House of Fallen Trees Read online

  Frustrated, she called and left a message for her parents saying a work thing had come up—a deadline for a short story—and she wouldn’t be able to make the birthday gathering after all.

  She was relieved she didn’t have to talk to her mother in person. The woman would almost certainly have sensed the lie and pressured Karen to come clean and then proceed to guilt her into attending the birthday dinner, whether she wanted to or not.

  That done, she went into her kitchen to brew coffee and took a mug of it into her office with her so she could do Internet searches on her PC. She didn’t quite have the courage yet to touch the laptop, fearing the same message would start popping up all over again.

  Sipping coffee, she did her best to dig up info on Sean, which consisted of a few articles in Washington newspapers about his going missing without a trace. She found nothing she didn’t already know.

  Next, she searched for anything regarding his partner, Rory Luden, and also turned up next to nothing, except that he was a summer school teacher of social studies in Indigo Bend, Washington, and often traveled to Spokane to run marathons. He had no personal website she could find and, from what she could gather, was about as private a person as she herself was. Of course, being a gay man living in East Bum Fuck Nowhere could have had something to do with that. She doubted the lumber town he called home could be an easy place to be gay in. Most small towns, she knew, were filled with less than liberal minds.

  Though she continued to turn up nothing, she kept searching anyway. It wasn’t until her coffee had grown cold that she sat back with a sigh and admitted maybe she couldn’t find anything because there was nothing to find.

  Drumming her fingers on the desk, she wracked her brain, doing her best to remember any friends Sean had had before he moved away to the Northwest.

  She could think of no one. Even his high school friends remained elusive in her mind. She just hadn’t paid much attention to them at the time.

  Maybe her mother would remember some of them, she thought. But asking her mom would be opening up a whole new can of worms to wade through.

  “Fuck,” she whispered, reluctant to give up so soon.

  After several minutes of trying to think her way out of the box, she decided to give it a break. Work on her novel for a while. That at least would cheer her up some.

  She clicked off the Internet and went into her Microsoft Word program, opening the file called DMASQUE and scrolling down to where she had left off the last time she’d worked on it. Her eyes flicked over the words, rereading what she’d written as she grabbed her mug for a sip of coffee. The instant the liquid touched her lips, she grimaced. There was nothing worse than cold coffee, as far as she was concerned.

  A new cup was in order. She went to the kitchen, refilled the mug from the still warm carafe, nuked it a minute for good measure, then returned to her office, chilly hands wrapped around the hot porcelain.

  The mug tumbled from her hands, splashing her lower body with hot coffee, but Karen barely noticed.

  On the screen, the words TWO MEN HAVE THE CARCASS were repeated endlessly on the page, the cursor blinking at the end of an unfinished line: TWO MEN.

  Still, Karen did not scream. She sank to her knees, a squeak of confusion escaping her throat.

  She was losing her mind.

  That was the only explanation that made sense. Hallucinating, maybe. Or asleep. This could be a dream.

  She clung to that thought like the victim of a shipwreck clinging to a rotten wooden board in a vast black sea, no moon, no stars, no land in sight.

  Just sleeping. Dreaming. A very bad dream, but still just a dream.

  On the floor, she curled into the fetal position and closed her eyes, lips moving silently, repeating the word “Asleep” over and over, until she finally was.

  When she awoke, she realized she was cold and wet. Sitting up, she remembered everything and saw that she had curled up on the floor in a puddle of coffee, among broken shards of the mug she’d dropped.

  Running a hand over her mouth, she stared suspiciously through the dark up at her computer monitor. It was blank.

  No matter.

  She knew what she had to do now.

  Whether Sean was dead or alive didn’t matter anymore. She had to find him. That was what her subconscious had been trying to tell her with all its sleight of hand tricks. Trying to wake her up to the reality of the situation. No one was doing anything to find her brother—or his remains, if that turned out to be the case. Everyone had given up, even her parents. But Karen couldn’t give up. Didn’t want to, though if anyone had said this to her a few days before, she would have scoffed and said, “The past is the past. We can’t wallow in it.” And she believed that still, but now she knew the situation with Sean wasn’t the past at all. It was the present. It would only be the past once he was found and buried, if that’s what it came to. Otherwise, it would continue to haunt her.

  She couldn’t allow that. She needed to know the truth. And there was only one place she could go to find it: Fallen Trees, Washington. Sean’s last known residence, his last known connection to the world and the people in his life. Groaning at the stiffness in her body, Karen got to her feet, massaging the back of her neck with one hand. She would clean up the coffee and broken mug later. Right now, she had a phone call to make.

  In the living room, she clicked on a table lamp and found Rory’s phone number immediately, something that was a bit unusual for her in the chaotic state of her condo.

  She picked up the phone and dialed the number she’d jotted down, suddenly certain the line would go dead or an automated voice would tell her the number had been disconnected, was no longer in service. Something.

  But three thousand miles away in Washington State, a phone rang. It rang half a dozen times and just as Karen was about to hang up, frustrated there was no voicemail on which to leave a message, a groggy male voice said, “Hello?”

