Everyone Was Left Behind

by Steve Armstrong

  “Someone’s in the basement!” a frantic Elizabeth Wilcox said.

  Seitzer jolted out of bed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! I can hear someone down there.”

  “Can you get out of the house?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, get everyone in the safest place you have upstairs and lock the door. I’m on my way. Put your phone on silent. I’ll call you when I’m there.”

  Seitzer ran out of the house, stopping only to retrieve his badge and service weapon. On his way, he placed a call to the station. The officer on duty for the night was on another call and would come as soon as he could. The dispatcher summoned Glass and Kelly while Seitzer contacted Harrison, who didn’t pick up. Seitzer arrived on the scene first.

  The Wilcox house lay dark and still. On his way up the front steps, Seitzer called Elizabeth. “I’m here. Is the intruder still in your home?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  Seitzer tried the door, which was locked. “Do you have a spare key hidden out here somewhere?”

  “Yes, it’s under the rock in the corner of the porch.”

  Seitzer searched until he located a large flat rock sitting in the corner of the front porch. He lifted the stone and found a silver key underneath. A moment later, he jostled the key into the lock and quietly pushed the door open. Holding his gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other, the detective entered the house.

  “I’m in the house. Stay upstairs until I come to get you. Okay?” he instructed Elizabeth, using his earpiece.

  “Okay.” Elizabeth sounded stronger now, more resolute.

  Seitzer tread lightly across the carpeted floor, listening for movement in the cellar below. His first objective was to secure the family, so he investigated the rest of the first floor. All was quiet in the living room, kitchen, dining room, and playroom. Seitzer now arrived at the cellar door. He had no idea what he would encounter downstairs, but the detective knew he’d be vulnerable going down the steps. If the intruder was on either side of the cellar stairs and had a weapon, Seitzer could be taken out before he could defend himself. As long as the detective stood in front of the basement door, the family would be safe. The intruder might escape out through the church, but the house would be secure until backup arrived.

  While waiting, he considered the possible scenarios of how the intruder entered and who it might be. The front door seemed secure unless the intruder knew where the key was and had put it back in its place after unlocking the door. Unless the back door had been broken into, or a window, it seemed the most likely origin for the intruder was the tunnel inside the church basement, particularly since Elizabeth Wilcox had heard noises in the cellar.

  Seitzer’s walkie-talkie crackled. “Hey Dan, Glass and I are here,” Mike Kelly said. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Head over to the church. I think the intruder used the tunnel—”

  A crash from the cellar interrupted Seitzer. Heavy footsteps pounded on the floor beneath him.

  “Guys, he’s on the move. Get over to the church now. One of you take the back, one of you take the front. I’m going down.”

  Seitzer swung open the door and felt for the switch. Once the cellar was bathed in light, he bounded down the stairs. One of the precarious metal shelving units had plummeted to the ground, leaving a scattershot of paint cans, brushes and rollers. Seitzer stepped over the pile of miscellaneous junk and headed for the tunnel. On the other side, he heard someone climbing the steps.

  “Kelly, Glass, are you there? He’s going up the basement steps now!”

  “Almost, Dan. I’m going into the church now. Glass is heading around back.”

  “I’m coming through the tunnel now. I’ll be there in a few seconds.”

  Seitzer navigated through the cluttered church basement to the stairway. He raced up the stairs to the empty church.

  “Did you guys see him?” Seitzer asked through his radio.

  “No. The back door to the church was open. We’re out back now. Whoever it is went into the woods,” Kelly replied. “We’re pursuing on foot.”

  “Okay, I’m right behind you. Be careful—I don’t know if he’s armed or not.”

  Seitzer dashed outside and was about to enter the woods when he stopped. Continuing into the woods would allow the intruder to double back toward the church and parsonage if he managed to circumvent Glass, Kelly, and Seitzer.

  “Guys, I’m going to hang back here in case he comes back.”

