Chapter Six
"Did you hear that?" Zeke asks me.
"Are those footsteps? I thought the sheriff and deputies had already cleared the house." Fear started to creep back into my body.
"Wait here," Zeke whispers, "I'll go check upstairs." I nodded my head and walked him to the stairs. The thought of being alone downstairs scared me; the idea of going upstairs frightened me more.
"Be careful, Z," I whispered as he climbed the stairs. He held his finger to his lips to quiet me; normally, that gesture would aggravate me, but not in this situation. When he reached the top, he turned on the light, and the heavy footsteps suddenly stopped. He turned his head, looking down at me, and he shrugged his shoulders, signaling he wasn't sure why they stopped either. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I listened intently as he looked around. The only sound that could be heard was his footsteps navigating from room to room; they were much lighter than the others. The longer I waited for him to return, the harder my heart pounded from fear.
As I was holding on to the banister at the bottom of the stairs, a cold rush of air flew past me, causing me to rub my arms. That was weird. We didn't open any windows. Where did the draft come from? Looking around, all I could see was the light coming from the living room. The rest of the house was in darkness, which made this situation scarier.
The house felt darker, more ominous. Out of nowhere, a woman's scream came from the direction of the bathroom. Her cries of agony frightened me so badly that it made me jump, sucking in a breath. I slowly moved toward the sound, shaking uncontrollably.
"Is anyone there?" I called out. Of course, no one answered. I laughed nervously at myself because this is the part in a scary movie I would be yelling, "Don't go check it out, you idiot, run." Instead, I moved closer to the screaming.
As I approach the screams, the door to the bathroom slams so loudly the frame rattles, and the screaming suddenly stops. Then the screaming started again, but it wasn't disembodied; it was me as I ran towards the front door, my instincts took over, and I decided we were getting the hell out of here. I almost made it to the front door when I heard Zeke yelling out to me as he was running down the stairs.
"Rocky, what happened? I heard you scream," he asked.
"I'm fine, just a little freaked out," which was the truth. This incident got me thinking of how we will stay in this house if these weird things keep happening. He looked me up and down as he caught up to me by the front door, pulling my trembling body into a hug, which I reciprocated. Before I had a chance to explain, we heard loud knocking on the front door, which made us both jump again. It was the pizza delivery guy at the front door-dinner had arrived.
"There was no one upstairs," Z informs me as we eat. "All of the windows were locked. Something strange is going on with this house."
"Trust me, I'm starting to realize that. While you were upstairs, I heard a woman screaming, and when I went to check it out, the bathroom door slammed shut." A chill ran down my back just talking about the event. "Zeke, do you think this house is haunted?" I asked. Personally, I believed in the supernatural, even though I had never experienced it until now. Zeke immediately started shaking his head no.
"There is no such thing as a ghost," he stated, but I wasn't sure if he truly believed that. I'm sure he was trying to convince himself to make sense of everything. There was no other explanation for the things we experienced: the scream, the door slamming, and the footsteps. The rest of dinner was eaten in silence while we digested the events of the night. When we were finished, I retrieved the box we found. I placed it down on the couch between us to open it up.
"Let's see what's in here." Inside the metal box were important documents: birth certificates, a land deed, a will, and insurance papers. But what caught my eye was underneath all that were a few family photos. Grabbing them out from under the documents, I made an unsettling discovery. In the family photo, the oldest girl looked identical to my mother. I quickly handed it to Zeke.
"Look at this picture. Doesn't the oldest girl resemble my mom?" I asked. Mostly, I just wanted him to confirm my suspicions and get his opinion.
"She does look like your mom. Definitely, her hair and smile are similar.
"What is going on? I'm so confused," I say, putting my head in my hands. If we are going to stay in this house, I need to investigate the Catalano family and the property. "Tomorrow, let's go to the library and look into the property and the previous family?"
"Ok, we can stop and get supplies to start working on the living room afterward." Thank goodness he was on board.
The next morning, after having breakfast, we eagerly made our way to the library. It was a striking brick building that towered above us. It had a magnificent high-arching window, letting in streams of natural light that illuminated the interior. When we approached the entrance, we were greeted by grand double doors made of solid oak that were slightly hard to open. Once inside, we noticed the checkout desk to our left. A friendly librarian sat behind it, giving us a warm smile. On the right shelves, books of all genres were lined up, giving off a pleasant, musky scent that one can only find in a library.
The librarian's eyes sparkled as she looked up at us, "Hello, how can I help you all today?'
"We are looking for town archives, regarding land, property, or people," I stated.
"All archives are kept in the basement. However, if you are looking for birth or death certificates and land deeds, you would need to go to the town hall," she replied. After thanking the librarian for her help, she directed us to the elevators. We spent hours gathering as much information as we could. As we were getting ready to leave, I decided to look up both our neighbor's name and the sheriff's to see if anything would come up.
