by Lukens, Mark
“Somebody was in here,” Gina insisted. “I saw him.” She didn’t like the idea of Matt standing there in front of the closet, his back to the open doorway. She could imagine the shadowy figure rushing out at him and dragging him back inside. But she didn’t say anything to him—he already thought she was dreaming the whole thing.
Matt closed the closet door and shut off the light. He went over to the bedroom door and shut off the overhead light.
“Could you lock that door?”
Matt stared at Gina for a moment.
“Please.”
Matt shrugged and then twisted the lock on their bedroom door. Then he shuffled back to bed.
He got in bed and rolled over on his side with his back to Gina. She snuggled up close to him.
“It was just a nightmare,” he said over his shoulder. “That’s all, baby. You were half-asleep and still seeing part of your dream. It’s happened to me before.”
“It has?”
“Well, not really. But I’ve heard of it happening before.”
Gina sighed, but she was beginning to feel a little better. Maybe Matt was right. Maybe she’d been having a nightmare. But the noises, and then the man standing there had seemed so real. It had felt so real.
“I know you’re still a little nervous being here,” he said. “But it’ll wear off in a few more days. I promise. You’ll see.”
She nodded, but didn’t answer. She left her bedside lamp on and closed her eyes, but she didn’t think she would be able to get back to sleep.
• • •
Gina jumped awake and realized that she was sprawled across the bed. Her mouth felt dry and her body felt a little sore. Her hands went to her belly instantly, like she was checking to make sure everything was okay.
She sat up and looked around the room. She glanced at the alarm clock and saw that it was almost afternoon.
How long had she slept? When had she finally fallen asleep? She couldn’t remember.
Even though she felt stiff, a little sore, and somewhat groggy, she knew she would feel better soon. She felt like she’d finally slept for the first time in weeks. She had just needed some sleep—that was all.
She got dressed in a pair of faded jeans and one of Matt’s baggy hockey shirts. She had hesitated for a moment before going inside their closet to get the clothes, but then she told herself that it was silly. Now that it was daytime, she was more convinced than ever that the man she’d seen last night had just been a vivid nightmare.
She went downstairs and found Matt in the entertainment room. He sat in the same seat and he was watching the same movie—The Shining.
“Don’t you ever get tired of watching that movie?” she asked him.
“No.”
Gina watched Matt for a moment, but he didn’t turn around to look at her or smile at her.
She left the room.
She entered the trophy room and looked around. She studied the variety of animal heads mounted on the walls. She stood right in front of a water buffalo head and stared at it for a long moment. Its black glassy eyes stared right back at her.
A moment later she found herself in front of the glass cases that held the torture instruments inside.
Why were these in here? she asked herself.
Something was bothering her about this room, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Something was slightly off in this room. There was something slightly off in this whole house. It was like a problem tickling the back of her mind, but she couldn’t figure it out, like the answer was hidden inside a fog, close to the surface, but still hazy enough so that she couldn’t see it perfectly.
And then she thought of the Winslow Homer painting.
She wanted to see the painting again. Homer was one of her favorite artists and she couldn’t believe one of his paintings was in this house just hanging on a wall.
Moments later she stood in front of the painting. It was titled: Fog Warning, the words engraved in a gold plaque beneath the painting. There was also a date: 1885. This painting wasn’t real; it couldn’t be. Mr. Crow wouldn’t leave a painting like this out on display; it would be locked away in a vault with a hefty insurance policy on it.
She got close to it. She could see the raised brush strokes on the canvas, yet it still didn’t look real. She reached towards it with her finger, about to touch it, but then she pulled back. What if there was an alarm on it? What if the alarm sounded when she touched it and the deal was off? What if this was some kind of test?
Oh, hell with it!
She touched the painting and let her finger trail across the smooth surface gently.
It was just a print. That’s all. But it was framed and displayed like it was authentic.
Something still bothered her.
She looked at a vase on a table across the room. She hurried towards it, picked it up and turned it over. There was some kind of watermark there, but nothing she recognized. This seemed to be a fake, too.
Gina hurried around the room, inspecting the paintings and sculptures more closely, one after another. They were all replicas or outright fakes. All of them. She was sure of it. Some of them even had “Made in China” stamped on the bottom of them.
She rushed back into the entertainment room and found Matt in the same spot, staring at the screen.
“Matt, I need to talk to you about something.”
He didn’t answer her or even turn around. Was he mad at her? Because she’d woken him up last night?
“Matt,” she snapped.
He turned around, his trance broken. He stared at her like he just realized she was right behind him.
“Could you please turn that movie off for a minute?”
Matt pressed a button on the remote control and the screen went black.
Gina walked around the last row of theater seats and came down the aisle to sit down next to him.
“There’s something weird about this house,” she said in a low voice.
Matt sighed and rolled his eyes. “Please, Gina, I don’t know why you need to keep doing this.”
