Page 11

“Again,” said Heather, “sorry about the mess.” As they shuffled into the foyer, she kicked her shoes into a nearby corner. “Grandkids were visiting.”

“All good.” Eve looked around, not exactly sure what “mess” Heather was referring to. Aside from the faint smell of cigarette smoke and a pile of brightly colored toys on the living room floor, this place was near spotless.

Heather smiled. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?” She reached out a hand for Eve’s coat, but Eve waved it away.

“No, that’s okay, I won’t be long.”

Heather blinked at her. Her face was etched with weary loneliness, something Eve hadn’t noticed before. It was the tired look of someone who’d spent countless hours waiting by the phone. Waiting for calls from kids, grandkids, anyone. Normally that would’ve been enough for Eve to backtrack, say she’d love to stay, have tea, spend the rest of her morning with a complete stranger. But today, Eve didn’t have the time to feel bad; she just wanted to use the phone, get back home. Make sure Thomas and Co. were out of her house before they came up with some other excuse to stay even longer. In retrospect, she should have just kicked them out at breakfast.

Once they’re in, they never leave…

Heather filed into the nearby kitchen and gestured toward the living room. “Phone’s in there.”

“Thank you.”

Eve kicked off her boots. As she drifted deeper into the house, she glanced over her shoulder. Shylo was lingering in the foyer, back to her old cautious self. Eve turned away, entered the living room. Gray light poured in through shuttered windows, spilling over wood-vinyl walls, green shag carpet. Aside from an old tube TV, a wicker-back chair, and a velvet couch, the space was pretty much empty. No phone in sight. Eve looked toward the kitchen. “Sorry, where is it?”

Heather, rifling through a yellow fridge, poked her head out. “Hm?”

“The phone,” Eve said.

“Oh.” Heather nodded. “Just down that hall, around the corner. Side table.”

Eve turned back. Next to the TV was a narrow hallway. It stretched nearly the length of the house, then hooked right. With its bluish-green walls, it looked like something out of an old hotel. Symmetrical, with doors flanking both sides, all closed.

Eve remembered the light. The one that had snapped off when she rang the doorbell earlier. She shifted her weight. “You, uh, you live alone?”

Heather peeked out again. “What’s that?”

“Does anyone else live here?”

Heather furrowed her brow. “No…”

“I just—when I was outside, I saw a light switch off.”

“Inside the house?” Heather frowned.

“Yeah, uh, over there.” Eve pointed to the hallway.

Heather fell silent, her eyes scanning the shadowed corridor until she remembered. “Oh, right. Some of the interior lights are on a timer, motion sensored.” She slipped out of sight.

Still a little apprehensive, Eve went over. From above, a dim glow bled down through snow-covered skylights. The walls were lined with photos, collages from better days. Smiling family members, weddings, camping trips, and dogs. Lots of dogs. She rounded the corner. It went for another ten feet, concluding with a nook and a cherrywood end table. On it, a rotary phone, pale red.

Eve marched over and dialed Charlie’s number. A tedious process with the spin wheel. Halfway through, she screwed up a single digit and had to start over. When she finally got it right—one, two, three tones rang out, and—

“Hello?” Charlie’s voice answered. But Eve wasn’t falling for the same trick twice; she braced for the painfully annoying Hello. You’ve reached Charlie message, but instead:

“Hello?” Charlie repeated. “Anyone there?”

Eve exhaled relief. Just hearing Charlie’s actual voice felt like a warm hug. She cleared her throat, trying her best to sound measured, chill. “Hey, Charlie, where are you?”

On the other end, muffled voices chattered in the background, punctuated by slow, rhythmic beeps. Was she in line at a grocery store? It was hard to tell; the signal was weak, the sound thin, crackly.

Charlie said, “Sorry, who is this?”

Eve raised an eyebrow, then remembered—right, unfamiliar number, but, “You don’t recognize my voice?”

“… Eve?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I lost my phone. Using the neighbor’s.”

“Oh?” There was a shade of disapproval in Charlie’s tone, or maybe confusion? No, definitely disapproval. Charlie is judging you for freaking out and walking all the way to the neighbor’s house and—

Eve stopped her spiral. Reminded herself she couldn’t read minds, especially not over the phone, especially not based on a single Oh? Eve went on. “Thomas said you went to town? I’m just— I wanted to make sure that was the case—”

“Eve, it’s pretty loud here. You, you’ll have to speak up.”

A swarm of questions stampeded through Eve’s head, most of them variants of: Why the hell did you leave me alone with complete strangers? But she went with, “When are you coming back?”

A long pause. “When am I…?” Charlie sighed. “Are you okay?” She sounded impatient, angry even.

Why was Charlie upset? Eve was the one who should have been upset—she had every right. With the winter storm, her missing phone, the weirdo family, the potential lurker in the basement—Eve tensed up, a hot flash of anger shooting down her neck. She was getting madder by the second, not at Charlie, but at the whole situation. At herself.

Suppressed, inward-facing rage. Yet another inevitable side effect of her constant people-pleasing. Eve continued, as calmly as she could. “I, no, I’m not really okay. You left without— I found your locket hanging above the fireplace, I didn’t know if something—”

On the other end, another commotion, a voice. Soft. Indecipherable. It muttered to Charlie, impatient, monotone. In a strange way, it reminded Eve of the adults in a Peanuts cartoon: Wom, wom, wom. Charlie responded, barely audible, muffled. Was she covering the receiver? Why?

