Julen didn’t move. The threshold seemed to be the thing between him keeping his soul and eternal damnation.
But inside…
Light, murky and sickly, collected in a strange halo both too bright and too mute. He couldn’t tell where it came from, but it oozed over the oddly shaped cluster of … mirrors?
As if reading his mind, the detective answered, “There’s a makeshift bed in the middle. The mirrors are placed around it. I think she was sleeping down here.”
Julen noticed that the other man hadn’t moved any closer either. It made him feel a little better.
“This is nothing compared to the coffins.”
Julen’s head jerked up, stomach already roiling. “Coffins?”
The detective jerked his chin deeper in the room where Julen couldn’t see without stepping inside.
“Three coffins. She had them dug up and moved here.”
Julen felt his jaw unhinge. “Can you do that?”
The man shrugged. “If you have the money and power, I suppose.”
“What was she…?”
He cut himself off, not sure he wanted to know.
“They haven’t been opened or disturbed so I’m guessing just to have with her.”
“Clearly, she is sick,” Julen decided, heart still hurting for her. “She needs help.”
“If we can find her.”
They left shortly after that. Julen felt the rush of relief when he saw the front door but didn’t exhale until they stood by the same cruiser that brought him.
“Thank you for coming,” the detective said like Julen had a choice. “We’ll keep you updated if anything new turns up.”
Julen preferred if he never heard the name Usher or saw that house again, but he nodded and thanked the man before getting into the cruiser.
The drive home, back to his wonderful family, his loving wife and beautiful children, Julen couldn’t stop thinking about that house. The still corridors. The endless nothing that seemed to span across everything.
There had been no furniture. No paintings on the walls. The places they ventured were abandoned. Condemned. Except for the mirrors. So many mirrors.
Maybe it was the back entrance. Julen was a simple man. He didn’t understand fancy houses. Maybe the rich could afford two foyers and two driveways.
But no furniture?
Didn’t matter. Marcus Usher was dead. Buried next to his wife and children. Their contract for the farm still holds. They signed all the papers the night Marcus met his tragic end. By the will of God, the papers survived and the lawyer put them through. Marcus Usher was dead, but his estate remains and, well, Julen just wasn’t savvy enough to understand the rest, except that his farm will continue to run for many more years because of the other man.
In truth, Julen knew he owed him. Strawberries didn’t pay the bills on their own. They weren’t struggling, but with the cost of things, it was only a matter of time. It would only be fitting if Julen did his best to help Marcus’s niece if needed.
If they found her.
Christ, that poor thing.
Julen rubbed both hands over his face and said another little prayer for her.
Two in a single night. Mom would have fallen over.
The cruiser and the silent officer behind the wheel came to a slow crawl outside Julen’s house. Both mumbled a goodbye ashe let Julen out, and he was driving off before Julen hit the first step on the porch.