“Just listen to me …”
“I know you’re freaked out,” he interrupted her. “But you need to concentrate on the money we’re making and quit being such a nervous wreck all the time.”
“ … just listen to me for a minute …”
“I mean why can’t you just enjoy this?” he snapped. “We’re living in a mansion for two months, and we’re going to make more money than we could’ve made in a whole year.”
He stood up and walked away from her.
“Matt, wait.”
“This isn’t good enough for you?” he said over his shoulder and then stormed out of the room.
Gina stood up and stared at the doorway. She felt like bursting into tears, but she held them back.
• • •
Gina left the entertainment room and went to the greenhouse—it was her favorite room. It was a room where things were real. She had watered the plants yesterday, so she just checked on them now; pruning a few dead leaves away from some of the plants.
And then she stood beside the bank of windows that looked out onto the snow-covered fields. She touched the glass and she could feel the freezing air on the other side of it. She shivered.
A scraping noise startled her and for a split second it reminded her of the sound she’d heard in their bedroom when she’d woken up from her nightmare.
She turned around and stared at Matt who stood by one of the many tables of plants. He looked sheepish, a little ashamed.
“Gina, I’m sorry about the things I said earlier.”
She didn’t answer him. She just watched him as he walked towards her.
“I know this is difficult for you,” he said. “I know it’s been a rough few days, but it’s going to get better. I swear it is.”
Gina still didn’t answer him as he moved closer to her.
“You still mad at me?” he asked.
“I needed to tell you something.”
&nbs
p; He stood face-to-face with her. “What is it?”
For a moment she didn’t say anything. She wondered if she should even tell him now. It had seemed so urgent before, but now after their argument, maybe it was just stilly.
“Come on, Gina. Tell me, please.”
She sighed and told him. “I was in the living room, looking around at things, and I noticed something.”
Matt nodded and she could see him bracing himself for her next wild theory about this place.
“I think the paintings and the antiques are fakes.” There, she said it. It was out.
“Okay,” Matt said carefully, afraid of making her mad. “And you’re sure about this?”
“Not one hundred percent sure, but I’m pretty sure. I know the Winslow Homer is a print.”
“Okay. So they’re fakes. So what?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little strange that we’re in a multi-million dollar mansion that’s furnished and decorated with fakes and knock-offs?”
“No. Not really. It’s Mr. Crow’s house. He can do what he wants with it.”
Gina walked away, frustrated with Matt again. She turned and looked at him. “I don’t know why you can’t see it, Matt.”
Matt just watched her.
“There’s something strange about this place. About this job. This whole situation.”
“Come on, Gina …”
“It’s not just the paintings and antiques that seem fake—this whole place feels fake.”
“I don’t even know what you’re trying to say. Fake how? Why? You’re not making any sense.”
Matt walked away towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
He glanced back at her as he marched towards the doorway. “We’ve got a good thing here. Finally, we’ve got a good thing. I know you’re scared or got cabin fever or something, but we can’t mess this up.”
He left.
Gina turned back to the plate-glass windows and stared out at the snowy fields and the trees so far away. She touched the glass like a prisoner staring out at freedom.
“I’ll prove it to you,” she whispered.
• • •
Gina stood at the foot of the stairs that led up to the third floor. She hesitated for a moment, and then she took a deep breath and took the first step. Then she climbed the stairs to the third floor in a rush.
At the top of the stairs was a landing and the only way she could turn was to the right. A short wide hall led down to a set of double doors with no other doors on either side of the hallway. She had seen from the outside when they first got here that the third floor was half the length of the house. And beyond those double doors at the end of the hall was the whole third floor.
She walked down the dark red carpeting and then stood in front of the doors. They looked like they had been carved from cherry wood, but she could see a little bit of flaking in some places, and she guessed that it was some kind of cheap veneer.
The doors would be locked, she was sure of that.
Or an alarm would sound if she opened them and all of this would be over.
Good, her mind whispered from a far off place. Good, maybe this should be over.
She grabbed the door handle on one of the doors and twisted it, bracing herself for the shrill sound of an alarm.
But no alarm sounded and the door opened easily.
She went inside.
• • •
Matt sat in the entertainment room again, in his same chair. He had The Shining back on the screen, but he wasn’t really watching it. He was still stewing about Gina. He didn’t want to argue with her. He was usually a happy guy and he hated arguing. Gina was the one who usually had the temper. And she was usually so strong and sure of herself. He had never seen her like this before, scared and vulnerable.
He was upset at himself for snapping at her again. He had gone into the greenhouse to make up with her, not to keep the argument going.
He just wished she would relax and enjoy this golden egg that had dropped into their laps.
A scraping sound from outside the room grabbed his attention.
Matt turned around in the chair and looked at the door that led out to the wide hall. He’d left the door ajar. Maybe Gina was coming back to make up with him.
“Gina?” he called. “You out there?”
