by Lynn Moon
“Here you go,” Katrina said, holding out a glass of orange juice. “Come sit by your friends.”
Quinton and Hunter sat together at the end of the large kitchen table. Hunter looked fine and smiled at me. Quinton looked as if his face had been slammed into a door or something.
“I slept through the whole thing?” I asked.
Little drops of water ran down Quinton’s arm as he kept a bag of ice glued to his face. The small rag he held wasn’t catching much of anything. He didn’t act as if it was bothering him.
“You two okay?” I asked, rubbing Quinton’s arm. “Talk to me.”
“You basically passed out as soon as you drank your water. The sheriff sent the glass in for testing,” Hunter explained, glancing at Katrina. “I asked when she put it in your room, and she said she didn’t. That she’s never taken water to your room.”
“Musetta, I do not leave water in your room at night. In fact, I didn’t recognize the glass they brought down this morning. It’s not one of ours.”
“Every Friday night there’s ice water in my room,” I said, staring at her.
“Every Friday night?” she repeated.
“Every Friday night. If you’re not putting it there, who is?” I glanced at Sheriff Jim.
“The glass will be checked for prints. What water was left will be tested for drugs,” he said, sitting down next to me.
“So, what happened to my room? It’s all torn up.”
“Here’s what happened,” Hunter said, taking a deep breath. “I was asking you questions and you answered with only uh huh. Then you were out. Sound asleep. We tried to wake you, but you’d only mumble. So, we got comfortable, and I think we fell asleep too. I woke up first. Something didn’t feel right. When I opened my eyes, the room was dark. Someone had turned off the bathroom light. That’s when I nudged Quinton.”
“Scared me to death,” Quinton added. “I was sound asleep. Forgot I was in your room. Wasn’t expecting to get hit by an elbow.”
“I apologize for that,” Hunter replied. “I watched as someone opened the drapes. Just enough for the outside light to make a thin line across the floor. It was just as you told us. Whoever it was stood at the end of your bed and stared at you.”
“I jumped him,” Quinton added. “And he hit me.”
“The guy was strong,” Hunter said. “Tossed Quinton into your dresser like he weighed nothing. Your dresser falling on top of him scared me to death.”
“Then what happened?” Sheriff Jim asked.
“You’ve heard this already,” Quinton said, rolling his eyes.
“Still like to hear it again,” Sheriff Jim replied, almost grinning.
Shaking his head, Hunter added, “I knew I couldn’t take the guy down by myself. But I did have my cell phone. All I had to do was hit the button. Snap. Snap. Snap. I kept taking pictures. Each time the flash went off, the guy backed up a little more. I think it scared him. So, between Quinton jumping him and me flashing, he took off.”
“That’s when I got into it,” Aunt Belle said, sitting across from me.
We were now the center of attention. I guess our conversation was just too interesting for anyone to ignore.
“I tried to get in, but your door was locked,” Aunt Belle explained. “I heard the commotion and knew something was wrong.”
“It wasn’t locked when I climbed into bed,” I replied.
“And neither of us locked it,” Hunter said, looking over at Quinton, who nodded.
“Then whoever was in your room had to have locked it before Hunter woke up,” Sheriff Jim added.
“If you were outside my bedroom and he didn’t run out that way,” I said, “then where did he go?”
“He ran into the closet,” Hunter replied. “Into the bathroom, maybe?”
“The bathroom? There’s no outside door there,” I said, staring at Sheriff Jim. “A person would kill themselves jumping out that window.”
“If they’d even fit through it,” my mother added.
Without planning it, we all jumped up at once and ran for the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Aunt Zoey asked, running after us.
My shattered mirror was all over my room, a minefield we had to step over. Maneuvering through the glass, I wondered how I’d ever get it all picked up. Sheriff Jim, me, and Hunter peered into my closet. Nothing looked disturbed. Sheriff Jim pulled out his gun and peeked into the bathroom. As he held his weapon, everything suddenly became too real, too serious, and way too dangerous.
