Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Doug arrived on time to pick up Sybil, and when she climbed in his truck a short time later, she felt a wave of relief to be out of the house.

As the sun dipped behind the mountains, Doug turned on the headlights. Sybil sighed. The surrounding trees crowded the road. Bigger. Begging her to stay.

No. No. I’m not staying.

“You okay?” Doug asked.

She went into cover mode, not wanting him to comprehend her real thoughts. “Of course.”

“Yeah.” Doubt filled his voice. “Why don’t I believe you? That was a heavy sigh.”

She froze, briefly surprised. It gave her a second to remember that she trusted him. “You’re right, it was. This house...it’s just...”

What could she say?

“Weird?” he ventured.

She glanced over at him as he gave her a quick wry smile.

“That’s a good name for it.” She shrugged and returned her gaze to the road. The encroaching night also gave her the willies, and she hated that. “I don’t know what to make of it.” Her curiosity got the better of her. “What do you think is wrong with that house?”

He didn’t speak right away.

“Wish I knew,” he finally said.

“You think we’re a bunch of nuts, don’t you?”

She glanced at him and noted his big grin.

“You’re not crazy. None of you are. At least I don’t think so,” he said. “Ever since I came up here after my uncle died, I’ve thought about selling the cabin.”

“Why?”

“At first I thought I was irrational, too. My cabin isn’t haunted. But outside the cabin...in the woods, things feel thick. Heavy. As if the entire place is alive. I’ve been in a lot of forests and never felt what I do in this area.”

She drew in a slow breath, relieved. “The house is like that. And the woods right around it. I knew it from the first day I saw the trees.”

“Right? The tree trunks are wild.”

“I’m sure scientists will figure it out some day,” she said.

“Maybe. You wanted to say more about the house.”

She bit her lower lip. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

She winced. “Yeah, if I do that, you’ll turn this truck around, take me back to the house, and never talk to me again.”

“You’re assuming a lot.”

She rubbed her arms, cold even when she wore outerwear appropriate for the weather. “I do that a lot, just like everyone else. But sometimes what I assume is completely right.”

Oh, Sybil. Shut up.

No. No, I won’t.

“Let’s back up a bit,” he said, his voice steady. “I meant you’re assuming a lot about what I’ll think if you’re up front with me.”

“Well, you were a cop. Most cops are skeptical about stuff like this.”

“True. And I am, too.”

“I rest my case.”

He laughed. “Sybil, come on. You’re an open-minded woman. You know that not all people in a certain profession are the same. Yeah, some cops are skeptical. Many people in the military are, too. But we’re human, like anyone else.”

Now you’ve done it, Sybil. You didn’t come clean with him, and now you’ve pissed him off.

Shame touched her. Shame for making assumptions and not being straight with him.

You can’t win. No matter what you do.

She pushed down the lump in her throat.

“You’re right,” she said.

“About which thing?”

“All of it. All cops and military people aren’t the same. And there’s a lot you don’t know about me. We should probably start from the beginning. There’s a lot to unpack.”

He threw her another smile, and she enjoyed it.

“How about we wait until we’re at Clinton’s? We’re almost there.”

“Sounds good.”

They kept their conversation light and inconsequential and in fifteen more minutes, Clinton’s came into view. Lights streamed from the many windows, and cars filled the parking lot. A big sign hung at the front declared Grand Opening.

“Wow, when did they open today? Looks like the place is rocking,” she said as they pulled into a parking space.

“I think Clinton said they opened for lunch as the Grand Opening. I texted him earlier, and he said the place was packed. Hope you’re hungry. His menu is super-sized.”

“Starving.”

Sybil slipped on her sock hat as they got out of the truck. She glanced around, noticing the fine mist falling. She hoped it didn’t turn to ice, but the temperature had dropped since they left the house. The lighted parking lot made it easy to see that although the forest crowded near the building, the trees here didn’t have the huge, hulking presence of the forest around Clarice’s mansion.

When they reached the double doors to the diner, he held the door open for her. Music greeted them, but not at an obnoxious volume. ELO switched over to Celine Dion.

Things hit her all at once, such as the steady mummer of voices. A variety of sports paraphernalia hung on the walls among stuff that screamed antique. Several televisions hung on the walls, showing football, golf, and a news channel. A large bar area with a few tables looked full, but so did most of the tables and booths.

“Any chance you’ve got a booth in a quieter area?” she heard Doug ask the host at the front.

“There’s a smaller booth way in the back. Wait...are you Douglas MacKenzie?” the host said.

Doug looked surprised. “Yeah. We should’ve made reservations.”

“No problem,” the host said. “Clinton said you might stop by, so we put a reserve card in that booth. For as long as you’d like to stay,” the host said.

“Awesome. Thanks.” Doug threw a smile at the host.

