Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Come on, there’s gotta be one in here,” I whispered to myself. I sifted through the toolbox, rummaging.
I cursed when I pricked my fingers on a small tool saw but thankfully didn’t draw blood. Wrenches, screws, saws. I placed them aside to search deeper.
I cried out with glee when I found what I was looking for. A simple flathead screwdriver, small enough to work for what I needed.
I closed the lid of the box, then froze, letting my gaze wander briefly around the garage. It was the first time I’d stepped inside since being brought back home. Not counting Emery carrying me from the car into the house.
He’d let me wander the house alone. He’d disappeared outside and had been gone for some time. The door to the outside was right there on the opposite side. He might have found a way to lock it. But if he didn’t, I could walk right out and he might never catch me.
I gripped the screwdriver in one hand, looking at the door. Then I stepped back, turning for the door to the house.
Tonight. He promised he’d let me out tonight and I could prove I wasn’t looking to run. My heart fluttered in anticipation.
Now, after everything, I was looking to prove his ghosts wrong. I wouldn’t crack, I wouldn’t betray him.
But there was that one small part of me that was still scared. Scared he might change his mind. Scared he might still not believe me, still not trust me. I didn’t want to be locked away like his little treasure. I wanted us both to be free.
I’d seen him lose himself many times before. He was stable now, but how long before my Emery was gone again, something triggering him, bringing back that terrifying demon? I won this time. But there would always be other challenges we’d have to face.
How long?
I went back inside and climbed the stairs, turning down the hallway, down to the last door at the end. I knelt down before it and took my screwdriver, jamming it into the lock, and twisting the knob.
I’d moved all through the house already. I sifted in the attic but found I couldn’t bear to be in there for too long. The silence brought on sounds that disturbed me, creaks and groans of the wind sounded like cries and whispers. There wasn’t much to find up there anyway. Old books, magazines, and newspapers my dad kept. Old toys Terri and I played with as babies. Broken and never repaired.
I didn’t expect there to be anything in my dad’s study either. But I felt like I needed to see all of the house. One last time. And Uncle Wes might have locked it for a reason. I wanted to know why.
I pressed the screwdriver further and turned it from side to side until I heard a soft click. Turning the knob, the door creaked open. I pushed it further and peered inside.
The window had only been half boarded inside so there was more light than usual. There was a crack in the glass as if something had been thrown at it. Some books still lined the walls. The desk that used to have his computer now only had a stack of folders. Papers were scattered across the floor. Uncle Wes clearly hadn’t gotten to this room fully just like some of the attic and the basement. It was probably why he locked it. A lot of dad’s stuff including work stuff was still inside.
I circled around, taking my time to touch the books and flip through papers. He had been brilliant despite the evil things he had done. I went through the stacks and the drawers just to see, not expecting to find much. More paperwork, a letter opener, office supplies. I opened a drawer at the bottom of the desk and halted. I reached inside and pulled out a thick leather-bound journal.
I’d only ever seen his journal once or twice. He liked to write his thoughts the traditional way.
Sitting on the edge of the desk, I braced myself and opened it. I read some of it, my heart sinking with every page.
He mostly talked about me and my brother. Us going out on vacations or family nights. Our achievements at school. Other life moments.
There was nothing at first about work, not even the warehouse. Not until I got toward the end. He was very cautious not to call it the warehouse or to be subtle in names, but I could guess well enough. He mentioned subjects he was working on. His “headaches”. How he was frustrated with the results. How he worried about a client he only called “Mr. Mercury” and was sure he’d lose his funding.
They’re becoming dangerous , he said in one passage. Psychotic, disturbed. If I could just get the right chemical combination, they could be whole again. I’ll fix them in time. They will be evolved, better, stronger. Closer to the gods than any of us ever have been. I’ve had to put aside my feelings for the greater good. But they are like my children. I only want what is best for them. And when I’ve succeeded things will change.
I shook my head, furious. This had to be before so many died and those who survived were thrown out to fend for themselves. I flipped through some more and came to another passage that confirmed my assumptions.
They are little monsters. Poor things. I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted them to be better, but I failed. It’s time this was finished but I can’t help them now. They are beyond it. Mr. Mercury understands, though I see the disappointment in his eyes. He suggested a new method, one that might work. But I had to refuse. It was too much. This has already taken a toll on me. Those kids are damaged for life now and if I want to save my company, save my image and family, I have to let them go. I’m so sorry.
