Next chapter! See, I told you they'd come faster now!
Oh, and before you start yelling at me that Chloe doesn't live in an actual house (I think it may have been an apartment…) we are going to pretend that she does. Ok? Thanks.
"This is it," I breathed, standing at the foot of the driveway.
"No one's there, right?" Tori turned to Derek for confirmation.
"All scents are stale," he vowed. "Let's go."
The three of them started past me, taking a few steps towards the house before realizing I hadn't moved.
"Chloe?" Simon turned to me expectantly.
I took a deep breath, willing my feet to move forward. The fact is, I didn't want to move forward. I didn't want to see the house empty, with not even the housekeeper there. I didn't want to take the risk that there wasn't a ransom note, despite what Derek believed. I didn't want to find out that there was no trick and that my dad really was dead by his own hand.
But since when do we ever get what we want?"
I took a few steps forward until I was parallel with my friends. Tori and Simon were unimpressed but I could tell Derek knew what a momentous attempt that was for me. He reached out and gave my shoulders a squeeze. I allowed myself a brief moment of sagging against him, drawing comfort from his presence, but had to pull back.
Resolutely I peeled away from the group, leading the way up the steps to the front door. There I paused, but only for a moment before turning the handle.
I wasn't surprised when it was locked but I knew where the key was. I reached down and dislodged the loose brick in the corner of the second stair, a slightly rusted metallic key waiting beneath it.
My fingers fumbled to insert it in the lock, but after a moment I heard a click. Then I had no more excuses; I turned the handle and stepped inside.
It was the same as I last saw it, polished wooden floors still gleaming, the potted plastic plant in the corner still drooping. The difference was it was dark, not even the light streaming in from the oversized window situated atop the door serving to dispel the gloom. Whenever I came home from school there was always some housekeeper or another bustling about, casting a warm glow over the house. The other difference: it was absolutely silent.
"We should…probably look around," Derek whispered after an eternity in which I just stood there in the foyer, struggling with the melting pot of emotions bubbling inside me.
"Yeah," I nodded, still not making a move towards the staircase.
"Chloe? Should we check your father's room first?" Derek suggested when it became evident I needed another push.
"Yeah," I repeated, but this time I was able to force myself to ascend the staircase. The door to his room at the end of the hallway was ajar, giving us a premature peek into crisp whiteness, the only personal items the couple clothes in the closet and the two pictures I knew would be on the dresser. One of the three of us (him, me, and my mom) and one of just me, my last school picture.
I pushed open the door fully to reveal everything to be exactly as I remembered it, except for the bed. The covers were wrinkled, as if someone had slept in them recently. I glanced at Derek to see if my suspicions were right.
Frowning he went over to the bed, ducking his head ever so slightly, nostrils flared. After a moment he stood up. "No unusual smells. Just your dad." I nodded. That would make sense. The police probably were just careful not to disturb anything when the searched, leaving everything exactly as they found it out of respect.
The stark room didn't need much further searching. Whatever note the Edison Group might have hidden, it was no longer here. Either it never was or the police had found it and removed it already.
The rest of the house didn't take long to search either. It was a small house, more of a condo really, and the rooms had always been kept in spotless condition that didn't allow for many hiding places. Even my own room, which would have been my next suspicion for the location of the supposed "note", was just as I had left it.
Sighing I plopped down at the kitchen table, resting my elbows on the familiar wood. My three friends took up the rest of the places at the table and fidgeted, waiting for someone to suggest the next step.
"Are you sure there's nowhere else we should look, Chloe?" Derek pressed after a moment of disappointed silence. "Nowhere that was special for you and your dad? You know, somewhere he would know you could find but the police wouldn't think to look?"
I put my face in my hands, straining my brain. There must be somewhere I was forgetting…
Then it hit me, my dad's special place. It was his secret shrine; in fact, I don't think he even knew I knew about it. Without waiting to see if the others were following me, I bolted from the kitchen back to my dad's room. Three pairs of feet pounded behind me back up the stairs and down the hallway.