“This way.” The host led them through the diner and toward the very back, past some bigger booths to a smaller one. The host plucked a placard off the table that read Reserved for MacKenzie. “Menus are right there. Someone will be with you soon.”

The booth’s intimate space meant they could hear each other over the televisions, music and chatter better than they might have otherwise.

“That was so nice Clinton saved us a table,” she said.

Doug shrugged and gave her a crooked smile. “Well, there’s a story behind that.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “Can’t wait to hear it.”

They examined their menus for only a few moments before a waitress appeared to take their orders.

While they waited for their drink orders to appear, Sybil said, “So you said Clinton was in the Marines, too?”

“Yep. He was my CO. Commanding officer. A great man.”

Before he could elaborate, she noticed a tall, balding man around fifty with the build of a linebacker coming toward them. His eyes sparkled with humor as he arrived at the table.

“Hey sir,” Douglas said and moved to leave the booth.

“No, nope,” the man waved his hands. “Please don’t get up.” He leaned over to shake Doug’s hand, and both men wore huge smiles. “It’s been way too long, Doug.”

“Fantastic to see you, sir,” Doug said. “I’d like you to meet Sybil Alderan. Sybil, this is my former CO Colonel Clinton Seaworth of the United States Marine Corps.”

Clinton leaned forward to shake her hand.

“Pleased to meet you,” she said.

“Great to meet you, too.” The older man gave her a welcoming smile. “And maybe you can convince this guy here to stop calling me sir and colonel. I’m retired now. No need to call me that anymore.”

She smiled. “Well, I imagine old habits and respect die hard.”

Clinton shook his head. “Don’t let this guy fool you. He’s the authentic hero around here. People should call him sir.”

Curiosity hit her as she turned her gaze on Doug. Doug rolled his gaze to the ceiling and shook his head.

Clinton gestured at Doug. “This guy saved my damned life and the lives of several people one day during a firefight about a year before we pulled out of Afghanistan.”

“Wow,” she said, impressed.

“I’d love to stay and tell you the story, but this place is hopping. Make him to tell you. And if he doesn’t, call me.” Clinton turned his attention to Doug. “Dinner and drinks are on me tonight. Whatever you want.”

Doug’s eyebrows went up. “What? No, I?—”

“That’s an order, Marine.”

Doug looked at her. “Now he pulls rank.”

Clinton’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’ve gotta get, but I hope to see you later.”

She watched the big guy head off at a quick pace. “He’s a force of nature.”

Doug’s eyes looked a little sad, but he said, “Yeah, he’s that.”

“I take it he’s an honest man, and when he says you’ve been ordered to tell me the story, he means it,” she said, leaning toward Doug a little and keeping her voice down.

Before he could answer, the waitress arrived with Sybil’s glass of Merlot and his cola.

“I guess Clinton’s order means you and I don’t have to fight over the check, either,” she said.

Doug put his straw into his drink. “I asked you out. I would’ve paid.”

She nodded and took a small sip of her wine. “Thank you for this night out. I needed it.”

“You’re welcome.” He stared at her, and the warm admiration in his eyes took her off guard. Just as fast, the sad look returned to him. “I guess I’m going to tell you the entire story.”

Her curiosity hadn’t tanked, but she said, “You don’t have to tell me. The Colonel isn’t a bully, is he? I know he wants you to stop calling him sir and using his rank, but...” She shrugged. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

Doug shook his head. “He’s one of the best men I’ve ever met. He’s had a lot of tragedy in his life, too. His wife and young son died in a horrible accident back in Virginia when he was deployed almost twenty years ago. I met him after that time. So, he lost his whole family and soldiered on.”

“Oh my God, how horrible.”

“It was a freak building collapse. They were walking along on a street and some siding that was being repaired slid off the building and hit them. Killed instantly.”

Sadness lingered in his eyes, but she stayed silent and waited.

He stared into his drink and finally took a sip. “He’s one of those guys who lifts other people up. Several years ago, I was married to an interior designer. We met when I was on leave for a month back home in Denver. She was the granddaughter of these friends of my parents. I guess you’d call it a whirlwind romance. I was younger, dumber, and maybe she was too. We ran off to Vegas to elope.” He paused and took another sip of his drink. He shrugged. “We didn’t know each other as well as we should’ve.”

The waitress came to take their food orders. Sybil ordered a simple hamburger and fries, and Doug a pulled pork sandwich with fries, too.

After the waitress left, Sybil waited for Doug to continue, not wanting to push him.

He said, “I went back to Afghanistan, and it took all of two weeks for her to decide she’d made a big mistake.”

“She regretted the marriage?”

“Yep. Sent me an email. I was out on a mission and didn’t even get it until a few days later.”

