The Devil, the Witch and the Whore (The Deal Book 1) Page 23

  He's holding a bundle of bandages in his shaking hands.

  “Well, what else could I do?” he asks finally. “Just let the man suffer? Or let him die?”

  “Absolutely not,” I tell him. “You couldn't possibly have just left him.”

  “Precisely. So I attempted to aid him.”

  “Did you see any sign of a vehicular accident over the past few days?” I reply, taking my notepad from my pocket. I figure I might as well interview this guy and see if he can help fill in a few details. “Maybe you heard a crash, or you saw lights in the distance? Or you heard screams?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing of the sort.”

  “So...”

  I look down at Tony's body, and for a moment the sight completely horrifies me. After a few seconds, however, I remember that I have to stay professional.

  “Uh, so when exactly did this individual arrive at your cabin?”

  “That would have been a week ago,” he tells me. “In fact, exactly a week.”

  “Right.” Taking a pen from my pocket, I make a note, before realizing that this explanation doesn't quite tally with what I've seen so far. “He was here for a whole week?” I ask cautiously. “That seems like a long time.”

  “I should probably explain,” he continues. “I have another cabin quite some way due east of here. That's where I keep my medical supplies, and I had to travel there on foot. I must admit, the journey was somewhat trying, especially for a man of my advanced years, but...”

  Again he pauses, and I watch as he turns to look down at Tony's body.

  “I had to try,” he says again. “How could I not?”

  “So let me get this straight,” I reply after a moment, convinced that I must have misunderstood somewhere along the way. “An injured guy showed up at your cabin about a week ago, and -”

  “Exactly a week ago.”

  “Right. And you decided to travel all the way to your other cabin to fetch some medical supplies.”

  “Yes.”

  “You don't have a car? Or a radio? Or some other means of calling for help?”

  “I'm afraid not.”

  “Okay.” I make another note. “And you walked the whole way?”

  “I did.”

  “Uh-huh. And you just happened to...”

  I catch myself just in time. I was about to point out how convenient it is that he showed up just a few minutes after I found the cabin, but I guess maybe I don't want to let him know that I'm getting suspicious. I mean, sure, he seems like a friendly but creepy old chap, but I know that sometimes appearances can be deceptive.

  “What about the girl?” I ask finally.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  I pause, and the sobbing sound continues.

  “Her,” I add. “The girl. You didn't just leave her here while you were gone, did you?”

  He stares at me for a moment, as if he has no idea what I'm talking about, and then suddenly a faint smile flickers across his lips.

  “She's quite alright,” he tells me. “I shouldn't worry about her at all, not if I were you.”

  “But she -”

  “Everything is under control.”

  “I'd still like to see her,” I continue. “Just to, you know, check on her. 'Cause as far as I can tell, she's not in any of the rooms, and there's not an upstairs, so I really don't get where else she could be except...”

  My voice trails off.

  “Except what?” he asks.

  “Well, that's what I'm trying to figure out. Is there a basement?”

  “There's no basement.”

  “Or an attic?”

  “I'm afraid not.”

  “So then...”

  Again, my voice trails off. I feel like this guy is trying to mess with me, and maybe trying to make me seem like a goddamn fool.

  “She's fine,” he tells me finally. “Please, you must believe me. It's a terrible shame that I was unable to help this gentleman in time, but his daughter is uninjured. Esther will be fine in my care.”

  “Esther? Her name's Esther?”

  “Think no more of her. The matter should not concern you, or any of your friends in law enforcement.”

  With that, he turns and heads over to a desk next to the far wall. I can't help feeling that he thinks the subject has been settled. And deep down, even though I know I have to keep a rational mind on all of this, I'm starting to worry that maybe the sobbing sound is coming from someone who's already dead.

  “So this is your cabin, huh?” I ask, figuring I should try a different approach.

  He hesitates, before nodding and muttering something under his breath.

