Winthrop House Read online

  Winthrop House

  Ambrose Ibsen

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Thank you for Reading!

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Ambrose Ibsen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Cormar Covers

  Created with Vellum

  1

  “Oh, shit!” blurted Ben from the back seat. “Did you hear? Jack Ripley went missing. You know, the novelist?” He stared down at his phone, scrolling through a news story that loaded sluggishly in the absence of good cell reception. “They're thinking maybe he was kidnapped. He disappeared from his home, supposedly. That sucks. I really liked his book—”

  “That's nice,” interrupted Naomi, squeezing the steering wheel. It was her turn to drive and she was less than thrilled about it. For almost an entire day the three had navigated obscure roads in Maine, quibbling about where to go next on their road trip, and finding themselves lost along the way. That the large body of water visible in the distance was Cutler Harbor they felt reasonably sure, however in this semi-rural, unpeopled stretch of Maine, they found little else in the way of landmarks. Shooting Ben daggers in the rearview, Naomi continued. “It's been more than an hour since we've been able to find a signal. Now that you've got one could you try and do something useful with it? Like, I dunno... pull up a frigging map? Switch on the GPS so that we can figure out where the hell we are?”

  Yawning sleepily from the passenger seat, Sam set his ankles on the dash and wiped at his face. “Yeah, Ben. Not a good time for catching up on celebrity gossip.” His facial hair had grown considerably over the past few weeks, and he now sported a patchy beard, which he could never seem to stop scratching. The sounds of his fingers raking through his facial hair filled the air as he turned and glanced out the window. “If that's Cutler Harbor, then there's gotta be a town around here somewhere. Look—it's pretty far, but I can see boats on the water. There have to be fisheries or something.”

  “A fishery?” Naomi chuckled darkly, glancing down at the fuel gauge on the dash. “I'd settle for a gas station. We're going to end up on the side of the road if we don't get some fuel. And fast.” She'd put her black hair up into pigtails that morning, but had ruined the style with the picking of her nervous fingers over the course of the day. Cracking her window and letting a bit of the cool, sea-scented breeze into the car, she sighed. “I'm going to pull over. Maybe my phone will work too.” She didn't bother guiding the car to the battered shoulder, but rather let it idle in the middle of the lane. It was probably safe; they hadn't seen another car for what seemed like hours now.

  Frowning, Ben closed out of the news article and began fiddling with maps on his phone. Stretched out across the back seat, he held his cell up near the window in the hopes of capturing a solid signal and waited for the GPS to tell them precisely where they were.

  Unfortunately, it never did.

  The stray signal he'd picked up on had dried up. “Damn it,” he muttered. “I can't get a signal now.”

  Fuming, Naomi took to tugging at her hair ties. “Well, thank goodness you used our only signal to read up on your missing author story. That's grand. Now we're screwed.” Looking out the window at the expanse of tall, windblown grass that stretched all the way to the edge of the harbor, she shook her head. “What kind of backwater is this, anyway? I mean, no cell reception? We're not in the middle of the wilderness for Christ's sake. I don't get it.”

  Sam closed his eyes and flexed his bare toes near the windshield, shrugging. “It may not be the wilderness, but we aren't exactly in the big city, either. These roads are crumbling and there don't look to be any houses around here. We may as well be smack dab in the middle of a national park.”

  “Oh, yeah? I went on a school trip to Yellowstone years ago, and even back then more than half of the park had cell service!” spat Naomi. “This is such bullshit!”

  “Well, why don't we just try and go back the way we came?” offered Ben. His freckled face glowed a ghostly white in the dim car. The day was young but overcast, the sun hiding behind a wall of metallic clouds. “If we can just figure out what turns we took maybe we could go back to Nathan's place and get some better directions, yeah?”

  The trio had driven into Maine some days prior, visiting Ben's cousin Nathan in Kennebunkport, and had continued on their way, becoming lost several hours into their journey north. Retracing the route they'd taken to this remote area—and on such little gas—was impossible, and Naomi wasted no time in telling him as much.

  “We're SOL. We have about sixty miles left in the tank. Seventy if we want to chance it on fumes.” Naomi buried her face in her hands. “There's no going back to your cousin's place, Ben. That's like four hours away. Are you stupid?”

  Dropping his phone into a cup holder, Ben kicked the back of her seat. “Well, it's not my fault. I wasn't the one who insisted we keep going north. I seem to remember that was your idea, Naomi. Don't pin it on me. You wanted to see more of the area, wanted to take in nature. Four hours later and—” He motioned outside the window. “Well, have a look at that! All the nature and peace and quiet you can stand! Mission accomplished.”

  Bristling, Naomi turned to face him, fists balled. “Well, I thought we'd have some goddamn cell service, OK? I didn't think we'd end up in this dead zone! I thought that... that if we kept driving we'd eventually hit a town or something!”

