Dead End Street Page 6

“In the distance, he heard a police car’s siren. He quickened his pace, knowing Mr. Weatherspoon had seen him running down Whipple Street and that the officers would soon be in the area.

  “Suddenly, a bright light exposed him from behind. Melvin’s foot dipped into a crack in the brick sidewalk and with a little cry, he fell. A voice boomed over a PA. There was the metallic roar of a man’s voice, but in Melvin’s terror he didn’t understand even one word.

  “He scrambled to his feet and did just what logic would tell him not to do: led them to his home.

  “Inside, his mother awakened by the wail of the cruiser, stood near the front door. Melvin brushed by her, almost knocking her over as he headed for the stairs. Even as he reached the little door leading to the attic, he heard his mother arguing with the police. He heard ‘search warrant,’ ‘pursuit,’ and ‘the Weatherspoons’ before he pulled the little door closed and locked it with the padlock he had installed the year before.

  “The policemen’s footsteps on the lower stairs matched his own as he made his way up the twisting staircase.

  “In his room, he noticed it right away.

  “Horror consumed him. Even the pounding on the attic door couldn’t affect it.

  “The mirror was broken.

  “He smelled ‘Ambush’ perfume. And the night with Mrs. Hartfield rushed back.

  “A hand settled on his shoulder.

  “Melvin turned and began backing away from the very real presence of Mrs. Hartfield.

  “She smiled.

  “‘No,’ his whispered, still backing up.”

  David took a deep breath, letting the moment of terror linger. His friends’ faces were rapt in the dim light, each of them breathless for his next word.

  “The men below heard a crash, a tinkling of glass, and a scream.

  ‘God!’ Melvin’s mother shrieked.

  “The policemen, shoulders down, made a running assault on the door. By the third shove, the little Yale lock broke and the door flew open.

  “Melvin’s mother pushed past the men and dashed up the stairs. She stood in the room looking at the shattered mirror, probably thinking it was responsible for the sound of breaking glass they’d heard. Then she felt a chill and rubbed her arms. Her eyes widened as she turned and gasped at the jagged glass in the triangular window. As the men joined her in the room, they followed her stare and saw the window, too.

  “Even though they tried to hold her back, they couldn’t stop Melvin’s mother from getting to the window first.

  “‘No,’ she whispered.

  “An old woman lay on the ground below.

  “Behind her, a faceless monk slipped off into the darkness.”

  * * *

  David stopped and bowed his head. Where had the time gone? Once he had gotten into reading his story aloud, the Tuttle house, his friends, and the crisp autumn breeze had disappeared. David found himself in another world. He could actually see Melvin and his mother, Mrs. Hartfield, and Mary Lou Weatherspoon in his mind’s eye.

  He wouldn’t ask his friends what they thought. That would seem too much like looking for approval. He knew his story was good. If they didn’t appreciate it, that was their problem. He glanced up for a moment and looked at the others, who sat silently in a semicircle at his feet. Their lack of comment told him a lot. They probably still pondered his tale.

  David’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash from above. Something had toppled over.

  Erin screamed. She was the first to stand. David saw fear change her features instantly—her eyes widened and brightened in the waning light of the day. She began backing toward the door.

  Before he could say anything to make fun of her or reassure her, David heard a distinct creaking above them. And even he had to admit that it was awfully close to the noise two feet made as they crossed an old and rotting hardwood floor. A cold prickly sensation danced at the back of his neck and crept down his spine.

  The others stood, clumping together and looking up.

  “What was that?” Pete whispered.

  “Let’s get out of here…right now.” Erin eyed the rest of the group. She looked close to tears. When no one said anything, she continued, “You guys can stay, but I’m gone.” And with that, Erin darted out the door, dark hair trailing her.

  Of course, Roy was quick to follow. David saw them on the cracked brick sidewalk outside the house. Roy had put his arm around her as the two hurried away.

  The footsteps stopped as abruptly as they had begun. David looked upward. “Should we investigate?”

  “Are you crazy?” Peter’s voice was high was terror. David couldn’t make out his eyes behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

  “I don’t think so,” David said, defiance marking his words.

  “Well, I don’t think I need to investigate. There’s obviously someone in here besides us, and I’m getting out now. You better, too, before those footsteps begin their way down the stairs.” Peter ducked through the door. David watched as he ran to catch up with Roy and Erin on the road.

  He turned to Marlene. “I guess that leaves us. You’re the most sensible of them anyway.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Marlene said, casting nervous glances at the staircase.

  “Wanna come upstairs with me?”

  “Gosh, David,” Marlene said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “How could a girl refuse an offer like that?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant. There’s probably a logical reason for what just happened. You don’t seem like the panicky type. Let’s go check it out.”

  “Afraid to do it alone?”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Then prove it.” Marlene swung her hair over one shoulder, walked slowly to the door, then crossed the porch. But once she hit the front walk, she ran just like the rest.

  David swallowed. With everyone gone—everyone except me and who else?—the house seemed eerily quiet. He heard the whisper of branches and dying leaves outside when the wind blew. He even heard the sound of traffic on Ohio Avenue far below the hill.

