Ruckman Road: An Alex Penfield Novel

by Robert W. Stephens

  “Is Hannah all right?” Penfield asked.

  “Yes, she’s upstairs.”

  “She was back,” Penfield said.

  “Who?” Torres asked.

  “The little girl. She was back, and we caught it on video,” Penfield said, and he pointed to one of the cameras mounted near the living room ceiling.

  Penfield took Atwater to the emergency room to get his cuts cleaned, while Torres escorted Hannah back to the hotel. Penfield leaned against the outside of the small examining room where a nurse was tending to Atwater. The ER was packed and got even more crowded when two paramedics brought in a bleeding woman on a stretcher. He heard one of the other nurses yell something, and then several people ran into the room the woman had just been wheeled into. Penfield’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at his phone display and saw Torres’ name. He walked to the back of the ER and stepped outside to escape the noise. It wasn’t much quieter outside, though, since the storm was still directly overhead.

  “We didn’t get anything on video,” Torres said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The windows explode, but there’s no girl.”

  “That’s impossible. She was standing near the kitchen. The camera above the front door had to have seen her. She threw me across the living room, for God’s sake.”

  “What are you talking about, Pen?”

  “She pushed me just like before, only this time I flew a hell of a lot farther.”

  Torres didn’t answer him, and there was a long pause in the conversation.

  “What the hell is going on?” Penfield asked.

  “I think you should look at the video yourself.”

  Penfield waited another thirty agonizingly slow minutes for the doctor to give Atwater the okay to leave. He checked out, and Penfield took him back to the hotel, where they found Torres sitting in the lobby. She had her laptop under her arm, and she stood as they entered.

  “I copied the two living room camera files to my laptop. We can look at it now if you like,” she said.

  “Let’s look at it in my room, if that’s okay. I’d like to see it, too,” Atwater said.

  They took the elevator to his floor and walked down the long hallway to Atwater’s room. Penfield looked at Torres as Atwater fumbled in his pocket for the keycard. Penfield thought she was intentionally avoiding his gaze. Atwater fished out the keycard and unlocked the door. Torres walked over to the table near the window and opened her laptop. The computer took a moment to boot up. Torres typed her password into the security box, and the desktop display came to life. She clicked on a video file, and a second later the image of the living room appeared. Penfield could see the display was from the camera by the front door. It showed most of the room with the kitchen doorway in the background.

  “I’ll speed it up to just before the first window breaks,” Torres said.

  Torres moved the cursor. The video took a second to catch up from the jump in the timeline, and then it played. Penfield saw Hannah and Atwater sitting in the center of the room. Atwater had his eyes closed, but Hannah was turning her head slowly back and forth, as if she was scanning the room. The window closest to them exploded in a cloud of broken glass. Penfield saw Hannah jump, but Atwater remained completely motionless. He didn’t even appear to flinch. It was like he’d known the window was about to break, and he’d willed himself to stay perfectly calm. Hannah stood and walked away from the window until her back was against the far wall. Penfield then saw himself and Torres run into the room from the kitchen. They both hesitated a moment, and then Penfield ran toward the broken window, and Torres ran toward the camera. She disappeared from the camera’s view as she ran under it and out the front door.

  Penfield looked up at Torres.

  “I still don’t know what broke those windows,” Penfield said.

  “Here comes the other ones,” Torres said.

  Penfield turned back to the video screen and saw the second and third windows explode in quick succession. Torres appeared back on the screen, and then the fourth and fifth windows shattered a few seconds later. Hannah ran out of the room toward the staircase. She disappeared from the camera’s view as she turned the corner and dashed upstairs.

  Penfield turned to Torres.

  “Where exactly did she go?” Penfield asked.

  “She went to the master bedroom. I followed her up there and told her to lock herself in the bathroom. I made sure she was all right, and then I came back downstairs to you two.”

  Penfield looked at the computer screen again. He knew this was the moment the little girl appeared in the kitchen doorway. She didn’t, though. He waited a moment, thinking she would appear any second. She was nowhere to be found on the video, however. Penfield watched as he ran over to the kitchen doorway. He then saw himself move backward until he stumbled and fell to the wooden floor. It looked like he’d thrown himself down as some kind of weird stunt. He stood and ran toward the front door and out of the house into the rain.

  No one said a word as the video continued to play. Two minutes passed by on the video player’s counter. Penfield ran back onto the screen. This time he was soaking wet from the storm.

  “I don’t understand,” Penfield said to no one in particular. “She was there. I saw her. She threw me.”

  Torres didn’t respond, and the video ended. She clicked the screen closed and shut her laptop. Penfield looked away. He couldn’t believe his memories could be so different from what played out on the screen.

  “What about your phone? What did it record?” Penfield asked.

  “Just static,” Torres said.

  “Please send it to me.”

  “Why? It’s just static.”

  “Send it anyway,” Penfield said.

  He walked a few feet from the group.

  “I couldn’t have imagined her. I couldn’t have.”

  “You didn’t,” Atwater said.

  Penfield turned back to him.

  “Did you see her?” Penfield asked.

  “She was there. He was there, too.”

  “Talbot?” Torres asked.