  “Rory?”

  “Yeah. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Karen Lewis.” She waited for his reply, but received none. “Sean’s sister.”

  “I know,” he said. “Do you realize what time it is?”

  She glanced at the clock. “It’s five AM. Which would make it…” She tried to calculate the time difference.

  “Two o’clock,” he answered for her and sighed loudly. Maybe he was yawning.

  With her free hand, she scratched her forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t think about the time.”

  Rory cleared his throat and Karen heard the rustle of bed sheets. “What can I do for you, Karen?”

  “I want to come out there,” she said. “See the B&B. Meet you. See where my brother lived.”

  More silence on the other end of the line. Finally, sounding genuinely confused, he asked, “Why?”

  “Wouldn’t you? If you were in my shoes?”

  “I…yeah, I guess so. But—”

  “No. No buts. I have to do this, Rory.” She hesitated, reluctant to show any weakness. “It would mean a lot to me.”

  Rory didn’t say anything for a long time, long enough to make Karen suspect he’d hung up on her. At last, he asked, “What about your parents?”

  “What about them?”

  “Do they know you plan to come out?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way, if you can. That’s one headache I don’t need.”

  She ignored the implication that she was a headache to him and said, “That’s fine. I have no intention of telling them anything. They probably won’t even know I’m out of town.”

  “How long do you intend to stay?”

  “I have no idea,” she said honestly. “However long it takes, I suppose.”

  “However long what takes?”

  She thought about it. “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll know when I get there.”

  Once more, his silence revealed more to her than words ever could.

  “I won’t be any trouble,” she said. “At least, I�
��ll try not to be.”

  “Okay,” he replied, the reluctance in his voice all too obvious. “Just don’t expect much.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean the house. It’s not quite finished.”

  “Oh, I don’t care about that. I probably won’t want to spend more than a few hours looking the place over.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said slowly. “The house is in the middle of the forest. The road doesn’t even go all the way up to it. You have to hike onto the property.”

  She was somewhat taken aback by this new information. “Jesus. You really are out in the boonies then.”

  “That’s one way of putting it. But, I’m down in the town now. I have a small house I rent. You’re welcome to the sofa if you like, but I’m telling you, getting to the house is a pain in the ass. If you go up there, you won’t want to hike back down the same day, especially now that it’s getting darker earlier. And colder.”

  She chuckled uneasily. “You make it sound like it’s on the moon.”

  “It may as well be. There’s hot water and electricity, but no phone lines.”

  “That’s no problem. I’ll bring my cell.”

  It was Rory’s turn to laugh. “And no cell towers either.”

  “Oh. Well…I’m sure I’ll make do. I’m not one for much company anyway.”

  “Good, because you won’t find it up there. I haven’t been there myself for about a week.”

  “I see.” They were silent for a few moments, and then Karen wanted to get to the practicalities. “So…where should I fly into?”

  He sniffed. “Spokane. Call me back when you book a flight. I’ll pick you up.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can take a cab.”

  He laughed again. “To Fallen Trees? No, I’ll pick you up.”

  “Ok, then,” she said, doing her best to sound friendly and appreciative. “I’ll call you back with the info once I get it.”

  “Cool. And Karen?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Pack something warm.”

  She smiled. “Will do. Go back to sleep.”

  “I heard that,” he said.

  She disconnected long enough to dig out the phone number of her travel agent. No phone service, she thought. Out in the middle of nowhere. No people around. What she had initially found slightly alarming was now sounding more and more appealing to her.

  Think of it as a writer’s retreat, she thought. If nothing else, maybe I’ll be able to finish my novel.

  Suddenly in a better mood than she had been before calling Rory, she went to clean up the mess in her office, then shower and call the travel agent.

  The day brightened around her and the unease that had been plaguing her—words like carcass and men—began to fade a bit. Not completely. They were still there, somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach, but she did her best to ignore them and, for the most part, was successful.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The cross-country non-stop flight was uneventful and Karen spent most of it buried in the laptop she’d forced herself to bring/carry/open/work on. She drank several glasses of white wine and became completely lost in her fictitious world, barely glancing up when the captain announced the time and weather in Spokane. It wasn’t until the captain insisted everyone shut off all electrical devices that she closed the computer and looked around at her traveling companions, a dazed expression on her face.

  It was Tuesday, 5:50 pm PST.

  She was surprised by how dark and cold it was when she crossed the tarmac, canvas bag slung over one shoulder, computer bag slung over the other.

  Rory had said he would meet her in baggage claim and not to worry about the fact that she had no idea what he looked like.

  “I’ll know you,” he’d said over the phone. “I’ve seen pictures.”

  She was surprised to hear Sean even owned any pictures from his past life, never mind actually showed them to people.

  Once she arrived at baggage claim, she felt odd and conspicuous. He could have been anyone, watching her from afar or standing right beside her. For the first time, she began to wonder about the wisdom in traveling across the country to meet a man she didn’t know, had only spoken to on the phone, both times only briefly.

  “Karen,” a voice spoke from behind her.

  She turned, already smiling politely.

