Ingress

by Mary Ann Poll

  “I think you are mistaking me for someone else. I don’t remember being that kind of person.”

  “Well, you were and I miss you.”

  Amos Thralling threw open the door and stomped into the mercantile. “That forsaken old house at the end has no heat.”

  Mayor Orthell came over in a flap. “Of course it has heat, Amos. All the buildings have heat.”

  “Not that one, Tommy.”

  “Where’s your group?”

  “Left them at the house.”

  “Go back. Now! They could wander and cause all kinds of problems.”

  “Doubtful. Frozen humans don’t wander too far.”

  Orthell moved forward. Amos threw his hands in the air.

  “Okay, I’m going. Just thought you’d want to get that heat fixed.” Amos rushed back out the door, walked at a rapid clip across the courtyard, and disappeared into the house.

  Mayor Orthell hesitated and then hastily retrieved his coat from behind the counter.

  “I’ll be right back, folks. Enjoy yourself. Jo should be here in a moment to take the next group around. Until then, please don’t wander. The mercantile is still under construction and I don’t want any of you hurt.” He bounced toward and out the door.

  “How refreshing to see Tommy lose a little of his arrogance. Adds a bit of reality to this fantasy of his.”

  “Grandma! That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

  “Well, you have to admit almost anything would be more appealing than watching the mayor hold court in his new town.” She looked past Kat and saw Kenneth in a group coming out from the old hotel and heading for the cannery.

  “Then, of course, I forgot that your day has been full of surprises.” Sadness overwhelmed Grandma as she remembered the first days of Kat’s heartbreak over Ken and their inability to agree on how their relationship should move forward.

  “Yep. That was sure a shocker I could have done without.”

  Jo swept into the mercantile and threw a warm smile to Kat and Grandma. “Bundle up you two. It’s getting nastier out.”

  “Us, too.” Paul, Tanya, and Bart stepped forward. Brandon joined the group.

  “Where’s Gary?” Kat asked.

  “Phone rang. Said he’d catch the next tour.”

  “Well, looks like we are almost complete.” Jo motioned for a couple of others to join them and they headed for the door.

  “On second thought, I’ll wait. Gary looked pretty concerned when he answered the phone.”

  “You want us to wait with you?”

  “Sure he does.” Wendy answered.

  Brandon gave Wendy a quizzical look then glanced at Kat. “Let me see if I can get hold of him.”

  Kat pulled Wendy close and whispered, “thanks a lot, you brat.”

  “No problem,” Wendy murmured.

  Brandon turned off the cell phone. “He joined Amos’ tour group. Said he’d catch up with me later.”

  “Then we’re off.” Jo pushed the door. It held tight. She leaned in and shoved it with her shoulder. The door opened a few inches before it was ripped out of her hand by a gust of wind. Jo managed to catch the heavy wood entry before it slammed into the outside wall.

  The trees surrounding Old Town moaned and swayed in the rising wind. Icy fingers of snow twisted sideways across the courtyard. The short walk to the small cabin became a test of endurance.

  They toured the one-room domicile. A large rock fireplace in the corner dwarfed the cabin. Rough-hewn log walls glinted in electric candlelight from a fresh coat of shellac.

  “Pretty impressive. Looks move-in ready.” Wendy joked.

  “Yep. It must have been refurbished. Wonder if Arnie had anything to do with it?” Bart said.

  “Maybe. He’s the only one I can think of who’d have the knowledge. Still seems a huge project for just one man.” Kat took in the gleaming wood beams and timbers.

  “Wasn’t Arnie. The mayor called in outside help for this one.” Wendy remarked.

  “Of course you’d have the inside scoop, Winsome.” Kat squeezed Wendy’s arm.

  The group lingered at the cabin, none of them willing to take on the biting wind for a second time.

  “Gotta move. We’re on the mayor’s schedule.” Jo smiled, opened the cabin door and motioned them through.