I flung back open the door, bee-lining for the closet. Please be there, I prayed before flinging open the closet door. I breathed a sigh of relief as I took in the boxy heavy-duty black suitcase waiting there as it always did between business trips.
I tore it out of the closet and flung it on the bed, fumbling with the front-pocket zippers. Out of the corner of my eye I was aware of the other three giving me worried looks, but I didn't care. If anywhere, the note would be here.
With a final tug of the zipper I exposed it, the barest exhibit of my dad's heart. Lying in a pile in front of me was a pile of pictures. Some were old, some were wrinkled, some were big, some were wallet sized. All were of my mom.
I pulled out the stack, flipping through it without letting myself look too closely at the person in them. There was only so much emotion I could handle in one day.
I went through the pile three times, pinching one corner and slowly releasing the other, like a flip-book: the most primitive type of movie.
After the third rotation I couldn't bear going through it a single time more, for eventually I wouldn't be able to ignore the familiar silhouette. "You look," I thrust the pile at Simon who complied. Tori searched next, then Derek, until finally we were forced to admit it. There was no note hidden in the stack.
"Sorry, Chloe," Derek passed me back the pile. "I don't think anything's hidden in there."
Averting my eyes, I gingerly replaced the pictures in the front pocket and zipped it up at a much more controlled speed than I had unzipped it. I trundled the suitcase back into the closet and shut the door with finality.
"That's that, then, I guess," I sighed, wiping my hands together.
"We should go, then," Simon looked pointedly at the setting sun outside the window. I hadn't realized how long we had been looking, much longer than I had assumed.
"We can sleep here tonight," I suggested, too tired to go anywhere else and unwilling to turn down the prospect of a warm shower and a bed.
"Are you sure? I mean, it's got to be weird for you-" Tori elbowed Simon, who didn't realize he was only making me feel more weirded out by mentioning it. How many times had I wished to be back in my own home, my own bed? Now that the prospect was an actual possibility, I found it downright eerie.
"Yeah," I said for the sake of the others. "We could all use the rest, and I think it's safe. Right, Derek?" I turned to him for approval, knowing he would be the one to make the final call.
He looked torn but eventually nodded. "It's risky, but…we don't have any better options right now. We should be okay for one night."
"Okay. Assuming everyone wants to shower first…" I directed them to the two showers in the house, letting the two guys use my dad's and pointing Tori towards mine.
"Wait-" I called to the retreating figures of Simon and Derek as they padded back down the hallway. "You can put on some of my dad's clothes. They're clean at least," and since you're both so freakishly tall they'd probably fit, I thought, but didn't mention. "We can throw all of our clothes in the laundry overnight."
"Good idea," Derek smiled warmly at me before disappearing into my dad's room, Simon on his heels.
"And Tori-"
"I know, I know. None of your midget clothes are going to fit me," she made an obvious attempt at disguising the bitterness in her voice but I knew she really wanted clean clothes.
"What I was going to suggest was one of my summer camp t-shirts. They're always in the ladies sizes and the smallest they go is just a small…"
"And we all know you need extra, extra, small," She smiled a little to take the bite out of the words.
"You'll probably still be stuck with your jeans, though. Unless you want to try one of my dad's pairs…"
"Nope," she shook her head firmly, her now-shaggy brown hair swinging into her eyes (we all could use haircuts). "No way am I wearing old man jeans."
I blushed, mumbling under my breath that my dad wasn't old, but offered a pair of my baggiest sweat pants, at least for her to wear while her jeans were in the wash. "Thanks," she accepted them gratefully.
We took turns in the shower and it was comforting to be able to fully soak until I turned pruny. Even being able to slowly lather the familiar strawberry-kiwi conditioner into my hair was a luxury.