  “Do you live out here?”

  “I do.”

  I look down at the body again. It feels surreal to be having this conversation next to a corpse, and I think maybe the best thing would be if I just go back to the car, wait for Buddy, and get him to come deal with all of this. Even the sobbing girl can maybe wait another half hour, or an hour at most. I mean, I'd sure like to find her right now and take her away, but I'm not sure that's going to be possible. Besides, this old guy moves so slowly and creakily, I'm pretty sure he'll still be here when I get back.

  I've just got this itching feeling all over, like I really need to get out of here. I need back-up.

  “Well, thank you for your help,” I say finally with a smile, “but I have to be getting along now.”

  “Getting along?”

  I head over to the open doorway.

  “Don't touch anything,” I tell him. “Especially the body, okay? Just leave the scene as it is, and I'll bring some people to take over and figure things out. Obviously there's just been an awful accident, and I promise you, nobody's accusing you of anything. We just have to figure out exactly what happened to this guy. And obviously we need to get some help for the girl.”

  “You can't leave.”

  I stop and turn to him. “Huh?”

  “You can't leave.”

  I wait for him to explain, but now he's simply watching me. I can't help thinking that he must be joking, but as the seconds tick past I realize that he actually seems serious.

  “I can't leave?”

  “It's quite simple,” he replies. “There are some places that one can visit, and then leave. And there are other places that one can go to, but one cannot leave, at least not without permission. This cabin, my home, is one of the latter. You are of course most welcome here, but leaving is quite out of the question. Once you're here, you're here forever, and there's no getting around that simple fact.”

  I stare at him.

  He's insane.

  Not just a little bit, either. A lot.

  “You'll grow to like the place, though,” he adds, turning and heading through to the next room. “Everyone always does. First impressions are so overrated in the modern world, don't you think? It's far more important to look beyond one's initial prejudices and try to see a little deeper. That way, things that seem off-putting at first can turn out to be rather pleasant. And things that seem wonderful can...”

  He pauses, before breaking into a low, quiet chuckle.

  “You catch my drift, I'm sure,” he mutters. “If you didn't want to stay here, you really shouldn't have crossed the threshold.”

  “Well, I...”

  I pause, trying to figure out quite how to get through to this old kook, before realizing that maybe this isn't the best time.

  “You know what?” I ask, forcing a smile. “I'm gonna leave you alone to get on with whatever you're up to, that's what I'm gonna do.”

  I start making my way toward the front door, while taking care not to make him think that I'm running away. I'll bring Buddy back here, of course, and a whole bunch of cops, but for now I really just want to get out of the cabin and make my way back to the crash-site. The situation requires delicacy, and someone with experience. My best bet is to just make the old guy think nothing's wrong, and bring Buddy back to fix it all.

  “You don
't believe me,” the man says suddenly.

  Startled, I turn and see him watching me from the shadows.

  “You can't leave,” he continues. “You're of the cabin now, and of the cabin you must remain. Alive or dead, it makes no difference, but you will stay here.”

  “Right, okay,” I reply, turning and hurrying out. I waste no time in stepping down off the porch and crunching into the snow, and then I start wading across the clearing. The footprints will lead me back to the crashed car soon enough, and I really don't want to spend another second in this creepy place.

  “Running is futile!” the man calls after me. “You have no choice in this matter! It's like I told the dear girl. You're mine now.”

  Keen to avoid engaging the crank in conversation, I struggle through the snow for several more minutes, before glancing over my shoulder and seeing that I've left the cabin far behind. I can still just about make out the low, dark rectangular shape, but there's no sign of anyone following me and I guess the old man has decided to stay put. Frankly, I was starting to wonder whether he might start chasing after me.

  “We'll see who can't leave the goddamn cabin,” I mutter under my breath. “Wait 'til I get back with a bunch of cops. Then we'll figure this mess out.”

