The Coffin (Nightmare Hall) Read online

  “Think, sir, please. Someone who made threats against you, maybe? A student with a bad grade? Something like that?”

  Dr. Leo sighed impatiently. But he fell silent for a moment, and then said slowly, “Well, there was this one patient. A young man, your age, Charles. Began at Salem last year, but had so many problems, he couldn’t continue. Had to be hospitalized. I’ve never seen a patient so angry. Filled with rage, that boy.”

  “But he’s hospitalized, you said.”

  “Oh, not anymore. He was in for a year, and then his insurance ran out. Had to be dis charged. As a matter of fact, he’s matriculating at Salem now. He started as a freshman again, in September.”

  Charlie’s stomach rolled uneasily. “But he’s okay, right? I mean, you said he was discharged.”

  “Charles, some patients are discharged when they’re well. Others are discharged when there is no more money to keep them in the hospital. This was the case with the patient I’m talking about. I was very much against his release, but since I wasn’t willing to foot the considerable bill for his continued care, my objections were overlooked. I will say, however, that he came to me as soon as he returned to campus and told me with what seemed to be sincerity, that I’d done the right thing. His rage seemed to have dissipated, and he seemed grateful for my diagnosis and prescription. I had planned to keep an eye on him for signs of renewed mental distress, but after that visit from him, I decided it was unnecessary.” Dr. Leo paused, then added, “I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

  “Can you tell me that patient’s name, Dr. Leo?”

  “I suppose that wouldn’t be breaking confidentiality. I’m sure there are other students on campus who are aware that he was hospitalized. Those things aren’t exactly kept a secret on a college campus.”

  Then he told Charlie the name of the angry patient.

  Into the silence that followed, Dr. Leo added, “I’m convinced this young man bears me no ill will, Charles. Why are you asking? Has there been some vandalism to my property?”

  Charlie didn’t answer. He was still too stunned.

  “Charles?” The doctor’s voice changed, took on a note of genuine concern. “Is my daughter all right? Has something happened to Tanner?”

  Charlie returned to awareness. Tanner would have been surprised to hear the worry in her father’s voice. She wasn’t certain how he felt about her.

  “No,” Charlie lied. Why make the man frantic when he was too far away to be of any help? Any more help. He’d already done more than he knew. “She’ll probably call you later.” Charlie prayed he was right. He hoped that Tanner would be able to call her father later. “Thanks for your help,” he said sincerely.

  And then headed as quickly as possible to the frat house.

  Charlie had been wrong about the police officer. He had indeed taken Charlie seriously, but had seen no point in alarming Charlie further. Two girls not where they were supposed to be? That wasn’t something to be taken lightly. The officer knew about the seventy-two hour rule, but didn’t hold much stock in it. If a person was missing, the trail could get pretty darn cold in seventy-two hours.

  A drive past the Leo house, maybe a walk around the perimeter couldn’t hurt. The doc, who the officer knew wasn’t the most popular guy in town, had once helped with a problem with the wife, who was having a hard time with nightmares. Knowing the limitations of a small-town police officer’s salary, the doc had charged very little for his services, which had been successful. Officer McKeon felt he owed the man. No, a little side trip to Faculty Row couldn’t hurt.

  He found nothing unusual on the outside of the house or on the grounds. The surveillance cameras seemed to be working, and there was no sign of a break-in.

  But since he was there, might as well go inside. Had a skeleton key, could use that if he had to. Was surprised to find the back door unlocked.

  The doc wouldn’t have gone off to Hawaii and left a back door unlocked.

  Curious now, the officer went inside. The house was quiet as a tomb. Not a sound anywhere. The girl couldn’t be here, like her friend thought. Cameras in every room, she’d have seen a police officer arriving. If she was being held here against her will, she’d be screaming and shouting her lungs out now, to get his attention.

  But there wasn’t a sound.

  Hand on the gun at his side, he checked every room, opening doors, closing them when he found no sign of life in them. Listening intently the whole time for a sound, a voice. Heard nothing.

  The only room he didn’t check was one at the front of the house, on the left side of the hall. Tried the door, rattled the knob, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Must be that music room Officer McKeon had heard about. Valuable instruments and manuscripts in there. Soundproof, too, he’d heard. Doc kept it locked up tighter than a safe with the queen’s jewels in it.

  Shaking his head at such measures, the officer took one last look around, and left by the back door.

