by Indi Martin
Nodding, Morgan took the lead, but the only remaining door led back to the bathroom. They rounded the corner and re-emerged into the living room.
“What’s that?” asked Gina, her flashlight highlighting a too-perfect crack in the floor.
“Trapdoor,” observed Morgan, sliding his gun smoothly back into the holster, and looking at Gina. “Ready?”
She nodded, readjusting her grip on her gun and her flashlight and pointing it at the door as he hefted the heavy lid up. She edged closer to the hole, shining her light down and peering into the hole. “Huh,” she said, surprised.
Morgan let the trapdoor lay flat open and scooted around to look down and add his light. “What?” he asked.
“Are those rats?” she asked, crouching down for a closer look down the ladder at the small bundles of fur that lie unmoving on the stone basement floor.
Morgan picked up a book from the floor and threw it down the hole. It landed with a loud thump, and clouds of dust arose from around it, but the fur bundles did not move. Placing the flashlight in his teeth, he exchanged a nod with Gina and quickly climbed down the ladder.
“Careful,” she called, looking around her nervously. “That feeling’s not gone.”
“Heard,” he replied, picking up the book again. Using its corner, he nudged the nearest animal and leaned in for a closer look when it didn’t move. “Rabbits,” he called back up the ladder. “Looks like they’ve been dead a while. Not sure how they got in, though.” He scanned the walls with his flashlight, observing several puddles of melted candle wax lying atop the dusty stones. “No burrow holes in the walls and no windows.” He frowned, crouching near the spent candles. “These are recent,” he announced. “No dust on these.”
“Get back up here if there’s nothing else down here,” recommended Gina. “Please,” she added, lower. The feeling of being watched was growing more intense, and the air was regaining its oily sheen on her skin.
Morgan emerged from the hole and shrugged at her. “Just the two bodies up here,” he said.
“I object to your use of the word ‘just,’” she whispered hoarsely, her spine shuddering as the air seemed to grow even thicker. She stepped past him and beelined for the door. “Any bodies at all is awful.”
“Well, yeah, of course,” agreed Morgan with a nod. He followed her quickly out of the house and back to the porch. “House is clear!” he called. “Two more bodies!”
Charlie and Chaz appeared at the edge of the clearing. Chaz looked a bit disheveled, and there was a small twig sticking out of his hair. “I hate bushwhacking,” he complained as he bounded up the stairs. The boards creaked in complaint against his enthusiasm.
“Nothing?” asked Morgan.
Chaz shook his head.
Charlie joined them, brushing down her tweed skirt primly. “You found two more inside?”
Gina nodded. “Both in the living room. The other rooms and the cellar are all clear.”
“Let’s take a look,” suggested Charlie, pulling out her pictures of the missing band.
“A short one,” warned Gina. “This place isn’t safe.”
Charlie nodded in response and handed Chaz the file and a pen, pointing out an empty area for notes. The four of them re-entered the house, making quick work of identifying and making notes on the bodies, first the naked blonde girl underneath the tarp, then the larger man lying near the couch. They then re-visited the corpse outside in the shallow grave, each describing their observations as Chaz scribbled notes madly.
“We need to figure out our next step,” said Charlie, looking thoughtfully at the body in the ground.
“Can we do it nearer the rover, please?” asked Gina, glancing sidelong around her.
The group moved back to the rover and bundled inside, Charlie re-taking the driver’s seat to Chaz’s chagrin. The engine roared to life and the heat blasted out of the vents almost immediately. “Okay. We have three confirmed dead out of five missing,” she recounted in her professional, clipped tone. “Two still unaccounted for, plus their van.”
“Local police time?” offered Morgan, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He was still unaccustomed to this very different chain of command and expanded jurisdiction, especially when it came to murder victims.
Charlie frowned. “If this was just a homicide scene, I’d say yes. We have three dead bodies and two missing people, and circumstances would certainly indicate at least one of the missing two had something tangible to do with these deaths.” She looked over at Gina, whose attention was still on the eerie abandoned house. “But our resident canary thinks the case is definitely ours, yes?”
