Authors: RS Anthony
Millie nodded. “You know what I think, Andy? I think you and my father are going to get along just fine. Come on, get in,” she said, nodding at her car.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take the stairs and feed a dog at the foothill before I go home.”
“Yes, of course.” Millie smiled. “You’re carrying on what your mother used to do.”
“Sort of. There used to be a whole pack of dogs. Now there’s only one left.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Nobody knows what happened to the rest of them.”
“My father might know. You should ask him.” She put on her sunglasses and got in the car. “I’ll see you around, Andy. Thanks for helping out. And oh, here’s my card.” Millie plucked a card from her purse and handed it to Andy. “My cell’s on the back. Call me anytime if you get into trouble with him. Take care.”
Andy watched as Millie’s car pulled away, then walked through Mr. Milton’s yard to locate the stairs leading to the bottom of the hill. He turned a corner and found the steep steps running down from Mr. Milton’s back gate. He walked toward it, opened the unlocked gate, and took the stairs one at a time.
The large rock where the dog usually rested was about fifty yards to his right. Andy jumped off the last step and jogged toward the rock, whistling along the way. A panting face finally appeared.
“Hey, Brutus.”
The dog wagged its tail and tottered toward Andy. Brutus was finally getting comfortable with him, daring to come close without hesitation. The bowl was still where Andy had left it the other day, but it was empty. He picked a can of food from the three in his bag and cracked it open. He poured the contents in the bowl while Brutus wagged his tail and licked at it. “Here, Brutus, eat,” he said, pushing the bowl toward the dog.
As Brutus ate, Andy’s eyes were drawn to the lone house on the hill. There were too many mysteries surrounding Mr. Milton and his property for Andy to ignore. First, the disappearance of the dogs. It was so close to Mr. Milton’s house, and if Jared was right, the old man seemed to have a history of killing animals. Second, the fencing of his property. Why would a man suddenly fence his property if he had nothing to hide? And last, the off-limits basement. Was it really a wine cellar?
After spending an hour with Brutus, Andy went home without stopping by Aunt Magda’s. He had something else in mind. Since it was still early, Andy asked Piffy to prepare a light dinner and told her she could leave as soon as she was done. He went to his room and turned on the computer. Now that he had access to Mr. Milton’s house, he had to learn more about what had happened to Emily Doyne two years ago. Mr. Milton could be innocent or guilty, but either way, Andy needed some facts.
The computer whirred to life and Andy typed “Emily Doyne Halversham” into the search window. Almost instantly, 882,700 results filled the screen. He clicked on the first link and read the article from
Halversham Daily
. It basically verified Jared’s account of what happened: The Doyne girl had gone to school as usual on a Tuesday morning but never returned home. After waiting for a couple of hours, Alicia Doyne, Jared and Emily’s mother, called all of Emily’s friends and a few of her teachers, and learned that Emily had indeed gone to school. She had stayed until the end of the day, and no one saw her acting oddly.
A couple of her friends confirmed they spoke to her briefly just before she walked out of the schoolyard. That was enough to send the distraught Doynes to the police station. After taking their statement, the police questioned Emily’s friends and schoolteachers. The following morning, when Emily still had not returned, an official search squad was set up with the townsfolk volunteering to search all of Halversham.
At the bottom of the page was a picture of Emily Doyne, smiling in a blue sweatshirt and white pleated skirt. Underneath the photo was a number for people to call if they had any information.
Andy closed the window and clicked on the second link. It contained the same details as the previous article, but this one included a description of Emily Doyne the day she went missing. According to the report, she was wearing a white top and a short pink skirt, and carried a blue bag. The Doynes had pictures of the items of clothing she was wearing, all taken at different times, and the images were included in the article. Andy took out his phone, searched for the same article, and saved all the images.
Next was an interview in
HalvTimes
with James and Alicia Doyne. A picture of the grief-stricken parents filled the top of the page in full color, tugging at Andy’s heart. In the interview they mentioned that Emily was a very smart girl who never skipped classes and was liked by all her friends and teachers. She wanted to become a journalist when she grew up, and her parents had fully supported their daughter in the field of her choice. In another section of the interview, her mother said Emily had been cheerful that morning and did not look like she was upset. They knew for a fact that her daughter had been kidnapped. That she would not have run away or followed someone randomly. Their daughter was smarter than that, despite being only fourteen. In the final section, the editor quoted Alicia Doyne’s words in bold:
If you have taken Emily, please return her to us safely. We promise not to file any charges. We just want our daughter back
.
Andy’s eyes misted as he closed the article and he read the next one. Again, the background of the story was the same, but this time, there was one additional piece of information: Someone claimed to have seen Emily walking past Carson’s before she disappeared without a trace. Andy’s heart almost stopped. It was the same diner where he had lunch with Millie earlier today. The same one Millie said was her father’s favorite. One more piece of evidence stacked against old man Milton. A week after Emily disappeared, the police confirmed no ransom demand had been made and that they had not ruled out murder. Andy read a few more articles, and when there was no new information to be gleaned, he shut the computer down. He remained in his chair for a while, staring at the blank screen until a knock on the door startled him.