Once everyone was clean we began rummaging in the pantry for some food. A couple minutes and a Campbell's Instant Lasagna later, and we were sitting around the table content. Derek had on baggy gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that strained over his chest, which was much thicker than my dad's. Simon's shirt hung off of him loosely, but at least the plaid flannel PJ bottoms of my dad seemed to fit him. I was basking in the comfort of a pair of my own pajamas, soft fleece bottoms with a matching cotton tank top so soft and clean that I kept subtly shifting to feel it brushing against my skin. Tori was the most comical in the group, clad in a Camp Hoover t-shirt that showed her belly when she stretched and black sweatpants that only fell to her knees. Fortunately she was skinny, so they fit around the waist at least. Our own clothes were a distant hum from the laundry room where they swirled as the machine attempted to beat all the grime out of them.
When everyone began blinking sleepily, I started directing them to available beds. Tori would get the housekeeper's room. Simon would get the guest room. Derek got the couch. No one dared sleep in my father's room.
After saying goodnight to everyone else, I entered my own room. It was plain, the constant moving we did leaving no room for expansive decorating projects. The floors were wooden, the walls pale blue, the bedspread white. Only the clothes in the closet (clothes I was definitely going to be bringing with me when we again departed) and forgotten homework sprawled across the desk served to personalize.
I flicked off the switch and crawled onto the bed, pleased to find the sheets were still clean and not coated in a layer of dust. I snuggled under, glad for the comfort of familiarity as I could almost pretend this was just another day in my old life and I would be waking up to an alarm clock at 5:45 the next morning to go to school.
Moonlight streamed in from the window, bathing the room in an unearthly glow that made me consider climbing back out of bed to close the curtains. I figured it wouldn't be worth the effort.
I rolled over onto my side and was just about to close my eyes when I saw the moonlight glinting off a pair of beady black eyes, angled directly at me.
My heart leapt into my throat, a scream about to claw it's way out, before I realized it was just my old stuffed animal, Ozzie. The koala bear had been my closest companion through the moves when I was younger, but once I reached middle school I had reached the conclusion he was unnecessary (at least for sleeping in my bed…that didn't mean I was kicking him out of my room entirely).
I tried to force my eyes shut but something was now gnawing at the back of my mind, something seemed off. I couldn't think of what it was except that Ozzie was the cause.
I sat up in bed, glaring at the koala bear as if that would expel the sense of wrongness blossoming through me. It's just Ozzie, I mentally scolded my irrational behavior. He's always there- I interrupted myself as I realized something, something critical.
My first night at Lyle house, my dad had come to bring me Ozzie, not knowing I no longer needed him to sleep. I never came back home to bring Ozzie here.
I jumped out of bed and flicked the light back on with trembling fingers, heart trying to escape from my chest. Dad must have brought my stuff back here, I told myself, fighting the growing alarm, but I still had to check. I went to my closet, sneaking glances at the koala bear every other step as if he would suddenly whirl around and scream 'boo!'.
My clothes from Lyle house weren't there.
I checked and double checked, searching for my favorite skirt I had worn while there, hoping to catch a glimpse of my red v-neck shirt. Both items, items I had definitely worn while at Lyle house, were absent.
I debated calling for Derek as I turned to the demon koala bear but decided against it. Chances were, it was just my hyper-active imagination, creeped out by the familiar setting, playing tricks on my brain.
With shaking fingers I forced myself to touch the bear, digging my fingers into his fur and almost pulling a clump of it out. I lifted him, turning him over in my hands as if a note would just fall out.
Actually, that's exactly what happened.
As I flipped him sideways, trying to puzzle out the clue he represented, a single folded piece of paper flew out and landed on the floor.
My heart was now a snare drum, rattling out upbeat jazz as I replaced the bear on the shelf and stooped to pick up the note. It was short and sweet, right to the point, just like a bad spy movie.
7:00 PM. April 26. Lyle House. Be there, or Mr. Saunders dies.
-The Edison Group
I had four days.
*Dramatic ending* Wow sorry, I am so mean with these cliffys! Anywho, please let me know what you thought! Beware the demon koala bear! MWAHAHAHA!
:P