Closed at Dark: A Soren Chase Novella (The Soren Chase Series)

by Rob Blackwell

  Soren had been unable to sleep when he heard that. After all, it was a true story. John said it happened to a friend of his cousin — and John seldom lied. It had to be true.

  It took years for him to realize the tale was preposterous. Even assuming that someone broke into a woman’s house and then left her alone, why would it occur to him to lick the woman’s hand? How in the world would an intruder know the woman’s routine with her pet?

  That wasn’t the story’s only flaw, but it was enough for Soren to challenge John. Eventually the truth of it came out — it was a friend of a friend. And, of course, it had never really happened at all. It was akin to the “vanishing hitchhiker” story or the one about the escaped killer with a claw for a hand. Everyone heard the tales, always passed off as real, but nobody had any firm details. The advent of the Internet only made the situation worse. Now stories could be passed like viruses and some of them even had the semblance of authenticity.

  The man with the white hair seemed to fall into that category. Individually, the stories seemed plausible enough. But taken as a group, there was no way they could be true. There were reports of him in Texas and Kentucky at virtually the same time — and neither story had a solid source behind it.

  There were also just far too many similar tales with the exact same permutations. There was a persistent one about how a nanny confronted the man after she spotted him leading one of her charges off the playground. According to this account, the man had chased the nanny when she grabbed her child back. The problem with the story was it popped up too often. Was it likely that nannies in California and South Dakota had shared the exact same experience?

  All of this might have led Soren to dismiss the man’s existence altogether, but for two things. The first was that this wasn’t some fresh-off-the-street client or one of his blog’s many fans. This was Sara and he knew her well. She wasn’t given to flights of fancy. If she said she saw a man with white hair trying to kidnap her son, he believed her.

  The second was a far more disturbing headline he came across during his research. Unlike the message board postings, this one was not vague or second-hand information. It was a bona fide news article published by The Oregonian. “Police Seek White-Haired Man in Connection With Child’s Disappearance.”

  The article was filled with frighteningly specific details. A little over two years ago, five year-old Alastair Horne had vanished from his home in the dead of night. There was no evidence of a break-in, and his sibling, who slept in a bed next to him, heard nothing. All his parents found the next morning was an open window. The cops initially suspected a local contractor who had worked at the house, before briefly exploring the possibility that the parents themselves committed some crime. But their investigation apparently led nowhere. Alastair Horne was never seen again.

  But before the case faded from the papers, the police launched a search for a mysterious “white-haired man.” It seems he was the subject of a disturbing encounter just two days before Alastair was taken. Alastair’s mother said her son was playing in the creek behind her home when she heard him talking with someone. Curious, she investigated and found him interacting with a stranger, who was urging him to follow him further into the woods.

  When the mother intervened, the man grew “angry and upset.” According to the article, he told her, “Your son is next.” And then he reportedly ran off.

  Only when Soren read the story, he had a strong suspicion the man hadn’t fled anywhere. If he called the mother, he bet he knew what she would say — that he just disappeared before her eyes.

  The police never caught the man, but they were sufficiently wary of him that they published a sketch of his likeness. Soren was willing to bet that somehow this actual story had sparked the hundreds of other copycat tales that worked their way across the country. Probably unconsciously, people had stripped it of its vital specifics. The white-haired man had become the bogeyman for thousands of frightened parents.

  Soren stared at the picture of the sketch. He tried to imagine the man with silver eyes, and felt like it triggered some memory. He was just at the moment of recollecting it when he heard a noise behind him.

  “That’s him,” Alex said, coming to stand behind Soren. “That’s the man who talked to me.”

  He was staring with wide eyes at the picture on the laptop, and Soren slammed the lid shut. He didn’t want the kid reading the other particulars of the case. There was no reason to scare him any worse than he was.

  Soren turned and looked at the boy. In that moment, he looked like he was seven years old going on eighty.

  “Are you sure?” Soren asked.

  Alex nodded.

  “Did he kill that other boy?”

  Soren closed his eyes and cursed himself. He was so wrapped up in his own research, he’d never heard the kid sneak up behind him. He must have seen more than just the drawing. Soren opened his eyes and looked at Alex.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.”

  “Is he going to kill me?”

  He asked the question with an air of resignation, as if there could be no doubt what the answer was.

  “No fucking way,” Soren said.

  The swear word clearly caught Alex off guard. He flinched as if he’d been hit and looked at Soren with wide eyes.

  “You aren’t supposed to use that word,” Alex whispered. “Mom doesn’t like it.”

  Soren allowed himself a smile.

  “I know,” he said. “But I was trying to make a point.”

  He grabbed Alex by the shoulders.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Soren said. “You understand me?”

  “But he’s a monster, isn’t he?” Alex said.

  Not much tugged at Soren’s emotions anymore, but seeing this scared boy — John’s son, for God’s sake — broke his heart. He thought of John saying to him all those years ago, “We’re best friends forever. We’ll always protect each other.”

