Chapter 8 #2
“To be honest, I don’t know. I haven’t stayed here since I was a kid, and I’ve visited fewer than a handful of times since then.
My grandma used to live here, but she and my mom had a falling out when I was young, and we stopped visiting as much.
The cabin was left to my mom after my grandma passed, but we only came back once right after Taylor was born.
Mom had the neighbor, er, Conrad, check in to make sure the lawn is kept up and everything—essentially make sure the place doesn’t burn down—but until now, no one has lived here.
Conrad didn’t mention any trouble when we spoke, but again, we didn’t get to talk for very long. ”
The sheriff jots something down in her notepad. “We’ll want your mother’s phone number.”
“Of course.” I rattle it off to her, and she writes it down. I’m just relieved she doesn’t ask me to call her. I don’t want to have to dive into that trauma right now.
She scans the room silently. “It looks like someone’s either moving in or moving out.”
“In. My daughter and I.” I gesture toward Taylor. “We found some trash in her room that looked recent when we arrived yesterday, and it worried us, but I ordered a new lock just to be safe. And then, of course, this morning I met Conrad, and now we’re dealing with…the water.”
She looks bored, and I realize I’m rambling. Repeating myself. “Have you spoken to your mother? Asked her if there was anyone else who might have a key?”
Great. Here we go. “I tried to call, but…we’re not exactly on the best terms right now. She’s not been returning most of my calls.”
“Because you moved into the cabin?” she guesses.
“What? Oh. No.” I try to decide how to sum up Mom’s current issues with me.
I missed her wedding, for one thing. A courthouse ceremony at the last minute.
She surprised me with it, and asked me to attend on the day I was scheduled to meet with my lawyer a final time before the divorce decree was signed.
And then there’s the divorce itself, which she desperately didn’t want me to get.
Leaving Lewis, moving in here…it all feels like a betrayal to her, one that I can’t undo.
And then, of course, there’s the new husband.
The one closer to my age than hers. But somehow, I’m the one making the “life-ruining decisions.” Those were her words in the last text she sent me.
I force the thoughts away, realizing the sheriff is still waiting for an answer.
“She’s got a lot going on right now. I’ll try to call her again, but I really don’t think anyone else has a key.
No one else is really out here. I don’t even know how close Conrad is, to be honest. We own the property, which is… forty acres, I think.”
“It’s secluded,” the sheriff agrees. “But it helps to know your neighbors. When you need a cup of sugar or someone to look after things. Sounds like your mom got that part right.” She opens her mouth to say something after a pause, but we’re interrupted.
“Morris, you’re going to want to see this.”
The sheriff straightens as the officer calls to her, then moves forward past the three of us. I follow her quickly, not sure if I should, but it’s my house, and—whatever it is—I need to know.
She steps into the bedroom at the end of the hall and looks to her left. “What is it?”
We follow her as she crosses the room to where the other officer is standing near the edge of the room.
At first, I think she must be looking out the window, but then I realize she’s looking down.
She brushes her foot against a floorboard, pressing the toe of her boot into it so the board wiggles. “I noticed this was loose.”
“This place is going to need some TLC,” I say, wondering why on earth a loose floorboard is relevant to their investigation. “The flooring is original, as far as I know.”
Without responding, the officer bends down, followed by the sheriff. She lifts her flashlight, which I’d hardly noticed she was holding. Then, before I realize what’s happening, the sheriff grabs hold of the floorboard and tugs. Four additional boards go with it, all at once, like it’s a…
“It’s a door,” Taylor says softly.
The officers don’t look up. They stare down into the space.
“What’s down there?” My stomach fills with ice-cold concrete as I hesitate to step forward.
Taylor moves around me to look, and I grab her arm on instinct, trying to stop her. Every hair on my arms stands on end. The air fills with the scent of mud and earth, something alive and dead all at once. It’s so thick I can taste it on my tongue.
“Did you know you had a cellar?” The sheriff looks back over her shoulder at me.
My throat is dry as I move forward, past Taylor, to hover near the officer. “No. Are you sure that’s what this is?”
“Looks like it.” She leans her head down into the darkness, shining the light around.
Through a mass of cobwebs in the corner so thick it may as well be a blanket, I see a dirt floor below.
The part above the stairs has been torn.
She uses her boot to knock down the remainder of the cobwebs, clearing our line of vision.
“Looks like there are a few boxes down there, some old canning jars.” She brushes cobweb strands from the toe of her boot.
“If I were you, I’d figure out a way to put a lock on this door, too. ”
My blood freezes in my veins. “You think someone came in through the floor?”
“I wouldn’t worry. The cobweb probably tore when we opened the door.
I don’t see any other doors leading outside down there, and the space is small enough that I don’t think anyone could hide without you hearing them.
But if I were you, I’d do it just to be safe.
Get a little sliding lock or something to bolt it closed when you’re not using it.
” She shivers, looking around. “When does your new lock for the front door get here?”
“It should be here sometime tomorrow. I’ll order one for this door, too. I’m sure I can figure something out.”
“If you run into town, check Randy’s Hardware. He’ll have what you need,” she tells me. “It’s on the square.” Her urgency for the lock worries me, and I can’t help thinking this must be exactly how someone got in, even if she won’t say it.
“Thanks.”
She nods. “As for the water, if there’s no other way in or out, I’m guessing you had someone come in through the window, like you mentioned.
I’d make sure all the entrances are locked now.
We may be a small town, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have our fair share of issues.
” She pauses. “Though I can’t say I’ve really ever heard of trouble this far out of town.
Family squabbles, that sort of thing, sure, but nothing like this.
I’ll, uh…I’ll file a report and see what we can find out about the neighbor, but whatever’s going on, make sure everything’s locked up, at least until people figure out the cabin is occupied now.
Should get you fixed up. Seems like a harmless prank, either way.
” She glances at Taylor. “I realize that doesn’t fix your laptop, but it could be worse, you know? ”
Taylor shoots me a look, like she can’t believe she just said that.
“Thank you, Sheriff Morris.” I hold out my hand to shake hers. “We’re sorry you had to drive out here.”
“It’s no trouble. We’ve got your number. If we learn anything interesting or concerning from your neighbor, I’ll give you a shout, okay?”
With that, Greta walks her to the door, and I stand there, staring down at the cellar door I never knew existed. What other secrets is Foxglove hiding?