  Pausing for a moment, I realize that maybe a braver soul would go right back there, find the girl, and bring her with me. I think deep down I know that's what I should do, but at the same time I'm worried the old guy has some tricks up his sleeves. For the girl's sake, I really think I need to be more careful, which means fetching Buddy. Buddy'll know what to do. Buddy knows everything.

  I almost stumble in the snow, but I manage to keep going and after a moment I look over my shoulder again. I can't see the cabin now, but I know it's back there somewhere, lurking in the darkness. Frankly, the idea of that calm old man still gives me the creeps, and I'm starting to think that there must be something seriously wrong with him. I mean, who acts like that? Who starts spouting weird warnings and telling people they're not allowed to leave? And obviously he's got the girl locked in a room, and -

  Suddenly I trip again, falling forward. I put my hands out to stop myself, but my arms sink straight into the snow, all the way up to the shoulders.

  I let out a sigh.

  “Great! Now -”

  And that's when I feel fingers reaching up from the depths of the snow, wriggling between my fingers. I hesitate for a moment, convinced that I have to be wrong, and then I let out a startled gulp as I pull back.

  That can't have happened.

  I must have imagined it.

  I hesitate for a moment, trying to convince myself that the sensation of moving fingers was caused by something else, but deep down I know exactly what it felt like.

  A moment later, I realize there's a hand gently holding my freezing-cold left ankle, deep beneath the snow. I wait, again trying to tell myself that this is all in my head, but finally I try to move my ankle. The hand isn't holding me very tight, but I can feel its thin, bony fingers brushing against my sock, just above the top of my boot. I pull back, freeing myself, and then I take a couple of steps to one side, staring at the patch of snow where -

  No.

  It was something else.

  A badger, maybe. Well, not a badger, but a plant. Yeah, it was just the fronds of some plant. I can still feel an echo of the cold grip on my ankle, though, where the hand – or whatever it was – held me.

  I just have to stay calm.

  A sudden gust of wind rocks the branches above me, causing them to creak loudly and bringing a gasp from my lips as I stumble back. Looking up, I see the ice-white branches spreading like veins across the night sky.

  And then I hear footsteps.

  I spin around, almost losing my balance in the process. There's nobody behind me, but the darkness seems to be pressing in, coming closer through the trees. I step back, watching each and every gap in case I spot a hint of movement, but now the sound of footsteps is gone.

  The branches creak above me again.

  I turn, looking around for my earlier footprints in the snow. For a moment, they're nowhere to be seen, and I start to worry that I might be lost. Finally I spot a set of shallow indentations, although in the pit of my belly I'm worried that they're not the same prints I left earlier. Besides, I'm suddenly feeling a little disorientated, and it takes me a few seconds before I remember which way I came from and which way I'm going.

  I'm not lost.

  I just have to follow the prints.

  So that's what I do, marching as fast as my aching legs can carry me, forcing my way through the increasingly daunting snow-drifts. I don't remember the path being quite so thick before, and in the back of my mind I'm starting to worry that maybe I've somehow gone the wrong way.

  Suddenly I spot as I see a set of much newer, much fresher prints in the snow, running roughly parallel to the original prints. I look around, certain that somebody else must be out here, and I feel a flash of panic in my chest until I realize that the second set of prints belongs to me.

  I let out a relieved sigh, and I curse myself under my breath for having been so easily spooked.

  “Just stay focused,” I mutter, pushing onward between the trees, clinging to the faith that I'm going the right way. “Your name is Molly Abernathy and you're not going to let yourself get spooked. You're better than that.”

  Still, I can hear something behind me, something breathing. I glance over my shoulder a couple of times, to make sure that there's nothing coming, but the breathing sound is getting louder. In fact, it's almost as if someone is gasping for air. I turn and look all around, worried that the old man might have somehow caught up. For a moment, all I see is moonlit snow stretching between the trees in every direction, but suddenly the snow starts to become darker.