  How old had they been? They couldn’t have been more than ten, but it didn’t feel so long ago. And John had protected Soren against the usual schoolyard bullies. It had been Soren who failed to live up to his end of the bargain. He was damned sure he wouldn’t do the same for John’s son.

  “Fighting monsters is what I do for a living, kid,” Soren said. “And I don’t want to brag, but I’m really, really good at it. That’s why your mom brought you to me.”

  “She said you knew my dad,” Alex replied.

  Soren nodded, glad for the change of subject, even if it was painful.

  “I grew up with your father,” Soren said. “We met when we were about your age.”

  “What was he like?”

  “The best man I ever knew,” Soren said without hesitation.

  “Was he smart?”

  “Very,” Soren replied.

  “Funny?” Alex asked.

  “He used to wait until I was drinking something to say something funny just so he could watch it come out of my nose,” Soren said.

  “Ewww,” Alex said, but he laughed at the same time. “Did he like Star Wars?”

  “Of course,” Soren said.

  Soren had too, once upon a time. But the accident had wrecked a lot of his memory, starting with TV shows and movies. He knew he liked those films, but he couldn’t remember much about them anymore. That was sufficiently weird that he didn’t feel like explaining it to Alex.

  “I like Star Wars too,” Alex said, as if he were the only young boy who felt that way.

  Soren grinned at him.

  “Your father would’ve loved to have known you,” he said.

  This won Soren a flicker of a smile, before it abruptly dropped from his face.

  “What is it?” Soren asked, though he had an inkling.

  “I lied to my mom,” Alex said.

  “I wondered.”

  “I told her I didn’t remember anything the strange man said to me,” Alex said. “But that’s not true.”

  “What
did he tell you?”

  “He asked me if I wanted to meet my dad,” Alex said.

  His voice had taken on a dreamy quality, as if he might not be entirely awake anymore.

  “You know your father is dead,” Soren said.

  The words were hard for him to say, and for just a moment, there was a brief memory of John reaching out to him, his friend covered in blood. But he banished the image from his mind.

  “Uh-huh,” Alex said. “But when the man spoke to me, it was like I couldn’t remember that. It seemed like my dad was just down the path and this was my only chance to see him.”

  “What else did the white-haired man say?”

  “That my dad was waiting for me,” Alex said. “He said my dad wanted to take me away.”

  “Away where?”

  What Alex said next chilled Soren.

  “To where my daddy lived,” Alex said. “My dad was going to take me home.”

  Chapter Four

  A thin mist hung over the playground and surrounding trees when Soren arrived the next morning.

  It was early and he wanted to check out the scene before children and their parents arrived. He knew word of Alex’s attempted kidnapping was likely to get around quickly, making any stranger — in this case, him — more noticeable.

  There was nobody there when he pulled up. The air was wet and the playground equipment appeared damp, so he doubted anyone would be coming soon. Maybe it was just because he knew what had happened there — more likely, it was due to the weather — but the playground didn’t seem friendly and inviting. Instead, he thought it was creepy.

  The swings moved slightly in the breeze, squeaking occasionally. The merry-go-round made a moaning noise as it turned. There was a sign nearby that read, “Closed at Dark.” He’d seen signs like that at plenty of parks and playgrounds before. For some reason, he always found it strangely ominous, as if it were a warning to children that this place wasn’t safe when the sun went down.

  Soren had the unwelcome image of monsters waiting until dusk to come out and reclaim the playground as their own. In his mind, he saw a creature with sharp teeth climb up to the top of the net and look out to see if it could spot any straggling children who’d been left behind. The sign now fit with his view of the world. It seemed so promising when he was young, as if it were one big playground. But he’d learned that monsters were real and there was no such thing as safe.

  Soren adjusted the sunglasses on his face and shook his head. He needed to stay focused. He inspected the various pieces of playground equipment. They were different from when he was a kid. For starters, the ground wasn’t dirt anymore, but a rubber base of red and blue that felt like he was walking on a sponge. The slides were no longer metal, but instead were made of sturdy, brightly colored plastic. Every edge was rounded and smooth, to prevent anyone from being scratched in the eye.

  Soren supposed he should lament the old days and feel that kids should be kids, but nostalgia wasn’t his vice. Looking at the playground, it was obvious that designers had put a lot of effort into making the space safer while still being fun. As far as he could tell, it looked like they’d succeeded.

  He was particularly intrigued by the pyramid of ropes. He found it amusing that someone had bothered to try and effectively create a safer tree. But he supposed it was more efficient. The pyramid would allow at least a dozen kids to climb on it.

  He knew he should go back to his car and get out his equipment. His trunk was packed with the latest technology designed to detect the presence of the supernatural, including a full spectrum camera, an electromagnetic field meter and an EVP audio recorder. The only problem was that while he’d had plenty of successes on his cases, he owed precious little of it to the fancy equipment in his car. Every so often the meter had come in handy, but overall the equipment picked up so many false positives it felt like it slowed him down. Soren decided he wanted a better lay of the land first.

