Mysteries from the Keys : A Collection of Short Stories (9781927899410) Read online

  Caroline got up, turned her television on and lay down on the bed beside Princess. The early news was just beginning…

  “No trace, whatsoever, of Cindy Logan,” the newscaster was saying. “The search party has found no clues…”

  Caroline pulled her scrapbook out again and ran her fingers over the pictures of each of the girls—Traci Burns, Jordan Knowles, Karen Watson, Bernadette Holmes, Tammy Munst…She snapped the book shut, tears welling up in her eyes. She flicked the television off and headed downstairs. Princess followed.

  Once in the kitchen, Caroline grabbed a set of keys from the drawer and headed down to the basement, walking past the humane animal traps, noticing the empty spot above them. At the end of the main room, she put a key into a large steel door and stepped inside another room. There was only one tiny window, with bars. Her father had fashioned this room so that it was fireproof in order to store important documents, but he never had. Why he’d made it so large, she could never figure out because she had actually never noticed that he had ever used the room. But for her purposes, it was just fine. Caroline flicked a light switch. All was in order—waiting…

  As Caroline was walking back to the stairs, she heard a knock on the back door. It sounded desperate…

  Princess was pacing at the back door when Caroline reached the top of the stairs. The knocking had ceased, but as she stepped into the kitchen, Caroline noticed a shadowy figure disappearing toward the lake. It looked like a woman.

  “Should I go after her?” she asked Princess. Caroline glanced at her watch—6:00. No, whoever it was, if they’d been desperate enough, they would have stayed.

  Caroline double-checked the locks on the doors and windows. She couldn’t be too careful. Back in the kitchen, she glanced out the window again. No sign of anyone. “Maybe I imagined it,” she mumbled. She fixed a sandwich, made a large mug of tea, and headed back to her room. “Should we just curl up with a good book, Princess?” Princess jumped on the bed and began to purr.

  Dismissing the thought of reading, Caroline pulled her scrapbook out again. She had read these articles numerous times. What was it that everyone was missing? What was the common thread—besides all having disappeared from the Lake District? She skimmed over her notes: all the girls were blond, in their early 20’s, athletic, vacationers camping alone or with one or two friends—females, as well.

  Traci had last been seen going for a jog along the highway; Jordan, hiking up the trail behind the Smokey Campground; Karen doing early morning laps in Lake Munro, which was right next to the lake where Caroline’s cottage was. In fact, all the girls had disappeared in proximity to where she was; however, and this suddenly dawned on Caroline, they were all last seen on the other side of the lake—on his side!

  Caroline snapped the book shut. It had to be Mr. Malcolm. She’d noticed the way he looked at her when he was visiting with her dad. And the way he was always telling her to be so careful in the woods—not to go out alone—but the way he said it had always sent shivers up and down her spine. And, he was always going off to that clearing by the swamp. Sometimes her dad went with him, which Caroline didn’t like. She also didn’t like the way her dad behaved when he was around Mr. Malcolm—worse than his usual arrogant behaviour.

  The phone startled Caroline out of her musing. She let it ring five times before answering. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Caroline,” her mother’s cheery voice came across the line. “How are you doing, honey?”

  “Fine.”

  “Are you eating properly?”

  “Yes, Mother, you’ve only been gone one night!”

  “I know…I just worry about you.”

  “Don’t…I’m a big girl.” Caroline hadn’t meant to be quite so harsh.

  Her mother paused before speaking again. “Your father is coming up on Friday night to see…”

  “Why?” Caroline butt in.

  “He needs to see Mr. Malcolm, for some unfinished business, is what he told me.”

  Caroline panicked. “Is he coming to the cottage first?” she managed to ask.

  “I believe that was his plan.”

  More silence. “Well, I guess I’ll let you go; just thought you would like to know your father was coming. Love you, Caroline.”