  The hotel had the same dark plank flooring as the mercantile, finished to a high gloss that emphasized the deep brown grain. A natural-oak counter glistened from a fresh oiling. A brass kickstand ran from one end of the counter to the other. Behind the reception counter, numbered boxes waited for a note to a ghostly patron.

  “Sorry we can’t do much more of a tour here. Still finishing the upstairs and dining room. Off limits, per the mayor.” She lifted her nose in distaste.

  “That’s disappointing. I was hoping to get a feel for this old hotel.” Brandon said.

  “Really? Why?” Wendy asked.

  “Research.” He smiled and winked at Kat.

  “He’s an aspiring writer, Winsome. Likes mysteries. This one probably holds a few, or so you hope.”

  “Exactly.”

  “If it were up to me, I’d send you all up to take a gander. As it is, the mayor doesn’t think people know how to take care of themselves. And, then there is that insurance liability. I told him that this is Ravens Cove, not Boston, and people don’t sue on a whim here. I didn’t win that argument.”

  Paul sighed. “It seems that even our fair town isn’t immune to the heavy hand of bureaucracy.” They started toward the cannery. Amos intercepted them.

  “Have you seen that guy Gary? I can’t find him anywhere. He was with my tour group …” Amos bent over and gasped for breath.

  “He can’t be far. Maybe he just went home.” Worry crept over Jo’s face.

  “The mayor’ll kill me if someone got loose in that house he’s so proud of.”

  “How about I help you look? Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

  Amos mulled it over. “You’re the sheriff. Mayor won’t get too mad, will he?”

  “’Course not.”

  Bart followed Amos as the rest of the tour continued into the old cannery building.

  The inside of the building was a weathered grey. A foot below the roof, a row of ten transoms ran the length of the building on both sides. The floor’s weathered grey appearance matched the walls. Support beams were exposed to the inside. Any piping or electric wiring was also exposed, although running through large conduits to make it safer and slightly more appealing.

  The smell of long-dead fish mixed with stale salt water assaulted Kat’s nose. “This place needs an air freshener.”

  “Guess the mayor wants it to be real. That smell sure makes it that way.” Tanya Lucas spoke through the wool scarf she’d pulled up over her mouth and nose.

  An anemic natural light illuminated the building. Its pale glow threw shadows into the corners that swayed in a ghoulish breeze. Kat crossed her arms in a protective hug.

  A temporary railing of rough timbers nailed to two-by-fours flanked the metal steps leading to the second floor. The stairs ended prematurely in pitch-dark. The light from the small, high casements glinted off darkened glass on the upper floor. Again, a sign warned them off the upper floor.

  “Hope this place will be ready by April,” Kat said to Wendy.

  “No kidding. Why are we here, really?”

  Kat shrugged. “I wish I’d followed my first inclination to stay in bed under the warm covers.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Are we done in here yet?” The bunny boots and wool socks were setting Kat’s feet on fire. The discomfort intensified her desire to run from the day’s spooky events and chance meeting with Ken.

  “Indeed,” Jo answered a sly smile on her face.

  Kat sighed in relief then gave Jo a sheepish grin before they stepped out the old double doors. Bart met them at the bottom of the ramp.

  “Find Gary?” Jo asked.

  “No. I told Amos I’m
sure he went home and I’d take a run out there later, just to make sure.”

  “You think he’s okay, right?”

  “No reason to think he’s not. He’s a young kid, first time on his own. Probably makes him feel good not to be accountable for his comings and goings.”

  “Makes sense.” Jo sounded relieved.

  “I’ve seen the old house, top to bottom. Think I’ll get back to the office and get some work done. I’ve had about all I can take of this place for one day.”

  “Now?”

  “I need to talk to Doc about Gordy and then I’m going out for some welfare visits to our more remote citizens.”

  “Want me to come with?”

  “You bet. Mrs. Tellamoot has me concerned. That old dog of hers passed and she’s all alone now.”

  “I’d be happy to.” Anything to not run into Ken and Mrs. Tellamoot is far from town and a good excuse to be gone from home.

  “I’ll give you a ride to the office, Kat, when we’re done here. Told Grandma I’d drop her home, too.”