Seeing my father say this in his handwriting made everything he had done sink in so much worse. I thought about this Mr. Mercury, trying to remember if I had seen his name on the list at the banquet. I couldn’t recall. But the photos I took of the list were still on my phone. If only I could see it.
I went to flip through the journal to see the rest when something slipped out from the back and fluttered to the floor. I picked it up and the breath caught in my lungs as I saw it was a photograph.
It was them. The kids. Or some of them at least. Emery was there with his sister before she died. Sitting shoulder to shoulder. There were seven of them in the picture, all of them I knew by names from the files. They huddled together in front of a white wall so no one could discern it was the classroom unless they’d been there. None of them smiled, their eyes glazed over.
My hand shook. I flipped the photo over and saw there was nothing but a date. To put anything else would have been more evidence of my father’s guilt.
I put the journal back in the drawer. I’d seen enough.
The day went by quickly. I hadn’t bothered much to look at the time as I had been lingering upstairs. When I did come down, it was to make food and fold mine and Emery’s clothes.
It wasn’t until I heard the door shut above and heard Emery’s footfalls on the stairs that I realized he must be done with whatever he had been working on.
When he saw me at the doorway of Uncle Pete’s bedroom, he stopped. He wore his mask again, his expression hidden, but the look he gave me was enough to make my pulse quicken.
His arms and hands were blackened by some dark substance. It looked like oil.
“It’s getting dark,” he said after a pause.
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” I replied.
He closed the distance between us, placing a hand on either side of the doorway above my head, leaning in. “You ready to go outside, birthday girl?”
I pursed my lips, unable to hide my excitement. “Yes.”
He studied me for a moment, and I could tell he was feeling uncertain about letting me out, his ghosts still trying to convince him I wasn’t to be trusted. I refused to give anything away, only silently hoping he didn’t change his mind. He looked me over one last time, then dropped his arms. “Let me wash and change. Then we’ll go.”
I nodded, giving him a little smile.
As he took off his clothes and slipped into the bathroom, I got myself a jacket from the duffel bag since I expected it to be cool, especially with a breeze off the water. But I had no shoes. I’d left my one pair at Lena’s and Emery hadn’t exactly remembered to throw an extra pair in. So, I had no choice but to double up on socks and hope I didn’t step onto wet ground somewhere. I did find a pair of thigh highs, one black, the other creamy white, and put those on first before pulling thicker socks over them. I might have looked silly, but it didn’t matter as long as my feet stayed protected and held a smidge of warmth.
I fixed my hair in the mirror, smirking as I imagined Emery’s amused look at my mix-matched clothing and no shoes, feeling sorry he hadn’t thrown a pair in the bag.
Then my smile dropped as I felt a nervous twist in my gut. He hadn’t shown any signs, but I felt a lingering tension growing between us again ever since I confessed I wanted out of the house.
What if something set him off again? What if as soon as I stepped outside, he lost it, unable to ignore the doubts in his mind? If he sent me back inside, if I learned I was still his prisoner whether I’d given in to him or not, I didn’t know how I would cope. We might go back to square one, when he first took me.
We were both walking on thin ground that was ready to crack with one wrong move…
I took a deep breath.
It’s just a walk, that’s all. As soon as he sees you’re right there beside him, no ties or leash needed, he’ll see you’re a good girl willing to stay.
Even in my head that sounded…crazy. But if that’s what it took…
In the kitchen, Emery was there waiting, wearing the black shirt and pants from the banquet, hair damp, a few wavy locks sticking to the sides of his masked face.
His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he saw me, that dark fire relit in his gaze as he stared at me.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then he stepped over to me, making me tilt my head back. His hand went under my chin, his thumb brushing just below my bottom lip in a soft, sweet caress.
“You sure you don’t want to just stay down here and let me peel that dress off you with my teeth?” he said in a low voice.
My eyelids fluttered, my body heating up at the thought. It was tempting but…
“Outside first,” I said carefully. “After…I’ll let you do whatever you like. Deal?”
He considered that. I could see that look of uncertainty again in his eyes. He dropped his hand and stood back.
