“Yeah,” Sergeant Ring said. “Just when you’re asleep, those birds do that, and you think someone’s being killed.” He laughed again as if this were the most hilarious thing that could ever happen.
Even as he acted like my best friend, he still had that “I don’t trust you” gleam in his eyes. Or maybe it was a Jack Daniel’s shine. I didn’t know. I just had to leave. “I, ah, got to get to my friend’s house. Do that report.”
“For science.”
“Yeah, for science.” I took a step, cool as an ice cube, thinking, Please just let me go, just let me go. But before my foot hit the ground again, he yanked me back by the strap of my pack.
Now he’d stopped laughing. He stared hard at me. The interrogation eyes. “What do you know about your stepfather’s business?”
“Uh … nothing.”
“You gotta know something. You live with him. He must talk to you.”
Where was this coming from? And what did it have to do with Megan? Or me? Or heck, anything? “Seriously, I try to avoid him. The guy’s a total jerk. All I know is that things aren’t going well.”
“Have you heard anything about the workers lately?”
Don’t tell him, Cooper. Keep your mouth shut or Megan dies.
I swallowed hard. What was I supposed to say? Not the truth. Not the found-a-hat-full-of-brains-by-the-well truth, that was for sure. “I, ah, heard a couple haven’t shown up for work lately.”
“A couple? Try more like six in the past two weeks.”
The pile of bones flashed in my mind again, became a pile of dead bodies.
Oh God. I wanted to hurl, but I knew if I did, I’d be puking up a pile of guilt onto the ground. “Sam, ah, hasn’t said anything about six.” I was nervous and rambling but still careful not to say anything that might piss off the creature and put Megan in danger. “This one guy Paolo was missing for a little while, but he came back. I heard he was, like, fired.”
“You heard wrong.” Sergeant Ring crossed his arms over his chest.
The tiny hairs rose on the back of my neck. I had known, deep down, that Sam had been lying about Paolo. But why? What the hell was going on around here? Sam had to know that six workers were missing. Wasn’t he suspicious about a mass missing-men problem? Or did the vineyard just have majorly high turnover?
Sergeant Ring leaned in closer, his beak nearly poking out my eye. “You see anything weird around here lately?”
“What’s weird?” I said.
“People acting strange. Not doing what they should.” He leaned back. “Keeping secrets.”
“I’m a kid. Everyone keeps secrets from me.”
He harrumphed. “Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t. And maybe you’re just not telling me everything you know.”
When was this guy going to leave me alone? Didn’t he have a bar to get to? Megan was out there, and his yammering wasn’t helping me find her.
“I really have to go, sir. My friends are waiting.”
“Just a minute, Cooper.” Mike’s dad put a hand on my shoulder. The you’re-not-going-anywhere move. His radio crackled, but he just turned it down, ignoring the call. “I have a few more questions for you.”
I shifted my weight, hoping he’d let go.
He didn’t.
“Did you know the hospital where your stepfather works is investigating him?”
Behind Mike’s dad, the woods started to shift, undulating like waves. It sounded like a breeze whispering through the trees. He didn’t notice.
But I did.
“Did you hear me, Cooper?”
“Huh?” My gaze stayed over his shoulder, on those woods, but it wasn’t the woods-it was the greenery around them.
The sticky vines were spreading, and spreading faster than I’d ever seen them spread before. Leaping and dancing over one another, like those Chinese gymnasts at the Olym- pies, cartwheeling off the trees, connecting and interlocking with one another, forming not a web this time, but-
“Mr. Warner?”
Tall, thin-
“Yes, sir?”
“The hospital is looking into your stepfather’s track record with deliveries. Apparently, he’s lost one too many babies in the past few years.” The cop shook his head. “Infant mortality. Those are the kinds of numbers they like to see go down, you know, not up.”
Dead babies? Missing workers in the vineyard?
I stared at Sergeant Ring. Wished he’d say he was kidding, but he didn’t. The facts stayed there. Dead babies, missing men. How was all this connected? Because it had to be-it was just too damn weird not to be.