“That’s horrible. Were you heartbroken?”

He fiddled with the paper from his straw, but then he tossed it aside and looked her straight in the eye. “I realized almost right away that I wasn’t heartbroken. I understood we’d screwed up. It was all physical between us, and we’d mistaken it for something else.”

“I guess that was good, then? If you had been heartbroken, that would’ve been far worse.”

He heaved a sigh. “I was heartbroken a day later, though.” He must have seen her puzzled expression because he continued with, “Before I could even call her, I got an emergency Red Cross message from my mother.” He kept his attention steady on Sybil. “My wife was killed in a car crash, along with her brand-new lover, the night she’d sent me the email.”

She’d spent so much of her life absorbing people’s pain for so many years, she sometimes wondered if she had any empathy left to give. This time, the pain of his loss made an impression on her, as if she understood on a deeper level.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah. You want to know the weirdest thing? Her new boyfriend took her up to Estes Park to celebrate breaking it off with me. No one understands why, but they continued up to the area where the gigantic trees start. They crashed right in front of Clarice’s mansion...in front of the driveway, that is. Clarice found them.”

Astonishment hit her. “That’s...”

When she drifted off, not able to come up with words, he said, “Yeah. I remember her saying once that she never wanted to come up here where the trees were so strange. Said they creeped her out. I guess her parents had brought her up there one time, to see the forest. She hated it.”

A chill raced through her. “Yet she drove up there with that man.”

“I agree. It didn’t make sense. I went to the funeral, went through seeing her parents broken, and felt myself break down, too. My uncle was out of town and asked me if I wanted to stay at his cabin for a week. At first I didn’t want to…so close to where she was killed. But I decided it would help me wrap my head around what had happened. Here’s where things get even more suspect.”

A man came by with their meals, and that halted the big revelation for a moment. Throughout the brief duration, Sybil’s curiosity intensified.

Finally, she said, “You were saying things got suspect? As in weird? Depressing?”

He ate a fry before saying, “Unquestionably weird. Not as depressing as I would’ve thought. After the funeral, I felt drained. I drove to where the wreck had happened. The coroner said there were no drugs or alcohol in their blood. They ran off the road going about sixty and hit that tree to the right of the driveway.”

She nodded. “I think that’s the biggest pine tree I’ve ever seen. That and the one on the opposite side of the driveway. Like they’re part of a gateway.”

“Exactly. I stared at the tree, and it didn’t have a dent in it. I asked a firefighter I know how that could happen, and he couldn’t explain it. He’d been on calls where people had hit a tree going at least that fast and there was always some sign of it on the tree. No one knew why they ran off the road. Not a damned clue.”

“Maybe someone forced them off the road?”

“All the evidence said they ran right into the tree for no reason.”

“The man was driving?”

“Yep.”

“Maybe he had a death wish.”

“Could be.”

“All of that is incredibly sad.”

He took a bite of his meal and chewed before answering. “I was angry about everything and sorry for myself. During that time my parents and Clinton...other friends checked on me by text, email, phone calls. So I was okay. But I wasn’t. Because every night I dreamed about my dead wife. She was standing next to that damned tree all by herself and sobbing. She was screaming for me to save her. To save her and her boyfriend from a monster.”

Sybil stopped with a fry halfway to her mouth, her thoughts racing. A new chill danced over her skin. “That’s bizarre. But then, dreams often are.”

“It becomes weirder. One night I woke up and there was a figure standing in my bedroom at the cabin. I went into Marine mode and was ready to go for my uncle’s pistol in the drawer. I turned on the light. It was my dead wife.”

Sybil blinked, processing the information. “Wow.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Do I see doubt in your face?”

She smiled. “No, not at all. It’s true that I’m a skeptical believer, so even when I hear stuff about the paranormal, I want to think about all the ways there could be a logical explanation. But I have no reason to doubt you. I understand the dream. You mentioned feeling guilty, even if you shouldn’t have. So while she was standing there by your bed, was she as solid as you and I?”

“For about ten seconds, and then she faded out slowly. I didn’t sleep well for the next couple of nights and took a lot of naps during the day.

“You didn’t see her apparition again?”

“No.”

She nodded. “I believe when you dream of a deceased person, that means they’ve come to visit you.”

He looked thoughtful. “I didn’t dream of her again after I left the cabin and went back to work. And I haven’t dreamed of her again.” He grinned. “So you see, maybe I’m not as skeptical as you think I am.”

She heaved a sigh. “Well, maybe then you won’t think I’m insane when I explain some of the other things that have happened in the house.”

His eyes widened a bit. “There’s more?”

“A few things we haven’t told you yet. And I haven’t told you what happened to me when I was a teenager.”

“I want to hear more about what happened to you as a teen. Tell me everything.”