“Uh oh.” Eric stepped out into the warm sunshine and squinted at the surrounding street. He didn’t see anyone staring at him with one of those stupid smiles, but there was plenty of ground to cover between him and his silver PT Cruiser.
“Uh huh.” They’d only been expecting Hailey’s parents and maybe an aunt or two. “So I’m going to need you to bring home some more sparkling juice.”
“Sounds like a wild time. Red or white?”
“Both. About four more bottles, I think.”
“Each?”
“No. Four total. Two of each should do it.”
“That going to be enough?”
“I think so. Sounds like her dad and uncles brought down enough beer to show the whole town a good time.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“Right.” He knew she was rolling her eyes. It was a baby shower, not a wedding reception. She hadn’t planned on having any alcohol. She stood firmly by her assertion that it simply wouldn’t be fair to the expectant mother. And he certainly couldn’t argue with that. He wouldn’t want to be thrown a party where he was the only one not allowed to drink.
Eric made it to the PT Cruiser without attracting a crowd and stopped as he realized that he now had no idea how he was going to dig the keys out of his pocket to unlock it.
So close to sanctuary…
“Anything else?”
Karen took a moment to think it over. Eric wondered if she was doing it on purpose. “I don’t think so,” she decided at last.
“Okay. I’ll see you in a little bit, then.”
“’Kay. Bye.”
Eric said goodbye and hung up. He shoved the phone back into his left, front pocket and then awkwardly shifted the bouquet to his left hand so he could retrieve the keys from his right, front pocket. A light breeze blew past him, threatening to unbalance the daisies, and he had to rest them gently against the side of the vehicle to keep from dropping them.
Once the keys were in his hand, he unlocked the PT Cruiser and glanced around one last time. Still, nobody seemed to be staring at him. Nobody he could see, at least. That silly part of his brain was convinced that there were dozens of laughing eyes hidden behind all those store windows. But the only person he saw was a man in a navy blue hoodie hurrying across the street with a paper grocery sack in his arms.
Something about this man seemed curious. Perhaps it was the hoodie. It wasn’t sweltering out, but it was early June and plenty warm enough for shorts and tee shirts.
Eric watched this man as he hurried into a narrow alley between two buildings. There, just beyond the sidewalk, he turned to look back the way he came, pulling down his hood as he did, allowing an unobstructed view of his face.
Immediately, the big, pink bouquet was forgotten. Here, right before his eyes, was a face he hadn’t seen in over six years. In fact, as far as he knew, no one had seen this face in over six years.
Aiden…?
The young man turned and scanned the street and sidewalk until his eyes met Eric’s. Instantly, surprise washed over him. Then panic. He turned and bolted deeper into the alley and out of sight.
Eric hurried after him, but by the time he entered the alley, Aiden (if it really was Aiden) was gone.
A high, chain link fence blocked the back of the alley. It was old and flimsy and didn’t look like it would stop anyone sufficiently determined to pass through it, but it should have been enough to slow someone down. And Aiden hadn’t been out of sight for more than a few seconds.
On the left side of the alley, between him and the fence, a door stood ajar. It was much more likely that he’d gone in there.
Cradling the flowers in his arms, Eric walked to this door and opened it wide. It didn’t close. There was no latch and no lock. It swung freely on its creaky hinges, practically useless. Inside was darkness and silence. A shadowy set of stairs led up to a second floor landing.
He hesitated. He didn’t like this. He felt like a child standing at the front gate of a haunted house. And he had every reason to be apprehensive. He’d done this sort of thing before. And unlike when he was a child, he knew first-hand that monsters were real.
He glanced around once more, but this seemed to be the only place the mysterious young man could have gone.
He didn’t have to do this. He could walk away. He could just go home. But… What if it really was Aiden?
Was it possible? After all this time?
If it was him, he couldn’t just leave. It would haunt him for the rest of his life. Aiden Chadwick was one of this city’s greatest unsolved mysteries.
He looked back up into the shadows at the top of the steps and took a deep breath. “Don’t worry,” he said to himself. “You brought flowers. What could go wrong?”
But that was a poor choice of words. He’d always possessed a very vivid imagination and it was quick to bring to mind several ghoulish examples of how things could go very, very wrong.
Mentally bracing himself, he stepped through the doorway and began to climb the stairs. It was dusty in here. The paint was peeling from the walls. The handrail was coming loose.
What building was this? The bakery was next to the florist. Then that little pet grooming shop, Sheltie’s. Was that where he was? Or was this the next one over? He couldn’t quite recall how Main Street was laid out. He didn’t frequent the shops here that often. Many of them he’d never set foot in. He didn’t have reason to. He didn’t own a pet, for instance.
From this perspective, the building appeared to be deserted, except for the footprints in the dust. Those were fresh. Someone had been using these steps very recently. And frequently. A great many footprints had merged into a path up the middle.
At the top was another door, this one unbroken and properly latched. He paused here and listened. Everything was quiet. He reached for the knob, but stopped himself. He had no idea what was on the other side of this door. Most of these old Main Street shops had apartments over them. What if this was someone’s home? He couldn’t simply start rattling the knob, trying to break in. Best case scenario, someone would call the police. Worst case scenario, he’d find himself answering to a big, angry property owner with a big, angry gun aimed at his face.
Again.
No, the stealthy approach was simply a bad idea. This was Aiden, not Hannibal Lecter. He closed his open hand, took a calming breath and rapped his knuckles firmly against the door.
No one answered. He wasn’t surprised. Aiden hadn’t looked overly happy to see him, after all.
He knocked again. “Aiden?”
Not a sound.
“Is that you, Aiden? It’s Eric Fortrell. Do you remember me?”
Still nothing.
Eric tried the knob. The door was unlocked. It creaked open, an eerie sound in the silence. “Hello? Anybody home?”
A narrow hallway stood before him. Shadowy, dusty, with cobwebs in every corner. A kitchen was to his right, a cramped bathroom to his left. He could see a table in the dining room ahead of him. An apartment, just as he’d predicted. But it looked as decrepit and poorly kept as the stairs that brought him here. The paint was faded, peeling. There was water damage on the ceiling tiles over the sink. There was no furniture except an old gas stove and dated refrigerator. It was hot and stuffy. And it smelled bad, like overflowing trash cans and dirty public restrooms.
Aiden was nowhere to be seen.
Eric felt his stomach sink a little as he recalled a similar deserted home, a farm house with the same kind of empty rooms. Like this time, he’d even followed someone right through the door, someone who vanished before he could catch up.
He could even remember a similar, narrow hallway. A bathroom. A bedroom. An old wardrobe…
Eric shuddered at the memory.
He forced himself to relax. This was different. That place was far away, unfamiliar, threatening. This was Creek Bend, Wisconsin. His hometown.