“I object to being called that again, but yes, I do,” replied Gina evenly without taking her eyes off of the house. “Of course, that doesn’t at all mean you’re wrong about the missing two being the murderers. Or one of them. Or none of them. I have no idea what happened here.”
“Do you think it’s safe to let the locals here to investigate?” asked Charlie, considering.
“I don’t know that either,” replied Gina evenly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“If the two missing men are dangerous, we need to put an APB out on them,” stressed Morgan. “They need to be in custody. We can question them there, and no reason the locals can’t help with the finding, even if they can’t help in the investigation afterward.”
Charlie nodded.
“What if they’re the ones in danger, and not the other way around?” asked Gina, still glued to the window.
“Then all the better to have them safe,” replied Morgan. “Safe in custody.”
“It’s times like this I really wish Hanagawa were here,” sighed Charlie. “I hate dealing with locals personally.”
“Oh, I remember,” murmured Gina, letting out a sigh of relief as the rover turned and headed back toward the front gate.
“Chaz, call in the cavalry. Let’s get this part done quickly and be on our way. Get our people access to the autopsy and scene files and make sure the locals know that this is a Big Case,” she ordered, emphasizing the words carefully. “Get calls out to the FBI for forensic assistance, let them know it’s Unit authorized. And get an APB out on the vehicle, with these coordinates as their last seen location.”
Chaz began to dial and Morgan let his head fall back on the headrest. He knew the routine by now, even if he wasn’t terribly comfortable with it. The local homicide teams - well, semi-local, he corrected himself, wondering what the closest city would be that could handle this kind of scene even was - would sweep in and take over the scene. They tried to keep the local police teams involved, preferring them to do most of the legwork if possible, unless it would compromise their safety or Unit 12’s secrets. In most cases, the forensic work would be handled by either the FBI teams or by local police, if Unit members felt the local teams were up to the challenge. In this case, it was clear that Charlie did not.
“As for us, let’s head back and get a little shut-eye,” said Charlie, flicking her headlights on and turning right, back on to the main road. “We have a lot to accomplish tomorrow.”
30
The night eventually broke, though neither man was awake to see it. At some point during the previous night’s watch, adrenaline exhaustion had finally taken its toll. Both Chris and Nathan slept soundly, shivering under their ratty blankets against the cold. The sun rose, its rays reaching through the forest and illuminated their red-cheeked, wind-blistered faces. Chris opened his eyes, blinking against the golden light, still bathed in the mental fuzziness of sleep. His dreams had been terrible.
“What…?” mumbled Nathan, bracing against the sun.
“Sunrise. We made it.”
They sat in silence, staring at the house together without speaking. The sun rose higher in the sky over the treetops as they quietly reflected on what this day was certain to bring: decisions. Hard decisions.
“Chris,” said Nathan. “The keys.”
Chris tore his eyes away from the hou
se and looked down. The keys were in the van’s ignition; the long, leather keychain that usually hung from Luke’s pocket lay across Chris’ thigh. His already dry mouth lost the remainder of its moisture, and something inside his mind stretched so tightly that he thought it might snap. “Must have missed it last night in the rush,” he announced firmly, taking hold of the key and cranking the engine over. It immediately roared into the rhythmic thrum they were used to hearing.
Nathan gaped. “Missed it?” he screamed, looking at the keys in horror. “No way you and I both…”
“Don’t!” Chris’ outburst silenced Nathan. “Just don’t, please. Don’t.”
Nathan considered his options for a moment, watching the trees fly by as Chris floored it over the bouncy dirt road, and buckled his seat belt. “I must have missed it, too,” he said, holding his aching stomach and watching the clouds of dust kick up in the rearview mirror. The house was already well out of sight. “Let’s get out of here.”
