1 The Bank of the River

by Michael Richan

  “What are you doing?” he asked Roy.

  “I’m going to talk to them,” Roy said, walking briskly towards the house. “We’re not learning anything just sitting in the car.”

  “I was thinking we’d watch the place from a distance, see who comes and goes, see if there’s any threats we should know about, that kind of thing, before we storm in.”

  Roy was undeterred. “Well, that’s one way to approach it I suppose. This is my way.” Now they were on the sidewalk in front of the house. Steven followed Roy as he walked up to the door and knocked.

  “Why don’t you let me do the talking,” Steven said.

  “I’ll be fine,” Roy insisted.

  There were some rumblings inside the house before they heard footsteps approaching the door from the other side. It opened to a tall, lanky man who looked hardly more than a teenager. He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. There were piercings in his nose. He stared blankly at them. “Yeah?”

  Roy spoke right up. “I’m Roger Yates and this is,” he pointed to Steven, “Henny Youngman. We’re from Yates Bonding, and we’re looking for an adult male, 24 years old, named Sonny Taft.”

  “No one here named that,” the kid replied.

  “He’s wanted on serious charges, and this is the address we have for him. We’re entitled, by law, to remand him to the court. We’re not leaving without him,” Roy said. Steven was impressed with Roy’s performance. He didn’t know how much of it the kid would buy, but it sounded pretty real.

  “Look, I’d like to help you, but I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “How many people live here?” Roy asked.

  “Seven,” the kid replied.

  “Do you know them all? Personally?” Roy asked.

  “Well, yeah, kinda. Rachel is new, but the rest I know.”

  “Do you own this house?”

  “Rent.”

  “Who owns it?”

  “I don’t know the guy’s name. We just make rent payments to Billy, and he handles paying the landlord.”

  “Look,” Roy said, “You tell me Sonny isn’t here, OK, I believe you. But I’m gonna need the names and ages of everyone who does live here,” Roy said, pulling a small notepad from his pocket. Amazing, Steven thought.

  The kid didn’t seem to like this idea. “Why do you need that?” he asked.

  “So I can document for the office that we came here,” Roy said, “and Sonny wasn’t one of the current occupants or visitors. Look, I don’t want to hassle you with a warrant, going through everything in the house. I’d hate to put you through that if he isn’t here.”

  That flipped a switch in the kid. He rattled off the names of the residents, and Roy dutifully noted each name in the pad.

  “OK,” Roy told him. “If Sonny should show up, I urge you to have him contact me. It will go much easier for him if he works with us.”

  “Uh, OK,” the kid stammered. “You got a card or something?”

  “Fresh out,” Roy told him, putting the pad away. “Yates Bonding. We’re in the book.”

  The book? Steven winced, but coming from an old man the kid might believe it.

  “Now before we go,” Roy told the kid, “we’re going to just do a quick walk around the outside of the house and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Uh, sure. OK.”

  Roy turned to leave the front porch, Steven following him. He waved a “bye” to the kid, who closed the door.

  As they rounded the corner of the house, Steven said, “I gotta hand it to you, that was masterful.”

  “Thank you,” Roy said. “Your old man knows how to do a thing or two.”

  “Henny Youngman?”

  “It was the first thing that came to mind,” Roy said. “That cell phone of yours take pictures?”

  Steven wrestled it from his pocket and started snapping photos as they moved around the house. In back was an overgrown yard and rusted iron lawn furniture. The small lawn was mossy. There were cement steps leading up to a screen door, and a wooden basement access door with a padlock and chain through the handles. They continued around to the other side of the house, but were stopped by a wooden fence overgrown with ivy, so they backtracked to leave the yard the way they came in, Steven leading.

  As they were approaching the front yard, Steven heard Roy call his name, and he turned to see Roy down on one knee, his hands out to his sides to brace himself if he fell further. Shit, Steven thought, I shouldn’t have brought him. He doesn’t have the strength. This isn’t fair to him. “Steven,” Roy called again.

