“Vegetable beef stew will be ready shortly, spaghetti’s done already. I just have to make the cornbread and cook up the pasta,” Bessie offered before Annie could ask what they were having for dinner. “I don’t see any reason why I should slave over a hot stove all day,” she quipped when Annie nodded towards the slow cookers.
“Your mom’s a smart woman,” Rory said, popping an entire chocolate chip cookie into his mouth. “And she’s a darned fine cook.”
Annie dropped into a chair beside her mother and picked up her own cookie. “You’re making me fat, Mama.”
Bessie laughed. “I didn’t just put that cookie in your mouth.”
Annie grinned back at her mother around a bite of cookie. “I’ve missed this. You know, despite all the dead bodies that keep popping up in my life now, I am so glad that we bought this place. Daddy would have loved it,” she added quietly.
Bessie nodded thoughtfully. “He would have.”
Rory cleared his throat. “He was a good man, your daddy,” he said to Annie. “Always treated me good, even though I was such a jerk to his little girl.” Rory had dated Annie in high school, and they’d been steady and serious for nearly two years until Rory broke it off without explanation just after they’d graduated. Annie had eventually left for college, married, and moved to New York City. Now, all these years later, here they sat.
“He knew you were a good man, too, Rory,” Bessie assured him.
“I’m glad you’re here, too, Rory.” Annie smiled at him. It had been hard at first, spending so much time with someone she’d once been so close to, someone who’d broken her heart. But as the summer passed, they fell into a comfortable friendship. She was a long way from being ready to ever think about dating again, her husband hadn’t even been dead for a full year, and Rory’s friendship was reassuring. Sure, she felt a few pangs of regret that they’d lost contact, and sometimes old memories would stir up uncomfortable feelings inside of her, but for the most part, their relationship just felt right. Two old friends who didn’t need the hassle of a deeper relationship, that’s what they were, and that was fine with Annie.
A crack of thunder startled them all. Annie had almost forgotten that a storm raged outside. For a moment, she’d felt so content and cozy there in the kitchen. Annie shifted in her chair. “I hope Devon’s not out in the barn,” she said, rising to peer out the window.
“Oh, no, he’s upstairs,” Bessie reassured her. “I gave him the first cookies out of the oven and I’m sure he shared them with that dog,” she laughed. “You know, the puppy and the cat seem to get along just fine,” she said. “I’m surprised. I guess the dog’s smart enough to keep on TigerLily’s good side,” she mused.
Annie started to sit back down in her chair when lightning lit up the sky, followed by yet another boom of thunder. The storm was directly overhead now, and Annie could feel a small rumble in her bones as the sound faded. The lights flickered, then went out.
“Oops,” Bessie said, swallowing her last mouthful of coffee. “Guess the storm knocked the power out.”
Annie sighed. “I’d better go check on the guests. I’m sure the power will be back on in a few minutes, but I don’t want them to worry about it.” She headed for the sitting room, which was shrouded in darkness. The windows let in a little light, but the sky was so gray that it was insubstantial at best.
“Is everyone alright in here?” she called out.
“Annie? What happened?” Doris’s voice called back to her.
Annie let her eyes adjust to the very dim light. She could see that everyone was still where she’d left them. “The storm knocked the power out,” she explained. “It should be back on soon. It normally only takes a few minutes for the power company to fix it,” she added, hoping to reassure her guests.
“Well, now, isn’t this cozy?” Marie’s voice called out. “Should we light some candles?”
Annie hesitated. She didn’t particularly want open flames sitting around the place, not after the fire on the deck, but they did need light. “I’ll go and get some from the kitchen,” she replied. “You all sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
Annie met Rory in the parlour. “I’ve got some flashlights out in my truck,” he offered. “You want me to run out there and bring them in?” Annie hated to ask him to go out in the rain, but she knew that the power could be out for a while. Although she’d reassured her guests that it would be on soon, she knew from experience that outages this far out in the countryside could last much longer than just a few minutes.
