Джозеф Файндер - Company Man

No. A false alarm, there would have been an answer, one of the calls he’d made.

Gas leak for real. Eddie came by, got the kids out of there and Cassie too, saved them all, thank God for that traitorous bastard, a bastard but my bastard, maybe turned out to be a real friend after all, maybe I owe him an apology.

Eddie’s GTO in the driveway, parked behind the van. Cassie’s red VW convertible too. It didn’t compute. Cassie came over, Eddie too, both of their cars here, the van here too. That meant no one drove the kids away, thus the kids are still here and Eddie and Cassie too, so what the hell, then?

He raced up the stone path to the house, noticed all the windows were closed, the house sealed tight as if they were already out of there, on vacation, and as he approached the front door he smelled rotten eggs.

The gas smell.

It was for real. It was strong too, if he could smell it out here. Very strong. That odorant they add to natural gas so you know if there’s a leak.

Front door was locked, which was a little strange if everyone had just run out of there, but he didn’t linger on that, totally single-minded. He grabbed his key ring, got the door open.

Dark in here.

He yelled out, “Hello? Anyone here?”

No answer.

The rotten-egg smell was overpowering. More like skunk, maybe. A wall of odor, sharp as a knife, nauseating.

“Hello?”

Faint noises now. Thumping? From upstairs? He couldn’t tell, the house was so solid. He entered the kitchen, but no one there either.

Distant bumping sounds, but then footsteps nearby, and Cassie appeared, walking slowly, looking worn out, a wreck.

“Cass,” he said. “Thank God you’re here. Where are the kids?”

She kept approaching, one hand behind her back, slowly, almost hesitant. Her eyes sleepy, not looking at him, her stare distant.

“Cass?”

“Yeah,” she said at last. “Thank God I’m here.” Flat, almost affectless.

He heard a high-pitched mechanical beeping coming from somewhere. What the hell was that?

“Where is everyone?”

“They’re safe,” she said, but something in her tone seemed off, as if she wasn’t sure.

“Where’s Eddie?”

A beat. “He’s... safe too.” She drew out the words.

He stepped toward her to give her a hug, but she stepped backward, shook her head.

“No,” she said.

“Cassie?”

He felt the twang of fear even before his brain could make sense of it.

“You’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got to open some windows, call the fire department. Jesus, this is incredibly dangerous, this stuff is unbelievably combustible. Where are Luke and Julia?”

The high beeping was getting faster, higher in pitch, and Nick realized the source was a device on the kitchen counter he’d seen before, a small yellow box with flexible metal tubing coming out of it. What was it, and what was it doing there?

“I’m glad you came home, Nick.” Her eyes were smudged, looking like black holes. They darted from side to side. “I knew you would, though. Daddy protects his family. You’re a good daddy. Not like my daddy. He never protected me.”

“Cassie,” he said, “what is it? You look so frightened.”

She nodded. “I’m terrified.”

He felt his skin go cold and goosefleshy. He saw it in her eyes, that same absent look he’d seen before, as if she’d gone somewhere else where no one could reach her. “Cassie,” he said in a gentle and firm tone, hollow inside, “where are my children?”

“I’m terrified of me, Nick. And you should be too.”

With her left hand she reached into the pocket of her denim shirt and pulled out an object that he recognized as Lucas’s Zippo lighter. The lighter decorated with a skull crawling with spiders and surrounded by spider webs, a real stoner lighter. She flipped the top off, one-handed, and her thumb touched the flint wheel.

“ No! ” Nick shouted. “What are you doing, are you crazy? ”

“Come on, Nick, you know I am. Can’t you read the writing on the wall?” She began singing softly, “Oh, I ran to the rock to hide my face, the rock cried out ‘No hiding place.’”

“Where are they, Cassie?”

The electronic beeping, rising all the while in pitch, had now become a steady high squeal, almost ear-piercing. He realized where he’d seen that yellow box before: in the basement, placed there by the gas company serviceman. A combustible gas detector. Supposed to warn you about gas leaks. Beeping got higher and faster as the concentration of gas in the air increased. A steady squeal meant dangerous amounts of gas. Combustible levels. Someone had taken the device upstairs from the basement, and he now knew who.

“I told you, they’re safe,” she said in a flat voice, and her other hand, the one she’d been keeping behind her back, came around to the front now, gripping the huge carbon-steel Henckels carving knife from the kitchen knife rack.

Heart thumping a million miles a minute now. Oh sweet Jesus, she’s out of her mind. Dear God, help me.

“Cassie,” he said, moving closer, his arms outspread to give her a hug, but she raised the knife and pointed it at him, and with her left hand she held up the lighter, thumb on the wheel, and said, “Not another step, Nick.”

The guard’s face appeared behind the tempered glass of the security booth at the entrance to the Fenwicke Estates.

His voice squawked through the intercom. “Yes?”

She flashed her police badge. “Police emergency,” she said.

The guard looked at it through the glass and immediately activated the security gate.

“Jesus, Cassie, please don’t —”

“Oh, I really don’t like this part,” she said, and at that instant he noticed the red slick on the knife blade, still wet.

The high wrought-iron gate began to open, but so slowly, so agonizingly slowly. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and finally she said, “Please, speed this up. There’s no time to waste.”

“Sorry, I can’t make it go any faster,” the guard said. “That’s as fast as it goes. I’m sorry.”

“Put the knife down, Cassie,” Nick said, all forced calm, voice soft and wheedling.

“When I’m done with my work, Nick. I’m very tired. I just want to finish. It has to end.”

“Your work,” Nick said numbly. “Please, Cassie. What have you done with them?” Fear rose in him like a flood tide.

Please God no not the kids no oh Jesus Christ no .

“Who?” she said.

No please not that dear God not the kids.

“My... family.”

“Oh, they’re safe, Nick. Like a family should be. Safe. Protected.”

“Please, Cassie,” he whispered, a catch in his throat, hot tears in his eyes. “Where are my kids?”

“Safe, Nick.”

“Cassie, please tell me they’re...” He stopped, couldn’t say alive, couldn’t allow himself to think the word, even, because its opposite was unendurable.

She cocked her head. “You can’t hear them? Banging away? They’re locked up nice and safe in the basement. You can hear it, I know you can.”

And he could, now that she pointed it out, hear a distant thumping. The basement door? He almost gasped in relief, his knees buckling. She’d locked them in the basement. They were alive down there.

Where the gas was coming from.

“Where’s Eddie?” he managed to say.

Oh God please if Eddie’s down there he’ll get them out, he’ll figure out a way, he can bust through a locked door, pick it. Fucking windowless basement. Vent grates are too small to climb out of. But he’ll figure it out .