The Return by Joseph Helmreich

Author:Joseph Helmreich
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

CHAPTER 18

In the cool and misty morning, after rubbing down the surfaces of the barn with microfiber cloths to wipe out fingerprints, Shawn and Leland loaded up the Civic with everything they had, and, Leland commanding the wheel, they got back onto I-17, headed north toward Flagstaff. The idea was to lay over in Camp Verde for the next few days, unless by some chance they found a suitable hideout along the way.

They did.

It was Shawn who first spotted the old mansion, its witch-hat turret and weather vane jutting out from behind the honey locusts that dotted the side of the highway. The small portion of the structure visible from the road was striking in both its design and its dilapidation. It looked like a haunted house, which meant it looked like a deserted house.

Shawn alerted Leland, who pulled the car off the highway and onto a narrow wooded road that turned out to lead almost directly to the house itself. About sixty yards from it, he stopped the car, and Shawn got out. Being the far less conspicuous of the two, Shawn would now approach on his own, scope out the scene, and if the house turned out to be as abandoned as it seemed, Leland would pull in round the back and they would unload their things.

As Shawn walked the overgrown driveway leading up to the entrance, the old mansion loomed over him. Tricolored in cream, pink, and lavender and comprising a host of cylindrical and triangular shapes, classy but asymmetrical dormers, chimneys, and balconies, it reminded him of some of the old Victorian manors he used to see on school trips in Massachusetts, but with a dash of Dr. Seuss or Disneyland thrown in. A plaque affixed to the front door read:

The Atterbury House. Built by James Creighton in 1869, this gorgeous 21,000-square-foot Queen Anne Victorian was home to Dr. Timothy Atterbury, a 19th century oil heir and scholar of French literature. The interior includes eleven rooms, among them five bedrooms, a parlor, foyer, dining room, servants’ quarters, and library. Today, the house is preserved as a historic museum.

But it was clearly no museum, at least not anymore. Its body paint was chipping all over, and about half of its decorative fish-scale shingles were missing. As Shawn ascended the balustrade staircase leading to the front door, he half expected to crash right through it. When he reached the entrance, he pressed the button on the brass doorbell, feeling a little absurd. After the anticipated interval of silence, he tried the doorknob. At first, it didn’t budge, but once he’d put his back into it, the unlocked door cracked open, and Shawn stepped gingerly into a wide vestibule. Almost immediately, he began to cough as beams of natural light from the high windows illuminated thick columns of dust. Covering his nose and mouth, he did a quick trek through the house, which yielded no signs of human habituation, and then went back outside and gave Leland the all-clear.

Several

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