“Okay,” she agreed, “but be careful. I don’t want you to get struck by lightning,” she said earnestly.
Rory left through the front door, and Bessie came from the kitchen. “Is Rory going to get flashlights?” she asked. Annie nodded in the dark hallway. “Good, then I’m going to run upstairs and check on Devon.”
“I was just going to grab some candles from the cellar,” Annie replied. “Please be careful going up those stairs. It’s dark up on the landing and I’d hate it if you fell.”
Bessie waved her hand dismissively and started up the stairs. Annie knew she could warn her mother to be careful all day long, but the woman would do as she wanted regardless.
Annie crept through the dark parlour and into the now empty kitchen. The slow cookers still bubbled on the counter. At least they’ll stay warm for a while, she thought. There was just enough light coming in through the window to illuminate the door to the cellar. Annie pulled it open and instinctively flipped the light switch, then cursed at herself when the light didn’t come on.
“Duh, Annie, there’s no electricity,” she said aloud, bracing herself for the descent into the inky blackness of the windowless cellar. She pulled out her cell phone and used its light to make her way down the stairs for the second time that day. Behind her, the door let in a little light, but it didn’t penetrate any further than a few feet.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and shone her light on the shelves, looking for the plastic container that held the candles. There was no label for ‘candles,’ so she pulled the one out that was labeled ‘emergency supplies.’ She laughed as she discovered that her mother had placed several packs of miniature candy bars in that container, and she pushed them aside to reveal a box of tea light candles. She pulled them out and left the plastic container where it sat, not willing to try and maneuver the thing back into place on the shelf in the pitch black dark. She was just about to turn around when she heard the door to the cellar slam shut.
Annie’s heart jumped into her throat. She took a few deep breaths and tried to calm herself while all sorts of dark thoughts filled her head. Did someone just slam the door closed? Had they known she was in the cellar? Why on earth would someone close a door without calling into the room first?
Forcing herself to calm down, she assessed the situation. Yes, the door had slammed, and yes, it had frightened her, but it was probably just the wind, or maybe Rory had found the door opened and closed it without realizing she was in the cellar.
Calming her pounding heart, Annie climbed the stairs carefully, clutching the candles to her chest and shining her phone’s light on each step as she went. It felt like forever before she reached the top, but she did reach it, with trembling legs and a still-racing pulse. With great relief, she passed her phone to the hand holding the candles and reached for the doorknob.
It wouldn’t budge.
She wiggled it and twisted it, but the door was locked, and Annie wasn’t going anywhere.
17
Tears, Fears, and Chocolate Bars
Annie told herself not to panic, and she really tried, but her first instinct was not to sit and wait calmly for someone to help her. She banged as hard as she could on the door. It was a solid, sturdy door, and the thick wood muffled the sounds of her hand hitting it. She heard a scuttling, scraping noise and nearly fell down the stairs, trying to see what unimaginable horror could be sneaking its way towards her in the dark.
H
er phone cast its glow on the steps below her, and she saw the tealight candles. Her pulse slowed ever so slightly. Jeez, woman, get a grip, she mumbled to herself. She bent to retrieve the candles and nearly dropped her phone. Finally, candles in hand and her phone gripped more tightly, she sat down on the top step.
The stress of the day and the horror of being stuck in a dark, dank cellar piled on top of her, and Annie found herself wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. Her phone went dark, so she pressed the button and watched it spring to life once again. At least she had her phone. She glanced at the power level--a measly nineteen percent battery life remained. She hoped that someone would realize she was missing before the battery died, and her tired, tearful brain envisioned her mother finding her skeletal remains sometime in the autumn when she came down to the cellar to look for her hidden chocolate bars.
The screen on her phone went dark once more, and Annie nearly smacked her own forehead. She had a phone. She’d just call someone to open the door, then she would throw the candles at Marie and go up to her room and her soft, comforting bed. Annie flicked the contacts file open and called Rory, but nothing happened. She checked the phone again and found that there were no bars showing at the top--there was no service signal down in the cellar.
