“Come to me.”
Abby heard Sanders’ voice speaking inside her head. Strangely, it didn’t alarm her. On the contrary, it seemed normal.
“Abby, come here,” he said, “I need your help. Come right now.”
She hadn’t liked Sanders much. Big, muscle-bound outdoor types were not her cup of tea. Sanders made her Ned look small, old, past it. But the voice was irresistible. It swarmed all over her, would not let go, changing her thoughts and feelings.
“Help me. You must come. I need you now.”
On and on it continued and she was powerless to resist. She wanted to turn and run but couldn’t move an inch. Long tendrils penetrated her mind and completely took over. Her eyes glazed, and her arms extended. She went to the back door and slowly pulled back the bar that locked it. Looking down, she was shocked to see her hand turning the door handle. A terrible “NO!” rose up within her and was instantly smothered.
Something locked deep inside her, short circuiting her natural instincts and responses.
Helpless to stop herself, she stepped into the night.
Out of the darkness, Sanders came. Abby stepped slowly forward until she was at the edge of the circle of light. A tiny sigh escaped her lips before her inevitable surrender. She took another step and thick arms gripped her tightly.
Chapter Seven
“Winning’s not everything.” Georgia tossed her cards on the table and stood up.
“It’s just ninety-nine per cent.”
Ned Mackie smiled at Wheeler’s reply. It was straight from the man’s heart, for sure. Ned thought about drawing Wheeler out on what he meant by that, why winning was so important to him. It was what Ned would do in a clinical situation, when he had pen and paper in hand and took notes on everything Wheeler said. Not quite the stereotypical psychiatrist’s ‘Lie down on the couch and tell me about your childhood’, but close enough.
Ned decided against anything like that now. It wasn’t the time or the place. Nor would he rub in his own victory over Wheeler.
“You just squeaked a win over me, Ned,” Wheeler protested.
“I’ll give you a chance to get revenge tomorrow night.” That would have to satisfy Wheeler. Ned and Toby had beaten Wheeler and Georgia at bridge and now their host was blaming Georgia for losing. Typical.
Wheeler leaned forward. “Toby and I will beat you then for sure.”
Ned almost laughed out loud. Wheeler wanted to change partners. Refusing to take the bait, Ned extended his arms in a slow stretch and stood up. “I’ll just go check on Abby.”
Wheeler’s nose was still out of joint. “She writing a book or something?”
“I want to tell her about my famous victory,” Ned replied, and immediately regretted it. He needed to be mindful of Wheeler provoking him through Abby.
“See you tomorrow,” Toby called out as Ned left the room. Without turning, Ned gave him a friendly backward wave.
He stuck his head in the kitchen. Abby wasn’t there, so he went upstairs to their bedroom. She’d probably be there reading, or maybe even asleep. When he opened the bedroom door their light was on, but the room was empty. He went back down to the kitchen for a better look. Maybe she’d been in the bathroom the first time.
The first things he noticed were her journal lying on the window seat, with her fountain pen on the floor beneath it. He picked up the pen and saw that the nib was bent as if it had been dropped. The window above the seat was open and he closed it without thinking. As he turned, his eyes fell on the back door. It was open.
He went over and peered outside, seeing only the blackness of night. Uneasiness swept over him and he turned and rushed to the living room.
* * *
Wheeler tried to get Nora or me to join the bridge game. We refused, as neither of us knew how to play. Georgia and Toby had had enough anyway and went back to the soft couches, whereupon Wheeler tossed the playing cards into a garbage can with a snort of disgust.
Ned Mackie burst in so hard that the door banged against the wall.
“I can’t find Abby. She’s not in the bedroom or the kitchen. I think she’s gone outside.”
“At this hour of the night?” Wheeler replied.
“Come and see for yourself.”
We all rushed to the kitchen where Ned showed us the open back door.
“Check every room,” Wheeler said.
