The Piper

THIRTY-SEVEN




Olivia realized what a terrible thing it was, to know, and to believe. Teddy had been facing that alone. She muttered half sobbing apologies to her daughter as she went up the stairs. She made herself go slow, she made herself hold the rail, she even reached out for the switch and cried a bit when her fingers tracked the plastic nub that was clearly in the on position. One light bulb might go out like that, but not every single one in the house.

The joy she felt was unexpected and exhilarating. It was the house that was f*cked up, not her little girl. Dr Raymond had known right away that Teddy had a good, compassionate heart. And whatever bad presence there was in this house, whatever this thing was, it had been after Teddy. Charlotte had been right all along.

Whatever this thing was that was after her daughter, Dr Raymond was right. Step one was getting out of the house. Olivia realized, with the perspective that people get when the bottom truly drops out, that the jobs and the moves, the arguments with Hugh and the pressures of money, these were nothing. Nothing, so long as she and her little girl were safe.

The barking dog was frantic now, hysterical. It sounded like the stray she and Teddy had seen the other night. Winston picked it up. Olivia knew his sharp, panicked yelp. Two of them now, barking their heads off.

The basement door was shut tight, though she had left it wide open. Olivia banged her head into it in the dark, tripping on the top step, and bruising the crap out of her shin. She slammed her fist into the wood and jerked the knob and it opened easily. She scrambled up into the dark kitchen. She’d left the Jeep’s headlights flipped on, and she could see the arc of light like a homing beacon outside.

But the back door off the kitchen was stuck.

Olivia kicked it hard, and turned the knob. Yes, yes, she’d unlocked it, and it came open an inch, then wouldn’t budge. This had happened before; she always had trouble with this door. Her hands shook and she trembled all over, but she just needed to keep her head, and pull, not push.

Then she heard him. The dog. Whining right at the door, could it be Winston? Out of the car? Or the stray? The dog started scratching, frantic, almost throwing itself at the door, and Olivia heard a crack and a sprinkle of glass. The kitchen window had shattered. All hell was breaking loose.

Olivia kicked the bottom of the door again to jolt it loose and pulled hard, felt the door give reluctantly, felt the blessed rush of air. Out she went, not bothering to close it behind.

And she saw him, the dog in the moonlight, loping toward the fountain. And seeing him up close for the very first time, she recognized the unusual brindle markings, and knew, before the dog even turned its head and looked back at her, that this was Hunter, Emily’s dog. Which was ridiculous of course, because Hunter had to be dead, dead for years and years. She was just rattled. No time for this now.

Olivia knew she ought to go slow, that she could stumble and twist an ankle in the dark, but she ran anyway, to the headlights, to the car, high on the joy of freedom, now that she was out of the house.

The doors to the Jeep were shut, just as she’d left them, so it took her a minute of staring dumbly to understand. It was as if she were outside her body observing the hysterical panicked woman who opened the door of the Jeep and found the front seat empty. No daughter, no dog. The woman cried, and ran to the fountain, around the house, and down to the street. She even went back into the house. The lights worked again, and she went through every room, mouth in an almost comic oval of disbelief before she opened her cell phone and dialed 911.

But Teddy and Winston were gone. Not a sign of either of them, just like all those years ago, when Emily and Hunter disappeared.