“Okay, son,” Sheriff Jim called, his face long and stern. “You come on out now so we don’t have any trouble.”
No one breathed. No one moved. The silence was defeating, almost painful. The sound of his gun being shoved back into his holster felt good. But now I worried that someone would jump out and hurt one of us.
“Wait a second,” Hunter said, glancing over my shoulder. “No one’s in that bathroom. I guarantee it.”
“Why do you say that?” Sheriff Jim asked.
“I have this weird feeling that there’s a secret door hidden in this closet. That’s why,” Hunter replied.
“And why would you say something as strange as that?” Sheriff Jim asked, tilting his head.
“No space to build one on the outside of the house,” Hunter explained. “I’ll bet its back here somewhere.”
Shoving the clothes to one side, I half expected to see an opening where my monster lived. But nothing, just the back wall.
“Excuse me.” Hunter put his hands on my waist, making me step out of his way.
A chill—a good one—ran up my back at his touch. I smiled but had to look away. What an odd feeling.
Running his hands along the corners of my closet, he was clearly studying the design. Dropping to his knees, he snickered. “Just as I thought,” he said. “But how to open it?”
“Look for a little square with a flower on it,” I said. “The hallway door has one.”
“What hallway door?” Sheriff Jim asked.
“We found a secret passage in the hallway downstairs,” Quinton explained, still holding the ice bag, which was now mostly water, to his face.
“Okay,” Sheriff Jim said, glaring directly at me. “You need to tell me everything, young lady. And quit keeping secrets from me.”
CHAPTER 11
WITH THE KITCHEN EMPTY of everyone except me, Hunter, and Quinton, Sheriff Jim tapped his pen against his clipboard, glaring at us. Not knowing if we were in trouble or not, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
“Okay, start talking,” he said. “And don’t leave out anything.”
All three of us started talking at once. What I left out, Hunter or Quinton added. Within a few minutes, we had explained everything. Before we could finish our story, however, Charlie burst through the back door.
“There’s a fire at your grandparents’ house!” she screamed. “Hurry.”
Jumping from the table, I almost tripped over my chair. Sirens blared down our street as the four of us ran into my backyard.
“Grandma . . . Grandfather!” I ran into the field, jumping over clogs and other debris.
The billowing black smoke filled the air. I couldn’t see their house. Did it burn to the ground with them in it? As we got closer, the firefighters were already there with their hoses spraying.
“It was just the shed,” Hunter said, jogging up to me.
“Oh, thank goodness,” I replied.
We stopped to catch our breath, Sheriff Jim and Quinton finally joining us.
My grandparents clung to each other next to the fire engine. I ran to them, hugging Grandma first and then Grandfather.
“What happened?” I asked.
“We don’t know, honey,” Grandma said, wiping her eyes. “We were having breakfast when Grandfather saw the flames through the kitchen window. He called the fire department and, well, here we are.”
“At least you’re okay,” I said, hugging her. “And it’s not the house.”
Mom drove over and picked up Grandma and Grandfather, and took them back to our place. We stayed and watched as the firefighters worked. By the time they finished, a pile of wet charcoaled wood was all that was left of the old shed. And that smoking heap was now covering the hidden tunnel. How convenient was that!
“Under that is the ladder that went to the tunnel,” Hunter said to Sheriff Jim. “To me, that means whoever it was that’s been visiting Musetta set the shed on fire to cover their tracks.”
“Wait a minute.” I stepped in front of Sheriff Jim. “Hunter, you said you used your phone to snap pictures of the intruder last night. And that the flash of light scared him away. Did you look at your pictures?”
Hunter stared at me as if I were speaking a foreign language. Then he smiled and pulled out his phone. “I never thought to look to see what I took pictures of. I just figured everything would be all blurry. I snapped not paying attention to what I was snapping at.” Tapping on the screen a few times, his eyes widened as he glanced at me.
“Well?” I asked.