  Sam clapped loudly, clearing his throat. “Guys, cut it out. Like it or not, we're in a bad spot. Bickering ain't gonna fix it. We should have all planned better than this. But then, that hasn't been the spirit of this trip, has it? We wanted to take chances, go wherever the road took us. When you choose to do that, setbacks like this are unavoidable.”

  For a time, there was only frustrated quiet in the vehicle.

  The three of them had decided to go on a road trip at the start of April. What they'd hoped to find on the road was anyone's guess; bored with their lives and wishing to take in new scenery, they'd been content to pack up and set off for parts unknown. Each of them had managed to save a fair bit of money in the months preceding the trip and, up to this point, things had been going pretty well. Funds were beginning to dwindle however, and the uncomfortable realization had slowly dawned on them that their inevitable return to Ohio was drawing near.

  And now, they were lost.

  Breaking the silence, Ben sat up and pointed to the water. “Let's go that way. Stay close to the harbor. Maybe we'll find a building... some fishermen... something. It's the only chance we've got.”

  Nodding, Naomi knocked her bangs aside and shifted back into drive, starting once again down the battered road. The roads they'd been traversing for the better part of the day were awful things, fraught with deep cracks and potholes that challenged the sedan
's suspension. In some places, the very borders of the road had been pulverized by the elements into gravel, and nearly every road sign they encountered was too rusted to read.

  Sam fiddled with the radio for a time, attempting to tune into a local station. He failed to bring up anything but static, except on one channel, which streamed some religious talkshow in poor quality. Shutting off the radio, he shrugged. “Guess no one around here listens to the radio, either.”

  “Look around,” replied Naomi. “There isn't anyone around here to do any listening.” The closer they got to the water, the stronger the scent of the sea came in through her open window. She crinkled her nose at the stench of the brine, arriving at a T junction. “Right or left?” she asked. Then, not waiting for her passengers to reply, she hooked a left, starting onto another shattered road that at points flanked the water's edge, and which bore only a single identifying mark; a rusted street sign which could only barely be made out to read “Winthrop Road”.

  “Keep your eyes peeled,” said Sam, reaching back and jostling Ben. “Look for a building, a car—anything.”

  Ben nodded, opening his window and sticking his head out. From the direction of the water he heard the cries of gulls as they circled a beached fish. The waves looked calm as they lapped against the rocks and dressed them in foam, and the water fairly clear. It would probably make for a good swimming spot—

  “Hey, look there,” said Sam, voice curiously low. “Is that... is that a house?”

  Naomi narrowed her gaze and leaned forward in the driver's seat, stretching over the wheel. Then, grinning, she hit the gas and galloped up the pockmarked road. “I think it is!”

  Ben took in the sight of the large, dark house that appeared to sit alone on the quiet road. Maybe it was just because he hadn't seen a building in hours and hadn't expected to find one in this remote setting, but this house seemed to cut into the scenery sharply, almost unnaturally. The grey daylight could only be held partially accountable for its inky slant. The house just seemed to nest in darkness, as if the shadows of night were a veil that clung to it no matter the hour. It was situated on a generous plot and seemed to flank the harbor itself. The closer they got, the more he could see; a mailbox marked with the number “100”, a vastly overgrown lawn, a gravel driveway, evidences in the backyard of a beach.

  Naomi slowed down as they approached the house, the smile ebbing from her face as she took it in from up close. “Think anyone lives there?” she asked, parking tentatively at the entrance of the driveway.

  Sam scratched his beard once again, blinking up at the house from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. “Doesn't look like it, but... you never know.” He took off his seatbelt and thrust open the passenger side door, exiting with a groan. “Either way, I need to stretch my legs. May as well knock and see if anyone's home, yeah?”

  Naomi shut off the car, nodding, but didn't get out immediately. Instead, she scanned the house for a second time, something like apprehension strangling her features. Though she didn't say it aloud, it was clear that something about this place didn't sit well with her; that she was having second thoughts where only moments ago she'd been thrilled to come upon a house.

  Ben tapped on the headrest of her seat and opened his door. “Come on,” he said. “Let's just walk around for a little while. See if there's anyone inside who can give us directions.”

  She nodded vacantly, stepping out of the car. “OK.”

  The three of them, stretching and yawning, took their time in surveying the property. They looked repeatedly to the dark hulk of a house, to the remainder of Winthrop Road, which appeared to dead-end in a copse of tangled trees, and then to the harbor whose quiet lapping soon became the only noise to be heard.

  It was Sam who broke formation and stepped away from the sedan first, heading carefully into the tall grass for the front door. “Come on, guys.”

  The other two joined him with not a little reluctance.

  2

  Sam knocked on the door three times, with force, but it was clear from the hollowness of the sound that they'd paid a visit to a shell of a home; that the sounds of their knocking would echo throughout, never to meet the ears of an occupant.