“Hi Andy,” Piffy said, opening the door a crack. “I made sandwiches and it’s on the dining table. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving now.”
“Sure. Thanks, Piffy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Andy glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost eight. He had been researching for almost three hours. He picked up his phone and left his father a Whatsapp message.
I got a job. At Milton’s
.
He put the phone down but it beeped right away with his father’s response.
That’s good. In a meeting now. What’s the pay like?
It’s not bad. Fifteen dollars an hour. You know anything about the old man?
Nope. Have fun
.
Andy put the phone away, took a shower, had dinner, and began rereading
A Song of Ice and Fire
on his e-reader before falling asleep.
The robins were singing when Andy headed to Mr. Milton’s the following day. He had an early breakfast, spent some time with Mort, and left home at half past ten to make sure he wasn’t late. When he reached his usual spot, he called out to Brutus, and the dog climbed out of the big rock, yawning and stretching. Andy crouched on the ground and offered him treats.
“Good boy,” he said, patting the dog’s head. “I’ll come back in the evening and you can have dinner, okay?” Andy climbed the stairs to Mr. Milton’s and let himself in through the back door as instructed. He glanced around the kitchen. The clock on the wall showed 11:15 and the dishes were exactly the way they were yesterday, piled high except for a few additional bowls and plates on the counter. The stove was covered in grime, and the walls were marked with splashes of gravy and other indistinguishable condiments.
Andy walked along the hallway, casting a passing glance at the dining room, and headed for the main hall. The house was dark and quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and creaking floorboards. Since he was alone on the ground floor, Andy checked the house out one more time at his own pace. He crept slowly to avoid upsetting Mr. Milton with the creaks and squeaks of the old house.
Once in the main hall, Andy stepped closer to the wine racks and read the labels without touching them. He leaned forward and saw a few good red wines he had heard his father rave about. A second later, he chuckled. What did he know about wine? But if the good ones were here, what was in the basement?
The stairs creaked and a pair of legs shuffled down the stairs. Andy’s heart pounded in his chest and he scanned the hall for something plausible to do. It would be too late to run back to the kitchen, so he walked to the table in the middle of the room and gathered the dirty wine glasses.
“So, you’re here,” Mr. Milton boomed, holding an empty jar. Even his hands were covered with large, darkened lumps.
“Yes.”
The man looked as chilling as he did yesterday, and Andy’s knees wobbled as he stood face-to-face with him. What if the creature turned and attacked him? Nobody would even know until it was too late.
“Good. Get back to work. I just came down for some water,” he said, bumbling along the hallway, and Andy’s heart calmed down. He arranged the empty glasses on one side of the table and stacked up the coasters. There were eight glasses, requiring two trips to the kitchen. Mr. Milton was refilling his jar when Andy walked to the kitchen sink. He left the glasses on the counter without a word and went back to get the rest. When he returned, Mr. Milton was done. Andy nodded and the old man left with a grunt.
When he was alone again, he washed the entire dirty pile that had accumulated in and around the sink. He soaked and scrubbed the dried leftovers and picked up the chunkier bits of waste. When he pressed the pedal of the waste bin under the sink with his foot, two large cockroaches scurried out, and Andy raised his foot in alarm. The two cockroaches hid in a dark corner as the lid drifted closed again.
“Disgusting,” he muttered to himself as the foul smell of rotting onions and putrefying waste reached his nostrils. The trash probably had not been taken out in weeks. He placed the waste he was holding by the window and rummaged for a plastic bag in the drawers. When he found one, he dropped the waste into it and continued washing.
Thirty minutes later, he had washed and dried every filthy plate, pot, and container. He took the trash out and lined the bin with a new bag. Although there were smudges on the walls and the floor was grimy, Andy was proud of what he had achieved so far. He might be a rich kid from the city, but his mother had raised him to be reliable and versatile.
Just as he was admiring his handiwork, Andy’s curiosity was piqued again. Where might the door to the basement be? If Mr. Milton kept Emily hidden in there, the entrance to the basement had to be in an inconspicuous spot. He hadn’t seen a walk-up entrance outside, so it had to be somewhere inside. He walked along the kitchen, keeping his head bent and ears open for unusual sounds. There were none. He went to the wet kitchen further down and did the same. Nothing. Could it be along the hallway? He walked past the wine labels in the corridor, but except for some general creaks and squeaks, there was nothing amiss. Andy turned back and headed for the kitchen, making plans to investigate the hall and dining room tomorrow.
He sat in the kitchen and had the tuna sandwich and salad Piffy packed for him. After exactly twenty minutes, Andy resumed work by scrubbing grime off the wall behind the stove. By the time he finished mopping and polishing the floor, it was half past three and he was beat. He left the tools outside to dry and stored the cleaning solutions under the sink. He gave the kitchen one last look, and when he was certain the old man would be pleased, he picked up his bag, locked the door, and left with a smile on his face. Milton hadn’t bothered him, and it was only a matter of time before Andy found the trapdoor to the basement.
