Gnarled Hollow

by Charlotte Greene

  She looked at June quickly. “Why not?”

  June hesitated and then shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t sure what I should say. If I told them what you saw, it would sound—”

  “Crazy?” she suggested and then laughed. She went back to the window and watched the searchers a while longer. “You’re right, of course. It would sound crazy. I saw his body floating in the pool, and then it was gone. It sounds crazy even when I say it to myself.”

  For a moment, she felt a strong sense of frustrated hopelessness. Somehow, when it was just them—the researchers—all of the things that had been happening had seemed somehow personal, almost as if the house was doing those things only for them, to them. It had been dangerous, but they had also survived it all. What had happened to Harry was different, almost as if they were being punished for bringing in a stranger.

  When she turned back to him, Mark’s expression was troubled, and he took a step closer. “We had to call the police, Emily. You understand?”

  She hesitated. “Yes. Of course.” She looked at both of them. “It was a mistake to bring Harry here. This is on us.”

  Neither of them replied, and she took their silence as agreement. She gestured at the window. “They’re never going to find him out there. He’s here—somewhere in the house.”

  “They’ve already searched every room, including the attic,” June said.

  She looked at June. “But you know he’s here, too, right?”

  All three met each other’s eyes, agreeing without saying it aloud.

  Mark sighed and rubbed his eyes. “This is such a mess.”

  June’s face seemed haggard now. “We should have left after the first day. We should have gotten in our cars and never looked back.”

  Someone knocked on the door, and the three of them jumped. June opened it. Two police officers stood in the doorway, their faces strangely red from the dying daylight filtering in from outside. June gestured for them to enter, and she and Mark excused themselves.

  Emily offered the officers seats, and they all sat down across from each other. One of the officers was a little older than her, the other so young he was ridiculous in his uniform. They both held wide-brimmed hats on their laps.

  “Thanks for talking with us, Miss Murray,” the younger officer said. “I know you’re under the weather, so we appreciate your taking the time. We’ll try to be as brief as possible. We’re trying to develop a timeline for when Mr. Arnett went missing, so whatever you can add to what we already know would be helpful.”

  He consulted his notes. “According to Mr. Somner, you and he met up with Mr. Arnett around noon and agreed to bring him back here. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  After a long, pointed pause, she realized they were waiting for her to go on. She said nothing.

  Again, the younger officer spoke. “Why did you bring him here?”

  “He said he wanted to see the house, and we were happy to show it to him.”

  Again, he consulted his notes. “Mr. Somner claimed he was the one to contact Mr. Arnett. He called the high school looking for him. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did he do that?”

  “I asked him to. I’m doing some research here on Margot Lewis, and I saw that Mr. Arnett wrote the local obituary for her. I thought he might know something more about her.”

  “So, in exchange for seeing the house, you wanted to ask him about this Lewis woman?”

  She shrugged. “You could put it that way, but I didn’t think of it as payment, if that’s what you mean. He asked if he could see the house, so we showed it to him.”

  “And this was the first time you met him?”

  She hesitated, remembering their encounter on the road. The older officer’s eyebrows lowered slightly—he’d seen something in her expression. She was going to have to be careful. She tried to smile. “Actually, Harry and I met before.”

  The younger officer looked up, clearly surprised. “Oh? How? When?”

  “It was when I came here—two weeks ago. I got a little turned around on the road outside the grounds, and he happened to ride by my car on his bicycle when I pulled over to look at a map. He gave me directions to the house, and that was it.”

  “That’s funny,” the younger officer said. “Mr. Somner claimed it was the first time you’d both met him.”

  “He didn’t know about our earlier meeting.”

  “Why?”

  “I saw no reason to tell him. In fact, I didn’t know that Mr. Arnett and the man on the road were the same person until I saw him today. We didn’t introduce ourselves when we met.”

  Both of the officers seemed skeptical now, and both peered at her closely. The younger officer said, “Okay, let’s move on. Could you repeat what Mr. Arnett told you about Margot Lewis once you had him out here?”

  Emily didn’t like the way he’d phrased that question—as if they’d brought Harry out here on purpose just to lose him, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she decided that being honest at this stage was still safe, and she summarized, as best as she could, all the things Harry had told them about the house and the Lewis family. When she finished, she was amused to see that both officers were a little put out, almost as if they’d expected her to lie.

  The younger officer hid his disappointment by shuffling through his notes again. “That pretty much aligns with what Miss Friend and Mr. Somner told us.” He looked up at her. “What did you think of his story?”

  She made herself wait a moment and took a calm, deep breath before replying. “I thought it was all of a lot of rubbish, to tell you the truth. And I think Harry thought the same thing. He told us what he’d heard, but I don’t think he believed it.”

  “What gave you that impression?”

  “Just the way he told it. He kept saying things like, ‘this is what I’ve heard.’”

  “So why did he tell you?”

