’s completely stupid! But they seemed to be buying it.

  Max nodded. “We think they’ve been doing it for a while.”

  Janet took the tissue. “Why?” She held the photo with one hand and wiped her eyes. “Why would they do that?”

  “We think…” Max looked down. “We think they’re selling the children.”

  “Selling?” asked Larry. “Like slaves?”

  “For sex,” Max said with a quiet voice, “To pedophiles.”

  “Oh, God!” Janet put the tissue over her mouth. “Oh my God! This… they’re doing this?”

  “We think she might still be out there,” Max explained. “We think the forest behind the skinhead’s trailers has a compound where they manufacture meth. They also keep the children there; presumably ply them with the same drugs they use to make the parents forget. This process takes a month.”

  “She might still be alive?” Her lips trembled.

  “This doesn’t make any sense!” Larry shook his head. “How can this… no, this is ridiculous! We don’t have a daughter!”

  Max took another piece of paper out of the file.

  “There was a beauty pageant for little girls in Custer. Actually for several communities nearby… it’s something they do every year at the fair.” Max slid the paper across the table. It was a photocopy of a newspaper clipping. The small photo in the upper right corner showed two smiling, happy parents and a small little girl in a white dress holding a bouquet of flowers. “Penny won the pageant. The mayor of Custer keeps a clipping of every pageant, and
she sent this to me. She was a judge.”

  Larry’s jaw hung open like an attic door. It looked like he might cry. His voice was tiny. “I don’t remember her.” He stared at the photo on the page. “Do you?”

  Janet nodded slowly. “I… I think so. I think I do.” She looked up at Max. “I think I remember her!” She squeezed Larry’s hand. “We had a daughter. Oh my God, we had a daughter!”

  Larry still looked befuddled. “Can you find her? What do you need to do?”

  Max felt his heart smashing against the inside of his chest. He looked up at James and saw a little smile.

  “We need you to file a police report. Tell them what I told you. Tell them you think they have your daughter.”

  “Will they believe us?” she asked, worried. “I’m not even sure I believe it. I’m only just starting to remember… I don’t even know her birthday.”

  “June fifth,” Max said. “It’s on the application there.”

  “Will we be in any danger?” she asked. “Those men… they’re pretty dangerous.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Larry shook his head. “If there’s a little girl in there… any little girl… I’ll go in there and get her myself!”

  “No,” James said, “That wouldn’t be a good idea. You need to go to the police department and file a report. We’ll get a search warrant for the woods.”

  “Will they even do that?” Janet asked.

  “They will if you tell them you remember her.” Max looked her in the eye. She stared at him for a moment before nodding.

  When they left, Max let them have a copy of the photograph and the other paperwork verifying Penny’s existence. He took his copies back to his cubicle. James followed again.

  “Max, I need you to come with me.”

  “I want to be there when they file the report—”

  “No,” he shook his head. Max squinted at him. He was having a hard time making eye contact. “There’s something else. It’s why I got them here so early.”

  “I just figured you were punctual. I mean you were in the Army so you’re used to doing things chop-chop—”