The Lost Door by Marc Buhmann Read Free Book Online Page A

out. From the stillness he knew he was alone in the dark cabin.
    But then what was that you heard? he asked himself.
    There was a kerosene lantern hanging on a rusty nail where he’d expected a light switch to be. This far off the beaten path there was probably no power. He found a book of matches on a utility shelf. He struck the match, the scraping sounded loud in the stillness. The flame flickered. He touched the match to the wick and the orange light illuminated the darkness.
    With each step on the wooden floor his boots sounded like a cannon echoing through the room. Not much here save for a bed, a nightstand next to it, and a recliner.
    And an eviscerated body.
    It was slumped against one wall, pale and naked. With the head drooping he couldn’t make out the face.
    “Nick?”
    He whipped around, saw Harold in the doorway.
    “Jesus!” he huffed.
    “Sorry, but I got curious. What…”
    And then he saw the room and turned white.
    “Out!” Stavic shouted, following after him.
    “Who—?”
    Stavic had his phone in hand. “I don’t know, but I’m calling in the cavalry.”
     
    * * *
     
    It was warmer out than it had been, and Claire had the cleaning bug. She’d let this place go over the last several months and it was time to tidy up. A fresh breeze came through the open window pushing the stale air out. She wanted this place back in tiptop shape by the time Emily returned home.
    She began immediately after Emily left for school, starting on the first floor and working her way up. She dusted and vacuumed and mopped, and by ten o’clock she was onto the second floor. Claire went to her room, tackling the obvious things first. She stripped her bed and tossed old magazines; a chickadee sang outside the window.
    She went to the closet—it had a slight musty smell to it—and stared at the mess. Claire needed to take an inventory and decide what to keep; there were way too many outfits she no longer wore. But first the laundry. She pulled out the hamper and sorted them into piles. After she was done in here she’d clean Emily’s room, grab her laundry and add them to the mix.
    All these old and outdated clothes. Maybe this weekend she could get Emily to go to the store with her and help her update her wardrobe. She could use a little of her savings, and it would be nice to have a mother-daughter day, something they hadn’t done in… how long? Claire flipped through the shirts and dresses tsking herself. God! When did she become old?
    Claire was about to close the door when a box caught her eye. It was shoved in the back corner, barely visible in the shadows. On the side was written in bold letters DEVON. She slid the box out and stared at it. She’d completely forgotten about this, a collection of her ex-husbands relics from before the divorce. She’d stashed a few things she hadn’t been ready to part with, more for Emily than herself. While he had crushed her, Devon had been Emily’s father and she deserved to have something from him.
    She pulled the flaps and opened the box. On top were an assortment of photos, some group shots while others of just Devon. There were a few cassettes of her husbands favorite music, a couple of books, and other trinkets. And there was the manila envelope with the divorce papers, still unlooked at after all these years. At some point the metal fastener had broken free and the flap easily lifted, the white papers within visible.
    Claire began to wonder if the divorce was legal if she’d never even looked at these papers. Maybe there had been something else she’d needed to sign and never did? But that was stupid, she realized. If that were the case her attorney would have contacted her. Claire was tempted to pull the papers out, finally cement the divorce by seeing it in writing, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She tossed the envelope back into the box and put it on a chair next to the dresser. Maybe she’d finally give it to Emily once she’d had a chance to