  He stretched out his hands and pulled himself onto the rope pyramid. For a half second, he felt like a kid again, deftly moving up the cables as he climbed to the top of the pole. From there, he got a good view of the area, including into the small collection of trees nearby.

  He understood the appeal of the pyramid even better now. A kid could look out and get a clear view of the houses well beyond the playground. They probably didn’t feel like they’d climbed a tree, but a mountain. He smiled in spite of himself. This thing was surprisingly fun.

  His smile lasted until he glanced quickly at the playground below him. A figure was standing near a bench, looking up at him. It was the white-haired man, and he was staring at Soren intently.

  Soren quickly scrambled down the cables, never taking his eyes off the man. The figure remained resolutely still.

  But the instant that Soren’s feet touched the ground, the man disappeared. Soren ran to the spot where he had been standing and even punched the air in case he was invisible, but there was nothing. He suddenly wished he had his full spectrum camera, which was supposed to detect invisible entities.

  He looked around him frantically — and spotted the man further down the path. Soren sprinted toward him, only to repeat the last performance. When he arrived at the spot where the white-haired man had been standing, he was gone.

  When he looked further down the path, he had reappeared. This time Soren opted for a different approach. He smoothed out his jacket and walked slowly toward the man. It allowed him to get a better look at him. Sara’s description was perfect, and matched the drawing he’d seen in the newspaper. The figure was very tall, probably six feet five inches, and his hair was stark white. Soren had assumed this meant he looked old, but that wasn’t the case. He couldn’t guess his age. The man’s face lacked the normal signs of longevity. There were no wrinkles or scars; it was so smooth and pale it might have been alabaster.

  Yet the man was far from expressionless. His silver eyes watched Soren with a mixture of hate and disgust, like he was a particularly unpleasant insect that had wandered nearby. As he came closer, he thought Sara’s description of them as “liquid mercury” was the most apt. The man’s irises seemed to swirl and move hypnotically. Soren stopped several feet away from him and glared back.

  “What are you?” Soren asked.

  The man’s lips curled into a cold smile.

  “Interesting question, coming from you,” he replied.

  Soren had no idea what he meant, but it was obvious the man disliked him. That was just fine with him. Perhaps now he’d come after him instead of Alex.

  “What do you want with the boy?” Soren asked.

  “You do not understand his importance,” the man said.

  “To who? You? His mother knows it well enough.”

  “His mother is weak.”

  Soren felt anger stir within him. This thing had threatened Alex and now mocked his mother. Soren wanted badly to hit it. But he was still standing about fifteen feet away. He took a cautious step forward.

  “You said he was next,” Soren said. “For what? What are you planning to do?”

  “Do not think you can interfere,” the man said. “You are nothing and nobody.”

  “Oh, okay,” Soren replied. “I’ll just give up then, shall I? When they ask me why, I’ll tell them it’s because I have low self-esteem.”

  Soren took another step forward.

  “You are pathetic,” the man said.

  “That really hurts,” Soren said, putting his hand to his heart. “Here I thought we were beginning to get along.”

  Soren took another step forward. The man continued to stare at him balefully. Soren’s goal was to keep him distracted as long as he could and hope he could rush him before he disappeared again.

  “You didn’t answer me,” Soren said. “Why do you want the boy?”

  The man cocked his head to the side and looked at Soren quizzically.

  “Why do you care?”

  “He’s a friend of mine,” Soren said. “That’s all you
need to know.”

  “You don’t have ‘friends,’” the man said, the last word coming out as if he’d spat it on the ground.

  “Well, I am ‘nothing and nobody,’ so it’s hard to meet people,” Soren replied.

  Soren took another step forward. He was just eight feet away, almost close enough that he could jump him.

  “Stay away from the boy,” the man said. “He’s mine.”

  “Like Alastair Horne?” Soren asked.

  He was unprepared for the man’s reaction. Soren had hoped to inch a bit closer before throwing himself at the figure in front of him. But as soon as he mentioned Horne’s name, a look of pure, unfiltered rage crossed the white-haired man’s face. He closed the distance to Soren and grabbed him by the shirt. Without apparent effort, he lifted Soren to the sky.

  “How dare you speak his name!” the man yelled. “You have no right to say it!”

  Soren struggled to free himself but the man’s grip was like iron. He clawed futilely at the arm that was holding him. Soren tried to kick him, but the man held him too far away from his body. He felt like a bug on its back with all its legs flailing.

  The man tossed him into the air. Soren landed a moment later with a thud onto the pathway. The wind was knocked out of him, but he was otherwise unhurt. He heard the man still walking toward him, talking the entire time.

  “I should end your miserable existence.”

  Soren tried to get up and launch himself at the man, but he was still out of breath. The figure grabbed Soren before he could attack and hurled him into the air again.

  Soren saw a mixture of trees, blue sky, and pavement before he collided with the ground. This time he hit it harder and nearly blacked out from the sudden pain. He lay stunned as the figure came toward him again. He wasn’t sure he could take another hit like that. But Soren smiled anyway. He had exactly one more trick up his sleeve.