  “Roger that, Dan. I think we lost him, anyway,” Kelly replied.

  “Yeah. It’s bigger than you think back there. Just be careful.”

  He could hear twigs snapping as Kelly and Glass crashed through the overgrowth of small brush inside the woods. Seitzer doubted the two officers could find the trail in the dark woods. He almost worried about them falling more than he did about them facing an armed intruder.

  Seitzer dialed Elizabeth Wilcox’s number. “Mrs. Wilcox, I chased the intruder through the tunnel to the church. We followed him through the woods, but he got away. Are you guys okay up there?”

  “We’re okay. Is it safe to come out yet?”

  “Just hold on a few more minutes. Once the other officers come back from the woods, we’ll do a final sweep of the church and your home just to make sure.”

  A few moments later, Kelly and Glass emerged from the woods. Glass’ left side was covered in mud and he was cursing under his breath. Kelly, less athletically built than Glass, struggled to draw breath.

  “What happened to you?” Seitzer asked.

  “Slipped,” Glass said.

  “Did you get a look at him?” Seitzer asked.

  “No. He made it out of the church before we could get there. We heard some sticks breaking in the distance, but other than that, he just kind of disappeared. Whoever it was, he was fast—I mean, like, Olympic fast,” Kelly said.

  Seitzer stared at the stocky officer. “I’m not sure he needed to be Olympic-fast to outrun you, but nothing we can do about it now. You guys make a sweep of the church; I’ll check the Wilcox home.”

  Kelly and Glass walked back into the church to conduct their search. Seitzer accompanied them until they reached the basement door, at which point the detective descended the steps into the basement. He traveled the entire length of the church’s bottom level but saw nothing suspicious. Next, Seitzer checked the tunnel, which was empty too. Lastly, Seitzer inspected the parsonage basement, but once again found nothing. Before he went upstairs, he moved a few of the shelving units in front of the tunnel door. They weren’t strong enough to keep someone from opening it, but would at least function as an alarm if someone did try to enter again.

  Seitzer called Elizabeth Wilcox one last time. “I’m coming up. You’re safe now.”

  The Wilcoxes and Elizabeth’s parents emerged from the sanctuary of the master bedroom as Seitzer reached the top of the steps. Elizabeth carried her daughter, who looked like she was fast asleep. Titus appeared shaken but also tired.

  “Detective, do you mind waiting downstairs while I get them back to bed? I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

  “Sure, of course, ma’am.”

  Seitzer retreated back downstairs and reunited with Kelly and Glass outside the back door of the parsonage.

  “Did you guys find anything?” the detective asked.

  Kelly shook his head. “No signs of a breakin. Where do you think the intruder entered from?”

  “My guess would be the church. I didn’t see any sign of forced entry in the Wilcox house and I think she only heard someone down in the cellar. So I figure the person entered through the tunnel in the church basement.”

  “Man, that has to be creepy,” Kelly said.

  “I wonder how many people have keys to the church,” Glass said.

  “Who knows?” Seitzer replied. Maybe the former janitor or the worship leader did. Or the church elders and anyone else who routinely served in the chur
ch.

  “Should we stay outside their house tonight?” Kelly asked.

  “I can,” Seitzer volunteered immediately. “You guys get home and get some rest. I’ll give you a call if I need anything.”

  “You sure you don’t want some backup?” Glass asked.

  “Nah, that’s alright. I don’t think this guy wants a confrontation. If he did, he could have waited for me instead of running. Or he could have ambushed you in the woods. He probably had the element of surprise in either case.”

  “Alright,” Kelly said. “But if anything happens, call us right away. Don’t worry about waking us up.”

  “I never worry about waking you up.”

  The detective dismissed the officers and reentered the Wilcox home. Everything was quiet. Only a small lamp illuminated the living room. Seitzer settled down on the couch and waited for Elizabeth Wilcox to come down. After another fifteen minutes, she joined him.

  “How are the kids doing?” Seitzer asked.