“Do you know who this is?” he said, turning his cell phone around.
Sheriff Jim gasped, and I screamed, “That’s my dad!”
***
By the time we got back to my house, Katrina had opened the windows to allow fresh air through all the floors. The smoke from the fire had trailed along the tunnel and up into our house through the basement and the secret hallways. Sheriff Jim asked the firefighters to place fans on each floor to help clear the air. Luckily, the smell was only annoying—no lasting damage. At least now we understood that the hidden passages had to be all through my house. We just had to find them.
Standing in the yard, I kept staring at Hunter’s pocket. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. “Can I see that picture again?”
“Only one came out,” he said, pulling out his phone. “The others are too blurry. Sheriff Jim sent them to his phone anyway. Said he’d have someone analyze ‘em.”
Hunter handed me his phone. As I stared at my father’s face, I prayed that my heart would keep beating.
“This is my dad,” I said, holding back my tears.
“May I?” Charlie asked.
“But your dad is dead,” Quinton said.
“Then his ghost is real.” Wiping my eyes, I glanced up at my father’s study windows. Can he really be alive?
“Sure looks like your dad,” Charlie said.
“Are you sure your dad didn’t have a brother?” Hunter asked.
“I’m sure,” I replied. “I would have met him by now.” I couldn’t stop staring at the face on Hunter’s phone.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Hunter said, taking back his phone. “Why don’t we follow the passageways and see what we can find?”
“Nah, Steve and Sheriff Jim are searching them now. I have a better idea,” I said, making sure no one could hear me. “The original house plans are supposed to be in my dad’s closet. Maybe we should study them.”
“I agree,” Hunter replied. “I added our measurements into my engineering program and nothing added up. We’re off by several feet on every floor, including the attic.”
“Why didn’t your father ever tell you about the hidden passageways?” Quinton asked.
“Have no idea.”
“Can I look at that picture again?” Charlie asked.
Entering through the kitchen, I stopped to give my grandparents another hug.
“Grandma?” I asked. “How many cousins did my dad have?”
“None,” she said. “Neither of us have any siblings. Why?”
“Well . . .” I started, but stopped myself. I wasn’t sure how to approach the subject.
“What’s bothering you sweetheart?”
“Was Dad the only child you two ever had?”
“The only one that lived,” she answered. Her eyes widened as she explained. “I had another son, but he died many years ago.”
“I never knew that,” I replied.
“We never talk about it,” she said. “Hurts too much. Brings up a lot of very bad memories.”
“Did you live here when he was alive?” I asked.
“Yes, he’s buried in the cemetery in town. Not far from your father’s grave.” My grandma glanced over at her husband, who frowned. He shook his head and glanced down at his hands.
Something didn’t feel right. Not sure why, but it just felt as if they were hiding something. As I stood there watching them, Mom walked in from her bedroom.
“Mom?” I asked. “Did you know about the secret passageways?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“But Dad had this house built for you.”
“Not for me. He started it years before I ever met him. It was finished just before we were married. He lived here by himself for about three months. I’d come by and decorate or clean. Honestly, he never mentioned the passageways to me.”
“Thanks,” I said, heading for the stairs. Charlie, Quinton, and Hunter followed me.
With all the windows open, the fresh spring air filled the house with a cool breeze. The jasmine blooming outside helped to mask the odor from the smoke. Some of my aunts were busy dusting the house, and a few had left to run errands. As we headed for my dad’s study, no one bothered us.
The study door, held open by several books, allowed the afternoon sun to fill the hallway. Walking toward the study, Hunter kept running his fingers along the walls.
“I touched every panel up here, and none of them move,” I said.
I showed my friends the closet behind the bookcase; Hunter seemed extremely interested. Hanging black robes blocked our way. After pushing them aside, we studied the built-in drawers that hugged the walls.
“Let me check something.” Hunter neared the back wall, which was covered in the same dark paneling as everywhere else in my house. “The little blocks of wood with a flower are back here, too. Now why would someone go to so much trouble to decorate a closet?” he asked, glancing at me.
