Paper Alley, page 8
As Dan walked along the porch thinking about the shifting wind of the ceiling fan and the window that had slammed shut, he wondered if he would ever see John McKenzie again. If he believed in ghosts, things might make more sense. If he believed in ghosts and superstition, then the story he had just heard might offer an answer. He wondered where, how, and why John’s father had died. John hadn’t offered this bit of information, and Dan thought it impolite to pursue it. Now he was left to wonder, yet what did it matter? What had made the town doctor report it as an accident, and what had caused the locals to think it might have been a suicide?
Dan looked at his watch. The inspector was overdue. In fact, it was now past the inspector’s quitting time. If he showed up tomorrow, Dan would be at work. He didn’t want Julie to have to handle the inspection.
EIGHT
Julie’s hand shook as she hit the speed dial to connect with Dan’s cell. She looked at the kitchen wall clock, verifying the time. He should be on the interstate halfway home. The day shift ended a half-hour ago. She didn’t want to talk to Dan. She had to talk to him. She couldn’t contain herself any longer. Anger surged as she listened to the ring. She waited to hear his voice. Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes.
“Hey there, gorgeous.”
“Dan,” Julie began, pausing to take a deep breath, “the inspector was here.”
“And he said my work is the greatest, right?”
“No, Dan, he failed the apartment. He won’t give us an occupancy permit.”
“What . . . how could it have failed? What did he say?”
“He said it was not up to standards—and when it is, you can call him back for him to do another inspection.”
“But what needs done?”
“He was abrupt, even curt with me. He said it was up to us to know the codes and address them or hire a contractor who knows what he’s doing.”
After a long pause, Dan said, “This is exactly why I wanted to be there. Forget their permit. We have an exchange student living with us, not a tenant. They can’t stop us from having a guest in our home. They’re playing a game with us, Julie. Someone doesn’t want us to rent out our apartment. I met every item in the code book and then some. Let’s just move ahead—everything is going to be all right.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’ll be home soon. Love you.”
Upon arriving home, Dan faked being in good spirits. He had to short-swing back to work in less than eight hours to work the midnight shift. He needed to nap after dinner. Julie would have to help Klaare move down to the basement. The big stuff had already been moved, adequate furnishings to make the apartment livable. Julie would make sure Klaare was comfortable.
Dan closed the bedroom door and turned on his white noise recorder. It soothed him. Ocean waves were his favorite; he selected ocean surf and sea birds, then lay back on a soft pillow. He stared at the paddle fan whirling over the bed.
“Don’t change direction,” he whispered.
He closed his eyes and drifted somewhere just this side of sleep. The ocean pulsed while the birds called as they always did. Dan envisioned a small beach between dramatic rock formations. It was along the coast of the Olympic Peninsula in the special place he and Julie had found while hiking under a dramatic darkened sky, a gentle breeze refreshing their faces. The gulls floated above sea foam. He could almost smell the sea salt, taste it on his lips.
A faint sound somewhere on the beach called out. A woman’s voice heard beyond the relentless rolling of the surf. He strained to hear, but the words were muffled. They eluded him as he struggled to envision the woman on the beach. Awareness of the creaking house sounds brought him back to a murky reality. This is just a recording. A recording he had listened to a hundred times before. His eyes popped open, wide awake. He could still hear the faint voice. The words were not clear, but the tone was pleading, like a cry for help. He sat up, looking toward the noisemaker, his ears straining. Easing out of bed, he knelt to the white noise machine and put his ear directly against it. The words were more distinct now. He heaved himself to the door. “Julie! Hurry! Come here, you have to hear this.” He ran from the room. There was no response.
He took the steps two at a time, sprinting into the kitchen. It was quiet and empty. A bright green note lay on the counter. She had taken Klaare and the boys to the mall, to get some things for the apartment. He flipped it over to read: “We need to talk about Zane.” He let out a groan. He had hoped to secure a witness to the voice on the machine, but it was not to be. He climbed back to the bedroom and tried to settle down. The waves and the birds were there, no voices. He lay questioning whether he had heard the voice or imagined it. The words he heard meant something. But what? He fell asleep with the question echoing in his mind.