  Steven rushed to Roy’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked, grabbing Roy’s shoulder, steadying him.

  “Just dizzy, that’s all,” Roy replied.

  “Can I help?” said a man who kneeled down by Roy’s other side, grabbing his shoulder. It seemed to Steven the man had come out of thin air. He was about Steven’s size, with dark hair and a full beard. “Do you need to lie down? Maybe some water?”

  “No, no, I’m fine, just need to get my bearings,” Roy said, not yet attempting to stand, but with enough of his wits to refuse help.

  The man looked at Steven and could see Steven’s concern, both for his father and for who this stranger was. “I live next door,” he told Steven. “I saw your father fall.”

  Steven didn’t like him – it was an immediate visceral reaction, but for the moment he was helping and his attention returned to Roy. “Can you walk, Dad? Should I call for help?”

  “No, I don’t need help,” Roy said, struggling to his feet. “Help me up, will you?”

  “Let’s get you to the car,” Steven said, holding Roy’s arm as they took a step.

  “Please come over,” the man said. “Just a few steps this way, you can sit down and have some water. Regain your strength.”

  While Steven was considering the offer, the man pulled Roy’s arm and Roy took a step in the direction of the neighbor’s house. Steven decided to go along. The car was half a block away, and having his father sit for a few minutes before they walked to it might be a good idea. The ground was flat and easy to navigate, and after a few steps they emerged into the neighbor’s back yard. They sat Roy down on a bench by the house.

  “Let me get some water for him, I’ll be right back,” the man said, and disappeared into the house.

  “You OK, Dad? Really?” Steven asked.

  “Yeah, I’m OK,” Roy replied. “Something’s up with this guy, though,” he said, motioning to the stranger’s house.

  “Yeah, I don’t like him,” Steven said.

  “Let’s just see where this goes,” Roy said. The man emerged from the house with two glasses of water in hand. He sat one down by Steven, and then handed the other glass directly to Roy.

  “Thank you,” Roy said, and took a sip.

  “No problem at all,” the man said. “I just hope you’re feeling better.”

  “Yes, thank you for your help,” Steven offered. “I’m Steven and this is my father Roy.”

  The man’s focus remained on Roy. “Oh, no problem really, glad to help. I’m Michael.”

  Roy took another sip, and seemed to sit up a bit more. “You lived here long, Michael?” Roy asked.

  “About twenty years. Great neighborhood.”

  Awkward silence. Steven felt he should say something. “We were just admiring the house next door. They told us we could take a few pictures.”

  “Ah, yes, it’s a nice house, isn’t it?” Michael said.

  “Yes, impressive,” said Roy. “Victorian, right?

  “Correct.”

  Steven noticed the color had returned to Roy’s face, and he looked better.

  “Could use some work, though,” Roy said. “Did the previous owners keep it in better condition?” Steven smiled that Roy had gone right back to work, digging for answers.

  “Yes, the previous owner kept it in perfect condition. Beautiful paint job. It would stop people on the street. Cars would stop and look. But,” Michael sighed, �
��he disappeared one day, and the place hasn’t been the same since. I understand the renters are supposed to do the yard work, but they’re rather lazy I’m afraid. Would you like some more water, Roy? Maybe something to eat, or some orange juice? You are looking better.”

  “No thank you, I am feeling fine, thanks,” said Roy. “It’s a shame when a house goes downhill like that. Can take all the properties around it down with it. You say he just disappeared?”

  Michael seemed wistful. “Yes, no explanation, just disappeared.”

  “Did you know his name?” Roy pressed.

  “No, why?” Michael replied.

  “Oh, it’s not important. Thought maybe I’d research the house a little bit. It’s a hobby of mine. You know, Steven, I’m feeling much better. I think we could go now.”

  “Are you sure?” Michael asked. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

  “No, I’m good,” Roy said, rising, and handing the empty glass back to Michael. Their eyes met for a split second, and Michael said, “Well I hope you continue to feel better. Can I help you to your car?”