  “Better than I expected. I don’t think Abigail understood what was happening because she fell asleep while we were in the master bedroom. And Titus fell asleep within a few minutes. My mom is sleeping in Abigail’s room and my dad is in Titus’ room. I told Titus you were downstairs and that seemed to help.”

  Seitzer nodded. “That’s good. I’m glad they weren’t too traumatized.”

  Elizabeth’s expression turned anxious. “Who was this person? Did you get a look at them at all?”

  “Unfortunately, no. He must’ve heard my walkie-talkie, because once Officer Kelly contacted me, the guy made a run for it. He escaped into the woods before we could grab him.” Seitzer had already disclosed these details to Elizabeth, but people tended to need repetition in matters like this one.

  “Well, thank you for being here. If you hadn’t, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

  For a moment, Seitzer thought Elizabeth Wilcox would cry, that the dread and terror of the situation would hit her in the quiet aftermath. But once again, she composed herself.

  “Maybe this is asking too much, but do you think you could stay with us tonight? My dad said he could protect us, but he has heart trouble and doesn’t get around like he used to.”

  “Sure, I can stay outside in the car,” Seitzer said.

  Elizabeth didn’t appear satisfied. “Could you actually stay down here? I know that’s a lot to ask, but I just don’t feel safe here. And even if you’re out on the street, what happens if the person makes it into the basement again?”

  Seitzer didn’t even need to consider the widow’s request. “Yeah, no problem. If that’s what makes you feel safe.”

  “Thank you, so much.” Seitzer could see some of the pressure bearing down on Elizabeth lighten as she replied, but not all of it. “Who do you think it was? Do you think it was the person who killed Graham?”

  Seitzer shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  The tentativeness of his reply seemed to concern Elizabeth. She tightened up a bit. “You still think Jason and I are involved in this, don’t you?”

  “I think a lot of things, ma’am. It’s best not to try to read me. Most people fail at that.” The detective had entertained the prospect that Jason Watkins had been the person downstairs. Maybe the entire situation had been an elaborate ruse to point the suspicion toward an unknown assailant. But Seitzer didn’t bother to voice these thoughts. “As far as I’m concerned, at this point, the person downstairs could have been anyone.” Like Ray Browning.

  Elizabeth leaned toward Seitzer and spoke in a near whisper. “Could we try something different right now? Just for now, could you stop being a cop and I’ll stop being a suspect? You were right the other night, I do need to talk to someone, and for some reason, you’re the person I imagine saying all these things to.”

  “You should go to bed, Mrs. Wilcox. You must be exhausted,” Seitzer replied, even though he would have been happy to hold vigil until morning with the widow.

  “I won’t sleep. Especially after this. And I don’t want to stay up all night worrying about an intruder.”

  “Why me?” Seitzer asked.

  “I don’t know. Because you seem like someone who would understand, I guess. And I don’t think anyone else can understand me now.”

  “What about Jason Watkins? You talked to him, didn’t you?” Seitzer tried to utter these words without a sense of betrayal creeping into his voice.

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “You talk about people misreading you? Just because I exchanged some friendly texts with Jason doesn’t mean I thought he understood me.”

  “If I remember correctly, you pledged your undying love to him,” Seitzer said.

  She furrowed her brow. “I still can’t believe I could have sent those messages. I liked the attention, but I really didn’t love Jason. But I don’t know how to explain it otherwise.” She stared into Seitzer’s eyes, searching for a reaction. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “What you’re asking us to believe is kind of difficult.”

  “It’s those sleeping pills. I should have never taken those sleeping pills. I really haven’t been myself lately. I was just so tired and I wanted to sleep.”

  Elizabeth’s statement that she hadn’t been herself warranted further questions. What else had she done or said that demonstrated she hadn’t been herself? Was she merely referencing smaller, inconsequential things, or something deeper? But Seitzer didn’t want to spoil the moment with suspicion, so he suppressed those questions. Maybe he’d ask them the next day when Elizabeth wasn’t leaning her head against the couch as she looked at him.