  She gave him a level stare. “I’m sure my colleagues have told you that we’re all out here on an assignment, Officer. We’re researching the house and the family. Mr. Somner and I have been discussing the possibility of writing a biography of the Lewis family and the history of this estate, so any information we can get is worthwhile, even if some of it is garbage. For example, Harry told us for the first time that Margot Lewis and her brother and sister might have been having an incestuous affair. That’s worthwhile information, despite the rest of it.”

  She was amused to see the younger officer blush, and once again he buried himself in his notes. The rest of the interview went quickly. She explained how, after Harry finished his story and went upstairs with Mark, they’d all gone outside to the gardens, and then how she, June, and Lara went out to the pool house. She said she’d started to feel a little dizzy out there, so the other women had helped her back toward the house before she fainted.

  “I think it was the sun. We were outside too long, and I’m sensitive to the heat. I should have worn a hat.”

  “So you’ve been up here all afternoon,” the younger man said.

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t know that Mr. Arnett was missing until you woke up?”

  “Correct.”

  “I think we can wrap this up now, Ben,” the older officer said, speaking for the first time. He got to his feet, the leather on his belt and boots creaking loudly in the quiet room.

  Ben, the younger officer, looked pissed off, but he nodded and got to his feet. Emily stood up with him, and they all shook hands.

  “Here’s our card,” Ben said, handing it to her. “It has our cell numbers on the back, too. Call us if you think of anything. We’re going down to check in on the search. We might have to bring some more volunteers out here later to help, but we’ll let you know what’s happening.”

  She followed them out of the room and downstairs, rejoining the others in the sitting room. Everyone seemed relieved to see her, especially June, who rushed over immediately and gave her a long, tigh
t hug. She pulled away, and Emily almost kissed her, but stopped at the last second. Everyone had seen what had almost happened, and she had a momentary jolt of triumph at the police officers’ startled expression.

  “We’ll leave you to it now,” the older officer said. “Hopefully we’ll find Mr. Arnett before it starts getting dark.”

  “Can we help?” June asked.

  The officers shared a look, and the older one shook his head. “That wouldn’t be the best idea, at least right now. We’ll let the professionals do their thing.”

  He’d talked about getting some volunteers from town, and a quiet unease swept through her. She’d felt it when they were talking to her upstairs, too. They’d leapt on the discrepancy between Mark’s story and hers, as if they’d suspected someone was lying to them. Something was off, and the police knew it.

  The officers excused themselves and went outside, and Mark closed the front door behind them before coming back and shutting the sitting-room doors. All of them were standing around, everyone clearly anxious.

  “Well, shit,” Jim said. He walked over to the bar to refill his drink. From the high color in his cheeks, she could tell it wasn’t his first or second of the evening.

  “They know we’re hiding something,” June said. No one disagreed, and Emily saw the last remaining color drain from her face.

  “Unless they find him, we’re all screwed,” Chris said.

  Jim laughed, bitterly. “We’re screwed if they find him, too. What do you think will happen if they find his body somewhere?”

  “Maybe he’s still alive,” June said, almost whispering.

  Jim shook his head dramatically. “How naive can you get, June? You know as well as I do that he’s dead.”

  “But there’s no proof!” Her voice had risen, and she was nearly yelling now. “I mean, how do we know for sure?”

  Jim walked close to her and gestured, some of his drink sloshing out of his glass. “We don’t need any proof, June! We all know it’s true! Can’t you feel it? I can. I know it.” He looked at Emily. “And she saw his body. You know he’s dead, don’t you?”

  She met June’s panicked gaze and then Jim’s before agreeing, reluctantly. “Yes. He’s dead. I don’t know where he is, but he’s gone.” She met June’s eyes. “I’m sorry, June, but it’s true.”

  It seemed as if June might argue, but her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, and Emily went to her at once, putting an arm around her middle and leading her to the sofa. They both sat down heavily, and she rubbed June’s back to calm her. Jim made them both a drink. She gave him a weak smile, and he sat down in one of the armchairs across from them, scowling and nursing his own cocktail.

  Lara stood with her arms crossed over her chest, almost squeezing herself, and Chris stared out the window, ostensibly observing the search. Mark looked around at everyone in turn and then went to the bar to fix himself something. He sat down in the other armchair, his expression grave.

  “What are we going to do?” June’s voice was quiet, but Emily detected a hint of panic there, too.

  “I don’t know,” Mark said. “On the one hand, I think it would be better if we found him ourselves. On the other hand, it might be better if there’s no body.”

  Chris barked a laugh, whirling toward them away from the window. “So what, we’re just going to let him rot somewhere in the house?”

  “Or some time,” Mark said, almost under his breath.

  “What? What does that mean, ‘some time’?” Jim asked.

  Mark shook his head. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about. I told Emily about it a little, about the house anyway, but I asked her not to say anything until I’d had time to think about it.” He described the discrepancy between the inside and outside measurements.

  June was looking at her strangely, and Emily gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. He asked me not to say anything.”

  June was clearly a little put out, but she seemed to let it go.

  Jim asked, “So you’re saying there’s missing space in the house?”

