“My wife and I thought it was sad that she was completely alone on such a day. We tried to talk to her, but she just stood there. Kind of staring off into the distance. You see, we didn’t know her and she didn’t know us, so we didn’t want to upset her by being intrusive, so when she said nothing, we left her.”
“Are you sure?”
He blinked. “What do you mean?”
The detective resumed his strides.
“Are you sure she didn’t know you?”
Bemused, he shrugged. “I don’t know. Marcus might have mentioned me to her?”
“But you never met her before the funeral?”
“I told you I didn’t. Now, can you please tell me what this is about?”
They arrived at a heavy set of high, arched doors. But rather than go through, the detective paused.
“We were called in at seven this evening by a neighbor. Every night, at that time, this neighbor walks her dog past the Usher House and every night, she sees a light moving from room to room. Like clockwork, she says. But not tonight. She waited and nothing, and she worried. So, she called us. We arrived and, well, I have never seen anything like it.”
With a shove, the detective forced the doors open. The hinges screamed in the endless silence. It seemed to rumble through the entire house, and it felt wrong that such a young girl should have been left alone in such a place.
“Did she really not have anyone?” he asked.
The detective stopped and glanced back. “She lost her parents when she was fifteen. Marcus Usher and his sons took her in as a favor to her father. They’d been estranged for years, but I suppose you don’t leave family on the streets. No one hardly saw her. By all accounts, she kept herself locked up in here, until their death.”
Guilt tugged at the strings of his heart. “Why did no one come to check on her?”
“I don’t think there is anyone. It was just Marcus, his sons and her. Oh, and the housekeeper and butler. Cordelia and Arthur Pym.”
A spark of hope flickered in his chest that perhaps that poor girl wasn’t truly alone in the world.
“Where are they? Maybe she’s with them?”
The detective paused. Only a heartbeat. Only long enough to meet his gaze with grim amusement.
“We found them dead in the kitchen in a state of heavy decomposition. Weeks by the looks of it. We’re guessing since just after the funeral. Both are seated at the kitchen table as if waiting for their afternoon tea.”
“Jesus,” he breathes, shuddering beneath the serrated chill that clawed down his spine. “Do you think she killed them?”
The other man clicked his tongue and resumed his strides.
“Not from what we can tell. It looks more like they simply sat down and expired.”
He blew out a breath. “So, not only did she have to bury her entire family, she gets home and the only people she had left die, too.”
The detective shrugged and nodded. “Basically. Pretty sure that’s enough to send any normal person over.”
He thought of something to say but the words died in his throat as they stepped over the threshold and into another corridor.
A dark, dank tunnel with walls slick with sweat and carpets swollen with moisture. The pungent stench of confined rot washed over his face, embedded into the threads of his clothes. He knew he would never get clean.
“What…?”
The detective was already moving on, heavy boots sloshing. He seemed immune to the water droplets dripping from the ceiling. Or the strange hum that scuttled across the stone.
But his companion followed. They moved deep through the chamber. He couldn’t imagine why such a place needed to exist or be so grand. He and his wife were perfectly content in their two story, four-bedroom ranch. This was much too large for anyone.
Still, he kept quiet until they rounded the bend and he froze.