“Alright,” he said.
He went for the stairs and, without hesitation, I followed.
He didn’t falter as we climbed the steps up to the hallway, then turned into the garage. Only when we got to the door leading to the outside did he pause. He glanced over his shoulder at me, then looked down at my feet.
“No shoes, huh?”
I shook my head.
He turned for the door. “I’ll make sure we tread carefully.” He turned the knob and pushed, letting the door swing open.
Cool night air touched at my face, and I breathed in the scent of fresh earth, pine, and water. Emery stepped out, then backed away, giving me space. I noticed he’d made sure the backyard lights didn’t go off, keeping everything dark in case boats passed by the river. Still, from the clear night sky and the quarter moon above, I could see the shapes of the boathouse and the dock close by. I went out and felt the cold ground underneath my feet. There was hardly a breeze and it wasn’t as cold as I expected it to be. Still, I shrugged my jacket closer. Besides the slight rustling of leaves and slosh of water against the dock, there was little noise. I could barely hear the generator in its small, enclosed box near the side of the garage humming away.
Emery opened it, switching it off. We had no need for it right now anyway. He closed the garage door and returned to my side, his steps quiet.
He watched me with sharp eyes, waiting to see what I might do.
At first, I stood there just taking it all in. I looked up and could see some of the stars. From the other side of the river, I saw dim orange lights from the houses. I turned my gaze to the woods on my left and right, only able to see the edges from the moonlight.
It was a perfect campfire night. I took a step, then another, and started for the woods on the right side of the house, crossing over the yard. A fresh memory came to me and I knew of a place I wanted to go.
I didn’t hear him follow but I knew Emery was walking behind me like a large, ominous shadow, watching my back. I could feel the tension growing in him as I made for the woods. I could imagine what he was thinking. Would I bolt as soon as I stepped foot beyond the tree line? Would he have to chase me down?
I tensed at the thought. But there had been no plan to run. Not as long as Emery allowed me to wander freely.
As my memory served me right, I found a narrow path. My family's territory went some ways in. Only a small creek marked the boundary between our property and the neighbors. I didn’t expect to get that far, but the place I wanted to go was only a little ways through the woods.
Emery didn’t ask where I was going. I knew he was curious to see what drove me into the woods. I wish I could have held his hand to reassure him, but the path was too narrow for us both to walk beside each other, a path that had become very overgrown since I last used it.
When I came to a small clearing, I stopped, knowing even in the dark, that I had found what I was looking for.
The sandy ground made way to a small circle of rocks that enclosed a shallow pit. Chairs were scattered around the pit, some broken or on their sides.
Several feet away there was an oak, its branches hanging low. Above, near its top, was a small wooden treehouse. My uncle had built it years ago for us as kids. Now some of the wood had fallen and bent. Close to the tree was an old swing set with one chain link broken, swinging softly. Beside it was a sandbox.
“My brother and I used to hang out here,” I said without thinking. “We would sneak out sometimes at night to have a fire.” I walked along the clearing. My foot hit against something and I saw my brother’s old toy water gun on the ground. I picked it up and turned it over.
It was just another lost memory but it was also another piece of this place I had to see.
Emery didn’t say a word and I didn’t expect him to. He kept his distance, letting me take in my childhood if only for a moment. I dropped the water gun and noticed crushed beer cans in the grass. I frowned as I kicked one aside. Maybe dad and my uncle came out here too and I’d forgotten.
Emery crouched by the pit and took out a pocketknife, one he must have found in the garage. He flipped it open and used the blade to dig through the pit. There was something buried there in the ashes.
I got closer, trying to get a better look. It looked like a blackened pile of sticks.
“What is…” I started to say. Emery flipped one piece out and I saw more clearly what it was.
Bone.
“Someone’s been here,” he said in a detached voice.
My pulse quickened. I opened my mouth to ask “who?” when he leapt up and lunged toward me, grabbing my hand, and pulling me quickly behind a set of trees, one thick enough to hide behind.
He pressed my back against the wood, shielding my body with his. He clamped my mouth shut by placing his hand over it.
He watched the clearing from one side of the tree.
And then I finally heard what he had. The snapping of twigs, the crunch of leaves, the sounds of laughter.
People were coming.