  Rory Luden was quite handsome, as she’d known he would be. Maybe mid-thirties, tall, receding dark blond hair, blue eyes, and the full lips of a movie star. He held out his hand. “I’m Rory. Good to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Karen said as they shook, eyeing another man who stood beside Rory regarding her quizzically.

  “This is my friend, Saul,” Rory said. “He just came along for the ride.”

  Saul was shorter than Rory, darker and stockier. “Nice to meet you,” Karen said, inwardly cringing. Now she was about to get into a car with two strange men. This instantly brought back the phrase that had been taunting her: Two men have the carcass.

  Were these the two men?

  She tried to keep her face neutral while her mind raced. Was her phone in the computer bag?

  “You’re definitely a Lewis,” Saul told her, suddenly smiling with impossibly bright teeth. “I would have known it even if I didn’t know it.”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “You look just like your brother,” he explained, giving Rory a quick, concerned glance.

  “That she does,” Rory agreed. “Can I take your bags for you?”

  Maybe the phone was in the bag with her clothes and toiletries? “Uh…no, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure? They look pretty heavy.”

  “You must be beat from the flight,” Saul added, reaching for the computer bag. “Let us help you.” He tugged the bag from her shoulder, their eyes meeting for an instant when she wouldn’t let the bag go. She saw something flash in those dark eyes. Suspicion? Offense? She couldn’t be sure…

  And then Rory was helping himself to her other bag and she relented to both of them.

  “Thank you,” she said awkwardly.

  “The car isn’t too far,” Rory said and began walking towards the airport exit.

  “I’ll even let you have shotgun.” Saul smiled at her from over his shoulder.

  “Thanks.” Karen returned the smile weakly.

  She trailed behind them slowly, doing her best to calm herself. She knew she was being ridiculous—at least, she hoped she was. After all, this Rory guy was someone who Sean had held very dear and though she and Sean were never what you’d call best friends, she thought she knew him pretty well.

  But what proof do you have that these guys even knew Sean? This Rory character just called you up out of the blue. You’d never heard of him before. For all you know, this could be one of those writer/stalker deals. You could end up like that poor bastard in Misery.

  This last thought made her laugh aloud, causing the men to turn back to her, their faces puzzled.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m a little jetlagged.”

  “Been there, done that,” Saul said. “The time zones are a bitch.”

  They were outside in the brisk air, crossing a crowded parking garage. Her breath puffed out before her in wispy plumes. The cold made her feel better, less claustrophobic and nervous. She took great gulps of it as discreetly as possible.

  “We have to take an elevator up a couple of decks,” Rory said, aiming them towards the side of the garage.

  This is it, she thought, now more amused by her wild imagination than actually frightened. If they’re gonna rape and murder you, it will probably be in the elevator. Another, less amused voice, responded: Not if they’re going to take you to some secluded house in the woods and torture you first. What if they’re into making snuff films, for Christ’s sake? You don’t know these guys from Adam.

  Then, the most disturbing voice of all: Don’t forget, girly. Two men have the carcass.

 
; It took every fiber of willpower in her body not to run screaming for the nearest exit. But part of her remained rational, knew she had seen way too many horror movies, read way too many horror books. Couple that with already having a vivid imagination, being in a very odd circumstance, and you were bound to breed paranoia.

  At the elevator, Rory pushed the Up button and the three of them were joined by a middle-aged couple pulling suitcases behind themselves. The couple offered tired smiles to the trio but said nothing.

  The five of them stepped into the elevator, Karen secretly breathing a sigh of relief, though she had no idea why she should. She was about to get into a car with these two strangers and be taken God knew where.

  East Bum Fuck, remember?

  Yes. East Bum Fuck. Where, for whatever reason, her brother had chosen to settle and live his life, far away from his past, in a place where it couldn’t touch him, no matter how long and spidery its fingers were.

  On the third level of the parking garage, the men led her to an older model red Jeep Cherokee. Once she’d settled into the front passenger seat and fastened the seatbelt, she realized just how exhausted she was. It was tempting to just close her eyes and tell Rory to wake her when they arrived, but she fought against it.

  “I’m anxious to see Fallen Trees,” she said, not liking the silence as Rory started the engine and drove out of the garage.

  “We’re probably not going to get there tonight,” Rory said. “May as well just stay in Indigo Bend at Saul’s house. It’s a lot closer and you’ll have a room all to yourself. We’ll head up to Fallen Trees in the morning.”

  Karen was surprised by this turn of events, but tried not to show it. “Sounds good to me,” she said, too tired to think of anything more conversational. She was beginning to relax and get a grip on her paranoia. After all, she had been the one to call Rory and tell him she was coming out, not the other way around. She was imposing herself on him, with little regard to how he felt about the situation. She simply hadn’t given him a choice in the matter. Rory turned the radio on. Soft jazz drifted from the speakers, further lulling Karen into relaxation. Gazing out at the night as it sped by, she took in as much of the scenery as the darkness allowed. This was her brother’s chosen place. His chosen state. She waited to see if she could feel his spirit here somehow, but after concentrating for several moments, all she could really feel was a chill.