The voice spoke again, warbled and vague. Wom. Wom. Wom. There was something eerie about it, almost mechanical.

“Eve.” Charlie sighed again. “Just try to—”

The call cut short with an infuriating BEEP. A shrill, jeering note that jabbed into Eve’s ear like a wet stick. She recoiled. The hell just happened? What was Charlie going to say?

Just try to—

Try to what? Escape? Stay calm? Prevent Cthulhu’s resurrection?

Eve’s frustration gave way to deep concern, a fear for Charlie’s safety. Overblown or not, it was enough to make her heart jump a few octaves. She redialed one, slowly, spinning, number, at, a, time. Three rings went off, but Charlie didn’t answer. It didn’t even go to her voicemail, just that same deafening BEEP. Irked, she slammed the phone onto the receiver. Has the weather knocked out the signal? She considered trying again, but… Take a breath, don’t spiral. Charlie was fine. Acting weird, sure. But it sounded like she was in town, just like Thomas had said. Eve took another breath and…

Behind her, a scuffling sound. Heather was down the hall, facing away, hunched in the corner. For a second, the sight startled Eve, but… she was only adjusting a crooked picture frame, humming to herself. The photo depicted a middle-aged Heather. She was nestled up to a tall man with a clean-shaven head, gray eyes, and a handlebar mustache. In it, she was standing on her tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek. They were both in the middle of laughing, both looking very much in love.

Eve cleared her throat. “Th-thanks again.”

Heather glanced over her shoulder. “Of course.”

Eve, still feeling a slight unease, stepped around her and headed toward the foyer. The sight of Heather had triggered a flashback to the night before. Thomas standing in that basement hallway. She shook it off.

Eve was pulling on her boots when Heather shuffled out. “Everything okay?” There was a look in her eyes, a grandmotherly look of genuine concern.

Eve sighed. Part of her actually wanted to blurt it all out, overshare with a person she just met. Tell her about the family, Charlie’s misplaced locket, even the figure on the stairs. But… that would only lead to more embarrassment. “I’m— It’s just been a weird day.”

Heather tilted her head, sympathetic. “I’m a good listener.”

Eve managed a smile, still tempted by the opportunity to vent, unload her anxieties, but… “I should go,” she said, getting to her feet. “Thanks again for all this.” With Shylo at her side, she turned to leave. But as she reached for the door, Heather chimed in. “Sorry to overhear, but—on the phone, did you mention someone named Thomas?”

Eve, hand wrapped around the knob, looked over her shoulder. “Yeah.”

Heather nodded. “It’s a long shot, but… that wouldn’t happen to be Thomas Faust, would it?”

“Yeah…” Eve recalled Thomas’s business card. “I think that’s him.”

“Wow.” Heather smiled sadly, as if the confirmation brought back bittersweet memories. “Tommy Faust, all grown up. I haven’t seen him since… Well, since he was this tall.” She held out her palm, a little above waist height. “What brings him back here?”

Eve ran a hand through her hair. It was still damp from the weather. “Uh, he and his family, they’re moving cross-country.”

“His family?” Heather’s sad smile brightened a bit.

“Yeah.” Eve nodded. “Three kids.”

“Isn’t that just wonderful,” Heather marveled. “I’m sure they’re lovely.” She stared at Eve, awaiting confirmation.

“Uh, yeah, they’re fine,” Eve said. “They seem nice?”

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad he turned out okay, all things considered.”

All things considered?

Heather added, “I used to babysit him, you know?”

“Oh?”

“I’m basically his honorary aunt.”

Eve, curious once again, couldn’t help but pry further. “What was he like back then?”

“Thomas? Good kid. Smart kid. Little bundle of energy, chatterbox. When did they get in?”

“Yesterday evening…”

“They spent the night… Do you know him?”

“No.” Eve shifted her weight. “They, uh, just stopped by. He wanted to give his family a quick tour of the house, but… his kid ended up hiding in the basement. Then the storm.”

“Hiding in the basement,” Heather mused. “Thomas used to do the same thing.” Sudden confusion clouded her face. “I just wonder why they didn’t come by here—I would have been more than happy to have them spend the night.”

Good question.

Eve shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know…”

Heather’s confusion turned to disappointment.

All at once, Eve couldn’t help but feel sorry for her yet again. “I— I think it was a pretty last-minute detour; they probably didn’t want to bother you.”

That seemed to reassure Heather. “Did he mention me at all?” she inquired, her eyes filled with: Of course he did.

Eve opened her mouth, hesitated, and lied. “Yeah.”

Fake Charlie scoffed, Why would you lie about that?

Heather beamed.

That’s why.

Heather asked, “What did he say?”

Fuck.

“What did he…” Eve fell silent, grasping for an answer. “What did he say, about you?”

“Mm-hm.” Heather’s smile faltered.

“Oh.” Eve paused again. “He just said he… had fond memories.”

Heather’s smile returned, apparently buying the lie. “You’re sure you don’t want some tea?”

Eve’s gaze flickered back to the door.

All things considered…Heather’s aside ran through her thoughts again. Eve suspected those three words were doing a lot of heavy lifting. She was torn. Part of her still wanted to know more about Thomas’s past, what happened with his sister, while the other part just wanted to go home. After a brief internal debate, she relented. “Sure, I— I could go for a cup.”

Besides, maybe Charlie will call back? And Heather seems like better company than the family anyway.