31
She never expected the simple request of “let’s get some sleep” to be able to elicit the visceral dread she felt now. Gina weighed her options. She could just try to stay awake and hope she didn’t fall asleep - and if she did, that it would be a benign sleep, bereft of the circling hounds and holes in her wall leading to cryptic old men in robes. Sleep sounded good, too good, to her ears, though, and she doubted she could make it through even most of the night. Alternatively, she could loop Morgan in to the rest that Victor hadn’t told him, and maybe they could sleep in shifts. She shuddered at the thought; she didn’t at all like the thought of asking him to sacrifice his sleep to ensure hers, and they would both be cantankerous the next day. Still, he had asked to help, and maybe it would do her good to get some extra help, and ensure some safe sleep. Or, she considered, I could just sleep with the talisman. She ran the pads of her fingers across the raised branch embellishing the face of the amulet in her pocket. The idea had allure. She would be self-sufficient and not have to admit her weaknesses to her partner, that certainly appealed to her. You promised Victor, came the nagging voice of her conscience and she sniffed. Yeah, yeah, she answered herself, surreptitiously extracting the amulet from her pocket and wrapping it in a handkerchief. She reached into the back of the rover and slid the bundle into the front zipper pocket on her suitcase.
Arriving at the motel, it became clear that her decision would need to be made sooner than later. Gina tapped her hand against her thigh nervously as she and Chaz unloaded their suitcases and half-ran to catch up with the other two, who had taken their stuff up to the suites earlier. Two two-bedroom suites. She grimaced. If she wanted Morgan’s help, she needed to broach the subject now; unfortunately, the memory of her unbidden connection with Morgan’s mind flooded her synapses, and she dove for the zipper on her suitcase, extracting the bundle and depositing the amulet back into her pocket with a relieved sigh. I’ll try my luck tonight, she decided. I won’t sleep with the talisman, but it’ll be close to me if I need it. I’ll be alright alone. She didn’t know that she believed that entirely, but it was a more comforting lie than the embarrassment of explaining that she wasn’t strong enough to even sleep by herself.
Charlie advised them to be up by 7am, and they would regroup over breakfast and determine their plan of action. Gina rose to leave when Morgan caught her eye. You okay? he mouthed at her. Smiling, she nodded and winked back at him. Allowing the room assignment to happen organically had left her in a suite with Charlie, but none of them were that far away from one another. She felt a little better now that the decision had been made. She would hold off sleep as long as she could, reviewing the notes from today’s findings, and when sleep came - as she knew it would - hopefully everything was fine. Gina chewed on her lower lip as she changed into her sleep pants and slid under the sheets, pictures and notes spread out on her lap. Now that she was alone, it didn’t seem like a very sound plan at all.
⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼
Gina blinked against the sunlight, throwing her arm up to protect her eyes. It was bright, too bright. She lowered her arm slightly and looked around, confused.
“Some tea?” offered a kind, old voice.
“Sure,” murmured Gina, taking in her surroundings with a keen, observant eye. She was sitting on a bright white porch, festooned at all corners by planters overflowing with colorful flowers. She and the elderly woman next to her sat in comfortable wooden rocking chairs, with a small table between them on which sat an honest-to-god tea set, something Gina hadn’t seen since she was a child. The woman had a slight palsy shake in her liver-spotted hands, but still poured the hot brown liquid smoothly in a practiced motion, adding a lump of sugar and a splash of milk with surprisingly agile fingers. She was old, very old, her face lined with age and worry, but her eyes were bright and clear. She smiled as she handed the teacup saucer to Gina, and the familiar smile made the scene click into place. The black and white obituary picture flashed into her mind and she compared the two faces, registering the similarities.
Gina took the saucer with a small, nervous smile. “Mrs. Esther Locke,” she said. “You’re Esther Locke.”
The old woman closed her eyes and smiled widely. “I am,” she confirmed, closing her eyes and basking like a cat in the sunbeams bathing the porch. “But we have little time, I’m afraid.” She reopened her eyes and looked across the clearing and above the forest top.