We wandered all over the house and looked into each and every room. Wheeler even barged into Peterman and Marie’s room and woke them up. Every nook and cranny was checked. Abby Mackie had disappeared. We ended up in the front hall, at the outside door.
“What the hell is going on around here?” Wheeler roared at us, as if it was our fault. Ned called out loudly into the darkness and I watched Wheeler’s face grow redder and redder.
“Great, first a missing body, now a missing woman,” he spat out angrily.
“She’s probably just gone for a walk,” Toby said in a calm voice behind him.
Wheeler pulled on his walking boots. “I’m going to look for her.”
He didn’t ask if anyone was coming with him, though it was obviously expected. Everyone grabbed outdoor shoes and light jackets. Wheeler tossed us flashlights and almost pushed us out the door.
“Don’t we need the bear repellent?” I asked. Wheeler gave me a look that could kill and shook his head.
“The noise and flashlights will scare animals away,” he said, as if I was a total idiot.
In front of us Georgia overheard the remark and turned her beautiful head. “Bears seem to be the default explanation for everything around here.”
I caught a whiff of her perfume.
“Invisible bears that walk through locked doors and leave no traces,” Ned agreed, “Bears that steal axes off walls.”
Wheeler looked like he was about to erupt. He obviously wasn’t used to any kind of backtalk. Nora gave me a knowing nudge and I answered with a grin.
“We can talk about this later,” Wheeler answered, “Let’s find Abby Mackie first.”
We kept together and circled the house; searching as well as we could with the flashlights and calling out Abby’s name at regular intervals. There wasn’t the slightest sign of her.
At that point, Wheeler insisted that we go back indoors. At the back of the group, Nora nudged me again and whispered in my ear.
“Wheeler gives up easily, doesn’t he?”
I nodded in the gloom. “And he doesn’t seem too surprised that we can’t find her.”
* * *
We searched the locked shed and the house one more time, looking in every closet and bathroom all over again, but there was still no sign of Abby Mackie. By now Ned’s face was pale and frozen and he was obviously frantic with worry. Wheeler assembled us again in the living room.
“Time for another stiff one,” he said. He set up shot glasses on the bar counter, filled them with whiskey and insisted everyone drink, even Nora and me. The atmosphere was grim all round. Wheeler knocked back another shot and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Sanders died on us and then his body disappeared. Then Abby goes missing. Any explanations?”
There was silence.
“Now that the infernal rain has stopped at least we’ll be able to do a proper search,” Wheeler continued, “That’s something.”
“Abby can’t have gone far,” Ned said, “It’s not like her to stray.” He straightened up, released a long breath and seemed to make a great effort to control himself. “Anyway, we could speculate all night long about what happened but what’s important is finding her. She’s never done anything like this before. Never, never.”
“There’s nothing more we can do tonight,” Wheeler replied coldly, “We’ll resume first thing tomorrow morning.”
Ned opened his mouth to protest but Georgia got in first. “Ned will want to stay up,” she said, “And wait for Abby.”
Ned nodded slowly. “She’s never done anything like this before,” he
repeated, “She has nothing but the clothes on her back. You lot can go to bed if you like, I’m staying up.”
“I’d keep the back door open,” Georgia suggested, “She’ll probably come in that way. Unlock the front door too, just in case.”
“No way,” Wheeler protested, “She can ring the bell or hammer on the knocker; whichever. I’ve already had a mysterious death and a mysterious disappearance. This is no time for leaving doors unlocked.”
“Actually, two mysterious disappearances,” Toby corrected him. “But I agree with getting some sleep and starting fresh in the morning. Ned, of course, will stay up.”
“She’ll probably be back by the time we wake up,” Georgia said optimistically.
Wheeler patted Ned’s shoulder. “I’m sure Georgia’s right,” he agreed, “You can unlock the back door provided you sit right by it all the time. But you keep the front door locked. Are we agreed?”
