The House of Wood (5 page)

This is ridiculous, she
thought. The house hadn't done anything to her, it had been
him
. The house itself was just a building,
an inanimate object that couldn’t do anything except look creepy.
So why did she feel such hatred towards it? The dolls, she thought.
Nothing could explain the dolls. Anger and bitterness, ate away at
her. She hated it and everything it represented.

As if on autopilot, she moved
forward and around to the right of the house. The bleak silence
seemed to permeate everything, seeping in to her pores. The
isolation was almost suffocating. It clawed at her mind, trying to
find a crevice, any recess in which it could embed itself. There’s
nothing out here, she thought, as she continued her tour around the
fringes of the building. There was just the house. And of course,
the blackbirds that plagued the farms in the area. The town had
always had an abundance of them. Two were perched on the dark roof,
their beady eyes watching her, as she walked along the final wall.
One of them had some kind of dead animal carcass hanging from its
beak. A mouse, maybe? Whatever it was, it looked like a horrific
way to die. She shuddered. The birds were another thing she hated
about the place.

Rachel was back at the front
now. She had noticed something; no matter where she stood to look
at it; front, back, side, it was still the same old building. She
supposed it always would be like that. At certain points, it had
felt as though it was going to come alive and lurch forward,
crushing her beneath its huge mass. In a way, she wished that was
possible.

Her hand had started to
tremble. Bending over, she picked up a reasonable sized stone. It
felt sharp and harsh in her smooth palm. It would do.

She stood up and launched it at
the house.

“I hate you, I hate you!”

The rock hit the wall, chipping
off some of the new paint, before falling lifeless back to the
floor. She selected another.

“You ruined my life,” she
screamed, hurling the stone.

It struck. Then another, and
another. Her breathing had quickened, going in and out with short,
ragged bursts.

“You took everything from
me.”

Deep down, she knew it wasn’t
the house she was aiming at; the house had done nothing, except act
as the setting to her nightmare. But she couldn’t stop herself. The
person she wanted to get at wasn’t here. Her seething anger had
broken through to the surface and was in full swing. There was no
stopping it.

More and more rocks ricocheted
off of the white wooden walls of the building. Scarring them. The
final stone flew through the air and struck the window with a loud
crash that seemed to reverberate around the hillside.

She stopped, the sound pulling
her out of the maelstrom that was her fury. She took a deep breath
trying to slow her heart rate. She looked up at the broken window.
The jagged hole in the black pane made it look even more sinister.
But the whole event had felt like a cleansing, a releasing of the
pressure valve that had been slowly rising since she had arrived in
town. There was no telling how long it would last. No doubt it
would bubble and boil over again before her time was done. She
prayed that she would have left town by then.

She turned to leave, stopping
only once to look over her shoulder at the house. It was still. The
only thing was the ever present silence. She closed her eyes and
walked away.

What she missed was the face
staring out of the broken window. Smiling.

***

The figure moved away from the
window, gliding along the floorboards. A single blackbird sat in
the corner, pecking at a rat carcass.

“I know they can’t find
out.”

“If they find out the truth
it’ll be down to you. Could you forgive yourself if they do?”

“Just leave me alone!” The
figure shouted causing the bird to look up.

It was pitch black in the
bedroom. A small shaft of sunlight peeked through a crack in the
curtains. Unlike the rest of the house, the upstairs hadn’t been
touched yet. It was like a blank canvas waiting to be transformed
in to a work of art. Something beautiful. But the old furniture
that had survived the fire was covered in dirt and dust. Cobwebs
adorned the lampshade and every available ceiling corner.

“Well could you forgive
yourself if people find out the truth?” A silence passed for a few
moments. “Well? You know what your brother did. You’d be
ruined.”

“NO!” The figure spat, slamming
a fist against the wall. A small cloud of dust leapt in to the
air.

The figure sat alone in the
living room of the old house contemplating what would happen if the
time came to come clean. It probably wouldn’t come to that. Most
people didn’t last long around here anyway. Something always scares
them off.

“You won’t take me like you did
the rest.”

