Chapter 4 - The Midnight Visitor
The knock on the front door was soft, almost polite, but it made Arthur drop the canvas bag back into the mud with a dull thud. He hurried up the basement stairs, locking the cellar door behind him with a heavy padlock he found on a shelf. The house was dead quiet. Clara had driven away ten minutes ago, her sedan’s taillights dissolving into the rainy Oregon mist.
When Arthur opened the front door, he didn't expect to see Officer Miller standing there without his hat, looking significantly less like a policeman and more like a nervous neighbor.
"Arthur," Miller said, stepping inside without an invitation. He glanced down the dark hallway toward the kitchen. "Your wife just flagged down my patrol car three blocks away. She’s claiming you’ve lost your mind and that you’re hiding evidence in the cellar."
Arthur stared at the deputy, his hands curling into fists inside his jeans pockets. "Clara is unstable. You saw her drag our daughter across the kitchen floor. She needs psychiatric help, not an audience for her paranoid delusions."
"Maybe," Miller replied, his eyes narrowing as he stepped further into the entryway. "Or maybe she knows something about that property you bought two years ago that you didn't bother to research."
Arthur’s breath hitched. "What are you talking about?"
"The Vance property," Miller said quietly, leaning against the doorframe. "Thomas Vance disappeared off the face of the earth two decades ago. His truck was found abandoned near the interstate, but his body was never recovered. The rumor around town was that his business partner buried him somewhere on this acreage before the subdivision was ever zoned."
"That’s an old town myth," Arthur said, though his voice lacked the conviction he wanted. "The previous owners bought it fair and square in 2010. We ran title checks."
"Title checks don't cover what’s buried four feet under the floorboards, Arthur," Miller said, pulling a small silver object from his pocket and holding it up. It was the rusted wristwatch Arthur had just seen in the canvas bag. "Your daughter dropped this out the side window while you were down in the root cellar."
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Arthur stared at the watch, the ticking sound from the basement suddenly echoing loudly in his head. Before he could answer, a loud, metallic crash echoed from the upstairs master bedroom.
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