Chapter 5 - Footsteps Above
Arthur froze, his eyes locked on the ceiling. The sound wasn't the settling of an old house or the scratching of tree branches against the siding; it was the distinct, heavy thud of an adult running across the hardwood floor above them.
"Stay here," Arthur muttered to Miller, though the deputy was already drawing his service weapon with practiced, methodical ease.
"Police! Stay where you are!" Miller shouted up the stairwell, his voice bouncing off the vertical wood paneling.
There was no answer from upstairs, only the sound of a window being shoved open against its painted frame, followed by the soft rustle of ivy pulling away from the exterior brickwork. Arthur vaulted past the deputy, taking the steps two at a time, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He reached the landing and pushed open the master bedroom door.
The room was empty. The rain was blowing sideways through the open casement window, soaking the hardwood floorboards near the dresser. But it wasn't the open window that made Arthur’s blood run cold; it was the contents of their bedroom safe, which stood wide open with its heavy steel door swinging freely on its hinges.
Every single legal document, their mortgage deeds, their marriage certificate, and a stack of old cash Arthur kept for emergencies were gone. In their place sat a single polaroid photograph, damp from the rain.
Arthur picked up the photograph with trembling fingers. It was a picture of the kitchen floor they had just been standing in—only in the photo, the tiles were pulled back, revealing a gaping hole filled with human bones.
Miller appeared in the doorway behind him, flashlight beam sweeping across the room. He whistled low through his teeth. "Looks like whoever’s been living in your crawlspace didn't leave when you bought the place, Arthur. And they just took all your identification papers."
May you like
"That’s impossible," Arthur whispered, turning the polaroid over. On the back, written in a shaky, childish hand that looked disturbingly like Maya’s, were three words: HE IS COMING BACK.
---