Dan woke at ten in the evening, just in time to dress, then grab a travel mug of coffee and a hug from Julie. He did not mention the voice. He knew Julie would be the lone adult in the house and did not want to distress her with a story about mysterious voices. He saw no threat to her, save her own anxiety and fear, should he tell his tale.
“What’s up with Zane?” he asked.
“I think he’s falling in with a bad crowd.”
“What happened?”
“He’s just acting different, not like the same kid.”
“Julie . . . more specific, please.”
“He told me he doesn’t believe in God. He said the Bible is just a bunch of fairy tales.”
“Kids go through things like this.”
“Maybe, but you need to help him come out on the right side of whatever he is going through.”
“First chance I get.”
“Oh, and can we take Klaare somewhere special on Saturday?”
My day off? “Sure.”
He kissed her and slipped out the door. He spent the entire drive to work mulling over the words he had heard emanating from the noise machine. His job would leave no time to ponder the meaning behind the words. Later, on the long drive home, he could give it his full attention. Still, an answer eluded him, and he wanted an answer now. He coughed a dry cough. It felt like a piece of dust was caught far back in his throat. His coffee had cooled enough to drink a big gulp and quiet his cough.
###
Julie cleaned the kitchen after Dan left for work. The sound of Klaare’s television in the basement let her know Klaare was still awake. She tapped on the door, heard dainty steps on the stairs; then the basement door eased open, revealing Klaare’s friendly face.
“Oh dear, is my television too loud? I am sorry.”
“No, I didn’t knock to complain. I hoped you were awake. Dan left for work. It is so nice knowing there is another adult here in the house. I also wanted to see if you need anything.”
Klaare opened the door wide, giving Julie a warm grin. “No, everything is fine down the stairs. I don’t think I offer much protection should something bad happen.”
“Oh, just having you here offers comfort. What are you watching? It sounds like an old show from long ago, but I can’t make it out.”
“My favorite American TV show—I Love Lucy—it is so funny.” Her face lit up as she spoke, her smile filled with pearly white teeth.
“I Love Lucy—are you serious?”
“I’m sorry, this is not good?” Klaare’s smile faded into worry.
“Oh, no, Klaare, I find it marvelous you can connect with our humor. It is wonderful. Of all the shows, I love knowing you are watching Lucy.”
Klaare’s smile returned.
“I don’t want to keep you from your show. I just wanted to say good night and tell you how happy I am having you here. Also, Dan and I would like to take you somewhere on his off day. I wondered if you would like to go somewhere with us.”
“What day is off?”
“This Saturday.”
Klaare’s face turned sad and her look distant. “Oh, the professors are planning to take me to a museum. I’m sorry. I should go with them, since I said I will.”
“What time are they taking you?”
“They want to go early, when it opens.”
“Hey, we’re flexible. We’ll take you wherever or whenever. You name it.”
“You will?”
“Yes, we’d enjoy it.”
“Have you ever heard of Mud Hollow Inn by the river?”
“I’ve heard of it, but we’ve never been there.”
“I would like to go there to see some dancing, and they are having what you call Redneck Truck Rodeo or something. I will make sure we are not home late from the museum.”
“Seriously, that is what you want to do?”
“I want to see America. I think it will be a bit of the real America. Am I mistaken?”
“No, you are not mistaken. If you can get home from the museum trip in time, then we will take you. Sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Yes, I will look forward to it.”