  “Aren’t you the good Samaritan today, Winsome.”

  Wendy gave her a weak smile. “Gotta help out when and where I can.”

  “Right.”

  An illogical dread hit the pit of Kat’s stomach as they climbed the porch stairs of the old house. It grew stronger as she approached the large front door. The door latch clicked and the door opened by itself. Kat jumped back. Wendy caught her and they both almost tumbled backward off the stoop.

  “What is with you today?” Wendy grabbed the post to stop them both.

  “Don’t know. Sorry.” Kat climbed the second step and onto the decking just as Ken Melbourne walked onto the porch. She hopped backward to avoid contact. Ken caught her before she took a hard tumble through the rickety railing.

  “We need to stop meeting like this.” He had stopped her from a concussion-producing fall a few months back. That time on Bart Andersen’s front porch when they had gone and found him precariously pointing a Magnum .357 at his own face.

  “We have to stop meeting at all.” Kat jerked her arms free and moved toward the door.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Fibber,” said Wendy. “Trying for that knight-in-shining-armor thing again? Been working on it, maybe? In case you don’t know, the last time you failed—miserably.”

  Ken stood silent, not taking his eyes off Kat. Wendy stepped in front of Kat, breaking the stare down.

  “I really would like to talk to you, Kat,” he said around Wendy’s statue stance.

  “Nothing to talk about.”

  “Yes there is. Please talk to me.”

  “No.”

  Kat walked through the door of the house, leaving Wendy squared off against Ken.

  “You are a real piece of work.” Was all Wendy could manage to say before she followed Kat into the house.

  Ken faced the closed door. He took a step toward it, hesitated and turned to go down the steps. Mayor Orthell blocked his descent.

  “Did anyone find Gary?”

  “Who’s Gary? Oh wait, the kid from the library? Is he lost?”

  “Amos says he can’t find him.”

  “Well, did you look inside?”

  “Bart did. No sign of him.”

  “Why so concerned? Don’t you think he just left and went to work or home?”

  “Yeah, probably did.” The mayor’s eyes darted left and right, tension pursing his upper lip.

  Ken felt a nagging concern; instincts shot to the surface.

  “You have reason to think something else might have happened?”

  “No, no.” A line of a smile met Ken’s concerned face. “Just trying to make sure everyone’s okay—the construction and all.”

  “Well, I’ll tell him to come find you if I see him.”

  “Thanks and have a good time visiting the Cove today. You’re going back tomorrow, right?”

  “Don’t think so. I put in for some time off and may hang around for a while.”

  “Really? Well, that’s good, Mr. Melbourne. We’ll be glad to have you as our guest.” He hurried off toward the cannery.

  “Why do I think you didn’t mean that?” Ken asked under his breath.

  Ken decided to make his way to the Ravens Cove Inn. He had not felt like telling the mayor that his career was on shaky ground right now and his chief, Andy Binning, had ordered him to take administrative leave the night before Ken left for the Cove.

  Binning began with, “I am very concerned about you, my friend,” before diving into the real reason he’d summoned Ken to his office. When Andy leaned forward and laced his hands in front of him on the desk, Ken knew what was coming.

  “I haven’t been able to get a straight answer out of you since you returned from Ravens Cove. There is a serial killer on the loose and you don’t seem the least bit interested in finding him or her. Your report was sketchy and unbelievable. I’ve given you every chance to correct it and put this thing to bed. Times up. Consider yourself on a leave until I contact you.”

  Ken still felt the sting of those words. “So, here I am. Back in that same small town where I lost my credibility and reputation— in more ways than one,” he said, thinking of the mess he and Kat had made of their would-be relationship.

  Well, I’m here to fix my part. We’ll see if the Ice Queen will melt a little.

  Chapter 3

  Of Thieves and Liars

  Hesitant steps broke the tomb-like silence of Old Town. Mayor Thomas Orthell cringed with each new sound, fearful of alerting any straggler or intruder to his arrival. He made his way through the darkness of an early night that cloaked Old Town in blackness. Large, black spruce announced the beginning of the deep woods that held the town in a tight grip. The needled nightshades blocked any evening light from touching the town. Orthell jumped when a great horned owl hooted from the forest beyond.