  “No. The thing that’s been causing all of this to happen. He’s been waiting for them. I don’t know how long, but he’s been waiting. Now that they’re here, he won’t stop until they’re both dead.”

  Chapter 19

  The Rope

  Penfield and Torres left the hotel room and took the elevator down to the lobby.

  “You hungry?” Torres asked.

  “I should be, but I don’t feel like eating,” Penfield said.

  “There’s a few places across the street. I’m going to see if one of them is open.”

  “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

  “You don’t want to stay in the restaurant? Lot more comfortable than the car.”

  “I’ll be all right,” Penfield said.

  Torres crossed the street and headed for the restaurants on Queen’s Way, while Penfield entered the parking garage. The air was cold and damp, and the wind cut through the openings in the garage’s walls. The cement walls created a funnel of sorts and seemed to direct the wind right at Penfield. He pulled his coat tight around his body, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. Penfield unlocked his car with the remote and climbed inside. He thought about turning the car on and running the heater. Instead, he pulled his coat even tighter and leaned back against the driver’s seat. He didn’t think there was any way he’d fall asleep in that position, but he was startled when Torres opened the passenger door and climbed inside. He must have dosed off, at least for a few minutes.

  “Get anything?” Penfield asked.

  “Two eggs and toast. Seemed like the best meal I’ve had in a while. Why’s it so cold in here?”

  Penfield didn’t respond. He just cranked the engine on and turned the heat on full blast. The heat ran for several minutes, but the car didn’t seem to heat up. The cold air had penetrated through to their bones. Penfield had placed his cell phone o
n the dashboard, and it vibrated. He picked it up and looked at the display on his cellphone. It was the DC office number for his FBI friend, Doug McMahon. He gave a quick look to the passenger seat of his car. Torres had already reclined her seat to hopefully catch a few minutes of desperately needed sleep herself. She opened her eyes as Penfield pressed the talk button and put the phone in speaker mode.

  “Please tell me you got something,” Penfield said.

  “No sorry-for-waking-you-up-at-the-butt-crack-of-dawn-again?” McMahon asked.

  “I thought I said that when I first texted you.”

  “You did. I just wanted to hear it again.”

  “Sorry then. By the way, I got you on speaker. My partner’s here with me.”

  “Hey, Maria,” McMahon said.

  “Thanks for helping us,” Torres said.

  “No, problem.”

  “Did you find anything?” Penfield asked.

  “Yeah. The static was fairly easy to pull down. I sampled it and then filtered it out. There are definitely voices in the background.”

  “You hear the girl?”

  “There’s a female voice. It’s low, but it’s there.”

  “What’s it saying?” Torres asked.

  “Hang on. Give me a second.”

  Penfield waited. He thought he heard McMahon typing on his keyboard, but he couldn’t be sure. He heard mumbling in the background, and then McMahon came back on the line.

  “It sounds like she’s saying ‘I want her.’”

  Penfield felt a wave of relief wash over him. He gave a quick look over to Torres. Then he turned back to his phone.

  “Thanks. I owe you, buddy,” Penfield said.

  “That’s it?” McMahon asked.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I thought you were sending me the file to ask about the guy again.”

  McMahon waited for Penfield to reply, but he didn’t.

  “You know, the guy’s voice saying ‘Sarah,’” McMahon continued.

  “It’s there?” Torres asked.

  “Yeah. It’s almost right on top of the girl’s voice, but it’s clear. He says the name again. I’ll send you the file in a moment. You’ll hear for yourself.”

  Penfield thanked him again and ended the call. Neither of them said a word while they waited for McMahon’s email to come through to Penfield’s phone. His cell phone vibrated a few seconds later, and Penfield opened his email. He downloaded the attachment and played the filtered audio file. They heard the girl’s voice and then the male’s voice saying “Sarah” a half-second later.

  “Why wasn’t she on the video?” Torres asked. “How can one recorder capture her and not another?”

  “I have no idea. A recorder’s a recorder. They should both work the same.”

  Penfield looked up at the hotel.

  “How’s Hannah? I never got a chance to talk to her,” Penfield said.

  “About like you’d expect her to be,” Torres replied.

  “We should check on her. See if she’s okay.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Torres said.

  “Still, we should go.”

  “Why’s that? Something going on between you two?”

  “What are you talking about?’ Penfield asked.

  “You just seem overly concerned about her all the time.”

  “How’s that?” Penfield asked.

  “Fine. The hotel has to be warmer than this damn car,” Torres said.

  Penfield and Torres exited the car and went up to Hannah’s room. They found a maid cleaning the room, but Hannah wasn’t present. They asked the maid if Hannah had been there when she knocked on the door, but the maid said the room had been empty.

  “Maybe she’s down in the lobby,” Torres suggested.

  “We would have seen her,” Penfield said.

  They went down to the lobby anyway and checked for her, but she was nowhere to be found.

  “Do you think she went back to the house?” Torres asked.

  Penfield pulled out his phone and called Hannah. The phone rang several times until he got her voicemail greeting. He ended the call without leaving a message.

  “We should head over there,” Torres said.