After feeding Brutus, he trudged to Mr. Doyne’s backyard to look for Jared. His sheep were nibbling quietly in the field where they usually grazed, and Andy glanced up at the rock where they had lunch the other day. The shepherd wasn’t there. Instead, Andy found him among the sheep, walking with a stick. He went closer and waved. “Hey Jared!” he called, cupping his palms around his mouth.
Jared looked up and grinned. “What’s up, Andy?”
“You got a minute?”
“Sure. Just let me get these buggers back in the pen.” Andy climbed the big rock and sat while Jared cooed the familiar “shoooooooooot, shoooooooooot” sound. He lay on his back and nearly drifted off from exhaustion when Jared’s face darkened the sky above his face. “Hey, you dozing off?”
Andy smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m super tired.”
“You think you can haul your super tired ass to my backyard for some tea?”
Andy nodded, rose from the rock, and followed Jared through the field. A moment later, they saw Mr. Doyne sitting on a wooden chair on the patio, sipping tea from a cup. Jared led Andy to the table and pulled out a chair.
“How are you, Mr. Doyne?”
“Not too bad, kid. Come, have a seat.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s your Aunt Magda?”
“Oh, she’s fine.”
“Good, good.” He seemed to be deep in thought. And then, “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” Andy said.
Mr. Doyne nodded slowly. “You know, when we lost Emily, it was hard on all of us. Jared here was still going to school and I had to tend to the farm. My wife was devastated. It… it wasn’t easy. Your Aunt Magda, she was so kind, she’d bring us lunch every day. And bread for breakfast. When my wife died...” Mr. Doyne paused to steady his voice. “When Alicia died, Magda did the same. And she never charged for a thing.” Mr. Doyne shrugged and shook his head. “She has a heart of gold, your aunt. It’s the only reason the whole town doesn’t tell your Uncle Matt we buy baked goods from her.”
“It’s not so bad these days since I quit school. We can afford to pay,” Jared said, chiming in. “We just make it a point to buy from her every day.”
“That’s very kind of you both,” Andy said, but Mr. Doyne waved it off.
“This town doesn’t have much going for it, Andy. Same old thing year after year. The fair, the farm, the crops, and more of the same next year if you’re still alive. Only thing we have is the people and their good deeds keeping things going. We’ve got to look out for one another, you know?”
Andy nodded.
“The county fair’s next week,” Jared said. “Have you been to the county fair before?” Andy shook his head. “We should go together. I think you’ll like it.”
“Sure.”
Mr. Doyne finished his tea and rose, his bulky body towering over them. “You boys go ahead and finish your tea. I’m going in to watch some TV.” He sauntered in, leaving them alone.
Jared glanced at Andy’s untouched tea and buns. “Come on, eat.”
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Andy said.
“What?”
“I took the job with Mr. Milton.”
His eyes grew wide. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I’m not. Went with his daughter Millie to meet the old man yesterday. Just finished my first day of work today,” Andy said, grinning.
“No way! What happened? Did you see anything suspicious? Did he threaten you?”
“No. He didn’t threaten me, but he wasn’t overly enthusiastic about me working there, either. Actually, he objected strongly until his daughter had a word with him.”
“Why? What did she say?”
“I don’t know. It was behind closed doors. After that he said I could work for him but on strict conditions.”
“What conditions?”
“Well, basically I’m restricted to the ground floor and the lawn outside.”
“Sweet. How’s his house? Creepy?”
“Not really. It’s plain. He sort of tore down the original place and made it less complicated, I guess. I can’t be sure exactly what he changed, but I can tell you it’s a mess inside. Just spent hours washing and cleaning the kitchen today. But it’s as good as new now,” Andy said. “Anyway, speaking of creepy, why didn’t anyone tell me he has that weird disease?”
“I told you he looked evil, didn’t I?”
“I thought you... never mind.”
“Did you find the basement?”
“That’s the weird thing. He doesn’t have one of those walk-up entrances outside so there has to be a trapdoor concealed somewhere inside the house. I searched in the kitchen and hallway today, nothing.” He shrugged.
“You’re sure there is a basement?”
“You mean you didn’t know for sure when you told me?”
“No.”
“How did you guess, then?”
“It’s just a hunch. I mean, the house is on a hill. There has to be a basement. But how do
you
know for sure?”
“I asked Millie. And she confirmed it.”
“This is good.” Jared’s eyes shone. “This is really good. Finally we’re getting closer to finding my sister.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Jared. I wouldn’t keep my hopes up. According to Millie, the man’s wine crazy and he keeps his best stock in the basement cellar. But I also saw several fully stacked racks out in the hall, so it may or may not be true.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“I know. But I have to find the trapdoor first. And the house is huge.”
“It could be anywhere. You’re going to have to look everywhere with one of those glasses people use, you know?”
“Magnifying glass?”
“Yeah. That’s the one,” Jared said, and Andy chuckled.
Andy spent some time at the Doynes talking and plotting before he went home, had dinner, and slept.