“Yeah,” he said and glanced out through the vestibule to see his truck parked where he left it over the crosswalk. “It’s just how she is sometimes. She gets sensitive, which isn’t too uncommon for a shelter dog, but she’s good for me.”
“I don’t doubt it. How was the rest of the night after I left?”
“Uneventful. You weren’t kidding about how quiet it gets here. I felt like I was working in a black hole or something. We should see about getting a jukebox set up over on that wall.”
Teddy laughed. “Right, then you could subject us to your terrible taste in music.”
“You don’t talk about Mr. Cash that way,” Boyd said, returning Teddy’s laugh. “He’s gotten me through some hard times.”
“I’m not starting this argument again. Get on home and grab some shuteye while you can.”
“Will do, boss,” Boyd said and fiddled with his keys in his hand. “I’m going to hit the can before I get going.”
“I’ll try not to miss your ugly mug while you’re gone,” Teddy said as he took a seat behind the desk. Boyd flipped him the bird as he headed for the hallway off the lobby. He paused momentarily when he drew near the first conference room door, then pushed his way into the bathroom. The smell inside the room hit his nostrils hard and he felt the bile and coffee rise in his stomach. He put the back of his hand to his mouth and checked the stalls for the source of the smell but couldn’t find it. The odor was pungent, and with the draft in the bathroom, it reminded Boyd of finding spoiled meat in the refrigerator.
He stepped over to the first sink and tried the faucet — nothing, no water. He tried the second one and something black, almost oily fluttered out of the tap. Boyd lurched back as several large insects followed.
He caught his breath and peered back over the sink. The insects appeared dead and after a closer inspection Boyd recognized them as locusts. He frowned, then very carefully reached down and picked one up with his finger to study it. A tiny leg started to quiver and Boyd flicked it back into the sink and wiped his hand off on his pants before leaving the bathroom.
“I think we got an issue with some raw sewage in the bath —” Boyd started to call as he arrived back in the lobby, but Teddy wasn’t at his post. “Teddy?” he called, and he began to walk toward the lounge. He called again, but got no answer.
Maybe he started his rounds early, Boyd thought.
He returned to the desk and grabbed a steno pad to leave Teddy a note about the bathroom. He held the piece of paper in his hand, thought on it for a moment, then let it land down on the cover of a magazine Teddy had brought and he left the lobby.
He walked out into the white glare of the morning sun and had to shield his eyes to it at first. Leaves that had blown onto the walk crunched under his boots as he made his way toward his truck. Lady was there when he opened the door and the shepherd affectionately licked at his hands, then tried to get up near his chin as Boyd tossed his bag into the rear cab of the pickup.
“You act like we didn’t just see each other an hour ago,” he said.
He decided to take a glance back at the building now that it was daylight.
Its tall structure cast long, jagged shadows over the lot. Boyd’s eyes moved up near the third floor to see if he could spot by chance an open window. He didn’t expect to, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to look. As he was about to turn to climb back into his truck, something moved past the last window in the row, like someone trying to step quickly out of the line of sight. It was so quick Boyd couldn’t even get a good read on it, but the curtains were still swaying from whatever had been there.
Boyd walked the length of the truck so he could look back in to see if Teddy had returned to the desk, but he wasn’t there.
Maybe that had been Teddy, then, up in the window checking on the heating situation himself. Boyd contemplated going in to verify, but quickly dismissed it. He figured there was a logical explanation, there always was, no matter how odd things seemed. Boyd hopped into the cab of his truck and drove away. He looked into his rearview as the Westinghouse Hotel disappeared behind him.
-8-
When he’d finally fall into a deep sleep, he’d get to see Morgan again.
A version of her, anyway. He’d always see her as the little girl who came into his life and stole his heart right out from underneath him. He could say that, too, because before Morgan and her mother entered his life, he didn’t know what it was like to put himself second to anything. That’s what the job did to you: it made you box everything in.
Morgan had been his stepdaughter since she was six years old, but he loved her as though she was his, and in most ways she was.
The dreams never had any narrative. They’d often take place in a wide, bright room, and sometimes she’d be a different age, like he was flashing through a greatest hits version of her short life. His favorite was one where she was nine and wore a silver crown with pink streamers. Later, he’d tease her about this in her teenage years when she traded in all things pink for grays and blacks and loud music.
Then, he’d wake up and feel like a piece of himself was still back there in that bright room with her and only some of him had come back to the land of the waking.
Boyd grunted, and rolled onto his side.
The digital clock told him it was quarter past three in the afternoon. He’d have to get up soon so he could get on the road. He slipped his hand under his pillow and felt the reassuring presence of the .9mm he kept there. His index finger crept around the trigger and gave it a squeeze as light as a breath.
He shifted onto his back and stared up at the ceiling before closing his eyes. It was an old, nervous habit that he hadn’t been able to break. It was also a surefire way to freak out the women who on rare occasion shared his bed.