I shook my head.
After pushing one of the small squares, he stood back as if expecting something to happen. But nothing did.
“This whole house is weird,” Charlie added, pushing on everything.
“I think you’re on to something,” Quinton said, trying to smile. It was obvious that his swollen cheek hurt a lot.
“That’s some bruise.” I touched Quinton’s arm.
He nodded. “It’s okay. By next week, you’ll never know it was there.”
“I know there’s something in here,” Charlie said, again pushing on everything.
Allowing my eyes to follow every line, every curve, I couldn’t stop looking at the odd little lamp. It wasn’t on the ceiling, but attached to the wall just above one of the built-in drawers, looking as though it were floating in the air. Following a gut feeling, I reached up and pushed on it. Nothing happened. Then I pulled on it. The lamp moved easily. The back of the closet swung open.
“Well, they changed things a little in here,” Hunter said, peering into the darkness. With Hunter in the lead, we stepped into the unknown.
“Maybe we need a flashlight,” I said as we followed the handrail down the stairs.
Hunter stopped at a landing. “This must be the second floor.” Sliding open a panel, he smiled and added, “Yep. We’re in the hallway behind the grand staircase. And if we keep going down, I bet we’d end up in the basement tunnel.”
“If this passage only goes to my dad’s study and the basement, where does the one in my closet go?”
“Only one way to find out.” Hunter opened the secret door and stepped out. “Have you noticed that all of these panels open inward? None actually swings directly into the house. Maybe made that way on purpose. You know, so they don’t scuff the floors.”
“Yes, of course,” I said. “If someone wanted to hide these, well, marks on the floors would give them away.”
We entered my messy room. Only now, black powder was splattered everywher
e.
“What’s this stuff?” Quinton asked, wiping his fingers through some of it.
“Fingerprint powder,” Charlie replied.
“I guess I won’t be sleeping in here tonight.” Picking up a shard of mirror, I shrugged before tossing it back onto the floor.
“You’re staying with me for a few days,” Charlie said. “My mom told me. Keep you safe for a while.”
“Cool,” I agreed.
Glass crunching underfoot, we moved to study my closet. The secret door, wide open, sent chills down my back. Some man used this door to get to me. Maybe a stranger. An idea I hated. All these nights, I’d slept in this bedroom believing I was safe. But in reality, I wasn’t.
“Here,” Charlie said, handing Hunter a flashlight. “I stole it from the hallway. Must belong to one of the sheriff’s deputies.”
“Thanks,” he said, aiming it forward. “No stairs, just a skinny hallway.”
“Let’s see where it goes,” Charlie said, follow behind Hunter.
The passageway ran along my bedroom, and then by one guest room. It then dropped, leading down past the kitchen. I could hear Katrina’s voice through the walls. Continuing downward, I knew right away that these stairs went much deeper than the other ones.
“Where is this taking us?” I asked, as we continued to climb down.
“This is deep,” Hunter said.
Charlie pushed against me.
“Charlie? Are you okay?” I asked.
“I don’t like this,” she replied.
Charlie was so close to me and Hunter that I half expected her to fall into us at any moment.
“I’m at the bottom,” Hunter yelled. “Not sure where this tunnel goes.”
We all stared down the beam of light that followed a seemingly endless tunnel to nowhere.
The tunnel, much colder than the other one, seemed even more dangerous. Somewhere deep inside me, I knew that walking down this gloomy path would only lead to our demise, and not to the answers we hoped to find.
I never thought about my death before. But with my father’s passing, I had to think about things a little differently. Things I didn’t want to think about. Things such as, Is there a god, or What happens when we die, or Do ghosts really exist? Then there was the problem about my dad. If someone else has been in my room the last two years and I blamed my father all this time, how will I ever apologize to him? In other words, this stranger not only took my childhood away, but he also stole my father from me.