The Girl from the Well

“I’m sorry to hear you’re both leaving. I wish there was something more I could do.”


“You’ve done more than enough. I don’t think I can ever repay you for saving Tarquin. I…” The man pauses, his face crumpling for a few seconds before remembering himself. “I know you saw her shortly before she…she died. Did she say anything to you? Anything that might be important?”

The young woman hesitates, unsure of what she should say, unsure of how much the man really knew of his wife. “She said that you and Tark must return to the little dolls of Yagen Valley. To her sisters.”

The man shakes his head in bewilderment. “I met her when we were both students at Tokyo University, and I know she was born in Mutsu province, where I believe Yagen Valley is located. But I don’t know what she means by ‘little dolls.’ Yoko had a sister, but I’m told she died many years ago. All Mr. Bedingfield—our lawyer—could tell me was that she had some relations in Mutsu, but all he had to go by was an address.”

Remembering the news accounts of the crime, the descriptions of the body, and the strewn dolls in that tiny room is enough to send another shudder through his niece. “Do you think it has anything to do with her doll collection?”

The man lifts his hands, helpless. “I don’t know. It sounds preposterous. Collecting Japanese dolls is a hobby of hers, but that’s not an unusual pastime. I still don’t understand.” Anger laces through his voice, anger and grief and an inability to refer to his wife in the past tense. “The police aren’t being any help at all. They say there was no evidence that anyone was…that anyone was inside with her. The last person to see her alive was the attendant who brought her dinner.” His voice breaks. “Why would anyone even want to kill Yoko? Why would anyone do that to her? It must have been one of the other patients at Remney’s.”

“Uncle Doug,” the young woman says timidly, suddenly formal. “Have you ever seen anything unusual around Aunt Yoko? Or with Tark?”

“Unusual? I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Have you ever seen…well, strange women around Tark?”

The man stares at her blankly, and Callie realizes that her uncle is ignorant and unaffected by the things that had haunted his son and his wife for so long. “Strange women? Other than the man who tried to kidnap Tarquin, I haven’t heard of any other strangers. Did Yoko say something about a strange woman?”

But the young woman is already shaking her head. “No, no, I just thought…it’s nothing. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Mom sent an email. She says she’s sorry she couldn’t be here in time.”

“She has nothing to apologize for. Send her all my love.”

The young woman hugs him one last time, stepping back to allow others the chance to offer their own condolences. She drifts toward the incinerator and watches glimpses of orange fire flickering cheerfully along the outlines of the vault door that separates her from the intense heat inside. What should I do? she silently asks herself. What do I do?

She does not expect an answer. But from inside the incinerator, where the dead woman’s body lies within the flames, come the distinctive sounds of thumping.

The young woman steps back in alarm and glances toward the crowd of mourners. No one else seems to hear the noise.

The thumping begins again, and with it comes a peculiar scratching.

Like something is raking its nails on the other side of the vault door.

Like something is inside with the burning corpse, trying to claw its way out.

The young woman turns and runs, not stopping until she is finally outside the funeral parlor, the light rain falling all around her. She stares back at the building, shivering, afraid that something might have followed her out.

“Callie?”