  “Yep,” Caroline answered mechanically as she dropped the receiver into its cradle. “He’s going to ruin everything, Princess,” she said, scratching the cat behind her ears. Princess looked up with disdain at having been disturbed. “Well, I’ll just have to make the most of the next couple days before Dad gets here.”

  Caroline decided she would check her traps before dawn. She settled under her covers and attempted sleep. But it was an uneasy one—the same dream kept disturbing her peace—a faceless man was peering into her window, and he was laughing and pointing his finger at her. Then he would curl it in a beckoning motion, and the laughter would increase in its evil intonation! She turned and tossed, and tossed and turned…

  The alarm buzzed loudly. Caroline reached over and hit the button. She didn’t want to get up. She was so tired, and her throat hurt even worse than yesterday. But she had no choice; her father was coming, and she needed to deal with this matter before he arrived. She dressed and went downstairs. Princess was nowhere to be seen.

  Caroline brewed a pot of tea and poured some into a thermos to take with her. Still, no Princess. That was exceedingly strange. She shrugged her shoulders and grabbed her jacket, a heavier one than she had worn the previous day. It was still quite foggy out, especially over the lake. Just as she was about to leave, Caroline heard a crash coming from the living room.

  “Is that you, Princess?”

  Silence.

  Caroline grabbed a butcher knife from the drawer and then slunk toward the living room. She noticed a shadow in the far corner, sitting in her father’s rocker.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Show your face!”

  “Hello, Caroline,” the voice was vaguely familiar.

  “Mr. Malcolm?” Caroline held up the knife.

  “There’s no need for the knife, Caroline,” he said, standing and stepping out of the shadows. “I noticed someone skulking around your cottage earlier, so I came over to make sure you were okay.”

  “You lie!” Caroline spit out. “My doors and windows are all locked—how did you get in?”

  Mr. Malcolm pointed: “That window was open.”

  Caroline looked. Impossible! She had secured everything! She pointed the knife menacingly. “Don’t come any closer,” she threatened.

  “Caroline, please; I am just looking out for you as your father asked me to do. Put the knife down; we don’t want anybody to get hurt here.” He stepped forward.

  “Not another step!” Caroline was trying to think—what would Ruth do? This hadn’t been part of the story. Something inside her snapped and she lunged forward, planting the knife into Mr. Malcolm’s abdomen. The look of shock on his face brought a smile to hers. Down he slumped, grasping at his belly. Caroline stared at him. The last thing he saw, before closing his eyes, was her smile.

  Caroline sat down in her dad’s chair. Things had happened too fast and she needed time to think. Her fingers tapped on the wooden arms. Well, Ruth already had the victim in the room—so, all she needed to do was get Mr. Malcolm down there. She’d have to drag him. Caroline noticed the old blanket—the one her mother loved—on the couch. Retrieving it, she laid it down and then rolled Mr. Malcolm onto it and began to pull. “Better to clean the blood from one blanket than have to clean an entire floor, hallway, and stairs,” she mumbled.

  Mr. Malcolm was not as heavy as Caroline thought he would be, but it still took some manoeuvring for her to get him down the basement stairs and into the room. She leaned over and checked for a pulse—it was faint. She shrugged, turned and left; some things needed to be tended to.

  Caroline headed down to the dock where her canoe was tied. She noticed Mr. Malcolm’s boat on the other side. Quickly, she guided it ar
ound and tied it to the stern of her canoe. When she got to the other side of the lake, she’d tie his boat to his dock, in its usual spot, retrieve her traps and then head back to the cottage and deal with him. There were a lot of questions he would need to answer—if he regained consciousness.

  His entire body ached. He gazed at his surroundings. A smidgen of early morning light was filtering through the small window opposite to where he was laying. He tried to sit up, but his head was too woozy and he was hit with a sharp pain in his gut. It was then he remembered!

  Caroline had stabbed him. Gerry had mentioned he thought his daughter was still not quite right from the breakdown, and he hadn’t been too sure about leaving her alone up here. But to go to this extent? She had no idea what danger she could be in.

