Chapter 4 - The House Without Photographs
Silas took Caleb to a farmhouse seven miles north of the diner.
The property stood at the end of a narrow gravel road surrounded by wheat fields and cottonwood trees. Three motorcycles escorted them. Mara rode at the rear, watching every vehicle that appeared behind them.
The farmhouse had belonged to Silas’s parents.
Caleb expected old family photographs.
There were none.
The living room walls held maps, military certificates, framed newspaper clippings, and a clock that had stopped at 2:17. A fireplace filled with cold ash stood beneath a wooden mantel marked by countless small cuts.
Silas locked the door.
Mara closed the curtains.
A rider named Ben Calder checked the basement, attic, and back porch. He was a former paramedic with a shaved head and a quiet manner.
“Clear,” Ben said.
Caleb remained near the entrance.
Silas set the backpack on the kitchen table.
“You hungry?”
Caleb shook his head.
“When did you last eat?”
“I had crackers this morning.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Caleb looked down.
“Yesterday.”
Silas opened the refrigerator.
Most of the shelves were empty, but he found eggs, cheese, and a loaf of bread. Mara cooked while Silas examined the backpack.
Caleb sat opposite him.
“Why are there no pictures?”
Silas glanced toward the bare walls.
“My father burned them after Elias vanished.”
“Why?”
“He believed photographs made grief harder.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
Silas ran his fingers along the blue thread.
“Your mother looked like Elias when she was young. Dark hair. Green eyes. She had a small scar beneath her chin.”
Caleb touched his own chin.
“My mom had one.”
Silas stopped examining the bag.
“How did she get it?”
“She said she fell from a horse.”
Silas looked toward Mara.
“Anna fell from Elias’s motorcycle when she was nine. Cut her chin on the gravel.”
Caleb’s face tightened.
“Why would she lie to me?”
“To protect you.”
“From who?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
Mara placed a plate in front of Caleb.
Eggs, toast, and melted cheese.
Caleb stared at it.
“You’re allowed to eat,” she said.
He picked up the fork but did not move.
Mara sat beside him.
“When I was sixteen, I spent six months sleeping in a bus station. I used to hide food because I thought people would take it.”
Caleb glanced at her.
“Did they?”
“Sometimes.”
She tore a piece of toast from the plate and ate it.
“Now you know it isn’t poisoned.”
Caleb began eating.
Slowly at first.
Then too quickly.
Silas pretended not to notice.
After the plate was empty, Caleb opened the outer pocket of the backpack and removed several items.
A folded shirt.
A toothbrush.
His mother’s hospital bracelet.
A sealed envelope with his name on it.
A small photograph.
Silas reached for the photograph.
It showed Anna at perhaps nineteen years old, standing beside a motorcycle. Her arm was around a younger Silas. Elias stood behind them, laughing.
Silas stared at it.
“I’ve never seen this picture.”
“It was hidden in my mom’s Bible.”
On the back, in faded blue ink, were the words:
Three Rourkes before the world broke.
Silas sat down.
Mara read the inscription over his shoulder.
“Why would Anna disappear?” she asked.
Silas turned the photograph over again.
“She didn’t disappear. We were told she died.”
Caleb’s fork slipped from his hand.
“What?”
Silas looked at him with regret.
“Two weeks after Elias vanished, we were informed that Anna had been killed in a car accident in another state.”
“Who told you?”
“Sheriff Hollis’s father.”
The kitchen became quiet.
Caleb pushed away from the table.
“My mother was alive the entire time.”
“Yes.”
“You never looked for her?”
“I attended a funeral.”
“Was she in the coffin?”
“It was closed.”
Caleb stood.
“You believed them?”
Silas’s voice hardened.
“I was twenty-nine years old. My brother was missing. My mother had suffered a stroke. My father was drinking himself to death. The sheriff showed us dental records and a death certificate.”
“You still believed them.”
Silas looked down.
“Yes.”
Caleb grabbed the backpack.
“I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Caleb.”
“My mom was right. Nobody can be trusted.”
He headed toward the door.
Mara stepped into his path but did not touch him.
“There are people looking for you.”
“There are always people looking for me.”
“This is different.”
“No, it isn’t. Adults make promises. Then they hand you to someone else.”
Silas stood.
“I won’t hand you over.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“No.”
Silas picked up the old photograph.
“But I knew your mother. And I failed to learn she was still alive. I will not fail her twice.”
Caleb looked at him.
Anger trembled across his face, but beneath it was exhaustion.
“Open the bag,” he said.
They returned to the table.
Silas cut the blue stitches carefully.
Inside the lining was a narrow plastic sleeve.
He pulled it free.
It contained a small brass key, a folded piece of paper, and an old cassette tape.
Ben picked up the tape.
“No label.”
Mara unfolded the paper.
It held a sequence of numbers:
14 - 5 - 23 - 18 - 15 - 15 - 13
Below the numbers, Anna had written:
Begin where the rooster lost its eye.
Silas read the sequence twice.
“Fourteen is N. Five is E.”
Mara continued.
“W. R. O. O. M.”
“NEW ROOM,” Caleb said.
Silas frowned.
“There is no new room at the diner.”
Roy’s voice came from the back doorway.
“There was.”
Everyone turned.
Roy stood outside with both hands visible.
Ben moved quickly, searching him before allowing him inside.
Roy removed his cap.
“Elias built it during the renovation in 1998. Garrett’s father made us seal it before the county inspection.”
Silas placed the key on the table.
“What was inside?”
“I never saw.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
Roy looked at him.
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“Deputy Hollis broke three of my ribs behind the station and told me I had imagined it.”
Caleb stared at him.
Roy pointed to the message.
“The rooster sign used to have two glass eyes. One fell out the week Elias disappeared.”
“Where did it land?” Mara asked.
Roy’s face went pale.
“It didn’t fall.”
He looked at Silas.
“Anna climbed the sign and removed it.”
“Why?”
“Because Elias told her the eye was the first key.”
Silas looked at the brass key on the table.
“This is the first key?”
Roy shook his head.
“No.”
“The rooster’s eye was.”
A vehicle engine sounded outside.
Ben moved to the window.
A county child services car stopped in the driveway.
Behind it was Sheriff Hollis.
Caleb grabbed the backpack.
Silas looked at Mara.
“Take him through the basement.”
Mara reached for Caleb.
He did not move.
There was a knock at the door.
Then Sheriff Hollis called from the porch.
“Silas, I have a court order.”
Silas’s expression turned cold.
Judge Avery had not had enough time to issue any order.
He picked up the laminated card and slipped it into his vest.
“What kind of court order arrives without a judge’s signature?”
The knocking stopped.
Outside, a car door opened.
Then another.
Roy looked through the kitchen window.
“There are six deputies.”
Silas stared at the front door.
Hollis spoke again.
“Open the door, or we come in.”
Caleb whispered, “He isn’t here to take me to foster care.”
Silas looked at him.
“No.”
“What does he want?”
May you like
Silas glanced at the opened lining of the backpack.
“The same thing the shooter wanted.”
