9.
~ "How the hell can he be inside the house?" Lake hissed.
Arthur wasn't listening. It wasn't possible. No one could have been inside this house without he or Ariadne noticing. This wasn't some creepy horror movie where the killer was staying in the attic the whole time.
Lake seemed to sense his thoughts.
"What about the attic?" the FBI man whispered.
"We don't have one." Arthur told him in a hushed whisper. "It's exposed beams and cathedral ceilings in the master bedroom."
"Well, maybe in the master bedroom but not out here in the hallway." Lake said.
Arthur looked up and noticed, as though for the first time the lower ceiling of the main upstairs hallway.
"I've never seen a door leading to the attic." Arthur whispered. "How could he get in here from the attic without a door?"
"Did you check the closet?" Lake whispered.
The Point Man nodded.
"What about the closets in the smaller bedrooms? Did you really look them over?" Lake asked.
Both Point Man and FBI Man drew their weapons.
~ The smaller guest rooms were so disused, Arthur had forgotten what they really looked like.
Almost at once, he knew there was something different about these rooms than the basement. Where the basement was musty from no human presence, the first guest room was much more airy.
Arthur raise his weapon at the sight of so much covered furniture.
Lake did the same as both men wandered around the ghost like figures.
Lake turned and shook his head.
No one was there.
Arthur silently opened the closet. It was too small by any standard. Another project to complete. But there was no hatch in the ceiling that pulled down for access to an attic.
'Other room.' Lake mouthed. Both men could feel the room was expectant and waiting for them.
The bathroom sat between the two bedrooms and had no access to the outside hall. The bedrooms were like their own island, isolated from the house.
The second room was full of boxes and Ariadne excess clothing. She had more clothes than Arthur thought possible. So much so, that she had to transform the other room into another closet for her off season wear. There were racks after racks of clothing in dress bags.
Arthur never realized how spooky this room was till now. All the dress racks. The windows covered up with newspaper to prevent anything from fading in the sun.
Lake looked in the closet this time and shook his head.
Arthur scanned the ceiling of the guest room. He wasn't sure why he had never noticed before, but the ceiling in the bedrooms was low as well. The roof outside was pitched and could hide an attic very well. He never once thought about a small attic over the guest bedrooms and hallway.
"Where is the door?" Arthur whispered to Lake.
"He couldn't have drug her up into an attic like this. He's not Quasimodo." Lake said. "He must have gotten her out another way."
"There is no other way." Arthur spat. His voice never raising above a whisper.
Lake put his finger to his lips and shushed him. Arthur had an impulse to give Lake another kind of finger in response when a sound made both men freeze.
Running water.
He had heard that sound so many times before, but it sounded more muffled this time.
"The house next door." Lake offered and nodded to the bathroom.
"We always hear them running the water." Arthur said distractedly. "But it sounded different."
"These are old homes. Sound can carry like you said."
"No, this was different. Before it always sounded like it was in the next room. Now, it's clearly in the next house." Arthur said.
Silently, Arthur put his gun away and stepped in to the bathroom.
It was a normal Jack and Jill bathroom. It hadn't been redone since the seventies and was ripe with retro wallpaper and yellow linoleum that was broken and peeling.
Everything would have to be thrown out. Sinks, toilet… bathtub.
Arthur looked at the bathtub. He really looked at it this time. It didn't match the rest of the bathroom. The tub and fiberglass backing looked relatively new. Even the calking around the faucet and drain was still white. As if it had never been used.
He hadn't given it much thought before. Perhaps it was some last second home improvement before putting it on the market. Perhaps the old one just broke.
Arthur didn't let a logical explanation divert him. He had let his guard down too often in this house. It was time to be suspicious again.
He turned the faucet to run a bath. No a drop of water came out. He tried to turn the knob again and it didn't even hiss with connection to a pipeline.
He looked around the housing that kept the tub in place and saw no calking. With careful fingers, he pulled at a corner. The fiberglass was light and pulled easily.
He heard Lake draw his weapon while the Point Man pulled the entire tub and it's back splash away from the wall.
"What the hell?" Lake whispered.
Both men stooped over to see a perfect view of the bathroom in the next house. There were only a few pipes blocking the path, but it was easy enough for them both to step into their neighbors bathroom.
The two of them looked a little odd standing in a reproduction claw footed tub after just popping out of a hole in the wall.
"He's been able to get into our home this way." Arthur whispered.
"I"m calling for back up." Lake said.
Arthur could barely hear his new friend just now. He was close, he was so close to finding Ariadne now. She had to be in this house. She had to be.
"I'm going to get my girl." the Point Man told Lake. He said it just as casually as if he were picking up Ariadne for a date. He stepped out of the tub and made for the door.
"Arthur, wait!" Lake whispered sharply. "We have to wait for back up. We don't know how many are here in the house!"
The agent grabbed Arthur's arm but the Point Man shook him off.
"Get off me." Arthur growled.
Lake didn't press the issue, and let Arthur leave him.
~ The bathroom was a perfect mirror of their guest bath. It's decor was much nicer however. Exactly what Ariadne had wanted for the house. Expensive wallpaper, expensive fixtures. It didn't look like the home of a kidnapper.
Arthur drew his weapon and opened the guest room door.
The mirror half of his own guest room at home greeted him. It was obviously used as an office by the owners. People looking less and less likely to kidnap anyone. The Point Man started to have a bad feeling about what happened to the original owners of this house. If the monster he was hunting was capable of taking Ariadne, what would he do to anyone who stood in his way?
The house felt deserted and empty. The wooden floors in the hallway didn't creek thanks to the long rugs tastefully put down to minimize the noise.
Arthur checked out the hallway and even the master bedroom in his unknown neighbors home. It was all quite and undisturbed. Like a museum. The beds were made and the air felt slightly stuffy. No one had really been living here for some time.
"On their way." Lake whispered as the FBI agent came out of the bedroom.
"I don't hear anything." Arthur whispered back. "No one's been up here, not really, in a long time."
Lake checked the other guest room, the closets, and both men made their way to the downstairs.
"Arthur." Lake said. The FBI man's voice was cold
The Point Man turned and saw it then. Saw that he was too late.
The living room, again, a mirror opposite of his own home was bathed in cozy neutrals of beige, light blue, pale green and white. A professional decorator must have come in to make everything look so good. All the light, cherry colors must have made the house feel comfortable to the owners, wherever they were.
Yet, all Arthur saw was the fireplace. All he saw was the restored oak mantle piece and exposed brick backing. Bright red blood was dripping off the patina oak of the home's original mantle piece. A finger, haphazardly removed, but a human finger none the less sat there waiting to be found.
A pool of blood, tainting the white carpet in the same bright red was everywhere. She has still been alive when he cut off her finger.
Her heart was still pumping blood when he removed her finger and she bleed everywhere.
She had been so close. So close to him this whole time.
Arthur could only hear rushing sounds in his ears as police sirens were pulling onto the street outside.
Some inner voice inside him screaming:
'YOU'RE TOO LATE!'
