He smiled.
“She doesn’t use a phone, or didn’t then, but believe me, she’ll know you’re coming. When you get into Ishpeming, find Bluff Street. A stone wall runs along the front of her property. You can’t miss it. Take cash, five hundred dollars.”
“How did you find her?” I asked breathlessly, renewed hope making me want to bounce in my seat.
“Jade. After I saved her, she told me her life story.” Fletcher put his hands on the wheel and frowned. “Horrible things had happened to her as a girl, and she’d never gotten over them. Her friend insisted Jade travel to the Upper Peninsula in Michigan, to the home of a witch who could right those wrongs, punish those who’d hurt her. Jade never went-”
“But you did.”
Fletcher nodded.
I jumped from the car. I wanted to write it down before some detail slipped my mind. The rain battered me, but I paused for a moment and mouthed ‘thank you.’ I don’t know if he saw through the rain-slicked window.
Sarah
GLEN BLACKBURN LIVED in a large Tudor-style house protected by an iron gate and rows of flat bushes.
The rain had ceased, and pockets of sun shone through openings in the cloud cover.
“I can jump that fence,” Will said, sizing it up.
“No, we’re not breaking into the guy’s house.”
“Okay, genius, tell me what your grand plan is.”
“We’ll ring the bell. I‘m an architect, you‘re my pupil. We’ll ask for a tour.”
Will shrugged.
“Okay, yeah, that will keep us out of jail, anyway.”
“Yes. If we manage nothing else today, let’s at least stay out of jail.”
“It’s not that bad,” Will said. “Unless you’re in with the drunks hogging the toilet all night while they puke their guts up.”
Sarah grimaced.
“Thank you for the visual.”
“My pleasure,” Will said, swinging his door open and jumping out.
“Let me do the talking,” Sarah told him.
Sarah knocked on the door. An older gentleman, well into his seventies, with a portly belly and twinkling blue eyes answered the door. He smiled cheerfully, and Sarah had a momentary image of the man dressed as Santa Claus.
“Hi, sir,” Sarah held out her hand. “My name’s Sarah Flynn, I’m an architect here in Traverse City, and this is Will, an intern at my office. Today we’re learning about Tudor architecture, and your home is a stunning example. Would you be open to giving us a tour?”
The man beamed, glancing from Sarah to Will.
“Oh yes, that would be lovely. You know, this house dates back to 1926? It’s an absolute jewel. My father built it.”
Glen led them through the house, and Sarah pointed out examples of Tudor style.
“Do you notice the irregularly shaped rooms, Will? This supports the asymmetry of the Tudor style.”
Will played along, asking questions, murmuring in the right places.
“Can I use your bathroom?” Sarah asked as Glen led them through a glass door that opened on a brick patio.
“By all means, dear. Down the hall, third door on your left.”
“Is that a pizza oven?” Will asked, pointing at a tall brick oven on the patio.
“Go ahead,” Sarah told them. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Sarah paused at the bathroom listening as Will and Glen left the house. She crept down the hallway, pushing doors open. The first room contained a front-loading washer and dryer, the second a bedroom fitting a child, most likely for a grandchild. The third was Glen’s study. She closed the door behind her and hurried to his desk, pulling open drawers and rifling through paperwork, pens, and an odd array of little wooden figures. She hadn’t fancied Glen a whittler, but apparently he was.
She found the bottom left drawer locked.
“Fuck all,” she said.
“Hi.”
Sarah jumped and let out a little squeak of surprise.
A little boy stood shirtless in the doorway, a pair of dinosaur pajama pants pooling around his Batman slippers.
“Grandpap?” he asked, though obviously she was not Grandpap.
“Oh, hi. I’m sorry. I was looking for the bathroom and stumbled in here.” Her voice shook, and she was tempted to ramble further but doubted the little boy cared either way.
As she stepped into the hall, a woman peeked around the corner spotting Sarah and blinking as if she questioned her own eyesight. She looked at the little boy, alarmed.
Sarah held up a hand.
“Sorry, hi. I’m Sarah Flynn, an architect. Glen was showing me the house.”
“Oh.” The woman stepped into the hallway. She wore crisp white pants and a gray cashmere sweater, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders.
“I’m Diana, his daughter. I was reading to my little rugrat when he ran off.”
“He’s adorable,” Sarah said with a gesture at the little boy, who’d stuck his thumb in his mouth and started sucking on it loudly.
“Everett, what did Mommy say about sucking your thumb?”
The boy continued, a line of drool dripping from his mouth onto the cream carpeting.
Diana sighed and took his shoulders in her hands, steering him back down the hallway.
“Nice to meet you,” Sarah called as they disappeared around the corner.
“WELL, that was a blasted waste of time,” Sarah declared, hitting the gas and shooting the car up the hill that led away from Glen Blackburn’s house. “And I almost got caught. His daughter and grandson were in there. The kid saw me digging through his study.”
“I told you to let me do the lurking, but no, you’re the adult and I’m the kid.”
“Well it wasn’t there, so I don’t see what difference it would make. Should we grab dinner?”
“Hell no. I want to get my hands on that book.”
“Will, that’s obviously not happening tonight. We need the key, and-”
“This key?” Will held up a long black key with a staring eye engraved in the center.
Sarah snatched it from his hand.
“Where?”
“It was in his workshop, sitting right on the window ledge with a bunch of weird little wooden figures. He turned his back, and I slipped it in my pocket.”
THEY SCOURED the woods behind the Northern Michigan Asylum for two hours. Crisscrossing back and forth among the graffitied trees, pushing through thickets of dead brush. They knocked on trees, shuffled leaves, thinking perhaps the door to the chamber was beneath their feet. They found nothing.
“He said only a person in the brotherhood could find it,” Will muttered.
“Which has to be bullshit, right? I mean, if it’s a real place…” She stopped at the look on Will’s face.
“Suspend disbelief, Sarah. Remember?”
Sarah swore and kissed a tree, wincing.
“We need Dr. Evil,” Will said at last.
CHAPTER 34
Now
Corrie
I kissed Isis goodbye and hugged my sister.
“Maybe you can come stay for a few days next week?” Amy asked, balancing Isis on her hip.
“Yeah, sure.” I nodded, offering a final wave before climbing into my car.
The drive to Ishpeming passed slowly. I tried the radio, but every song reminded me of Sammy. For an hour I cried, and then numbness took over and I allowed my body to slip into autopilot.
Bluff Street contained only a handful of houses. I slowed when I came to a crumbling stone wall crawling with dead vines. I turned onto the cracked pavement of a circular drive and surveyed a decrepit two-story Victorian house shuttered against the wind. Wood planks hung loose, and several shingles had slipped off the roof and lay on the weed-choked lawn.