  They walked back to Penfield’s car and made the quick drive over to Fort Monroe. Torres called Hannah again on the way over but also got her voicemail. They pulled into the back parking lot behind the chapel and immediately spotted Hannah’s car. Neither Penfield nor Torres said anything. Penfield parked beside her, and they exited his car. They walked quickly over to the house and found the front door closed but unlocked. They entered the house. There was still glass all over the living room floor.

  “Hannah,” Penfield yelled, but he got no reply.

  “I’ll check these rooms. You check upstairs,” Torres said.

  Torres walked toward the kitchen while Penfield took the stairs to the second level. He stopped on the last step just before the landing. He saw a yellow polyester rope tied to the handle of the master bedroom door. The rope extended up and over the top of the door. Penfield walked across the landing and headed toward the bedroom. He saw that the rope prevented the door from closing all of the way. He slowly pushed open the door and felt way more resistance than he normally should.

  “Torres,” Penfield yelled downstairs.

  Penfield stopped when the door was half-open. He saw a small, overturned trashcan on the floor near the door. He thought he recognized it as the trashcan from the master bathroom. He squeezed through the narrow opening and walked into the master bedroom. Penfield turned, already knowing what he’d find. He saw Hannah hanging from the rope. Her skin was already pale, and her eyes were wide open.

  “Goddamn it,” Penfield said.

  He picked her up to relieve the pressure on her neck even though it was a futile gesture.

  “What’s going on?” Torres yelled from the first floor.

  “Get up here, now,” Penfield yelled back.

  Penfield could hear her running up the stairs.

  “Oh, no,” she said when she reached the top.

  Penfield looked at Torres through the opening in the door and shook his head.

  Chapter 20

  Doubts

  Torres reported the death while Penfield called Atwater. He asked him to stay in his hotel until he arrived later that day. The crime scene techs examined the room while the paramedics removed Hannah’s body. One tech dusted the door, doorknob, and rope for fingerprints, while a second tech took photographs.

  Penfield looked around the room. The one window blind was open where Atwater had lifted it the other night, and Penfield could see the missing glass pane. It let cold air inside the room since the crime scene techs hadn’t closed the storm window after they removed the pane the day before. Penfield looked at the door one more time and saw the rope still hanging over the top of the door. He left the techs to do their work and walked downstairs. The front door was still open, and he could see the paramedics loading Hannah’s body into the ambulance parked outside.

  Penfield walked to the street and approached Torres, who was on her phone. He guessed she was speaking with the medical examiner as she asked for the autopsy to be fast-tracked if possible. She ended her call and turned to Penfield.

  “We shouldn’t have left her alone,” Penfield said.

  “It wasn’t like we left her here. She came over on her own.”

  Penfield looked back at the house.

  “You think it was a suicide?” Penfield asked.

  “I didn’t see any other injuries present. Maybe the doc will find something.”

  “You think her brother could have done it?”

  “Maybe, but why? What about Atwater?” Torres asked.

  “He was with us most of the morning, and what does he have to gain? Besides, he didn’t even know the Talbots until I brought him in,” Penfield asked.

  “So we’re back to grasping at straws?”

  “We never left,” Penfield said.
r />   They went back to the hotel and found Atwater waiting for them in the lobby.

  “I’ve already loaded my suitcase in my car. I didn’t want to leave before saying goodbye.”

  “Where are you going?” Penfield asked.

  “I’m no longer needed here. I told you what was going to happen,” Atwater said.

  “Who did that to her?” Torres asked.

  “Detective Penfield said she hung herself.”

  “And you said it wouldn’t stop until she was dead,” Penfield pointed out.

  “I told you before, you can’t stop it. You can’t arrest it. You can only seek to understand it, but what difference does that make at this point? It got what it wanted.” Atwater hesitated a moment and then asked, “Am I free to go, or do you suspect me of something?”

  Torres glanced at Penfield, and he gave her a slight head nod.

  “You’re free to go,” Torres said.

  Penfield and Torres watched Atwater walk out of the hotel and climb into his car, which he’d parked in front of the hotel’s main entrance. They went back to Penfield’s car. Neither of them had any idea where to go in the investigation. There was still no proof that Talbot was dead or alive, and there was no definitive information, at least at this point, that Hannah’s death was anything other than a suicide. Perhaps the loss of her brother, as well as the strange and unexplained events of the past few days, had been enough to make her want to take her own life. They really didn’t know Hannah, either. Who knew what kind of life she had back in California? Maybe her life was much more chaotic than he or Torres knew.

  Torres called the medical examiner’s office again and got the news that Hannah’s autopsy would be the next morning. Dr. Richard Hammond had come through for them in scheduling the quick turnaround. She and Penfield agreed to meet the next morning at the autopsy.

  Penfield drove home. He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. There wasn’t much food inside. The most promising food, depressingly, was the leftover Chinese from his birthday dinner with Torres. He shut the door without taking anything out. He should have been starving, but he realized he still couldn’t bring himself to eat. There was a churning in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t tell if it was the result of stress or the lack of sleep or perhaps both. Penfield walked into the family room and collapsed on the sofa. He was asleep within seconds.