Chapter 3
The Prince of Darkness Costume Shop and Monster Gallery was quite fantastic—even from the outside.
If the situation hadn’t been so deadly on this particular trip to the area, Zach thought, he’d have enjoyed a trip to the store.
Movie monsters could be fun and entertaining. When they stayed in the movies.
The store was located just over the border in the town of Swampscott, Salem’s neighbor to the southwest.
The store was the sole occupant of a large standalone building with giant, sculpted creatures at the entrance—a fanged vampire to the right of the front doors and a werewolf to the left.
Entering the shop, where local police were talking to a distraught man, they could see that monster mannequins were set up all around the store, some fronting rows of costumes, others with arms—or paws—out to indicate makeup displays.
Of course, as Zach had driven, Skye had read to him about the store from their website and from reviews online.
It sounded like an incredible place.
And more.
Of course, it had been too bizarre that she had been reading about it just as they had received their messages on the alert from the local police—and that they were now on their way, rushing to the place.
Zach quickly identified himself to one of the local officers who was outside. Inside the shop, he and Skye hurried forward to do the same with the uniformed officer speaking with a man who was apparently Keith Howell, the very distraught owner of the place.
And though he was anxious and tense, Howell appeared to have a stern grip on himself; he was a man who stood about Zach’s own height, a solid six-three, fortyish, and—despite the dramatic appeal of the store—quite down-to-earth himself, with dark blond hair neatly kept in something almost like a crew cut, and a mode of dress that was simple.
He wore a longsleeved cotton shirt, jeans, and a tailored denim jacket.
The officer, a weary-looking, middle-aged man, glanced over at Zach and Skye as they arrived and quickly said, “You’re the Feds, right?
I’ve been trying to tell Mr. Howell just because he got here and found the place locked and his wife and son gone, they’re not really missing.
He just got here forty-five minutes ago—”
“Unlocked!” Howell interrupted, shaking his head.
“She might have stepped out quickly, decided to close early, and perhaps your daughter was … anxious about something, and your wife needed to get her home quickly or to the doctor—”
“I’ve checked every local hospital! I did so immediately after calling 911!
” Howell said with aggravation. “And we never lock up this early!” Mr. Howell added adamantly, seriously agitated and wincing, trying to keep calm while getting law enforcement to take him seriously.
“My wife would have called me if something was wrong—if she’d been able to do so! ”
“Still—” the officer began.
“It’s all right, sir. We’ve got this!” Skye quickly and politely told the officer. “We can take it from here,” she added pleasantly.
“Mr. Howell doesn’t seem to understand that things do happen, and people do forget their phones.
And it’s most likely Mrs. Howell probably took the kid and went home and left her phone somewhere,” the officer grumbled.
“You are the Feds investigating the Salem case, right? Good, whatever, this is all yours!”
With a nod that offered gratitude, frustration, and bewilderment, he left them.
Zach looked over at Skye. At least local law enforcement didn’t seem resentful; in fact, they seemed relieved, here at least, to have them around.
Howell appeared to be confused for a minute and then his eyes opened wide. “Feds! Right. Oh, my God, yes! Yes. Because that elderly Bolton man had been killed, and his greatgrandson and the nanny have disappeared!”
That Bolton was dead, and that it was an accepted fact that something bad had happened to his great-grandson and the nanny, appeared to strike a hard chord within the man. “Oh, no, no, no …” he said with dismay.
Howell’s voice trailed and he looked at them with sheer misery.
“Sir, if you can explain to us—” Zach began.
“Right. I’ll start over. I’m Keith Howell.
My wife and I own and manage this place.
We cater to moviemakers, bloggers, you name it—people are always doing something here, paranormal shows, history shows, their social media sites …
you name it. And, of course, Halloween is huge, and we cater to every kook and kid out there who likes dressing up.
But we close at eight—every night, we close at eight.
Our assistant manager is on alone for about an hour at three when my wife gets Sophie from school.
At this time of the year—for just a few more days since we bring more people in as Halloween approaches—we are our only employees, except for Debbie Dailey—our assistant manager.