“I want revenge on that
bitch.”

“We shall see. Nothing happens
to her before I get the full story of what occurred here.”

Silence.

The figure moved around the
house, doing bits and pieces before leaving out the front door.
Rachel was long gone. Call it chance, or fate, but whichever it
was, it was a fine thing. She was exactly what was needed. It would
be time for answers soon. Everything would work out just fine.

***

It hadn’t taken Rachel long to
walk back in to town. By the time she had reached the bed and
breakfast, the heavy rain had turned in to a light drizzle. Even
the sky was beginning to brighten, the sunlight finally fighting
its way through the dense grey cloud. She lowered her umbrella and
let the damp air hit her face, refreshing her before she went back
inside. It was as if she was washing away the previous hour spent
travelling to and from the house. It felt good.

She tried not to make a sound,
as she entered the small hallway. Off to her left, the dining room
was beginning to stir with the first, early morning patrons eating
their complimentary breakfast. The smell of bacon and eggs drifted
down the hallway straight to her nostrils. She felt like Eve being
tempted by the Apple, and her mouth filled with saliva. The
tantalising aroma was tempting. She put a hand across her stomach.
No, the last thing she needed was people coming and talking to her.
The best thing would be to get back up to her room, lock the door
and shut out Willows Peak. At least until her meeting with the
sheriff. God knows why he wants to see me, she thought, crossing
the threshold. With any luck, it'll be to tell me that the
investigation is over and that I can go home. That was all she
wanted. To go home.

The door made an audible click,
and it swung back into its slot. Without skipping a beat, she spun
around and threw herself at the first few steps. She knew what was
coming. It was inevitable.

“You seem to be in a hurry,
dear,” Mrs Ryan said, making no attempt to hide the distaste in her
voice. “May I offer you some breakfast?”

Rachel turned around to face
the annoying little woman. She was standing in the doorway to the
parlour, two beady little eyes searching for any hint of
gossip.

“No thank you, Mrs Ryan. I
think I'll just return to my room.”

“Been anywhere
interesting?”

“Just out for a stroll.”

“At this hour? It's far too
early for just a stroll. I hope you aren’t thinking of bringing a
gentleman back in. I won't have any of
that
going on in my establishment.”

Mrs Ryan was beginning to grate
on Rachel's last nerve. She could feel that familiar tingling in
her hands. The same she had felt at the house. She bit back her
tongue.

“No, of course not,” she
replied, hoping her voice didn't sound strained. “I just needed
some fresh air.”

“Oh, fresh air, I see. Well
remember what I’ve told you. I know the stories. The first sign of
trouble and you’re out of here. I don't want my place -“

“Will that be all?” Rachel cut
in.

Fire burned hot in her eyes.
How dare this evil little woman accuse her of anything? What did
she know? Nothing, that's what. She was just another one of the
small town gossips vying for her pound of flesh. Well, she wasn't
going to get it. Rachel had already noticed her inching
backwards.

“Y-yes, that'll be all. You've
been warned.”

Mrs Ryan shot off in the
direction of the dining room, as Rachel bolted up the stairs, her
feet pounding on the well-worn wood. She no longer needed to be
quiet. The damage had already been done. The tranquil calm she felt
outside, gone, along with every ounce of love she had for her
hometown. The bitch had been just like the rest; too quick to judge
something they didn't understand.

She slammed the bedroom door
without thinking. Becky flew upright in the bed, her back so erect,
she looked like Frankenstein sitting on the operating table.

“What the hell?” she said,
still half asleep.

“Sorry, it’s just me. I didn't
mean to wake you.”

Becky looked at the clock.
“Where have you been at this hour?”

“Nowhere,” Rachel replied.
“Just walking.”

“Just walking?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re alright?”

“Yes, I'm fine. It's nothing a
nice, warm soak under the shower can't fix. You just go back to
sleep.”

Becky threw the cover over her
head. By the time Rachel had stripped down to her underwear, she
was fast asleep. Soft snores filled the silent void in the
room.