And Sam Jumel right there in the middle of all of it.
What was up with that? What was Sam doing? I couldn’t wrap my head around it, couldn’t make the pieces fit together. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark, as Hamlet’s friend Marcellus would say, and only a fool would go trotting around Denmark without a clue.
Behind us, the green vines had twisted and formed, knitting together from the ground up and bridging across from tree to tree, pulling off twigs and sticks, looking like hurried birds building nests. At first they looked like nothing but taller versions of what they had always been, but then they became-
A web and stick army.
“He’s got some problems, your stepfather.” The cop gave my shoulder a pat, then let me go.
“Yeah,” I said, and a nervous little laugh escaped me. I took a step back. “He sure does.”
And so do we, Scooby-Doo, I thought.
Because that webbed army had started to move.
The cop’s radio crackled again. He ignored it a second time. “You think I’m going to go easy on you just because you’re my kid’s friend, Cooper? Because you’ve come over to my house and played Xbox a couple times?”
Behind him, the web people had taken their red-rover line three feet closer. Slide, slide, across the forest floor. Were they coming for me?
Or a Sergeant Ring appetizer?
“No, sir,” was all I could manage.
He leaned forward, obtuse as a brick wall. The well’s minions were now four feet away. Three and a half. Three and a quarter. “What’s in the bag?”
Not good timing, five-oh. Behind him, the vine army inched forward and, I swore, crouched. Like a lion about to pounce on prey.
“I told you-homework.”
“Then you won’t mind if I take a look, will you?”
Yeah, I did mind. I minded, like, four years in juvie for carrying concealed. But I had more immediate worries-
Like a sneak attack from some seriously bad vine dudes who wanted to kill us both and feed us to a murdering monster.
I opened my mouth to scream at Mike’s dad, to tell him to run, but run from what? A bunch of crazy grapevines? He’d think I was insane, and by the time I’d get done explaining it, he’d be dead and dragged down to the well-
And that was assuming he could even see the well’s mercenaries. No one in my English class had seen them on the desk. Joey hadn’t seen them on my computer. Faulkner probably hadn’t seen them when he had lured our mother back to the house. Had Paolo seen them coming?
What if I was the only one who could see this?
Two feet away now. One and a half.
My heart threatened to explode out of my chest. Mike’s dad wasn’t going anywhere. And if I didn’t get rid of him, I was going to watch him die right here.
That’s exactly right, Cooper, the well whispered. You’ll watch him die. Maybe help me kill him. Won’t that be a sweet thing for us to do together?
And then it laughed and muttered something I couldn’t hear.
As if on orders, the vine people broke apart, paper dolls becoming individuals now, their branch arms swinging up and out, reaching for both of us. I didn’t need a freakin’ crystal ball to know the next sixty seconds.
Their stick fingers were going to wrap around Sergeant Ring’s skull, squeeze into the soft flesh, and press until his head exploded, blasting his brains outward lik
e an overly ripe grape. He’d never pop another Bud again, never sit in Mike’s living room again.
And it would be all my fault. I couldn’t live with that. I couldn’t watch it.
Then a thought hit me. If Sam was a part of this, there was only one place he could keep everything hidden from me, Faulkner, my mother, and the world.
“I know where my stepfather keeps his secrets,” I said quickly, reaching for Sergeant Ring’s sleeve, pulling him a foot closer a lot harder than I intended-or probably should have. Surprise lit his eyes. Oh crap. Don’t arrest me now, dude. “It’s in the winery. You know, where all the wine is.”
The vine army took a stutter-step, as if they, too, were surprised by my move, but faster than frat boys chugging a keg they were on the move again, their arms out, their mouths-not really mouths, but something like mouths, formed out of tangles of sticks and twigs-yawning and hungry.
“Wine?” Sergeant Ring said. Apparently I was speaking his language.
“Yeah, lots of it. But we have to go now. Before Sam gets back from the hospital.”
Let him go, Cooper. Let me have him. I’m hungry.