  “No need,” Roy said. “I’m feeling perfectly fine, and I’ve got Steven here if I need him.”

  Roy turned to walk out of the yard. Steven turned to Michael and thanked him for his help. He followed Roy out of the yard, watching Roy’s footing for any signs he might still be weak and lose his balance. They walked to the car in silence, as dusk turned to night and the streetlights popped on.

  Once in the car, Roy turned to Steven.

  “The guy is a liar.”

  “Really? What did he lie about?” Steven asked.

  “Not knowing the guy’s name. He knew him. He lied about not knowing what happened to him. He knows exactly what happened. And I swear to god, there was something in the water.”

  “I didn’t taste anything,” Steven said.

  “I didn’t either, but it was like drinking a restorative. I feel like a million bucks. He put something in my water.”

  “Now you’re getting paranoid,” Steven said.

  “I’m telling you, he was lying,” Roy insisted. “He knows a lot more than he was saying.”

  “How could you tell?” Steven asked.

  “I could feel it,” Roy replied.

  Steven sighed. Normally this type of response he would completely discount, but with the events he’d experienced with his father over the past few days, he’d learned to not be so hasty with dismissals. “So what then? What do we do?”

  “I think we should come back and check the house,” Roy said, “when the kids are away.”

  “What, break in?” Steven asked.

  “Yeah. Break in,” Roy said. “Based on their ages and this neighborhood, I’d say they’re all college students, there’s a good chance they’ll be gone during the day. We stake it out tomorrow morning, and once they’ve all left, we sneak in.”

  “And how are we going to do that?” Steven asked.

  “The basement door. It’s chained, and I got a bolt cutter at home.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Steven and Roy sat in the car for over two hours, sipping coffee from a thermos, as they watched each of the house residents leave. Roy ticked off a name each time someone left. As the last one closed and locked the front door, Roy said, “That’s it. That’s the last one.”

  “Unless some of them had guests over,” Steven said.

  “We’ll be quiet about it,” Roy said. “The basement doors weren’t visible from any of the windows in the house. The back yard was completely overgrown. If we’re careful no one will hear or see us.”

  They walked up the street, checking for passing cars and pedestrians. When they could see no one, they slipped along the ivy wall, and Steven helped Roy over the fence. They weren’t going to risk running into the neighbor.

  Roy used the bolt cutter on the chain, and quietly removed it from the door’s handles. Roy lifted the right door up, and its metal hinges squeaked from lack of use.

  “Slower!” Steven hissed.

  Even at its slowest, the hinges still creaked. When it was open wide enough for him to slip in, Roy passed the handle to Steven and went down the steps. Steven slipped in and slowly closed the door behind him.

  There were cobwebs everywhere, and a second set of doors at the bottom of six steps. Steven pointed his flashlight at the doors while Roy examined them.

  “Locked?” Steven asked.

  Roy reached out to the door’s handle and turned. “Nope,” he said. He pushed the door open.

  The basement was dark but completely open. It had two windows high up near its ceiling on either side. It was unfinished, with no walls and no ceiling, just the exposed floor joists from the level above. In the middle was a staircase leading up into the house, with a closed door at the top. Steven could see daylight coming from under the door. There were stacks of boxes in corners, and a washer and dryer. By the washer was a relatively new electrical panel. In a few minutes, Steven and Roy had mentally mapped out the room.

  “What are we looking for?” Steven whispered.

  “Anything,” Roy whispered back. “Anything unusual that might help us.”

  They looked deeper into the corners, under the stairs, and around the stacks of boxes. Steven took pictures with his cell phone.

  “These boxes belong to the kids upstairs,” said Steven. “DVDs, books, all recent. I don’t see any point in going through their stuff.”

  “I don’t either,” said Roy.