  Looking up, I see that a huge, heavy cloud has begun to pass across the moon. Just a couple of seconds later, the moon has disappeared completely, leaving me standing in pitch darkness.

  “Oh heck,” I whisper.

  Something clicks nearby, followed by a scratching sound.

  “Heck again.”

  I reach down to my belt, fumbling to find my flashlight. My fingers are trembling and I can't help imagining all sorts of horrific creatures watching me as I try to locate the switch on the flashlight's side. Finally I manage to get it on, and I swing the beam out between the trees. Turning slowly, I feel a flash of relief as soon as I spot the footprints heading away into the distance. I must be at least halfway back to the overturned car by now, so I take a couple of steps through the snow.

  And then I see him.

  I stop, frozen with fear as I realize there's a man standing about twenty feet away, watching me from his spot between two trees. Just as I'm about to call out and warn him that I'm armed, I spot another man, just a little further back, and then another to their right. I turn and see two more men, closer than the others. From their silhouettes, it looks like they're all wearing dinner jackets and top hats.

  I switch the flashlight to my left hand, and use the right to take my gun from its holster.

  “I'm armed!” I call out, fumbling to find the safety release. Buddy showed it to me earlier, before we set off, but my mind is racing and I can't remember any of the lesson.

  I turn and see three more figures nearby.

  “I'm armed,” I mutter under my breath, still struggling with the gun. I honestly don't know how to get it ready to fire, but finally I hold it up anyway, figuring I can bluff. “I'm armed!” I yell. “So none of you had better come near me, okay? My colleague is real close and he'll be back any moment! His name's Buddy and he knows exactly what he's doing, so whatever you're doing here, I need you to leave the area immediately! Is that understood?”

  I wait, but they're all still holding back, still lurking in the shadows. I can only make out their silhouettes, and after a moment I realize I can hear them whispering.

  I can't hear exactly what they're saying, but I can definitely hear
their voices in the cold night air. Taking a step back, I see my own breath as vapor, and a moment later I realize that I can't see any breath rising from them at all.

  “Okay, I get it,” I mutter, turning suddenly as I hear a twig snapping behind me.

  There must be twenty of them now, just standing and watching me. Some of them are tall, some are short. Some are thin, some are fat. All of them, however, seem very much focused on me.

  “So this is such kind of trick, right?” I continue, convinced that I must be being filmed for some kind of terrible reality TV show. “I've heard of things like this. It's like that Burning Man place, isn't it? You're all out here on vacation, communing with nature and doing weird, hippie stuff. That's cool, I can get behind that. I don't know if you have permits or -”

  Suddenly I hear a faint growling sound, and I turn to see that one of the silhouetted figures has come a little closer than the rest. He reaches out and puts a hand on one of the trees, as if he's stopping for a moment to watch me.

  “We can skip the permit check for now,” I stammer, trying desperately to keep from sounding desperate, “but next time, you really need to come along to the office during business hours and, uh...”

  My voice trails off as the growling sound continues.

  “And you need to...”

  I turn and see that another figure is stepping forward through the snow. I can hear a faint whispering sound coming from its shadowed face, along with a hushed but frantic sniffing sound.

  And then I hear the blade of a knife sliding against another blade.

  I turn and look back over my shoulder, and this time I can't even begin to hide my fear.

  “I'm an officer of the law!” I call out. “Do you know what that means? It means I have law enforcement responsibilities. I have a gun!”

  To prove my point, I hold the gun up and then slowly turn, so that they can all see it gleaming in the moonlight.

  “See?” I shout. “I have a gun! It's loaded, too!”

  I wait, hoping they might scatter, but the sight of the gun doesn't seem to have scared them at all. I briefly consider firing a shot up into the sky, but I'm not sure I can afford to waste ammo like that and – besides – I still don't know whether or not I've got the safety off. My finger's resting on the trigger, though, and I swear I will fire if necessary.