  Malcolm, an undercover cop, had been staking out a house on the other side of the swamp and was getting ready to make a move now that there was some concrete proof. When the most recent girl, Cindy, had disappeared, there had been a clue left behind—something they’d never had previously—something they had not released to the media.

  Another pain shot through his abdomen. “Help!” he moaned before slipping into unconsciousness again, but not before he thought he heard a cat meowing outside the door.

  to his dock, Caroline made her way to the pathway that led to the swamp. She had a visual picture of where she’d laid all the traps and hoped some innocent creature hadn’t happened by. That was one thing that she and Ruth hadn’t thought of.

  She picked her way carefully to the first trap, leaned over and pulled it from its hiding place. Then she moved on to the next one. With three of the traps gathered, she looked around trying to remember where the fourth one was. She knew it was closer to the chairs than the others had been. As she cautiously stepped forward, Caroline was startled by the snapping of a twig. She turned quickly, lost her balance and fell. The traps scattered. She heard another twig snap, and as she looked up someone was walking steadily toward her—someone who did not look human.

  The creature was tall and appeared to be rail-thin beneath the ragged clothing. Its face was hidden behind long, straw-like hair, and shadowed by a huge sun hat. The hands that crept from the sleeves of its torn jacket resembled the claws of a bird, the nails curving toward its palms. And the stench that emanated from it…

  Caroline pushed herself to her feet and began backing away. Snap!

  “Well, well, what do I have here,” Caroline heard before blacking out. “Not blond, but I can fix that!”

  up to the cottage early and surprise his daughter. The excuse he’d given his wife, was just that—an excuse. An eerie feeling crept through his bones when he saw the front door was ajar. He stepped into the cottage and found Princess meowing at the cellar door. When she saw him, she slipped through the door, stood on the landing, and meowed again.

  “What’s wrong, Princess?” Gerry asked, following her.

  She padded down the steps, headed for the room and meowed at the steel door. Gerry opened it. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, rushing to his friend. He checked for a pulse—faint.

  Gerry raced upstairs and called 911.

  room. Her ankle was throbbing. The door swung open, and a woman walked in. “Ah, you are awake!”

  “Who are you?” Caroline managed.

  “That’s not important; I need to do something about this colour,” she crooned, running her fingers through Caroline’s hair.

  Caroline tried to pull away, but the woman grasped hold of her face and peered into her eyes. “There is no use, dear; there is no way out of here.”

  Caroline fainted. The woman picked her up and carried her into a bathroom. “It is time to go blond—like the rest of them.”

  Malcolm away, he’d managed to regain consciousness long enough to tell Gerry that it was Caroline who had stabbed him, and he had no idea where she was now.

  Gerry’s decision to come up early to help Caroline close the cottage and bring her home had been a lucky one for Malcolm. He had changed his mind about letting his daughter remain by herself for five weeks, having second thoughts that she would be able to handle so much alone time. He had a gut feeling that she wasn’t fully out of the woods from her breakdown. And, according to his wife, their daughter had been behaving strangely lately—but to stab someone? Gerry glanced at the lake and noticed Princess sitting at the water’s edge, staring across to Mr. Malcolm’s cottage.

  “You know where Caroline is?” he asked, going up to her. She rubbed around his legs, and then returned to her vigil. It was then Gerry remembered a recent conversation with his friend while they were sitting by the swamp…

  “We’ve had that house under surveillance all summer,” he’d begun, pointing to a place on the other side of the swamp. “Some woman, who used to be a top model, bought it a few years ago. Bit of a recluse. Story is that she was in a terrible fire—ended her career. One of our officers thought he saw something suspicious over there a few months ago, so we set up surveillance…”

  Gerry put two and two together and called the police.

  table in a room with mirrored walls. Six young, blond women were staring at her. “Welcome,” they said in unison. Caroline recognized them all; they were the girls in the news clippings.

  The swamp woman entered the room, followed by a young man who was pushing a cart with a movie projector on it. He pulled down a movie screen. She flicked on the projector. The girls turned, robotically, to watch.