  Steven stumbled as his toe hit something on the cement floor. He shined his light at the floor, noticing a different texture. Roy walked over to where Steven was standing. “Look,” he told Roy, “that part over there is old, you can tell by how smooth it is, probably poured a hundred years ago when the house was built. But this part here is recent, it’s rougher.” He followed the new cement with his light until he found an edge, and then attempted to determine the size of it by following the edge as far as it would go. “It’s roughly five by five, I’d say. Hold your flashlight on it, Dad, I want to get a picture.”

  “Wonder what’s under it?” Roy asked.

  “Children’s bodies?” Steven guessed, snapping photos. “Maybe Lukas himself?”

  “I don’t know,” Roy said, “I think it’s worth finding out.”

  “We haven’t got anything to dig into it with,” Steven said.

  “I was thinking a trance,” Roy said.

  “Here? What if all hell breaks loose? We’re not even sure the house is empty upstairs.”

  “Listen,” Roy said, “we’re here. Let’s try. I’m not summoning Ben or the shadow, I’m just trying to find out what’s under this slab.”

  Steven considered it. “OK, but if anything goes wrong, I’m going to physically haul you out those doors and we’re getting out of here.”

  “Agreed,” Roy said.

  Roy stood over the cement patch Steven had identified. He lowered his head, and took several deep breaths. Steven watched as his father entered the trance. He was much closer to him this time than he had been for the previous trances in the hallway, and he was glad; if his father fell, he’d be much more able to catch him. Something about it still bothered him, didn’t sit right with him. Here was a man he had known his whole life, about to engage in something Steven fundamentally felt was ridiculous. Even though he’d seen and experienced some completely inexplicable things in the past few days, there was a part of him that still believed they were all explainable, just not in the heat of the moment. When it was all said and done, he’d be able to look back on it all and come up with a rational explanation that didn’t rely on trances, shadows, and ghosts to make sense – he just wasn’t able to come up with those answers while things were moving so fast. Holding onto that belief was what made him feel sane; that if he were to just jump into things the way Roy was doing now, he’d be betraying something within himself. Maybe it was just stubbornness, but Steven knew it was there, and a part of him was uncomfor
table that his dad so completely believed it that he would jump in the raging river like this without a moment’s concern for the implausibility of it all.

  After several minutes, Roy raised his head.

  “Yes?” Steven asked. “Anything?”

  “Nothing. I don’t sense a thing.”

  “Great, where does that leave us? Digging through this cement?”

  “First I think we should talk to Michael,” Roy said.

  “Michael? The neighbor?” Steven asked. “Why him?”

  “Because,” Roy said, “he’s been watching us through that window.”

  -

  When they emerged from the basement, Michael was nowhere to be seen. Roy carefully rearranged the chain and lock to look as though it was still intact, and then they both walked next door.

  Steven knocked on the door. “What are we going to say?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Roy replied. “Let’s see what he says.”

  Michael opened the door and smiled at them both. “Steven. Roy. How nice to see you both again. Please, come in.”

  Roy and Steven stepped through the door and into the living room. It was utilitarian. No television, no media of any kind. Just a sofa, a couple of chairs and a coffee table.

  “Please, sit down,” Michael motioned. “Can I get you something? Water, maybe, Roy?”

  “Yes, thank you, that would be nice,” Roy said. As Michael turned to leave the room and Roy moved to a chair, Steven shot him a look. Roy gave him a reassuring wink.

  Michael returned, again setting a glass down for Steven, but handing a glass directly to Roy. “Here you are. It’s good to see you looking better Roy.”

  “Well, I thank you for your concern,” Roy said. “We wanted to thank you for yesterday, and we were hoping to get some more photographs of the house next door during the day, with better light.”

  “You seem really interested in the house,” Michael said. “Are you thinking of buying it?”

  He doesn’t know that we saw him watching us, Steven thought. Or, he’s pretending that he didn’t. Maybe he thinks we didn’t identify him.

  “Maybe,” Roy said. “My son and I have restored several houses over the years, and this one really caught our eye,” Roy smiled, and took a sip. He immediately felt a jolt of euphoria.