  Mark pointed at him. “Exactly. The outside measurements don’t match what we’re seeing inside.”

  “And there’s no explanation?” Chris asked.

  “None that I can find. The difference defies logic and sense. Somehow, when you’re outside, the house is larger than when you’re inside.”

  “Except for the attic,” June said.

  “Yes,” Mark said. “The attic is the right size.”

  “So explain what you mean by ‘some time,’ then,” Jim said.

  Mark sighed. “It’s just a theory.” He paused, again looking around the room at all of them. Lara and Chris had drawn closer to the sofa and chairs, but they were still standing, both of them clearly too anxious to sit down. They stood behind June and Emily on the sofa.

  Mark cleared his throat. “Let’s assume, for simplicity’s sake, that the house was normal when the Lewis children were here. Maybe it was even normal when Margot Lewis came back—I don’t know.”

  “Why should we assume that?” Chris asked.

  “Humor me,” Mark said. He paused and got to his feet, walking across the room to pick up his laptop. He opened it and set it down on the table, facing everyone but him. “Here is the original plan for this floor of the house.” He clicked a button and the image shifted. “And here is the plan as this floor is today.”

  “There are rooms missing,” June said immediately. “We saw that already when you showed us these plans before.”

  “But like I said, the outside measurements match these original plans,” he put them on the screen, “not these.” He switched back to the new layout.

  “So what are you saying?” Jim asked. “That the rooms are actually still there somehow?”

  Mark held up his hands. “Something like that. But the theory I’ve been mulling over is that they aren’t here—not really.”

  “Well, of course they aren’t,” June said, frowning. “We’d see them.”

  Mark leaned forward. “They aren’t anymore, but they were there at one time. And maybe they are still there, but only sometimes.”

  “How do you know?” Emily asked. “There’s no evidence.”

  Mark held up a finger. “Ah, but there is. It came to me yesterday, after you and Jim were locked in your bedroom together.” He spun the laptop toward himself and scrolled through to find the right image before he turned it back to them again. “I’ve highlighted it, but what do you see in the original plans for upstairs?”

  Emily reviewed the image on the screen and went cold. “There should be a room between my bedroom and the bathroom.”

  “Exactly. Your bedroom is supposed to share a wall with this missing room here in the original plans.” He looked at Jim. “Yesterday, both of you told us that you went into the bathroom to see if you could find the source of the noise, but when you did, you almost couldn’t hear it at all. That doesn’t make sense, does it? If you could hear it on one side of the wall, you should be able to hear it on the other.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe the insulation is better in the bathroom,” Jim said. He didn’t sound like he believed what he’d said.

  “Or, as I’m suggesting, you couldn’t hear it because there is a room in between her bedroom and the bathroom.”

  Jim laughed. “But there isn’t! We could go upstairs right now and you’d see—there’s maybe what, two or three feet between Emily’s bedroom and the bathroom door, not,” he leaned forward and peered at the screen, “twenty feet or whatever. We’d be able to see it.”

  “Exactly,” Mark said, “and we would see it, if it was 1918 or 1919, but it’s not. Not always, anyway.”

  Jim laughed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, some kind of slippage is happening here, something to do with time. Sometimes we’re in touch with the past, and sometimes we’re not.” He paused. “That woman, for instance, the one three of us
have seen now. Some people from town have seen her, too. She’s there and then she’s not. Who do you think she is?”

  “The sister—Julia,” June said without hesitating.

  Mark looked around the room and no one disagreed. “Exactly—it’s Julia. So why is she there sometimes and gone the next? When we were discussing her with Chris, after he was attacked in the pool, we all agreed that when you see her, it’s almost as if, when she disappears, she goes back to where, or whenever, she’s from.”

  Chris frowned, and Emily remembered that he’d been skeptical about this explanation. He was clearly still a little reluctant to agree with it, but he said nothing.

  Mark continued. “I’m suggesting that the house is like Julia. These missing rooms are both here and not, and when they’re not here, they’re lost in time.”

  Jim guffawed and got to his feet. Emily saw him sway for a minute and then steady himself before walking, carefully, over to the bar again. He poured himself another drink, and when he turned back toward them, he raised his hand to his chest to touch his little pocket there. She was almost certain he was carrying the little lead soldier around again. No one else seemed to have seen this gesture, and he dropped his hand almost guiltily.

  “The other evidence is the loss of time,” Mark said. He gestured at June and her. “When you were in the steam room, it seemed like a few minutes to you, but to the rest of us, it was hours and hours. The same thing happened when you and Jim were locked upstairs in your bedroom.”

  “It happened when I was driving here, too,” she said. She explained the loss of time on the road, leaving out the detail about meeting Harry. “I always come back around four.”

  “Chris reappeared in the pool right before four, and you were attacked in the bathroom about that time, too,” June said.

  Mark raised his eyebrows. “So four o’clock is important, somehow.”

  Lara, who had been silent this whole time, suddenly spoke up. “That’s when we should do it, then.”