“Really?” I asked. “Because apparently everyone else does.”
“That’s the thing with small towns, isn’t it?” she said, trying to smile. “Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
“I’m pretty used to it. Our hometown isn’t much bigger than Falconwood.”
“It was different for me at first,” Theo said. “I moved from Hoboken when I got pregnant with Sammy. I needed the support of a community like this. It’s amazing. It’s like I have three thousand babysitters at my disposal. Wherever Sammy goes, someone’s watching over him. Anyway—” She spotted a bottle of hand sanitizer by the sink, pressed the pump, and rubbed it into her hands. Then she finally shook mine. “It was nice to meet you, Peyton. I should get Sammy back home and into bed.”
“Yeah, I should call a cab,” I said, taking out my phone.
“You don’t have a car?”
“My husband drove us here,” I answered. “But he went back home to get some sleep.”
Theo wrinkled her nose. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“No, really. You have to take care of Sammy—”
She turned me around and marched me out of the exam room where Sammy was waiting with Hillary. They were playing another game. Sammy’s hands rested on top of Hillary’s palms. Every time she tried to lightly slap his hands, he pulled away with a ferocious giggle.
“Sammy,” Theo called. “Say goodbye and thank you to Officer Spaughton. We’re going home.”
“Thanks, Officer Spaughton.” Sammy saluted the officer then did a quick about-face. “See ya soon.”
“I sure hope not,” Theo muttered. To the cop, she added, “Thanks again, Hillary. I appreciate your help.”
“Don’t mention it, Theo. See you next time. Nice meeting you, Peyton. Do you need a ride back home?”
Though Officer Hillary Spaughton seemed perfectly nice, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Ben’s brain devolved when he saw her.
“No, thank you,” I said. “Theo’s going to drive me.”
Hillary walked us out and waited in the front seat of her cop cruiser until Theo had gotten Sammy buckled in. As Theo pulled out of the emergency clinic’s parking lot, Hillary waved and turned in the opposite direction, back toward town.
“She seems friendly,” I said.
“Hillary?” Theo flipped on the wipers to clear the windshield of snow. She drove a big green Jeep with giant textured wheels that made short work of the icy roads. “She’s Sammy’s favorite. She’s actually babysat for him a few times.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“If you ever need anything, someone in this town is guaranteed to help you out.” Theo squinted ahead as the Falconwood lights faded behind us and the dark forest took over. “But first you have to help me out. Where am I going?”
“The turn is up there on the left, right after that big boulder,” I said, pointing to the large, gray rock. “Can you see it?”
“Got it.”
The Jeep trundled up the one-way road. Despite the bumpy journey, a light snore emanated from the backseat. Sammy was dead asleep, his head lolling on his shoulders. I reached back to roll up his hood and wedge it under his neck so he wouldn’t be sore in the morning.
“Do you have kids?” Theo asked.
“No. It was never in the cards. Why?”
She nodded at Sammy in the rearview mirror. “You’re good with him. He doesn’t warm up to strangers easily.”
“Well, I have to be honest,” I said. “When I found him in the kitchen, he scared the living daylights out of me. I’m not used to being in such a big house. You hear things, you know?”
“I can’t imagine,” Theo said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I replied. “Everything turned out fine. I’m glad Sammy’s okay.”
The Jeep emerged from the trees and pulled into the front yard. Abram Mansion loomed above us like a huge gray castle. Ben had turned on the outside lights for me. The elaborate sconces cast a gloomy yellow light across the yard, like the snow was old and moldy.
“I’ve never seen this place before,” Theo said, gazing up at the enormous house. “It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”
“You should see the inside.” I opened my door just wide enough to let myself out, trying to keep the gusty wind from penetrating the Jeep’s warm interior. “Thanks for the ride, Theo.”
“Anytime,” she replied. “And I still owe you one for getting Sammy to the clinic. Actually, I probably owe you another one for not freaking out when you found out he’d broken into your house.”