We are a true mom-and-pop place, except for one employee—Debbie.
She leaves at five, and I’m back here by five from my day job, so no other employee is here when we close.
And honestly, we’re still good parents. We have a little room in back with a bed, desk, and TV, all things for Sophie to rest, play, and do schoolwork between the time she gets off school and the time we go home.
When I got back here today, no one was here.
That was at just about six o’clock. The door was open, as it should be during business hours, but I searched through the entire place.
No sign of anyone. Naturally, I called my wife, no answer, so I called Debbie, and she told me everything had been simply fine at five o’clock when she left, that Sophie had been doing her homework in the room; and before she’d left, she and Jane—my wife—had been talking about the fact we were happy, we’ve been doing great, and we were going to hire another salesperson full-time!
That would mean more time off—we close on Mondays and Tuesdays now, except at Halloween, and we wouldn’t need to close any day anymore with another employee and …
and … what the hell does any of this matter!
They’re gone. My wife and child are gone!
And I don’t care what that idiot cop told me, my wife would never, never just leave the store with no one here, everything wide open!
And my little girl … my beautiful, precious, smart little girl!
Something awful has happened and I know it!
He said that something could be done because Sophie is just six, but that Jane is an adult and can disappear when she chooses.
She’s not missing when it’s only been a matter of hours since I’ve heard from her.
They also said that I’m panicking unnecessarily—that my wife just lost her phone and that she’s off somewhere with my little girl! ”
“Security cameras?” Zach asked.
Keith Howell winced and shook his head. “This is not a high-crime area in any way, shape, or form. And we’ve been doing well, but getting a security company in here seemed like an expense we couldn’t afford—we’ve only been open a couple of years—and we haven’t gotten to it. Oh, my God, if I’d only …”
“We’ll get a trace on your wife’s phone and check the security cameras in the area,” Skye assured him quickly and compassionately.
“We need your help, and we believe if you help us, we can help you a great deal more. Now, this may sound strange, but do you sell wicked-witch costumes and green makeup?”
“We do. You’d be surprised. A wicked-witch costume is huge around here, though it doesn’t really make much sense, but a lot of people don’t know history.
They just know that Salem is famous for historic witches and local wiccans.
They think that it’s funny or great to dress up as a wicked witch. Go figure.”
“We need to see your sales receipts,” Skye told him.
He frowned. “You think someone bought—or stole—a costume before they kidnapped my wife and child?” he asked.
“Possibly. Or stole something in the past. At the least, we’ll see who was in the shop last,” Zach told him. He wanted to be reassuring.
Maybe they could be—although it would have been one hell of a help if they’d had security cameras.
He wasn’t so sure his “talent” would be helpful here; dozens of people had probably touched most of the things in the shop.
However, Skye …
Her abilities were amazing, so amazing …
He almost wondered at the wisdom utilized when he had been partnered with her. Then again, maybe her strengths could make up for …
His weaknesses? He hadn’t seen himself as weak in a long time—not since he’d learned at a young age that he needed to be careful.
And if he ever wanted to use the strange things he was able to know, he needed to be what people called “the strong, silent type.” Like most of any of the people he’d met with their different abilities, they weren’t often shared.
People were quick to ridicule others or worse—accuse them of needing serious therapy.
But …
Right now? Being partnered with her was proving to be incredibly helpful on this case. He had to admit, he had been doubtful, but …
She was entirely credible. He was surprised to discover that he did believe what she said, what she saw …
And beyond that, she was simply bright and he had already found himself liking her far more than he had imagined he might.
They needed to see the register receipts.
And we need a way for her to try her unique sense of vision.
They could get going on the receipts, and he could distract Keith Howell and give Skye the opportunity to do her thing.
“Anything, anything!” Howell muttered, leading them toward the register. Zach could see that while the place might not have security cameras, the register was set to the left when facing the door.
Someone standing at it and staffing the register could easily see if someone was trying to walk out with merchandise without paying for it.