The Keyholder by Claire Thompson Page A

waiting for her. Jack whipped his head toward the door to see what was wrong, also reflexively coming to his feet as a result of the alarm in Charles’ voice.
    Nora was clutching something in her hand. Her face was flushed, her expression troubled and urgent. She hurtled into the room and exclaimed breathlessly, “I think that bastard has done something horrible! I think he has somebody hidden upstairs! I knew he was a snake! I told you, Charles!”
    “Shh, calm down, baby. Slow down. Are you hurt?” Charles stepped forward, reaching out to wrap his arms around his wife, but she twisted away and instead held out what looked like a bar of soap.
    Confused but intrigued, Jack stepped closer as Charles took the soap and frowned down at it. “What is this?”
    Nora pressed close to him and pointed, the tip of her finger moving over what looked like scratches on the soap’s surface. “Read it. That’s someone’s cry for help. Someone’s in the attic! We have to call the police. We have to go save whoever’s up there!”
    Charles’ face had paled, and he turned to Jack with alarm in his eyes, holding out the bar for Jack to see. Jack read the words, trying to process what they could mean. Was this someone’s idea of a joke, or was there something much darker going on at Hawthorne Dungeon?
    “Nora, what’s your feeling?” Charles said, his voice tight with agitation. “What does your gut say?”
    “It says there’s someone up there. It says Phillip Duncan is not who, or what, he says he is.”
    Charles rubbed his face with his hands, anguish in his voice. “I should have listened, Nora. You’ve been trying to tell me for a while now.”
    “What?” Jack said, confused by the exchange. “What are you talking about?”
    Charles turned to Jack. “Nora knows things. Feels things, I mean, in a way ordinary people don’t. She has a sense. I know it sounds weird, but I’ve seen it play out over and over again. If Nora feels there’s something wrong here, there is. That’s all there is to it.” He held out the soap once more to Jack. “We need to get up there and find out what the hell is going on.” He put his arm around his wife and she pressed her face against his shoulder.
    “Wait,” Jack said, again examining the words scratched into the soap, trying to visualize a situation where something like this could happen. “Let’s take a second to figure this out before we go charging up there. Phillip lives on the premises, right?” Charles nodded. Jack continued, “Is he up there right now?”
    “As far as I know,” Charles replied. “Though it is a Saturday night and it’s not yet midnight. He’s a young guy. It’s possible he’s out for the evening.”
    “Okay. We’ve got his cell for making appointments, right? Why don’t you call or text him and find out if he’s here. You can get him down from the third floor on some pretext or other, and while you have him occupied, I’ll go up there and see what I can find.”
    “Good idea.” Charles wrinkled his brow in thought. “I know. There was a leak a while back in the submersion tank down in the basement and apparently Phillip fixed it, or got it fixed. We could go down there and spray water on the floor so it looks like there’s another leak. Then we’ll text him to tell him there’s an emergency. If he’s here, I’m sure he’d come down. Asleep or not, from what I’ve observed, Phillip is a very hands-on caretaker, which has mostly been a credit—I mean, he’s really spruced up the place. But by the same token, he likes to keep his hand in every little thing, and a possible leak could be a big deal, since it could damage the structure of the place.”
    “But what if he’s out? Or says he’ll call a twenty-four hour plumber because he’s asleep or something?” Nora asked.
    “Then we’ll figure something else out to get him down there. If he’s out, so much the better. We can go right up there and look around.”
    “Agreed,”