Aren’t you?
Disgust rolled inside me. I wanted to scream but knew that would just make Mike’s dad suspicious and he’d probably haul me off to jail. Every second he stood there seemed to drag on like an endless algebra class.
The well whispered something else I couldn’t hear. Then I knew why. It was talking to them-to the vine people.
In answer, the vines reached out, and their hands just barely brushed against Sergeant Ring’s back. He shifted, as if he’d felt it, but then jerked his sleeve out of my grip. “This better be about more than just some merlot, Cooper, or I’ll drag you down to the station for assaulting a police officer.”
“Yeah, it will be.” I started walking fast, praying he’d do the same. He did.
A shriek cut through the woods. The well. Pissed I was taking its prize away. I glanced at Mike’s dad, but he had no reaction on his face, no sign he’d heard anything at all.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the vine army. They had turned to one another as if they were com municating. I gripped the strap of my backpack tighter. We needed to get the hell out of the woods.
Now.
“If you want to get into the vineyard’s offices, we better get a move on,” I said, digging for some lies. “Like Indy Five Hundred speed. Because if Sam catches you in there, he’ll shut you down in a heartbeat, and you don’t want to be going to all the hassle of a search warrant, do you?”
He shot me a grin. “How much TV you watch, kid?”
I looked behind me and saw the vines had stopped their whispering.
They had broken apart, and now their twig feet were spinning, spinning, spinning, gathering speed.
I didn’t bother to answer. I broke into a run and prayed he’d keep up. He let out a “hey,” and then a second later, there was a thud of footsteps behind me.
Please let those be cop feet and not something else.
The creature shrieked again, sounding like twenty vultures going after a pile of roadkill. I wanted to look back, wanted to know where that evil army was, but I was afraid if I took even one second to slow down, it would be the second the well needed.
The woods crackled with activity, but I ignored the growing webs of green spinning into the trees, the whispers of hundreds of running evil grapevines-turned-army-men.
Mike’s dad huffed and puffed behind me. “Cooper, this isn’t a track meet. Slow down.”
Fifty feet ahead of us the Jumel vineyard lay in perfect alignment. The well might be able to reach that far, but somehow I doubted it would dare send its crazy nature guys into the exposed rows of grapes. “Just a little farther.”
Mike’s dad grunted but kept up with me. Apparently the wine incentive was enough. Finally we hit the bright light shining over the vineyard. In my head, I heard the angry shrieks of the creature. Then it began to laugh.
Next time, Cooper. You won’t win.
I glanced over my shoulder. The army of vines had locked arms again and lined the perimeter of the woods.
Waiting.
I swallowed hard. I might have gotten away this time, but I had to face them again and soon-because Megan was still in there somewhere and I would fight whatever I had to if it meant getting her back.
“Now that you’ve got me here, you better show me something spectacular,” Mike’s dad said.
We’d come in the back and now stood in the center of the bottling line, a busy room with a dumping station, a bottle cleaner, a filler, a corker, and a labeler, everything moving along a series of conveyor belts that kept whirring at a constant pace. The remaining workers-who knew better than to stop for anything short of an earthquake-barely looked up when the uniform and I walked in.
“Cooper?” Mike’s dad prodded, impatient.
I’d been inside the winery only a couple of times and had barely paid attention. And I’d forgotten about one particular detail-until Sergeant Ring had started mentioning all that stuff about dead babies and missing workers.
“Over here.” We headed through the production areas, past the offices, then into the fancy tasting room. A massive circular oak bar took up nearly the entire space, with wine bottles and glasses lining the mirrored wall behind it. Sam had had people in here giving the tasting room a serious spit and polish every day for a week, even though the place already shone like a prom date, all part of his perfectionist’s attention to detail. There was even a hand-lettered sign on the bar that said KEEP OUT OF TASTING ROOM. READIED FOR VINEYARDS 200TH ANNIVERSARY PARTY. ORDERS OF SAM JUMEL.
If I was caught in here, I’d be dead.