There was hot water in the shower for a change and it felt good on his sore joints. He even thought about tugging one out, but his mind was still too soggy from an off night of sleep. Twenty minutes later, he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror as he buttoned his shirt and folded back the sleeves. He thought about shaving the bristle of a beard on his face, then changed his mind. He didn’t have anyone to impress anyway. As he was searching for his jacket, the phone next to the bed rang. Boyd was one of the few people he knew that still kept a landline, even though he’d forget he had it until the device would spring to life.
“Yeah, hello,” he said into the phone after he took it off the cradle. There was a pause on the other end, but someone was definitely there. He could hear them breathing. “Hello,” he tried again.
“Hi…,” the voice started. It was nasally, but feminine. “Can you help me? I’m trying to find my mom.”
Boyd felt a catch in his chest and he fought to adjust the phone against his ear. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I think you got a wrong number.”
“Oh. Okay,” the voice said. He heard them wiping at their nose as they sniffled. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Miss, if you’re in trouble or if you’re hurt you should call the police.”
“I thought that’s who I called.”
Boyd went to respond when the line disconnected. He pulled the phone away and pressed redial, but got a busy signal in return. He hoped whoever it was that just called had been able to get in touch with someone who could help. Boyd wasn’t that guy, not anymore at least; he’d had to give that up after Morgan died.
He looked down at his right hand and saw that he’d squeezed it into a fist.
It was trembling.
-9-
Boyd shook the rain water from his jacket and flecks of it landed on the lobby floor. Lady followed suit with a rattling shake of her body as she wrung herself dry. Then she trotted over to the desk and placed her snout up on Teddy’s knee.
“Smells like a couple’ve wet dogs in here,” Teddy said as he scratched behind the shepherd’s ears. “Missed you, Lady! How’s my girl? Looks like you finally decided to come in, huh?”
Boyd raked a hand through his wet hair. �
��Storm came out of nowhere. It was all sun until we got off the exit. It’s coming down pretty hard now, too.”
“Lights were already flickering before you got here,” Teddy replied.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if we lost power,” Boyd said. Lady had returned to his side and was giving a whine from the back of her throat. Boyd reached into his bag and found a piece of jerky for her to chew on.
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed that you don’t.”
“I appreciate it,” Boyd said. “Did you get my note from this morning?”
“Oh,” Teddy paused and searched the desk in front of him. “About the raw sewage? I saw it, but I don’t know what you were referring to. I checked out the bathroom myself, and it just smells like cleaning products.”
“Huh,” Boyd muttered and looked toward the small hallway that was off the lobby. He turned his head back to Teddy. “Say, where did you hightail it to, anyway? I came out of the bathroom and you were already gone. Thought I saw you up on the third floor.”
Teddy got still for a moment, seemingly distracted by something he’d come across on the desk. Finally, he looked up and gave Boyd light chuckle. “I went to go check the breakers in the utility closet since you mentioned the issues with the faulty wiring.”
“You weren’t up on the third floor?” Boyd asked.
“No,” Teddy said. Boyd went to reply but Teddy cut him off. “I know that look. Don’t go getting yourself spooked. It’s pretty easy to do around here. You probably saw the curtains moving below the vents.”
Boyd nodded absently and tried to pay attention as Teddy came around the desk to catch him up on some housekeeping things. “I did get some good news,” Teddy said. “I think Donnie might finally see about adding a third person to the rotation. I think it’ll do us good to break these shifts up a bit.”
“I don’t mind them,” Boyd said. “I like keeping busy.”
“That’s cause you ain’t been doing this long as I have. Us old-timers need a day off now and again.”
“Well, you’d better get home before you’re out past curfew,” Boyd said, patting Teddy on the shoulder as he passed by him for the automatic doors. “I’ll see you back here in the a.m.”
Teddy mocked-tipped his cap and ran a hand over Lady on his way out.
Boyd watched him go before taking a seat back behind the desk. The lights overhead flickered as the rain continued to pour outside. Boyd usually found the rain to be comforting, but watching it run down the glass panels of the lobby made him feel like he was encased inside a fish bowl. Lady was tucked under the desk near his legs and he could feel her hot breath on his pant leg.
His eyes moved to his truck parked on the other side of the breezeway. It’d been raining like this on an afternoon he’d showed up to Morgan’s school, only to find out she wasn’t there. The vice principal, a tall woman with short, dyed red hair, had appeared stunned that Boyd was just finding out that Morgan hadn’t been in class for the last few days. Boyd had tried to hide his embarrassment, and left under the pretense that Morgan would be in class the next day.
When he had returned to his truck his embarrassment had shifted to guilt. He’d been working long hours of late, partially on purpose; the fighting at home with Morgan’s mother made it hard for him to even be in the same room as her. And since he assumed everything was okay, he hadn’t been home in almost a week. He had pulled his cell phone from the front pocket of his jacket and called the phone Morgan was supposed to keep on her in case of emergencies. It went to voicemail, but Boyd didn’t leave one. He called his wife next and could already hear the strain in her voice.
“Yeah,” she breathed into the phone. She was one of the few people he knew that never said hello when picking up.
“It’s me. I was just at Morgan’s school, but they say she hasn’t been here for a few days.”
“Why are you there in the first place?”
