26. Noah
NOAH
FOUR YEARS AGO
“It’s all yours, Mr. Anderson. You made a great choice.”
I finish signing my name on the dotted line and pass the papers to my realtor. I finally did it. I bought the house I’ve been watching for the last two years. It finally went up for sale, and the second it did, I gave the owner an offer he couldn’t refuse.
“Thank you, Helen. It’s been great working with you.”
“Likewise, Mr. Anderson. Please let me know if you need any of my services in the future.”
She smiles a bit too flirtatiously when she places her hand on top of mine. She’s cute, sure. But she’s looks nothing like what my little rabbit would.
“So, what’s the first thing you’ll change about this old place?” she asks as she glances around the kitchen.
Sure, it’s a bit outdated, but I bought the house for its bones, not its skin.
A house's bones are what’s important. You can change anything about its skin easily.
Some paint and new handles here, new flooring there.
Bones are harder to change. Most of the houses along the shore here date back to the early 1900’s.
Mine specifically was built in 1906. Yep, it’s got good, old bones.
“I might get new appliances, but that’s about it to start.”
The house is nice and all, but it’s what’s under my house that I’m mainly interested in. That and how much privacy this property actually offers, especially being so close to the city.
“Stainless steel is always nice.”
“Nah. There are a few companies that make custom cabinet fronts, so I might look into those.”
I return my attention to my phone and hope she takes the hint. Thank God she does.
“Well, I’d better get going. Please let me know if you need anything. I wrote my personal cell phone number again on the back of the card.”
And yet I still won’t be needing that anytime soon.
I lead her to the door, and as soon as I’m sure she’s out of the front gate, I drop the facade. I need to make sure to change the lock codes first.
“Fucking annoying woman. Good lord,” I huff as I make my way into the laundry room.
My fingers run along the wall, feeling the panels for the slightest bit of air…Bingo. I follow the air, pressing against the wall slightly until I hear a soft click. A whoosh of air follows the second click as the false wall piece pops open, showing me my hidden treasure.
A secret staircase that leads down to my new sanctuary. A place I’ll be able to satiate my inner demons by bringing my targets down into its depths.
It’s dark, damp, and deathly quiet. You can smell the earth all around you as you go deeper underground.
This is the reason that I bought this house, one that isn’t on the blueprints or known to any realtor.
No, the only reason I found out about it was because of a folded-up map, hand-drawn by the architect himself.
It was being sold at a sale here two years ago.
That was the day I decided I needed to have this property.
Each step creaks under my weight. The sound echoes, showing the years of neglect.
Who knows the last time someone was down here?
The first thing I’ll be doing is replacing those steps.
That’s all I need is to be dragging one of the pieces of scum down here, and a step gives, leaving me at the bottom with a broken ankle or worse.
When my feet finally leave the rickety old wooden steps and hit solid ground, I can feel it.
The energy down here is different. It’s not a basement or a cellar.
It’s a hidden tunnel system designed by the original mastermind of this home.
If I didn’t know any better, I might’ve thought he had a sick and twisted game he’d play down here.
But no, he was just obsessed with labyrinths and wanted his own.
And now it’s mine.
My phone dings. I pull it out and stare at the brightly lit screen.
It’s a notification of a tracker that my hacker, Monty, placed on the fucker’s phone last week when we finally found him.
The red dot just moved North and crossed the border between Indiana and Michigan. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.
“It’s been a long time. Welcome home, James Parker.”