“Don’t tell me you dragged me all the way back here for a wild-goose chase.”
“Uh, course not.” I took in a deep breath and charged forward, sliding around the bar and past the wine bottles to the side of the mirror. I wasn’t even sure I was in the right place-I’d seen Sam enter this room once, when he’d had me sweeping up the winery and I had taken a break to do some sneaking around on my own. I remembered Sam had pulled open the mirror, moving the whole wall out to reveal a door. I knew if something was hidden behind a mirror, it was bound to be important. I slid my fingers along the edge.
Nothing happened.
“Cooper?”
“Give me a second.” The latch had to be here somewhere. I rose on my toes, slid my fingers down again.
Nothing.
I looked at the shelves, hoping for a key. A PUSH HERE sign. Yeah, as if I’d get that lucky.
Nothing.
Mike’s dad let out a long, impatient breath. “Cooper. “
“I know, I know.” Then I added, “Sir.” I leaned against the mirror, my hand going to the high shelves of wine, the ones put up there just for show-the ones that dated back to the first Jumel years. My fingertips hit against one of the bottles, and it started to topple. I cursed, thinking, Oh no, I’ve really done it now-Sam is going to kill me, when the bottle righted itself. Then, a click.
The wall slowly swung open.
Behind it, an oak door. “This is where he keeps every thing that no one is supposed to know about.” I could have been wrong, but I doubted it.
Mike’s dad stepped forward, tried the knob. The door opened. We both looked back, saw no one else in the tasting room, then ducked inside.
“Don’t move and don’t touch anything,” Sergeant Ring said, pointing to a spot on the floor. “I’ll do the investigating, you got it?”
I nodded and stayed where I was. I didn’t know if he’d find anything, but I figured his attention was off me and thinking I’d had anything to do with Megan’s disappearance, and we were away from the well’s evil vine army. All around, a better situation.
Sergeant Ring wandered off to do his thing. I leaned against the wall. From here, the place spelled office. Desk, chair, a few framed awards. Nothing much. Had I been wrong?
A single tower of wine
bottles sat in the corner. Wine bottles I recognized, not because I’d seen them in the tasting room, but because I hadn’t seen them in the tasting room.
I’d seen them in the StepScrooge mansion. This was his private stash. The bottles created just for Sam-and no one else.
Wait. That wasn’t right.
I thought a second, staring at those bottles, trying to figure out what bothered me about them. But I couldn’t put my finger on it, so instead, I just slipped one of the bottles off the pile when Mike’s dad wasn’t looking and tucked it into my backpack as easily as Winona Ryder grabbing herself a pair of D&G sunglasses.
Mike’s dad flipped through a few folders, then picked up two bottles of red and held them up to the light. He grinned.
He wasn’t here for clues. If there was any detecting to do, I was going to have to do it. While Sergeant Ring debated between the 1989 and the 1 992,, I pushed off from the wall and sidled up to a small cabinet. It didn’t look like much, just an old, beat-up wooden thing, the kind of cabinet sent to the office because it didn’t match the house’s Better Homes & Gardens perfecto decor. I could see my mother moving in and ordering that thing out.
Keeping my eyes on Sergeant Ring, I flicked open one of the cabinet doors. At first I didn’t see anything. The lighting in the office space was kind of dim, and the cabinet was in shadows. I shuffled a step back, then looked again.
A book. Not like the latest Stephen King bestseller, but one of those old leather kind. There were some letters carved on the top that I couldn’t make out, not under the dust on the cover, but it looked old. Really old.
It could have been anything. A family tree. An old Bible. A diary.
“Cooper, you think your stepdad will miss one bottle out of a thousand?”
I jerked back, away from the cabinet. “Uh … no. Call it evidence. You know, for DNA or whatever.”
Sergeant Ring smiled. He and I, best buds again. He went back to picking the best vintage.
Before I could think twice, I reached in, swiped the leather book, and stuffed it into my backpack in one smooth move. I thought I heard a whispered yes as I did it, as if the creature had seen me.
The Well Page 14