  The three of them waited on the front stoop, inspecting the exterior of the two-story abode. Where they might have expected a house so out of the way and situated in a lot so wild and unkempt as this to have fallen into disrepair, the house appeared in rather good condition. Though there looked to be a bit of dust framing the inside of the nearby windows and there was no movement that could presently be traced inside of them, it looked like the kind of place where someone had indeed lived, perhaps not too long ago. “A summer home,” Naomi mused.

  When a second set of knocks produced no answer, they decided to walk the perimeter of the property and search for signs of tenancy. At the right, where a cramped garage sat tethered to the house's flank, they started for the backyard, finding tens of yards of overgrown grass which led to the sea. The back of the house was in good order, with all of the windows, as well as the rear door, intact. A chimney stuck out of the house's roof, and the gutters looked bogged down with leaves from a previous season.

  “There's no one living here,” muttered Sam, rapping against the back door and pacing in the grass. “Dollars to donuts this place is empty. Looks like it's been empty a little while, in fact. Maybe you're right, and it's someone's summer house, but there's no one here now.”

  Naomi smoothed out her T-shirt and approached the house, standing on tiptoe to peer into a darkened window that seemed to look in on a kitchen. “You're probably right. So, what now?”

  Ben approached the back door, nudging Sam aside and reaching at once for the knob. Giving it a twist, he was surprised to find it unlocked. With a firm push, the door fell open with a groan. “I'll be damned. It's not locked.”

  Sam straightened his glasses and divided his gaze between his two companions, a nervous smile spreading across his lips. “Whoa, shit, is this what we're doing now? Breaking and entering? Maybe we should turn around and go the other way, no, Ben? Before we resort to trespassing, I mean.”

  Standing at the threshold and staring into the kitchen of the house, Ben trained his senses on the interior and picked up only the murmuring of the sea to his back. The house, he felt reasonably sure, was devoid of inhabitants. The smell of dust, coupled with the acrid scent of a place too long shut up from the open air, further convinced him. “I'm not looking to trash the place or steal anything. Maybe there's a landline or something inside,” replied Ben. “Anyhow, there's no one home. We may as well have a look, no? What's the harm? We'll leave it the way we left it.”

  Cautiously, Naomi stepped inside, looking out across the room. It was a large kitchen, rather picturesque except for the veneer of dust. The stainless steel appliances looked new. The cabinetry and countertops, too, were swoon-worthy; nicer than she'd ever had in any house she'd lived in growing up. The attractive stone tiles of the floor were filthy, just like every other surface in view, making it clear that no one had passed through the room in a long while. Still, she couldn't keep from smoothing down the hairs on the back of her neck as they pricked up in alarm. It was hard to say why she felt suddenly distressed standing in the house. It's because you're not supposed to be in here, she told herself. “Guys, this is illegal. Maybe... maybe we should go...”

  Sam shared her reservations, and backed up into the yard. “You guys go ahead. I'm going to have another look around the property instead. If you find someone in there with a shotgun and they decide to stand their ground, I'll say some pretty words at your funerals, OK?” He turned and started through the backyard, leaving Ben and Naomi standing within the kitchen.

  Taking a deep breath, Ben led the way forward, exploring the downstairs and finding it perfectly empty, as expected. The kitchen was connected to a large dining room; this opening into a larger living room, which subsequently terminated in a little nook, with a window in it, that sat at the bottom of a st
airwell. All throughout the downstairs, there was not a single piece of furniture to be found. There were a few bits of paper, of cardboard, here and there. Near the stairs Ben spotted a single styrofoam packing peanut. Standing at the foot of the stairwell, he peered up into the dark upper story, then turned to Naomi. “Not a damn thing. Isn't it weird? It's like someone just bought this house and then never moved in or something.”

  Naomi wet her lips, shying away from the dusty bannister and burying her hands in her pockets. “Or maybe they moved away.”

  Ben mounted the first step, the wooden board beneath his foot creaking noisily. “You think? I didn't see a 'for sale' sign out front... And if they're only using this place as a summer house, wouldn't they leave, like... something behind? A chair, a table... something?”

  Naomi hesitated before finally joining Ben in his ascent. “I don't know what to think. It's a nice house. I'm surprised there's no one living in it...”

  Arriving in the upper story, Ben stood at the end of the long hall, discovering six doors. Approaching them one by one, he pushed them open carefully, peeking into each room and sighing with relief as each proved unoccupied. There were five bedrooms and a full bathroom in total, and no furniture within any of them. The bathroom had been stripped of everything except for a half-used roll of toilet paper. Making a tour of the rooms and then finally relaxing, Ben shrugged, turning to Naomi with a half smile. “Totally empty, see?”

  She was less pleased. With a frown, she replied, “Yeah, it's empty. Completely empty. Which means that we aren't going to find anything helpful in here. This visit was a bust.” Running her hand against the wall, Naomi flicked a switch, turning on a light in the hallway. She startled a bit as it flashed on. “There's electricity,” she said. “That's weird.”

  “Well, it's not so bad,” offered Ben. “We can use the outlets to charge our phones, I guess.”