  “Why didn’t you feel that way about Jason Watkins?” The detective strongly suspected, even if Elizabeth hadn’t been conscious when she sent the text to the worship leader, the words were at least representative of her feelings.

  “Jason wasn’t that different than Graham. Maybe he was a little more aware of my feelings, but he was pretty fanatical, too. He understood the craziness of the pace of life since Graham made his prediction, but not the craziness of the prediction itself. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  “If anything, it was Theresa I should have been friends with. We were both outsiders to Holy Spirit Tabernacle. But I guess she saw me as just another person in the ranks because I always tried to support Graham publicly.”

  As Elizabeth revealed more and more, Seitzer took on the familiar role of listener, a role that he excelled at. His ex-wife had always appreciated that about him until the time came when his mere presence became an imposition to her.

  “You know what one of the worst parts of all of this is? I think I became tired of Jesus. I knew what happened with Graham wasn’t Jesus’ fault, but it was hard not to lump Him in with the entire movement because they claimed to do everything in His name. When Graham went all hardcore on me and Saturdays became about protesting things and finding the evil in the world, I found myself just wanting a normal life. I didn’t want an all-night worship and prayer meeting; I wanted to have picnics in the park on Saturday. Which sounds stupid, I know. And shallow. But I couldn’t help think whenever Graham was talking about Jesus returning, that I just wanted to see my kids grow up. I knew I was supposed to want Jesus to return more than anything else in the world, but I didn’t. So all the while I’ve been mourning and trying to help the kids get through this, I find myself less and less turning to scripture for comfort. I don’t even know how to talk to God right now.”

  Seitzer processed Elizabeth Wilcox’s confession. He struggled to relate to this part of the story. He understood her broken marriage, but not her damaged faith. “It’s normal for someone in your position to be angry at God. You’ve been through a lot in the last week,” Seitzer said, offering the most non-judgmental things he could think of while declining the opportunity to further unravel her confidence in the Almighty.

  “That’s the thing, I’m not really angry at God. I feel more … indifferent.” Elizabeth Wilcox ma
intained eye contact with Seitzer even after she spoke, her elbow resting against the back of the couch while propping her head up with her hand. Her posture at once communicated exhaustion, but also vulnerability and comfort, no small feat given the events of the night. “What about you, Detective? How do you feel about God?”

  “I’ve never really been a believer.”

  “Never?”

  “Not really. My wife was, though. Never missed a service. I went with her most weeks, just to make her happy.” He struggled to keep the usual mixture of bitterness and pain out of his voice when the subject of his ex-wife came up.

  “I’m guessing your story doesn’t end happily,” she said, her tone soft and gentle. The sheer geometry of her body—the angle of her head and shape of her posture—drew Seitzer into a role he almost never played: the confessor.

  “I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She wanted children, but she couldn’t get pregnant.” Few people knew the simple facts Seitzer had just revealed unless they had heard it from his ex-wife. Most people probably extrapolated his abrupt communicational style into some sort of relational dissonance that sent his unfulfilled spouse into the arms of another. But Seitzer was far more innocent in that regard than most would ever know. “When she couldn’t get pregnant, she really threw herself into church stuff. All the sudden it bothered her that I didn’t have faith, like she thought it was my fault we couldn’t conceive.”

  “Why did she’d think it was you? Maybe it was her—”

  “Well, it’s pretty safe to assume it was me since some other man got her pregnant.”

  “Oh. Before or after your marriage was over?”

  “Technically, before. But I guess you could make the argument either way. She met him at church. I guess she wanted someone more religious than me. They moved away together where they could start a new life.”

  She dropped her head completely against the back of the couch. “I’m sorry about what happened, Detective. I think I would struggle to believe in God too if that happened to me.”

  “I’m sorry about what happened to you,” Seitzer said.