Cold feet(44)
Author: Brenda Novak

"How can you say that?" he asked.

"Because I knew Dad."

"Where are you going?"

"To find my shoes so I can walk you out. Then I’m driving over to the house to get that box."

"What are you planning to do with it?"

"I’m going to destroy it," she said, in case he might object to anything else. But she wasn’t going to destroy it. She was going to take it to the police.

THE HOUSE WAS AS DARK as Madison hoped it would be. She knew her mother sometimes had trouble sleeping and would lie on the couch and watch television until dawn. But there was no flicker in the window indicating a television might be in use–thank goodness.

After driving past the house twice, just to be sure, Madison parked in front of the neighbor’s. She didn’t want to risk waking her mother with the sound of her father’s truck, which was the only vehicle available, since she’d left her own car here yesterday. And Madison certainly didn’t want to go through the alley by the garage and risk waking Johnny. It was spooky back there.

Turning off her lights, she cut the engine and got out. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the pavement shone like a mirror beneath the streetlights. Puddles filled every low spot and the entire area smelled of clean air and damp wood. She liked both scents. She just didn’t like creeping up to her parents’ house in the middle of the night.

It’ll only take a few minutes, she told herself, fighting off the sick feeling in her stomach.

Shivering in spite of her warm-up suit, she rubbed her arms as she hurried to the house, moving as silently as possible. Her mother’s car was where she always parked it, but there was steam coming off the hood, which told Madison it probably hadn’t been sitting there long.

Where would Annette have gone so late at night? She pressed her palm to the hood. It was warm, all right. If her mother had been out, it was entirely possible that she’d just gone to bed and wasn’t asleep yet. Madison would need to be extra cautious….

Good thing she’d decided to wait until Caleb’s lights were off before she left. She might have arrived only to find her mother gone, with no clue as to when Annette might return.

Caleb…God, she’d made love to her sexy tenant, and was just beginning to realize that the ramifications could stretch far beyond one night, whether she wanted them to or not. That was why, when she called him after Tye had gone home, she’d told him she wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened.

That he’d agreed so readily came as a surprise. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved about that or upset. But she wouldn’t think about him right now. She couldn’t think about him. She needed to keep her mind on what she was doing.

Slipping through the gate and into the soggy backyard, she glanced toward the garage to check for any hint of light–and saw nothing. She paused to listen as well, and heard only the steady drip, drip, drip coming from the downspouts.

With a bolstering breath, she searched her keys for the one to the back door–and dropped them in her hurry. The loud jangle as they hit the cement made panic clutch her insides.

She leaned against the house, waiting to see if perhaps a light would come on. When nothing happened, she squatted slowly and recovered her keys, going through them even more quickly this time. The sudden noise, exaggerated in the quiet night, had obviously rattled her because she was beginning to feel as though she was being watched.

She cast another furtive glance at the garage as she found the right key and inserted it into the lock. She was anxious to get inside. The thick clouds that had been covering the moon had rolled away and her shadow now fell across the lawn, looking strangely grotesque, like someone sneaking up on her from behind.

Bracing for the click, she turned the handle and slipped inside.

The heater was on. She could hear the steady hum of air blowing through vents as she closed the door behind her, but she heard nothing else. Her mother was asleep. There wasn’t anyone around. She was fine. It would all be over in a few minutes.

Cutting through the kitchen, she headed for the stairs and took them as fast as she dared, quickly descending into the cool, pitch-black basement.

She blew on her hands to warm her cold fingers as she came around the foot of the stairs and stood in front of the door to the crawl space. She’d conquered the garage and her father’s truck. She would conquer this, too. She just needed some light. She wished she had enough nerve to scramble under the house and drag that box out with only the bulb in the crawl space to guide her, but she couldn’t make herself so much as open the door without first getting her bearings. Even if her mother woke up, she wouldn’t see the light from here.

Madison felt a little less spooked once she’d dispelled the darkness. The room appeared as it always had, especially with that photograph of her father looking on. "Tell me I’m right to believe in you," she whispered, and crawled under the house.

It’s almost over…it’s almost over…

She made her way past the boxes and storage items she’d seen before. Her knees hurt as they knocked against the plank floor. She could hear her own breathing and movement, but then something else scurried off to her right, and she froze. What was it? A mouse? A rat? God, this place gave her the creeps.

But she had to get that box.

Finally she reached the end of the makeshift path, where the smell of mildew was strongest, and encountered the moist dirt that spread beneath the rest of the house. She heard another rustle, this one sounding as though it was caused by something much bigger than the average rodent. A squirrel? A possum? Surely it was her imagination that it sounded even bigger than that….

Madison caught her breath, listening. Drip, drip, drip, coming from somewhere beneath the house. She strained her eyes as she stared into the dark void before her. She couldn’t see anything. But she had no doubt that anyone out there could see her.

Fear made her palms grow moist, but she refused to let her imagination run away with her. The house had been locked. The sounds she heard were simply settling noises.

She quit trying to see where there was only blackness, and started shoving things out of the way. But the box wasn’t where she’d left it. She had to search through the junk piled around her before she spotted it a few feet away, turned on its side.

The moment she touched it, she knew something was different. It felt light, far too light.

She didn’t dare take the time to look. Not right then. Not when she was so close to the rustling and the dark.

She pulled it to the door, beneath the light, and opened the flaps to find–nothing. No women’s underwear or shoes. No locket. And certainly no rope.

The box was empty.

"Tye?" she whispered, wondering if he’d beaten her to it, wondering if that scurrying was him.