Julie said good night, and Klaare closed her door. Julie smiled to herself as she climbed the stairs to her second-floor bedroom. She unlocked the nightstand, her normal routine. The thoughts of taking her Ukrainian friend to a Redneck Truck Rodeo gave her warm feelings. Thoughts of watching mud trucks blowing through huge washes of brown slime while people shouted and cheered relieved her of lonely thoughts. She envisioned Klaare snapping photo after photo for the people back home. She could say she experienced Americana. Julie was asleep the minute her head hit the pillow. A cool breeze flowed through the window, bringing the night sounds with it.
###
The exhaust pipes rose alongside their cabs. Fire blew ten feet in the air as the engines screamed. Mudslinger tires launched chucks of debris toward the crowd. All the trucks were the same mud-brown color. The crowd ran from mound to mound to catch sight of the next mud-hole challenge. Klaare snapped photo after photo, not just of trucks but of the people in the crowd. She stood out in the crowd with her slacks and button-down. Dan offered to buy her a T-shirt, but she declined the offer. She insisted such garments are inappropriate for a young professional. Zane and Trent ran from one spot to another, angling for the best view and enjoying every minute.
Julie concentrated on the starting line as two new contestants moved into position. Flames shot above their exhaust stacks. She felt sonic vibrations in her body with every engine rev.
A deluge of ice water shocked her awake. She gasped for breath and bolted upright. The cold liquid ran down her neck into her nightclothes. The room was black, so black she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or shut. Drawing a deep shuddering breath, she sensed a distant light through the window. What happened? Was it all a dream? No, she was wet and cold. Her hand slipped behind her to grab her pillow. It, too, was soaked with cold liquid. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light. She could see no one, hear nothing.
She leaned toward the nightstand drawer, removing the pistol. Swinging her feet onto the floor, she crept across the room. She listened at the door but heard nothing, and she knew her door had not opened or she would have heard it. Her finger found the light switch. She held her breath and flicked it on. The light revealed nothing but her usual room . . . and the wet pillow. She wiped her hand across the wall behind the bed; it was dry. She stood on the bed, running her hand across the ceiling. It, too, was dry. There were no empty water glasses in the room. Had it rained outside? Had rain blown in through the window? She switched off the light and looked out at the night sky. A billion stars twinkled. The curtains were dry. She threw her wet pillow to the floor and climbed back into the bed.
Grabbing Dan’s pillow to hug, she drew her legs up close to her body. Her back rested against the headboard. Her fist clenched the pistol. She remained positioned there for the remainder of the night. In and out of sleep in a sitting position, she waited for another water attack or worse. It never came.
###
Caressing her coffee cup, Julie stood at the living room window. The street was awash in bright sun. Cars carried their occupants to unknown destinations as they passed the house on Elm Street, none aware of the night’s discomforting event, so surreal now. Had it all been a dream? The light of day made it seem so. An impossible event. She glanced around the living room; it looked so normal, so like every other day.
Zane and Trent had laughed during breakfast, excited about going to the truck mudder. They had shown no sign things were amiss. Julie chose not to share her experience with them. She even questioned her concerns about Zane. The boys seemed better than they had since school started. Now, though, she watched for Dan with great anticipation. Telling him would make it seem real again. She craved his response. His car appeared as he turned into Elm Street. Julie’s heart raced.
She met him at his car door. He stumbled backward from the pressure of Julie’s body thrust against him in an overpowering hug.
“Wow, I missed you too. Glad to be home.” Dan felt winded; he coughed a dry cough. Julie’s arms dropped to her sides. She backed away.
“What’s up? Did I say something to offend you? I don’t think I’m contagious.”
“No, Dan, I’m upset about an event during the night. We need to talk.”
“The kids?”
“No, but something strange happened.” Julie filled him in with all the details, watching for his response. He never flinched. He used his best poker face and let her talk.
“Well, what do you think . . . overactive imagination? I’m telling you, it happened. My pillow is still wet this morning.”
“I believe you. I’ve had a couple of strange events myself, but I don’t think we have anything to fear.”
“No? Well, I’m scared. The water . . . it was like ice, colder than anything you pull from the tap. It took my breath away.”