Ned seemed satisfied with this arrangement, sat down quietly and leaned back. He was almost in a daze. Wheeler and the guests had one more drink then Nora and I gathered up the empty glasses and placed them on a tray. Abby Mackie’s disappearance on top of Sanders’ death had turned this whole vacation experience into an endurance test. I couldn’t wait to get it over with.
Then I realised how selfish I was being. I watched Ned fidget and squirm in his chair and saw the fear in his eyes. As soon as we went up to bed, he would probably go out again and wander around all night long, driving himself crazy in the process. And what if Abby really was in trouble? Or worse?
When the other guests left, Nora and I put the bottles away and rinsed the shot glasses in the small sink behind the counter. Wheeler sat down beside Ned.
“Ned, I know you plan to go out there again and search for her, any good husband would, but that would be pointless.” Wheeler had his patient teacher voice on. “There are hundreds of miles of dense forest on all sides and you wouldn’t know where to start. You might even hurt yourself.”
Ned Mackie merely nodded; his thoughts somewhere on another planet.
“Instead, let me strike a deal with you,” Wheeler continued, “I’ll switch on the lights in all the downstairs rooms and keep the blinds open and curtains back. They’ll act like beacons for Abby. In return, you stay inside and wait at the kitchen door for her. Maybe even doze a while and get some rest for tomorrow. How about it?”
Ned looked grimly at Wheeler and nodded again.
“Good man,” said Wheeler, and handed Ned a large whiskey he’d been cradling in his hand. “Here, drink this down, it’ll help. For her sake.”
Ned took the glass and emptied it in one gulp. He went to the bar, refilled the glass and swallowed that down too. Then he grabbed the bottle.
“I’m off to bed,” he announced, and marched out the door.
* * *
Ned Mackie held the bottle in front of his bleary, bloodshot eyes and realised it was empty. He stood up on leaden legs and the bedroom swirled around him. The floor rushed up and Ned stumbled and almost fell over, reaching out a steadying arm just in time. The bottle slipped from his other hand and clattered on the floor without breaking. Ned swayed and fell backward, his butt just making it onto the edge of the bed. He sighed deeply. The bottle could go in the garbage in the morning.
He squirmed and lay back. The mattress was comfortable, and the room nicely cool but not cold. He hauled his legs up and stretched out, placing his head on an over-stuffed pillow that felt soft and silky on his cheek. His eyes drifted closed. Then a wave of anxiety suddenly swept over him that even malt whiskey could not hold off. Abby, Abby, Abby, where are you? The torrent subsided just as quickly, and an incredible weariness took its place.
He rubbed a hand over his sweaty, greasy face. His mind spun in an alcoholic roundabout that became a whirlpool. Down, down, down he went, into inebriated oblivion. Two minutes later he was fast asleep.
* * *
A noise of something banging woke him. Early morning light penetrated his gummy eyelid slits as he slowly opened them and sat up. His body was stiff and his hands were big and clumsy like oven mitts. He held his wristwatch inches from his face and peered at the dial; six-thirty. Someone seemed to have poured liquid cement into his head and it hurt like hell. The worst headache he’d ever had in his life. Then he noticed the empty whiskey bottle on the floor beside the bed and knew why.
Ned rubbed his bleary eyes, stood up and went to the bathroom. He filled a glass with cold water, swirled a mouthful around his pasty mouth and gulped the rest down greedily. To his surprise, the throbbing in his skull lessened appreciably. Then he remembered Abby and it worsened again.
He looked around the bedroom. What was it that woke him? The bedroom door was half open. Had she been here while he was sleeping? He pulled on some clothes and rushed down the stairs to the kitchen. Its door was open too.
And so was the back door. An early morning breeze swayed it on its hinges and he went over to it, scared at what he might find.