  If he noticed a scrap of yellow and rust fabric hanging over the edge of the closed freezer lid, he thought nothing of it.

  Officer McKeon left the Leo property satisfied that the young man in the infirmary had been misguided. There was nothing unusual going on inside that house.

  He was almost to his car when a tall, stocky young man in a green plaid shirt and jeans ambled by, giving the officer a friendly smile and a casual wave.

  Officer McKeon waved back and got into his car.

  The campus was full of young men exactly like the one passing by.

  Like I said, he thought as he pulled away from the curb, nothing unusual there.

  Chapter 20

  TANNER WAS NEVER AWARE of Officer McKeon’s presence in the house. She heard nothing, and since she was inside The Booth, she didn’t see him on the surveillance screen.

  Unaware, Tanner continued to work diligently on painstakingly prying the nails loose from the side walls, leaving them intact in the back section of The Booth. She hadn’t stopped since Sigmund first pushed her inside early that morning. She hadn’t bothered to keep track of the time. It didn’t seem important. She was going to continue doing what she was doing, as fast as she could do it, so what difference did it make whether she had only a little time or a whole lot of it?

  The metal ruler was beginning to make groaning sounds when she slid it into the gaps and pried the nails upward, and she was terrified that the tool was about to snap in half. She’d been working it very hard. Without it, she had no hope at all.

  Tanner was very tired. Her head ached. She had been standing for hours, her weight pressing the swollen, infected soles of her feet into the rough wood. The pain never eased. Her skin itched. She felt sticky and sweaty, and had to constantly brush her oily hair away from her face. Finally, in exasperation, she snapped off a long piece of Scotch tape from the dispenser, yanked her bangs away from her face, and slapped the tape against them to keep them out of her eyes. “It won’t make the fashion magazines,” she muttered aloud as she turned her attention to another nail, “but it works. That’s all that counts.”

  The thought that kept driving her in spite of her exhaustion and pain was a strong, certain belief that Sigmund didn’t intend to let her live through the night. He had said the police would be called in soon, and he didn’t want them “snooping around.” Although Tanner had no idea why the police hadn’t already arrived when her friends knew she was missing, she had concluded that it probably had something to do with the note Sigmund had pinned on the mailbox. If the police saw that note, they’d assume she’d left the house of her own free will. So they wouldn’t be willing to look for her, would they?

  Eventually, though, and Sigmund had to know this, the truth would come out. Someone, probably Charlie, would learn that she wasn’t with her mother, after all, and then the police would have to act. That was what Sigmund was worried about.

  Convinced that she had very little time left, Tanner’s sore and swollen fingers moved as swiftly as she could manage.

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sp; She had alternated between sides, prying away half the nails on the upper left side of the rear wall, then half on the upper right side, so that she could push away the upper half just enough to get some air. It seemed to Tanner that after being confined to this tiny, dark, airless place, she would never again have enough air in her lungs.

  The upper half of the rear wall budged only a little when she pushed against it, the wood unyielding, unbending. But the gap she had created along the top half of both sides gave her more light, made it easier for her to work on the bottom half of the rear wall.

  I’m crazy, she thought as she used the metal ruler as a lever, I’m as crazy as he is. This is never going to work, never. I could have this back piece almost all the way off, even be on the very last nail, and he could walk in and catch me. All of this hard work will have been for nothing, I’ll be dead, and he’ll probably bury me in this stupid box!

  But she had to keep going. Some stubborn core deep inside of her wouldn’t let her stop. “So what if he catches me?” she asked the metal ruler as she slid it beneath yet another nailhead. “At least I didn’t give up without a fight.”

  She went on working.

  It seemed like days, months, years, before she pulled the very last nail out of the side wall, leaving it intact in the rear wall. But she still had to separate the back section from its ceiling and floor.

  That was easier. Sigmund had done those last, and had been very sloppy. It didn’t take her that long.

  When the last nail had been pried upward, Tanner’s hands were sore and swollen and the tips of her index fingers and thumbs were bleeding. She didn’t care. She had done what she set out to do.

  She was proud of herself for not crying, for not dissolving into a puddle of saltwater on the floor of The Booth. In spite of the pain she was in, it felt good to be taking charge of her life, no matter how futile her efforts might be. She felt a tiny bit less like a victim.

  Her heart told her it wasn’t going to do any good. Sigmund was so much stronger than she was, especially now, when she was so weak and tired. He’d be here soon, and she didn’t have a chance against him. Not really.

  But, she’d tried.