I tightened my scarf around my neck. “It’s not a big deal. Really.”
“It is,” she insisted. “At least let me take you out to lunch tomorrow while Sammy’s in school. It’ll give me the chance to thank you for real.”
Since Ben was bound to be busy with his new job as well as Jim’s construction crew, I didn’t see any harm in going out for lunch with Theo.
“Sure,” I said. “That sounds great. Take care.”
“We will.”
I waved goodbye as they pulled out of the yard. Then I made a run for the front door. The snow had picked up again, and the flakes were melting fast against my skin. The house was surprisingly toasty, since the radiators had been running all day now. As I kicked off my boots, I checked on Ben. Like Sammy, he was already fast asleep.
5
Without curtains, the sun came right through the window of the drawing room and laid across my face like a cold cat looking for a warm bed. Somehow, I’d wrapped myself so tightly in my new duvet that my arms and legs were bound to my sides. Though I appreciated the warmth, it took me a good few minutes to unravel myself. I put on my robe and slippers and went out into the entryway. Ben’s bed was empty. He had folded up his sleeping bag and stored the cot against the wall, no doubt getting it out of the way of the construction crew. From the loud hammering above, I guessed Jim and his boys were already working on the leaky roof.
In the kitchen, Ben watched a pot of boiling water on the stove. He’d secured the dog door shut with duct tape. When I came in, I made sure to shuffle my feet against the floor so he knew I was there, but he didn’t bother to turn around.
“Morning,” I said, glancing over his shoulder at the simmering water. “What are you doing?”
“Making coffee,” he grunted.
I picked up the little glass jar. “Instant?”
“We don’t have a coffeemaker,” he said. “So you’re stuck with dirty water.”
“Why didn’t you go to Black Cat?”
“Because I have work to do, Peyton,” he answered, barely masking his bad mood. “I can’t drive into town every morning because you think instant coffee is beneath you.”
I retreated from the stove. “I didn’t say that. Why are you being like this?”
“Like what?”
“You’ve been in a funk since yesterday.”
He opened the closest cabinet, where he’d stored two of our camping mugs. The kitchen, I realized, had been scrubbed clean. Ben must have gotten up early to wipe it down.
“Gee, Peyton,” he said, now organizing the cabinets as if they were full of clutter and mess. “Why would I be in a bad mood after you left me in a café? After a little kid broke into our house so we were up all night taking care of him?”
“We weren’t up all night,” I reminded him. “You bailed.”
“Because I can’t do this anymore.” He set the steel camping mug on the counter with more force than necessary. The mug bounced to the floor and twirled on its handle. “I tried to ignore it, but you keep acting like our relationship was always a mess. My only goal in our marriage was to make you as happy as possible. You can’t blame me for not going after your dreams.”
“Way to change the subject,” I said. “You left me in town twice yesterday, Ben. I had to find two different people to drive me home.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.” He kept his back t
o me on the pretense of keeping an eye on the boiling water. “And I think you’re right. I shouldn’t feel guilty for looking at another woman. Not considering your past.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He abandoned his water watch to confront me. “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know about the things you’ve done behind my back?”
My jaw unhinged and dropped to the floor. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, yeah? How’s Chrissy doing?”
“My old photography friend? I have no idea. Why?”
He scoffed. “You know why.”
“I really don’t.”
“How’d you get home last night?” he challenged. “Did the cop give you a ride?”
“No, Theo did. Sammy’s mom.”
“So you found a new best friend,” Ben spat like a venomous snake. “It figures.”
The water in the pot boiled over, and the bubbly mess poured across the stove top. Ben’s hand, planted on the counter, caught a bit of the splash. He yelped, flipped on the kitchen tap, and ran the burn under the cold water.
“Listen, Ben,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice even. “I don’t know why you woke up this morning and decided to get on my case. I know it’s complicated between us right now, but you were the one who wanted to do this. We need to be able to get along because I can’t fight with you for six months straight. If you—oh my God!”