Dan thought of the cold shock he received when he thrust his hand into Stony Creek. “Don’t be afraid. I’m telling you, I have experienced things too. I’ve been told things; they make me curious. Maybe this house wants its secrets to be known. I think whatever this is, it is trying to communicate with us, not harm us.”
“What if you’re wrong? You’re gone a lot of nights.” They headed inside.
“Let’s take it one step at a time. Maybe the father of old John McKenzie . . . the one who stopped by and then sent us pictures . . . I want to find out more about what happened to him. I want to go to the courthouse or the library to do some research. We’re both too practical and tested to let this get to us.”
“I don’t know, Dan. I’m beginning to think moving here was a huge mistake.”
“Come on, Julie, we’ve seen some pretty tense moments around the world. Don’t let this old house scare you.” He went to the desk and picked up the envelope of McKenzie’s old photos that had arrived in the mail. He fumbled through them until he found the one of a smiling muscular man dressed in a white undershirt holding a small boy. He placed the photo on the kitchen counter.
Julie stared at the photo. “You know in the light of day . . . the bumps in the night don’t seem real. Everything appears normal. It’s when the light goes away . . . it’s like the world changes.”
“Nothing changes except our own thoughts. Our own thoughts are what we have to fear—it’s better to control them than to let them control us. Look at this guy, Julie. He did not kill himself, and I doubt he had an accident. While you were at the mall, I heard a voice on the white noise machine. I was playing beach sounds. I thought I heard a woman saying over and over again, ‘Help!’”
Dan looked at the photo again. “He looks pretty happy and competent. Do you think this guy died in the water? What water . . . at Stratton Beach? Fine. I would like to know more about our house’s story and this guy.” Dan looked around the room. His words were meant for someone other than Julie. He threw the picture back onto the desk.
“I’m sorry—I have a class, I’ve got to get going.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m also going to take a DNA test as part of my genealogy research.”
“I’m going to crash for a couple of hours. Then I’m going over to the county seat to start my snooping. I might drop by to see the old hillbilly, Lee McDaniels. He knows more than he lets on. Be careful, Julie.”
“You, too.”
Julie turned and was gone. Her parting left Dan’s mind in turmoil. The house, Zane, McKenzie, and creepy Ed Knight. He trudged up the stairs and stared at the bed before he reached and felt Julie’s wet pillow. He studied the paddle fan, then decided not to turn on the white noise machine. He sat in a chair staring out the bedroom window toward the backyard. Minutes passed before he tumbled onto their bed. He knew there was evil in the world. He was not naïve. The paddle fan whirled over his head. He watched, waited, and wondered if the cool stream of air would shift directions.
Evil was on Julie’s mind as she drove to class. She was not naïve either. Her hope was based on Dan being right. Dan’s belief in good spirits would help her, but she knew her fears would persist. She knew evil all too well. Her pain had not been at the hands of a ghost. This was a new evil she sensed, one more difficult to define and understand. In the light of day, it would be easy to be brave, but when darkness fell, she would be home alone, again. God is the light, but doubts creep about in the still of the night . . . in darkness.
NINE
A black Escalade proceeded up Elm Street. It hesitated in front of the Winslow home and again at the Knight home. The Escalade’s tinted windows left nothing of the interior visible, even if Dan had been awake from his nap. Julie was still at the college. Like a stalking beast, the Escalade continued up Elm through two intersections without hesitating at the stop signs.
The college had always been the biggest employer in town. A third of the permanent population worked there. The local businesses depended on the cash influx brought by state budgets and student spending. It brought with it a structure, with third-generation townies managing the money flow. These structures encompassed family traditions, challenged by few. The way of things was well understood by all. Most people felt grateful to be employed. As the college’s student population grew, no new on-campus housing was ever built. The college campus housing had room for half of the students. It meant the students were forced to seek off-campus housing. They fell to the mercy of slumlords.