  Caroline saw a beautiful young woman parading on a runway. Suddenly, flames shot across the screen and out of the flames came a distinctly different woman—at least, that is how it appeared! Caroline gasped. The others just sat there, pokerfaced. The woman laughed hysterically.

  When the film finished, the young man served supper. The girls ate mechanically. What’s wrong with them? Caroline wondered. She decided not to eat, fearing the food may be drugged.

  The woman noticed, came up to her and cooed gently in her ear: “It would be better for you if you eat.” Caroline picked up her fork.

  When the meal was finished, the girls stood in unison, and walked, single file, out of the room like a parade of models. The woman pushed Caroline into line.

  the swamp’s edge. “We’ll have to go in quietly,” said one officer. “We don’t want to spook this woman.”

  “Are the girls still alive?” Gerry asked.

  “Not sure.”

  the boats crossing the swamp. They would not take her alive—or the girls. “You know what to do, Jason.”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  After saturating the floors with gasoline, Jason flicked a lit match onto the floor and walked out the back door, disappearing into the woods. Caroline was watching from her window. She heard the hysterical laughter above her and smelled the smoke. “Help,” she hollered as she tried to open her door. It was locked!

  burning house, rushing toward the cries for help. A woman was laughing, but they couldn’t find her—the laughter soon ceased.

  While waiting for the air ambulance, Gerry held his daughter’s hand. “Caroline…”

  Her eyes were glazed. “Who?”

  “Caroline, it’s okay, honey, all the girls are out. Everyone is accounted for except the woman, Sophie. It looks as though she was trying to live the life she’d lost, by collecting beautiful young women.”

  “There was a young man in the house; did you find him, sir?”

  Gerry was puzzled that his daughter had called him sir. “No, there was no one else in the house, Caroline.” Gerry gazed into his daughter’s eyes and observed the return of her former illness.

  Caroline’s vitals and confirmed that physically she was okay, they said her mental condition would probably pass with time—she was obviously still in shock.

  Gerry and Caroline were given a ride back to the cottage. Gerry put his arm around his daughter and the two of them stood gazing around at the peaceful setting. Had Gerry taken closer note of his daughter, he would have seen her staring at nothing
.

  Finally, “Well, Caroline, how say we lock this place up and head home?”

  Caroline didn’t say anything.

  Gerry led her up the steps of the cottage and once inside he directed her to the couch. “Wait here while I shut things down; it won’t take long.”

  Princess showed up out of nowhere and joined Caroline on the couch. Caroline began stroking the cat, still saying nothing, still looking at nothing. Gerry heaved a heavy sigh and left the room to finalize the closing of the cottage.

  Once all the windows were locked, the blinds drawn down, the water turned off, and the furnace turned down to a minimum so the place wouldn’t freeze, Gerry returned to the living room. Caroline was still sitting in the same spot, still stroking her cat.

  “Do you want me to gather your things, or would you like to get them?” he asked.

  For the first time since the rescue, Caroline showed a flicker of life. Without a word, she pushed Princess from her lap and headed upstairs, a silent indication she would pack her own belongings. A half an hour later, she reappeared with a suitcase and her laptop.

  “Here, let me get that for you, love,” Gerry said, taking the suitcase from his daughter’s hand. He reached for the laptop, as well, but Caroline clutched it tightly and moved away from her father. He didn’t push the issue and headed out to the car.

  Caroline and Princess followed him. He opened the car trunk and placed the suitcase inside. “Would you like to put the laptop here, too?” he asked, turning to Caroline.

  Without answering, Caroline opened the back door of the car and slipped inside, her laptop clutched securely in her arms. Princess jumped in after her.

  Gerry sighed again. His heart was heavy. He hoped this situation would not last long, that his daughter’s experience would not throw her too deeply back into the dark abyss she’d just recovered from. “I’ll just be a few minutes: I have to lock the cottage,” he said as he closed the car door.