Annie let out a long, slow breath. She sat the candles down beside her on the steps, put the phone in her pocket, where it sat snugly, safe from the risk of being dropped onto the hard concrete floor, and she turned to the door once again. She slapped it with her palms and called out, but her own voice just bounced back at her. She balled her hands up into fists and pounded on the wood, but she couldn’t make the sound any louder that way. What the heck was the door made of? Finally, she gave into her frustration and let out a long, loud, exasperated scream.
Nothing happened.
Annie turned her back to the door and peered down into the velvety blackness. She let her hand drop to the candles, reassuring herself that they were still there. She had the sudden thought that maybe she’d seen matches in the box with the candles, and for a minute she felt a little better. She pulled out her phone, pressed the button to illuminate the screen, and scrambled down the stairs and across the room. The light went out, and she pushed the button again, afraid to fire up the phone properly in case she ran her battery out.
The plastic tub was still sitting where she’d left it, which was on a folding table her mother had assured her would be a fine crafting table for them. She laughed at the thought--she certainly had no time for crafting or hobbies these days. No, Annie Richards was far too busy for scrapbooking or knitting; she was busy finding dead bodies and getting herself locked in creepy old cellars.
Annie shone her phone into the box and picked through its contents. Besides the chocolate bars, there were three boxes of Band-Aids, two tubes of Neosporin, a roll of gauze bandage, a six-pack of bottled water, and a pack of sugarless chewing gum, but definitely no matches.
Annie slapped her hand against the surface of the folding table in frustration. The whole thing wobbled, but it didn’t fall over. Feeling foolish, fed up, and frustrated, Annie grabbed a bag of chocolate bars and headed back up the stairs. If this isn’t an emergency, she thought, I don’t know what is.
Sitting alone in the dark, Annie opened the bag and unwrapped a chocolate bar, then chewed it thoughtfully. When I get out of here, she mused, I will definitely put some battery-powered lights up in this room. She ate a couple of the chocolates in silence, then reached up and banged the door a few more times, just in case someone was in the kitchen.
She did this a few more times, then she simply sat in silence. Occasionally she could hear a creak or clicking sound, the sounds that old houses make when you’re paying close enough attention to notice them. She let her mind drift, and found herself thinking of a time when she was a girl and had found herself accidentally locked in the bathroom. She must have been five or six years old, very young, and the doorknob in her childhood home had a terrible habit of sticking in the frame.
Annie recalled thinking that she’d have to live in the bathroom, that no one would ever find her and she’d be forced to sleep on the rug in front of the bath tub. She chuckled to herself as she recalled thinking that she could live on toothpaste and water for a few days because she’d seen a documentary on television that told her food was less important than water. Of course, in her panicked state, it hadn’t dawned on her that her parents would come looking for her, or, as it just so happened, that her mother would have to use the bathroom only ten minutes after Annie had resigned herself to her doom.
“At least I have water and chocolate,” she said aloud into the darkness, though she really wished that she had a toilet, too. She suddenly wished that she hadn’t thought about that memory. The diet coke she’d had earlier had been refreshing, but now she was starting to realize that she’d need to go to the bathroom soon, or she’d be in a heap of trouble. She crossed her legs, and tried to distract herself, but it was no good. Now she was stuck in the dark, in a cellar, where no one could hear her, and she had to pee.
Annie almost laughed out loud at her predicament, but she didn’t want to risk laughing too hard and having an accident. She was glad that she’d never stopped practicing her kegels because the more she tried not to think about having to go, the more she really needed to. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.
Rising to her feet, Annie turned and banged on the door once again, but this time, she yelled, too. “Somebody! Mama! Rory! Let me out of this godforsaken cellar! I need to go peeeee!”