• • •
Gina noticed that the third-floor room she’d entered beyond the double doors looked like a living room. Another thing she noticed right away was that this room wasn’t furnished like the two levels below—not even close. Up in this room there was modest furniture, it was still nice and maybe even expensive, but it was more utilitarian than fancy, more comfortable than showy. This looked like a person’s living quarters and not a showroom.
That’s probably because this is Mr. Crow’s living area, she told herself, and she felt a little funny being in here.
What was she doing up here?
But there was something up here, she was sure of it. There was something whispering to her, calling her. It wanted to show her some secrets—secrets she should see.
She crept through the living room and saw a few doorways leading to other rooms. She entered through the closest doorway and found a small dining area with a simple wood table and chairs. Nothing fancy in here, not much décor on the walls.
She moved past the dining area into a kitchen with stainless steel appliances and tiled floors. There was a gigantic butcher-block island in the middle of the large kitchen and oversized appliances squeezed in between white cabinets. A small room off of the kitchen contained a massive tiled shower with a sturdy iron rod hanging across the top of it and two gigantic metal sinks that could probably fit ten frozen turkeys inside. Across the room there was a gigantic vat. It was empty, but it looked like it was used for cooking something very large. There was some kind of gas pipes running to it and a temperature gauge.
Gina walked back through the kitchen, being as quiet as she could even though she was sure no one was up here with her.
Are you sure about that?
She stopped and looked at the kitchen counters carefully. They were clean, but she saw a few crumbs in the corner. And the sink was wet, like someone had used it recently. The refrigerator was stocked with food, drinks, beer.
As Gina left the kitchen, she felt a fluttering of fear in her stomach.
She entered Mr. Crow’s bedroom and saw a giant painting of him. In the portrait he was in his late thirties or early forties, Gina guessed. He looked fit. And he looked dangerous. There was something about his heartless expression, something about his cold, dark eyes—the eyes of a hunter.
There were strange artworks on the walls and other strange items in the room which was dominated by a huge canopy bed jutting out from the corner; the bedframe made of iron. A few old dressers and bookcases held more strange torture devices, but these weren’t locked away in glass cases. There were assortments of iron bars with metal cuffs attached to them.
She checked out the bathroom, poking her head inside. It was a normal-looking bathroom, but very large. The tub could fit three people inside—it looked like a hot tub. There was a toilet, a bidet, a massive granite-topped counter with double sinks and gold-plated fixtures.
Gina crept to the sink and stared down into it. It was wet like someone had used it recently—just like the sink in the kitchen. She could feel her heart beating faster.
She hurried out of the bathroom and went to a walk-in closet that was nearly as big as the living room and kitchen in their old apartment. There was a double line of hanging clothes in the middle of the closet and more clothes lining the walls around the closet along with built-in drawers, shelves, a sitting area and dresser with a large mirror.
The rows of clothes were made up of men’s and women’s clothes—different sizes and styles. Underneath some of the clothes were hundreds of shoes: loafers, sneakers, work boots, high heels, and sandals.
Gina went over to one of the drawers and
opened the top drawer. She saw a collection of personal items: wallets, combs, sunglasses, cigarette lighters, jewelry, and wristwatches.
She shook her head. These weren’t all from the same people.
Something was wrong here. Why did Mr. Crow have all this stuff in his closet? It wasn’t all of his stuff; it couldn’t be. Deep down she knew what the answer was, but she didn’t want to admit it to herself, not up here on the third floor, not in his room.
She rushed out of the closet and turned off the light. She was about to leave, but she saw a door to a room she still hadn’t inspected yet. There was a padlock on the door that would normally keep the room locked, but even from where she stood she could see that it was unlocked.
Gina hurried across the room and she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder as she ran, sure that the man from the portrait would come running at her from a shadowy corner of the room. She fumbled with the padlock and ended up dropping it down onto the floor. It made a soft thump on the thick carpeting and she didn’t bother picking it up. She opened the door and stepped inside the room.
And then she screamed.
• • •
Matt left the entertainment room and walked through the house, listening for the noise again. When he was in the dining room, he thought he heard the scraping noise coming from the kitchen.
He entered the kitchen and walked to the middle of it. He stood on the white tile floor for a long moment, listening. But he didn’t hear any more noises.
“Gina? You in here?”
No answer.
“Don’t play games, baby. This isn’t funny.”
Matt hesitated, not sure where to check first. She had to be playing with him, maybe trying to make him feel the same fear that she’d been feeling the whole time she’d been here.
“Come on, you’ve had your fun.”
Still no answer from Gina.
“Whatever point you’re trying to make here, you’ve made it.”
He looked at a stainless steel counter that held a metal block of kitchen knives. He thought about grabbing one, but then he pushed the thought away. They were the only people here; Mr. Yates had showed them the whole house. He couldn’t take a chance on accidently stabbing his wife if she jumped out to scare him.