Ben whirled around to see what I was staring at with such a horrified look on my face. “What? What is it? What did you see?”
“A face!” I pointed at the dirty window above the stove, set high in the wall to be right at ground level. “There was a face in the window, like a reflection.” I checked behind me, but there was nothing lurking in the pantry. “I swear I saw it.”
Ben wiped the window with the dish towel. “I don’t see anything.”
I pressed my palm to my chest, feeling my heart beat twice as fast. It had happened so quickly. For a brief moment, a small pale face had appeared in one of the square window frames. A second later, it was gone, almost as if it had never happened at all.
“Check outside,” I said.
“Peyton, there’s nothing there—”
“Check outside!”
With a heavy sigh, Ben unlatched the kitchen door and trudged up the stairs that led to the ground level. A minute later, he came back inside. “Like I said, nothing there. Peyton, watch out!”
As an ominous rip! echoed overhead, Ben tackled me. He wrapped his whole body around mine and dove into the hallway as a tremendous crash rocked the kitchen. We cowered on the floor, Ben using his own back to shield me as debris rained from the ceiling. He didn’t move until everything was quiet. As the dust settled in the kitchen, it became clear what had happened. The light fixture—a miniature version of the chandelier in the entryway that was still rather large—had pulled free of the ceiling and fallen to the ground, taking the electrical work with it. Shattered glass was scattered around the kitchen and in the hallway.
As Ben got up, I planted my hand on the ground to help myself stand. A sharp pain kissed my palm. One of the glass shards had sliced through my skin. Blood dripped to the floor, but Ben didn’t notice. He was too busy inspecting the fallen chandelier.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, picking his way through the mess. “Where the hell are we supposed to eat now? Jim said the work wouldn’t disrupt anything inside. I’m going to go give his crew a piece of my mind.”
Without another look back, Ben stomped outside, leaving me to deal with my bleeding hand all on my own. I stepped carefully across the kitchen to run the gash underneath the faucet. As the freezing water washed away the blood, I stared up at the window. A prickling feeling crawled up the back of my neck. Despite Ben’s skepticism, I was sure I’d seen a face there, for however briefly it appeared.
Ben and I had brought a first aid kit with us, but when I opened the small plastic box, all I found were a few Band-Aids and a bottle of antibacterial spray. It wasn’t enough to cover the two-inch slash on my palm. With my hand raised in the air to keep the blood flow at bay, I checked the nearest bathroom, the one Ben and I had set up for us yesterday. It was small and compact, without a shower or tub. My guess was this bathroom had been set up for the servants that once used to run the house, separated from the main rooms so guests of the Abrams family never saw the underpaid workers who served meals and changed sheets. I would have thought the servants’ bathroom would be stocked with first aid supplies, but the cabinets were empty except for mine and Ben’s toiletries. If there was anything here before, Ben had already thrown it in the trash.
Blood wept through the paper towels on my hand and ran down my wrist. I clenched my teeth, threw out the stained towels, and sacrificed one of our white bath washcloths to tie around the wound instead. I wrapped it as tightly as I could one-handed, hoping the pressure would help to stem the blood. Then I went in search of real first aid supplies.
I skipped the rest of the basement level, since all that was left down there was a maintenance room and a few storage closets full of moldy tablecloths and tarnished silverware. On the first floor, I swept all of the rooms branching off the entryway without luck. Where the corridors branched off to other areas of the mansion, I turned around. Ben and I hadn’t explored the entire house yet, and I wasn’t about to wander around those creepy halls by myself.
On the second floor, I finally found a huge, fully-stocked bathroom connected to a guest bedroom. The cabinet beneath the sink housed a number of bandages, sterile pads, and antibacterial creams. Since they were expired by forty years, I skipped the creams, but the bandages and sterile pads were wrapped in individual packages. I unwound the towel from my hand. The bleeding had slowed, and I was able to see how deep the cut was for the first time. If I didn’t want it to scar, the wound probably needed stitches, but I wasn’t in the mood to go back to the emergency clinic. I used a few butterfly bandages to close the wound, then covered it with a sterile pad and wrapped my entire palm in gauze. The materials smelled a little weird from being around so long, but it was better to get the cut bandaged than let it drip all over the place.