At some point during her screaming rant, Annie missed the sound of the lock clicking, and as her fists rained down on the door for the umpteenth time, she suddenly realized that it was moving. Annie fell through the rapidly opening door and into Rory’s chest, knocking him to the ground.
“Annie, are you alr--” Rory didn’t get the sentence out before she’d knocked the wind out of him, and by the time he’d sat up, she was scrambling out the door, making a beeline for the bathroom.
“Sorry, Rory! Be right back!” she called breathlessly over her shoulder, deftly maneuvering through the house despite the fact that the lights were still out. A few minutes later, she emerged, calmer, less breathless, and still carrying the small pack of candles.
Now that she was in control of her emotions, Annie explained her frantic exit from the cellar. Rory listened, nodding in the dim light and trying not to laugh. Annie was sure her cheeks were glowing in the darkened kitchen. “So, I had to go. Really, really bad. That’s why I was screaming.”
Rory shook his head. “I’m not sure how you managed to get yourself locked down there in the first place. That’s a heavy oak door, so it probably didn’t blow shut on its own.” He’d answered two of her questions with his statement, but it only raised another one.
“Then how did it slam shut?” She shuddered at the memory. Annie had never thought that she was afraid of the dark, but after being locked in a pitch black cellar, she was starting to think maybe she had a very reasonable fear of dark places.
Rory frowned. “I don’t know. I came back in through the kitchen door and walked right past the cellar. It was already closed then. I swear if I’d have heard you banging on the door I would have run to let you out.” He seemed to feel so guilty about it all, and Annie realized that he blamed himself for not getting to her sooner.
“I wasn’t banging on the door the whole time,” she told him, “and I don’t think I was making that much noise through that heavy oak,” she said, trying to make him feel better. “But someone had to have shut the door.”
“You think it was your Mama? Maybe she didn’t realize you were down there.”
Annie thought this over for half a second. “No, she would have yelled down, I’m sure of it. Someone slammed that door. It wasn’t closed gently.” She shook the box of tea lights. “I don’t suppose you have any matches?”
Rory suppressed a laugh. Annie suppressed the desire to hit him. “What? What ar
e you laughing at?”
Rory walked over to the refrigerator and reached up on top. He pulled down a metal cookie tin and sat it on the counter by the window. In the dim light, Annie could just make out a box of tealight candles just like the one she had in her hand and a box of matches.
“I made your mama keep these in the kitchen in case of emergencies,” he explained. “I didn’t want her stumbling down those cellar steps in the dark.”
Annie’s mouth fell open and she snapped it shut. “Well, then--” She was angry and annoyed, and momentarily speechless. She snatched the matches from the box with a mumbled ‘thank you’, then headed for the sitting room.
It was empty.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Annie pulled a single candle out and lit it, then sat it on the mantel of the fireplace. Its meager light wasn’t as reassuring as she’d hoped, so she lit another one and placed it a few inches away. “Where is everyone?” she asked.
Rory stood in the doorway. “I have no idea. Everybody was gone when I got back.” He motioned towards the coffee table. “I left a couple of flashlights there for the guests to use. There are a couple more in the kitchen.” He clicked his own on, and a blinding beam of light appeared. “You be Scully, I’ll be Mulder,” he teased, handing her a flashlight. “Let’s see if they’ve all been abducted by aliens.”
Annie grinned and clicked on her own flashlight. “I guess we should check upstairs, make sure Mama and Devon are okay.” Annie imagined her mother falling in the dimly lit hallway upstairs, or tripping over something in the dark. At Bessie’s age, a fall could be downright deadly. Annie tried not to let those thoughts take hold, and she forced herself to think of something else.
A quick look upstairs found Devon and the dog stretched out on Devon’s bed. TigerLily sat on the windowsill of the large picture window in the middle of the room, her feline outline highlighted by the occasional flash of lightning.
Corpses & Conmen (Rosewood Place Mysteries Book 2) Page 13