  The short, round figure of the man broke into a trot. Once he reached the cannery door, he looked back over his shoulder to convince himself he had avoided detection. The door latch gave a satisfying click as it released. He slipped inside and headed up the stairs to the second floor. He wove in and out of the adjacent rooms, one last check to satisfy his fear of detection.

  In the last office, Orthell strode to the back corner closet and yanked the wood plank door open. He ran his right fingers under a subtle lip on the left side of the back wall and pressed down when his fingers came to a slight bump. The hidden latch released with a loud clack. The false divider flew open, revealing a small, stuffy room. Orthell pushed the partition closed and scanned the back wall with a flashlight. The yellow light shone on grey, weathered planks covered in dusty cobwebs and held together by rusty nails. He stopped scanning when the light revealed several blood-red candles on a low, rectangular table. He took a disposable lighter from his parka, lit the candles and knelt.

  “O great ones. I have brought you deserted human dwellings of wood and stone. Dwellings that hold horror in their walls. Make them your homes.” He kissed the table and blew out the candles.

  Orthell performed the same ritual in each building of Old Town. He saved the large, five-spire house for last. Once over its threshold, he fell to his knees and kissed the wood floor.

  “My home of homes. You are no longer an outcast to be inhabited by vermin. You will again know the glory bestowed on you by my father’s father. Because of you, my ancestors and my friends will be avenged.”

  Orthell rose and admired the wide, flared staircase, and rich, dark walls of the entry hall. Before heading to the next floor, he stopped to caress the hard, cold banister. He searched the three bedrooms on the second floor before continuing up the next flight to the attic.

  A small storage trunk, as old as the house itself, sat beneath the diminutive attic dormer. The trunk had been in the house when the Forgotten Place was a thriving town and home to his Denali Indian grandmother and his Scottish grandfather.

  “Theirs was a love I only dream about. Only the spirits knew wh
at their love could do.”

  His grandmother had been a healer, but chose to practice the dark arts of his grandfather’s people when the village had shunned and humiliated her. His grandfather had come to Alaska and told all that would hear that it was in search of gold. Orthell’s father had told Tommy the real reason. The man had escaped Scotland before he was to be tried as a warlock. Grandpa Orthell believed in the forces of nature—what some called elementals—and their masters. He melded Christianity with the practice of nature. To Grandpa, all elementals, their masters, and the God of the Christians were related. He wrote the Book of Fallen Angels for his new religion. Together, he and his wife developed a new sect. The Forgotten Place was rumored to be destroyed by disease. Orthell knew it had been an act of punishment because the villagers had angered the elementals and their masters.

  “I’m going to change all that. Ravens Cove will become your new home and place of worship. They destroyed my friends and my church and I will resurrect them all. I swear by my ancestors that I will set this wrong to right.”

  Orthell opened the trunk and removed the various pictures, vintage dresses, and toys that dated back to the early 1900s. He searched with his fingers and found a latch underneath the old chest’s lining. It popped open, revealing an old, leather bound volume.

  He smiled, sat down cross-legged on the floor of the attic, opened the book and began to read.

  Kat reached over the Subaru’s front seat, kissed her grandmother, and turned to Wendy.

  “Thanks for everything. You are a true friend.”

  “I try.”

  “And you succeed.”

  Kat jumped out and made her way to the police station. The old brass bell chimed her arrival.

  “’Bout time.”

  “Hey, give me a break. I’m supposed to be home cuddled under the covers reading a good book or something. Instead I’m joining you on a manhunt.”

  “Not quite a manhunt. More like a scouting mission to satisfy our esteemed mayor that no one has managed to hide away in one of his prized buildings.”

  Bart strode to meet Kat at the door. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get back.”

  “I’m beginning to feel like I live in this truck,” Kat said as she hoisted herself into the passenger seat.