We did find something. There was an interesting article with the headline "Local Man Busted in Drug Ring." To my shock, the person was our neighbor Ted. Reading the article only made Ted's first impression more solid; he was no good. What shocked me more was the photo of Sheriff Dawson leading him away in handcuffs. The article was dated five years before the Catalano family disappearance. Whether that was significant or not was yet to be seen.
This discovery kept my mind racing with more questions. What else was Ted capable of? Could he be a part of what happened to the family? The questions and possibilities were endless, but one thing was for sure: the investigation had taken an unexpected turn. Scanning the room for Zeke, I waved him over.
"Zeke, check this out. Ted was arrested for drugs five years before the family vanished." As I scrolled through the article, I pointed to a photo of him with the Sheriff. "Sheriff Dawson was the one who brought him in, even though he was a deputy at the time." Zeke seemed intrigued by this detail.
"I knew something was fishy about Ted, but I hadn't realized he had a prior arrest," Zeke stated. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was almost three o'clock. We had to leave if we wanted to stop by the sheriff's office. We quickly printed all the information we had gathered and added it to our growing collection.
After leaving the library, we headed straight to the sheriff's office before picking up supplies. As we entered the office, a friendly deputy sitting at the front desk greeted us. I explained what we were here for, the deputy had me fill out a form, and then asked me to have a seat. He said it would take a few moments to gather the reports.
As we were waiting, the sheriff emerged from the long corridor behind the desk. At first, he didn't notice us, but once he did, he headed directly towards us. His face was void of emotion, making it hard to decipher his mood. Despite feeling uncomfortable around him, I offered him the friendliest possible.
"Well, what brings you guys into our humble office?" His voice was sickly sweet. He must know I'm here for the reports. Why else would we put ourselves in a situation to run into him? I really didn't have time for his insincere attitude.
"I'm here to pick up the incident reports." He seemed happy with my answer, smiled, and started to walk away. The deputy called my name, handing me my reports. "Could you tell me how to get to the town hall, please?" I asked the man behind the desk. The sheriff must have heard me because he whipped around and headed back in our direction.
"Why do you need directions to the town hall?" His question caught me off guard. Why does he care? Plus, as a resident of the town, I had a right to visit the town hall if I wanted to. I didn't answer right away because I didn't know how much information I should divulge. The more I found out about the sheriff, the more I believe he knows something about the Catalanos. "I asked, why do you need directions to the town hall?" His voice was gruff with annoyance.
"I just wanted to do some research on my property. Find out more about it." I responded as I watched his features. An emotion flashed in Sheriff Dawson's eyes; it was too quick to discern what it was, but his mouth tightened.
"What information are you hoping to find about the property?" He asked cautiously. It was clear that my answer hit a nerve. It was obvious he didn't want us to snoop around. Pausing for a moment before answering, it was obvious by the way the sheriff's body tensed that I needed to be careful with my answers. I was starting to consider adding the Sheriff to the list of suspects who may have been involved in the disappearance of the family. At this point, it wasn't clear if the family had been killed or if they had fled. However, based on all the information we have this far, I guessed that something terrible happened to them.
"Just curious about its history. That's all," was my reply. He seemed happy with that answer and walked away. It was the weirdest interaction we had with him to date. We quickly left the building, and as we walked to the truck, the odd sensation of someone watching me flooded my body. Looking around at the building's window, my gaze finds Sheriff Dawson watching us getting into Zeke's truck. He was talking to someone on the phone; his countenance seemed to reflect his frustration with whoever it was. Once we were in the car, I felt safe, away from his penetrating gaze.
After stopping and picking up supplies, we headed home. The first thing we wanted to do was go to the attic and explore, to see what treasures it held. Reaching the narrow stairway on the second floor that led to the attic, I gestured for Zeke to go first. The stairs creaked under our feet as we climbed them. pushing the door open, it revealed a spacious room with a slanted ceiling
The room was windowless and dimly lit. You could visibly see the dust particles floating in the air. There were boxes lined up against the walls on both sides; some old trunks sat at the back of the room. Thick dust and cobwebs decorated the corners of the room, and I was eager to go through the boxes to see what secrets or stories they held.
"Wow, there are a lot of boxes in her," I exclaimed, my eyes scanning the room for anything that stands out.
"Where do you want to start, Rocky?" Zeke asked as he looked at the boxes, wiping some of the dust off the tops of them.
"You start on that wall," I pointed toward the wall closest to the door, "and I'll start on these over here," which were on the opposite side. Walking over toward the boxes, one of the floorboards creaked beneath my feet. Instinctively, I looked down and noticed it had lifted slightly, revealing something beneath it. On closer inspection, I could see a plastic bag. My curiosity got the better of me, and I reached down to pry it open. I had to know what was hidden in the bag.