  The stairs were to his left. David wondered if they would support him. Then again, they had supported whoever was up there. He studied the steps for a long time, taking in how the newel post at the bottom was carved with a swirl of oak leaves.

  He didn’t want to go up those stairs, didn’t want to confront what might be waiting

  There. He’d admitted it. At least to himself. There was no one around, no one to know that fearless David was scared.

  He could duck out, make up a story about how he had checked out things. The others would never know. They were probably at Erin’s house by now, planted on her green bedroom carpeting, chattering about how terrified they all were. And David’s story—the story he had worked on so hard all week—was probably forgotten in the excitement.

  He moved toward the front door. Outside, the horizon was alive with orange light as the sun sank. It would be dark soon.

  David was almost to the threshold when he stopped. He clenched his fists. What kind of toughness was it that led to lying about something, especially about acts of bravery? He had already lied about the wolf’s call last week. What kind of person was he, anyway?

  Better to save the fiction for his stories.

  Darkness was fast approaching, and David had to admit he didn’t want to explore the upper part of the Tuttle house without light. It’s now or never. And with that, he charged up the stairs without another thought.

  When he got to the top, David’s breath was coming in pants, his heart pounded. Was it because of how quickly he had taken the steps? Or was he afraid? David told himself that it was the way he had dashed upstairs. Of course, that was it.

  On the second floor, it was quieter. Not all of the windows had been broken out and the sounds of the outdoors, which were so clear on the main floor, were muffled here.

  His hands trembling, David ducked into the first room he came to. The bathroom was dingy. Yellowed ceramic tile, o
nce pink and white, covered the walls. Some of the tiles, exposed to the cold of the house and suffering from neglect, had lost their adhesive and had fallen off, or hung by gluey threads dangling against the wall. A film of black soot covered the floor. Griminess almost completely concealed the floral pattern of a plastic shower curtain that lay half on the floor, half on the cracked porcelain of the bathtub. The medicine cabinet’s mirror had been shattered. Shards of silver lay across the surface of the sink beneath.

  In the soot that covered the floor, David saw two sets of footprints, both recently made—the imprint of his own Reebok running shoes, and other, bigger footprints with the heavy tread of some sort of work boot…boots like his father wore.

  Reason told him: now it’s time to go.

  The house had grown gloomier by the minute as the sun set. David glanced out the window. The sky was much darker. The fiery orange was only a memory, a thin line at the horizon.

  His chest tightened, but he had to explore the other three rooms before the light disappeared completely. He pushed himself onward, trying to ignore the dryness in his throat, the dampness of his palms.

  The first bedroom revealed nothing but a thin layer of dust on the floor. Tattered red curtains hung at the two windows. Nothing more.

  The second room he entered must have been the baby’s. What was her name? Stacey. The walls, although faded, revealed that they had once been painted pink. A border with ABCs intertwined with smiling teddy bears still clung to the wall near the ceiling.

  David withdrew and moved toward the last bedroom, which was at the back of the house.

  He stopped at the threshold. Here, the windows weren’t broken, but wore a film of grime so thick as to make them opaque. It wasn’t the windows that interested David, though. Nor the footsteps recorded in the dusty floor that caused him to pause. Even the dark smear along one wall that might have been blood didn’t really scare him as he stood rooted to the spot near the doorway.

  No, his blood turned cold because it was very clear that someone was living in this room. A sheen of chilled sweat covered his face as he stared at a one-man dome tent in one corner. It had been set up with spikes driven into the wooden floor. A small Coleman gas camping stove stood near the window. A litter of tin cans, pie plates, and other detritus bore silent witness to the fact that there was a real, breathing human being occupying this space.

  Had he? she? been here all the time David and his friends had been downstairs telling their stories?

  David wanted to turn and run, but his feet felt as if they were nailed to the floor, frozen in place.

  He looked around the rest of the room, noticing a big wooden dresser lying on its side. That’s what must have crashed!

  Just as he had forced himself to go upstairs, David forced himself to rush to the tent and yank up its flap. There was no one inside, and David’s heart began to beat a little more slowly.

  A bum, that’s all it had to be. A lousy hobo. You heard about the homeless every day, and David saw no reason there couldn’t be homeless people in Summitville, PA.

  Sure, that was it.

  But he was getting out…now. He glanced around him. Where was this homeless person? Was he? she? watching him right now? Perhaps from that dark crack the closet door made as it hung open not more than a couple, three inches?

  David turned and ran.

  No one would have to know he had run. No one would have to know anything other than the fact that he had explored the Tuttle house completely. And had come up with very little. Perhaps they didn’t even deserve to know what he had found.

  Already, as the cold outside air filled his lungs, David was formulating a story at variance from the facts about what he had found upstairs. After all, if he told them the truth, they might never come back to the house, and he needed them to come back…with him. Because he wanted to return, but not alone.

  * * *

  Brave little boy. Now one of them knows part of my secret. But not everything…no one knows everything. There are a lot more secrets in store for those who can’t mind their own business. And not all of it is as pleasant as the discovery of some camping equipment.