Boyd closed his eyes, rubbing circles into his temple. “I thought I’d surprise her and take her to dinner. Catch up. See how she’s been.”
“There’s plenty of opportunity to do that if you ever came home.”
“Has she been home lately?”
There was a pause, and in his mind he could see his wife pursing her lips like she did when she was trying to hold back on what she really wanted to say.
“No,” she said, but her voice was quiet. “She’s probably at Jackie’s.”
“Which one is that?” Boyd asked. “The one with the rich parents?”
“What does it matter, Boyd? When you coming home?”
He had stared through the windshield of his truck at the tracks of rain on the glass. He couldn’t see anything through the watery blur. “Soon,” he said. “I’m just going to drive around and see if I can find her.”
“You say that like she’s missing.”
“Technically she is, isn’t she? How long ago did you see her?”
“A few days ago… Tuesday night.”
“Has she called you?” Boyd asked.
“No,” she said, the anger filtering into her voice now. “But then again, that’s how she is lately. Kinda like you. Gone for days and no one knows where.”
“Miranda…”
“Don’t.”
Boyd sighed, and switched the phone over to his other hand. “I’ll call you back in a little bit, okay? I just want to take a short drive around town.”
He hung up before she could wrap him up into another argument or extend the one that they were already in. He drove west through streets wet from the passing storm, past the old mills and strip malls. Pedestrians eyed him as he leaned out the window, eventually drawing their gazes back. When the sky turned dark he drove home and sat in his driveway a long time before deciding to go in. His wife wasn’t up when he got inside. She’d be in bed, with her back to the door, just like how she seemed to have her back to him for a while now.
He sank down onto the couch and felt his phone vibrating against his chest. Boyd picked up.
“Daddy?”
“I’m here.”
“Where are you?” she sounded far away, and like she was in some dark corner of the world. “Can you come get me?”
“I’m at home. Where are you?”
“I’m at a party and — and my ride bailed on me, and I —”
“Easy,” Boyd said. “Just tell me where you are and I’ll head there.”
She started to cry and Boyd felt something swell in his chest, but he tried to swallow it down. She came back on the line.
“I’m so stupid, if you come, please, please don’t tell Mom.”
“I’m coming, just tell me where you are.”
An hour later he had her back in the cab of his pickup. Her eyes were red from crying, and her face still flushed from the beer she had confessed to drinking. He looked over at her in her army-green jacket, her red hair hanging away from her face.
“Are you mad?” she asked.
“No,” he said softly. “Just glad you’re okay.”
“I feel really stupid.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. You’re not the first girl to do something ’stupid’ to try and get the attention of someone you like. Hell, one time I tried to sing to a girl in the cafeteria when I was your age. It didn’t go over so well. You know how bad I sing.” She laughed, but it was almost a staggered gasp. “But, and this is the dad lecture, please don’t make me have to do much more of these. You got a big heart, I know that, but there’s people who will take advantage of it if you let them. You understand?”
She bobbed her head and then rested it against the window. He reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. She took her hand with the chipped nail polish and placed it on top of his. “Thanks for coming to get me, Dad.”
The lights flashing off in the lobby pulled Boyd from his thoughts. Lady sensed him stir in the chair and stuck her head up to let loose a bark which made the hairs on Boyd’s arms stand up.
“Easy now, girl. Easy,” h
e whispered as he ran a hand down the back of her neck. They weren’t in complete darkness. The emergency lights were on, but they were dim and Boyd had to blink his eyes to get them to adapt. He stood up from the chair and Lady began to whine. “Stay right here, girl.”
He grabbed the utility flashlight off the desk and started for the corridor to the lounge. Halfway down on the left were two doors. The first was for the security room of the hotel and the second was the utility closet. Boyd turned the knob for the second door when he reached it and stepped inside the shallow room. He checked the breaker panel, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary — not that he was entirely sure how to interpret all the blinking red and yellow lights. Running his fingers on the panel, he found a switch marked off with a piece of tape that said “lobby”. He tried to toggle it off and on.
Nothing. He craned his neck back out into the corridor to double-check, but still no lights. “Well, this ought to be fun,” he muttered and closed the door behind him.
He was about to head back toward the lobby when he heard someone whispering behind him. Boyd turned on his heels, but no one was there. No whispering either. He took a breath in and pressed himself up against the wall, moving along it until it ended. Across from him was the archway into the lounge, and to the left was a set of double doors to another corridor.
Boyd strained his eyes, and he choked up on the flashlight in case he would have to use it to strike someone. Then he heard a sound that put his pulse in his throat — laughter — faint at first, and light, like children’s laughter, but then it was gone as it drifted away.
He could feel sweat forming on his brow as he tried to ease his face closer to the wall to peer around the corner. The double doors were closed, and as Boyd brought his eyes up he saw a man staring through the narrow glass panes of the door.
Boyd flinched and pulled his head away, his chest heaving heavy, and he wished desperately for his gun. No, he thought, trying to get his breathing under control. There was no man. He was spooking himself, as Teddy had put it earlier. Besides, the lighting was too dim to have made anything out anyway.
Ghost Box Page 3