Through the bathroom window, I caught sight of Ben and Jim in the front yard. Ben gesticulated wildly, mimicking the tackle he performed to get me out of the way of the falling chandelier. Jim listened to Ben’s entire rant, and when Ben took a breath, Jim took the opportunity to place a steady hand on Ben’s shoulder. Ben slumped, as if Jim’s touch had an immediate soothing effect. Jim said something else, and the two of them went inside, presumably to check out the damage.
I didn’t want to go back downstairs—I would only be in the way of Jim’s work and Ben’s annoyance—so I decided to keep going up. While the central part of the second floor opened up to the entryway with a huge mezzanine, the third and fourth floors were more private. If had to guess, the entire mansion had at least eighty rooms. It wasn’t a house; it was a castle, one with an interior maze that begged to be traversed. The more I explored, the more obvious it became that the Abram Mansion had been built long before Percy Abrams and his family lived there. I wondered what kind of history it held in its walls.
On the fourth floor, an elaborate handwoven tapestry stretched a good twenty feet across the wall between the entrances to other rooms. The tapestry was old and faded, but the depiction of the Abram Mansion was still visible. The colorful threads made the mansion and the area around it look like a magical land. It didn’t include Falconwood, another clue that the enormous house was erected before the town appeared in the valley below. I ran my uninjured hand across the intricate pattern, appreciating the texture of the artwork, but in the middle of the tapestry, I found something hard underneath. It was a handle.
I lifted the bottom of the tapestry and heaved it upward. It was shockingly heavy, and when I ducked under it and let it drop to my other side, it shrouded me in darkness. Only pinpricks of sunlight made it through the texture
d cloth, but it was enough to illuminate the handle I’d felt. The handle belonged to another door, but neither object matched the style of the rest of the house. The door was made of reinforced steel, and the handle was the type that swung open from a barricade, almost as if the room behind it was crafted to keep something violent inside. But there was no lock, so I expelled the scary thought from my head.
I swung the handle over and pushed the door open. The steel grated against the frame and red rust fell from the creaky hinges. For a reason I couldn’t explain, I braced myself as the door revealed what was behind it, but it was only a set of stone steps. I turned on my phone light and started up. The steps were unusually steep, and at the top, I was already out of breath. A light switch was connected to a long wire that disappeared into the darkness.
With a flip of the switch, a low-hanging bulb in the middle of the room popped on. It was an attic, filled wall-to-wall with junk. From a cursory look, the room contained everything from broken furniture to full-sized carousel horses. One thing immediately caught my eye. A vintage camera was perched atop a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner of the room. If it was as old as it looked, it was worth quite a bit of cash. Not to mention, if the camera still worked, I might be able to take some pretty cool photos with it. That was, if I decided to take up photography again.
To get to the camera required some fancy footwork. The room was so stacked with crap that the floor was hardly visible. I shoved aside cardboard filing boxes, bins full of toys, and luggage sets that looked like they’d been around since the beginning of time before I finally reached the camera. Though it was covered in dust, the viewfinder winked at me as I picked it up. It was a Canon SLR from around the fifties. There was still a roll of film in it, so I lifted the camera to my eye and took a look around the room for something to shoot. In the far corner, a child’s rocking horse stood alone, so I snapped a picture of it.
In the second it took for the shutter to close and open again, a figure appeared in the viewfinder, tucked behind a rusty file cabinet. I quickly lowered the camera, but nothing stood in the space behind the cabinet that looked the same shape as the figure. I lifted the camera again, thinking there might be something wrong with it, but when I clicked the button to take another picture, nothing happened. The roll of film had run out.
The Haunting of Abram Mansion Page 7