  But, as someone once said, “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

  Perhaps they’ve all seen and heard enough. Perhaps they will finally stop invading my home now. Perhaps danger is something none of them will have to fear.

  That is, if they’re smart enough to keep away.

  CHAPTER 6

  An Emergency Meeting

  The garage of Roy’s house was like an electronics buff’s candy store. Scattered across the work bench and lined along the floor were all manner of devices—everything from DVD players to iPods, to parts from home security systems. Roy’s father did much of his repair work right there. The soldering iron and various gauges and meters bore testimony to that fact. Right now, the tools were inactive.

  But the kids gathered in the garage were anything but inactive. They were all speaking at once. Had Roy’s parents been listening at the door, they would have heard certain phrases jump out at them: “an unsafe place,” “crazy to spend any more time there,” “it’s time to move on to something else.” And Roy’s parents would have burst in, sent the others home, and grounded Roy for a month, maybe longer if he refused to tell them what this was all about.

  David sat silently, letting his friends vent their fear and frustration. He chewed at a hangnail and eyed each of them warily.

  Marlene was speaking. “Look, no one here can deny there was someone else in that house. No amount of explaining is going to make me think it was just my imagination hearing those footsteps upstairs. Mom and I have lived in an apartment long enough to know what it sounds like when someone is walking across the floor above you.” For once, Marlene’s eyes were bright with fear.

  “Yeah, Marlene’s right,” Erin murmured. She had calmed down since yesterday, when she had been almost speechless with fear for several hours after the meeting and had to be convinced not to tell her parents or her older sisters what the group had been up to lately. She went on, “We can’t ever go back there. Maybe we should all be counting our blessings that we made it out okay.”

  Roy, of course, took Erin’s side. “She’s right, you know. There’s no telling who, or what, is living in that house. I think we should play it safe and keep away.”

  Peter asked, “Shouldn’t we tell someone, like the police? I mean, maybe this whole thing needs to be investigated. Who knows what’s up there and what he—or it—might do to someone.”

  Marlene shrugged. “I’m not sure we should go that far. We might be sticking our own necks out. You know the questions that will come. Like, what were we doing there in the first place. And then they’ll lecture us about safety, about trespassing, and every other little BS item our parents or our teachers can think to throw in.”

  Marlene paused for a second, taking time to stare down at her hands while she thought. When she looked up, her face was slightly paler than usual, and her voice wasn’t as forceful. “What if we do tell somebody and they investigate, and the person in the house gets discovered and he doesn’t want to be? Or what if he doesn’t get discovered but puts two and two together and knows we were the ones who set the authorities on his tail? He could be angry…want revenge…”

  She paused again. “And that person probably has a very good idea who we are.” Marlene met each of her friend’s gazes. “At least, I’m betting he has a pretty good idea what we all look like. He could do something to us. Maybe, if we just walk away, this will blow over, and we’ll never hear anything more. We can go back to Friday night DVD club or whatever.”

  Erin said, “Okay, okay, so we keep it quiet. Chalk this one up to experience.”

  Roy cut in. “What if Marlene is right? Have any of you even considered that? Whoever’s there might know who we are. Whether we tell anyone or not, who’s to say that he won’t come after us all? Who’s to say?”

  David had had enough of biting
his tongue. “I am.”

  They all stopped talking among themselves long enough to look at him.

  “Huh?” Marlene said.

  “I am. I’m the one to say he won’t come after us.” David’s mind was racing. Plausible. Make it plausible.

  “Know something we don’t?” Peter took off his glasses to clean them with the bottom of his “Death Cab for Cutie” T-shirt.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” David got up from the stool he was leaning against. “You see, I didn’t go running out of the house yesterday like the rest of you wimps. Like a good investigator, I stuck around to see what was going on.” David paused and looked at each one of them in turn, to make sure all of their attention was focused on him.

  “Like a good nut, you mean,” Roy said and smirked. He looked to Erin for approval, who smiled at him.

  “What did you find?” Marlene asked, sitting up straighter.

  “Well, as soon as all of you had run off into the evening, I went upstairs.”

  “Really?” Erin seemed amazed that David would be so brave. Amazed and impressed. David could see that Roy didn’t like the admiration in her eyes one bit.

  “Yeah, really. The upstairs of the house was about what you’d expect—dust and more dust, a creepy bathroom with broken fixtures.” David shivered a bit as he remembered. He hoped none of his friends noticed.

  “Okay, okay, we get the picture,” said Marlene, her voice tinged with impatience. “What else did you see?”

  “Or, even better, who else did you see?” Pete asked.

  “You guys wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” David waited for someone else to speak, building suspense. He was beginning to enjoy this spotlight.

  “Try us.” Roy picked up his father’s soldering iron and considered it, trying to look like he didn’t really care. But the way he kept casting looks back over his shoulder at David told a different story.

  “I met Paul Tuttle.”

  Everyone in the group gasped simultaneously. The moment was almost funny.

  “Are you kidding?” Pete’s eyes were wide behind the thick lenses of his glasses.