Chapter
Five

The noonday sun blazed through
the white spectral clouds over the downtown area of Willows Peak.
Citizens of the sleepy town ran to and fro between the small shops
that made up Main Street. The area was experiencing unusually high
temperatures for that time of year. The weather forecasters would
later call it an Indian summer. Whatever it was, it wasn't
normal.

Rachel sat at the back of the
quaint little café at a secluded table. She looked out of place,
sitting in front of her laptop, but she had to sit down. And
anyway, there was something about the place she liked.

Her feet throbbed under the
constraints of her Nike trainers. First there had been some papers
for school that needed dropping off at the post office; then she
had to rush across town in order to make a 10 o’ clock meeting with
the sheriff. Usually she was solid and wouldn’t care. But today was
different. Today she wasn’t on her game.

The cursor on the blank Word
document blinked at her, as if it was frustrated at not moving
across the page. In her left hand she was fiddling with the
doctor’s business card. Why shouldn’t I take him up on his offer?
She mused. It had been three years for Christ’s sake. He was a
professional. What was she afraid of?

Her right hand absently fondled
with the silver inscribed locket around her neck.

To my high-school sweet heart:
Always and Forever.

Yeah, until….

“Howdy Little Lady.”

Nathan's voice made her jump.
He stood there beaming at her.

“Fancy a coffee?”

“If you're buying,” Rachel
replied with a smile.

She sat for several moments
watching him at the counter. He was such a good friend. If the
chips were down, then she knew he was a man that could be counted
on. But his reaction the other day had taken her by surprise. Her
mind, like a child reaching for the cookie jar at the back of the
cupboard, just couldn't grasp what it meant. Was he jealous? He had
never shown any romantic interest in her. And it wasn't as if David
had asked her on a date. It was professional curiosity. Nothing
more. So why would he be jealous?

Snippets of conversation
filtered through over the Barista’s clamouring; the weather, the
trouble in the middle-east, public scandals, the mundane topics of
conversation. To a lot of people they wouldn’t have been mundane,
but to her they meant nothing. Her mind was too full.

Nathan returned to the table
carrying two steaming cups of black liquid.

“Thank you,” she said, as he
sat down opposite her.

“No problem. How’re you
feeling?”

“Tired.”

“I can imagine,” he replied.
“Pa mentioned he'd seen you this morning.”

Rachel let out a deep sigh.
“Yeah, he did. Not that there was much point. Isn't there anything
you can do?” She so desperately wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry Rach, my hands are
tied. This is a small town. We've only got thirty officers and ten
of those are part-time.”

“But it’s ridiculous.” The
frustration at getting nowhere was bubbling beneath the surface.
“It was either an accident, or not.”

“We’re not sure,” Nathan
replied, lowering his eyes to the table.

“For Christ's sake, how can you
not be sure?” Rachel shouted at him.

Tentative heads turned in their
direction.

“Rach, calm down. We’re doing
all we can. These things take time.”

“I just want to be able to go
home. How can they even suggest I’m a suspect, I wasn't even in
town.”

Nathan looked at her square in
the eyes. “It’s just routine. We have to investigate every possible
avenue, just in case. Nobody really believes you could be involved.
Especially not me.”

He smiled at her. The warmth
and genuine care in his eyes melted away the tension. It wasn't
until that moment that Rachel realised how much she had missed him.
She smiled back. “Thank you. I'm sorry I was being a bitch.”

“That’s okay,” he replied. “No
one can blame you.”

Moments ticked by, as the two
of them sat in silence. Tiny dust mites danced in the air, as the
lazy sunlight burned through the glass window, causing them to
flash silver.

Rachel took a short sip of her
espresso, rolling the bitter black liquid over her tongue. Not once
did she take her eyes away from the window. How long would she have
to wait? She wondered. A part of her was pleased to be back in town
among old friends and familiar places. Over the road was the shop
where she bought her prom dress; next to that was the small cinema,
where she had her first date. There had been so many good times. A
lot of them with the guy sitting opposite. But there was another
part of her. The part that knew this was the last time she would
return home.