A distant rumble of thunder broke the pleasant background noise of the birds and the insects in the surrounding forest, and silence followed. “Time for what?” asked Gina, eying the dark clouds that were spinning up just over the tips of the trees.
“He’s spreading himself too thin,” the elder woman confided in a hoarse whisper. “Too thin. He’s vulnerable.”
“Who is he?”
The old woman didn’t seem to register her question, even as she re-asked it, louder. Sighing, she changed her questions.
“What do I do?” she asked.
The elderly woman smiled at her, a nearly-toothless smile that felt kind and benign. “Fire cleanses, as you may remember.” Mrs. Locke stood on shaky legs, setting her saucer on the table and facing the oncoming storm. “Burn this place. Its time is over.” She traced her fingers across one of the flower petals in the nearest planter, sadly, watching it wither and fall to the ground in an instant. “But he has mostly escaped these confines. He can warp minds, make you see what isn’t there. He has marked the two survivors, and death will follow in their wake.” She turned away from the rumbling clouds, which were approaching at an alarming rate, and smiled sadly at Gina. “The innocents must be sacrificed so that the storm will perish.”
“We don’t work that way,” replied Gina, glancing between the old woman and the flashes of lightning that lit the sky.
“One will fall, pay attention now,” the old woman’s voice was tinged with irritation and Gina slid her full focus back to Mrs. Locke. “This isn’t easy, for me to speak with you. The two men lie, as most men do. Only you can save him, after he saves you. He will go to the place of dreaming.”
Gina goggled at her. “What does any of that mean?” she snapped.
The clouds, now overhead, broke open. Water poured from the sky, an angry black water, raging and rising. The thunder sounded like screaming.
“No time!” The old woman’s breath caught in her throat and she half-fell forward into Gina’s arms. “I tried, I really did, I thought he would end with me. I’m so sorry that he didn’t.” Her eyes met Gina’s and they were haunted and hollow. “He will try to stop you.”
Gina helped the woman back into her rocker as the storm raged around them. The raindrops fell with such ferocity that they sounded like nails being driven into the wood.
“He was handsome once,” she whispered, her bright eyes glazing over with memory.
Crouching in front of the rocking chair, Gina held one of the old woman’s hands. “Please, Mrs. Locke, I don’t understand what you’re telling me. What do I do?”
&
nbsp; The woman’s eyes brightened as they focused, meeting Gina’s. “What are you still doing here? It isn’t safe!” She drew her free hand back and, in an instant, slapped Gina as hard as she could across the face. “WAKE UP!”
⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼
Gina bolted upright in her bed, wet from the rain. No, she corrected herself, shaking her head to clear the haze of sleep. It’s just sweat. She could feel the details beginning to slip and snatched a notebook and pen from the bedside table, scribbling wildly to capture all of the old woman’s words. Shivering with cold, she stared at her scrawls, willing it to make any sort of sense whatsoever. She knew it was important, and she knew it hadn’t been a regular dream. Gina glanced at the clock. An hour before they were all scheduled to wake. She sighed and slid out of bed, heading for the shower. At least I got a little sleep, she told herself, glancing at the amulet on her bedside table. Thinking better of it, she grabbed it and took it with her into the bathroom.
32
“Should we…” Nathan trailed off, already knowing the answer. We can’t call the cops, he reminded himself, unable to look away from the man’s body hanging from the rafters. He had been nice, the motel owner, and Nathan felt terrible that he hadn’t asked his name. Now, he was just a blue-faced, bug-eyed corpse with an electrical cord cutting into his neck and his shoes dangling inches from the hardwood floors. “He was so nice,” whispered Nathan, remembering the jovial conversation last night as they had checked in to their cheap motel room.
With a grimace, Chris reached over the counter and pressed the “No Sale” button on the old cash register. The drawer popped open with a cheery ding, and Nathan flinched.