Outside, a patch of grass beside the concrete path looked trampled. He stared down at it, as if hypnotised, convinced that it had been flattened by his wife’s feet. The early morning sun was already drying the dew and these bent blades of grass would soon spring back up in the warmth. In half an hour or so there would be no traces left. He looked on the ground, found a single raw potato, soily and unwashed, in the longer grass, and picked it up.
Ned turned and ran upstairs, went from bedroom to bedroom, banged on doors, shouted and cursed, switched on lights, and woke everyone up. He had to get the lazy bastards downstairs quickly.
It took them forever. To keep himself from going crazy he made coffee and gulped it down scalding hot. He took the potato out of his pocket and held it in his shaking hand. The hallway door opened, and Wheeler and the other guests came in.
“You lot took your time.” Ned waited impatiently until they were standing around him. “Abby was here this morning. Something woke me up and when I came down the back door was open. Look what I found outside.” He held the raw, hard oval out to them.
As he did so, his thumb moved away to reveal a serrated edge where a small mouth – Abby’s? – had taken a bite out of the potato.
* * *
Ned had woken Nora and I too. We were down last, just in time to see Ned’s dramatic little performance. Wheeler, in a fancy housecoat over his pyjamas, examined the potato and handed it to Georgia. She was wearing only a slinky black nightdress that barely reached the top of her thighs. I wrenched my eyes away from the hemline, briefly up to her chest, then back down to the object in her hands.
It was passed around and Nora and I got it last. I thought it was weird that anyone would eat something so dirty and hard. I brushed away some of the encrusted soil and noticed something stuck in the curved white area of the bite. Carefully, I prised it out with my finger and held it up.
“It’s a human tooth,” I said. There was blood at one end of it.
Toby took it from me. “A small tooth,” he confirmed.
We stared at each other then at Ned, whose face was pale as a ghost’s. Georgia put an arm around his shoulder, but Ned didn’t even notice.
“What else did she take?” Wheeler said. If he was as shaken as the rest of us, he wasn’t showing it. He began opening cupboards and drawers.
“She’s been here alright. Stuff’s been taken.” He continued his search. “Bottled water and packaged food.” He opened the fridge and looked inside. “This seems a bit empty too.” He took out a plate with only crumbs left on it.
Ned stared at the empty dish, as if in a daze. “She’s okay then; she’s taken food and water and gone out again.”
Georgia blurted out the question in all our minds. “Why didn’t she just stay here?”
“No point in speculating about that,” Wheeler replied. “Ned’s lucky she didn’t take him with her.”
Ned glared back, his face rapidly reddening.
“Damn you Wheeler, I never should have c
ome here.”
* * *
Peterman and Marie made us breakfast and confirmed that loaves and cheese were missing as well as a carrier bag from a hook by the door. We gulped down coffee, toast and some hastily scrambled eggs then went outside and searched around the back of the house. Ned kept shouting his wife’s name over and over again until his voice got so cracked and hoarse he had to stop. I was relieved; the calling hadn’t done any good and it was getting on my nerves. Nora dashed indoors to check on something then came out again and joined me.
“This is getting even weirder,” she said.
“No kidding?” I replied, “It’s well on the far side of weird by now.”
“Did you notice anything odd back there in the kitchen?”
“Well, like I said, this whole thing is mighty odd, isn’t it?”
“Sure, but I’m thinking specifically about Abby returning this morning then leaving again.”
“What are you getting at?”
She glanced around before answering, making sure that no-one else could hear us. “When Abby went missing last night she left by the back door, right?”
“That’s what we’re assuming, Sherlock, as the door was open, same as this morning. Think she went out the front instead?”
Nora gave me a stare. “That’s not what I’m saying. Have you noticed the outdoor shoes that Abby’s been wearing?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“They’re hard to miss – pink Nike runners with reflective silver stripes.”
“So?”
“She’s been taking her shoes off indoors, even though Wheeler doesn’t insist on it. Her Nikes are still sitting on the front hall floor, socks stuffed into them. She went outside in bare feet last night.”
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