  Charlie would be proud of her.

  She felt feverish. Blood poisoning, because of her feet? Probably.

  Maybe it was just the stuffiness of The Booth.

  Carefully, gently, Tanner pushed against the now-detached rear wall of The Booth, still perfectly aligned next to the sides, just as it had been before she pried the nails free of the side wall. If he walked in this very minute, she thought, Sigmund wouldn’t be able to tell that I’d done anything. It doesn’t show.

  But in the next second, as she pushed harder, the wall came free of the sides and slowly tipped backward, then just as slowly fell to the floor.

  Holding her breath in awe, Tanner watched it fall. Air rushed in to meet her, and she almost smiled.

  But there was no time to waste. This was only the first part of her crazy plan, if she could even call it a plan. A hope, that’s what it was, a crazy, bizarre hope born out of desperation.

  Only a half-finished hope at that.

  She was so very tired. All she really wanted to do was lie down on the soft, thick carpet and close her eyes. She needed to rest. She needed hours and hours, maybe days of rest.

  But not now. There wasn’t time.

  Taking a deep breath, Tanner stepped free of her coffin.

  Chapter 21

  WHEN CHARLIE HURRIED INTO the frat house, Tom Wylie, sitting in the living room, called out to him. “Message for you, Cochran.”

  Impatient with the delay, but hoping against hope that it might be from Tanner, Charlie ran over and grabbed the small piece of paper. It told him that a Sergeant Cleary from the Twin Falls police department had called and wanted to see him as soon as possible. “Important” was scrawled across the bottom of the note in Tom’s hen-scratch.

  “Can’t I just call him?” Charlie said, anxious to get to Tanner’s house.

  Tom shook his head. “Nope. Made that very clear. Something he wants you to see, he said. Better get your tail down there, Charlie.” He grinned. “What’d you do, rob a bank? That how you got that sling on your arm?”

  Tom knew nothing about Tanner being missing, or how Charlie had broken his arm. This was no time to fill him in. Thanking him for taking the message, Charlie ran up the stairs to Sloane’s room. He didn’t know what to think. Maybe this Sergeant Cleary had good news for him about Tanner. Or maybe he had discovered, as Charlie had, the identity of someone who just might know where Tanner was.

  But … Charlie’s steps slowed … the police believed that Tanner had left town of her own free will on some fun-filled jaunt to the Orient and therefore hadn’t been searching for her. So how could they know anything? Anything good! Wouldn’t any news they had be bad news? Something that had accidentally come to their attention, like a … a body?

  Oh, God, what was he thinking? He was not going to think like that. Besides, the police didn’t just call when they found a body, did they? Didn’t they at least come in person to deliver that kind of news? On television, they did.

  Sloane was in his room, but there was no one with him. “Couldn’t raise Philip and Vince,” he said. “Sorry.” He looked sullen. “I missed a math test, by the way, waiting for you. Have to make it up on Monday.”

  “Where’s Sandy?” Charlie barked, unsympathetic to Sloane. Sloane just wasn’t used to not having his own way, that was all. He’d get over it. “Why isn’t she here?”

  “How should I know? I can’t keep track of everyone. I called Sandy’s room, and there wasn’t any answer. Maybe she’s out looking for Joellen. So, are we going to Tanner’s house or not? I’ve got another class in half an hour.”

  “Forget it,” Charlie said brusquely. “We have more important things to do. C’mon, we have to go into town.”

  Sloane looked unhappy. “All the way into town? What for?”

  “Police station. Sergeant there wants to see me. I think he has news about Tanner. Come on, Sloane, quit dragging your heels, I’ll drive. Then, unless something that sergeant tells us changes my mind, we’re going straight to Tanner’s house.”

  “Well, I hope that sergeant knows where she is and that she’s fine and dandy, Charlie,” Sloane said grimly, although he left his chair and grabbed a jacket out of the closet. “Because you’re driving everybody nuts thinking something’s happened to her, when all that probably happened is that Tanner decided to escape from that father of hers. I don’t blame her,” he groused as they left the room. “Who’d want to live with him?”

  The car seemed to Charlie to crawl toward town, even though he pressed as hard on the accelerator as he dared. The town police were always on the lookout for college students speeding. The distance between campus and the village had never seemed longer.

  It took him an extra five minutes to find a parking space near the police station.

  By the time they ran inside the police station, Charlie’s head was pounding. This was taking up so much valuable time, when he could be in that house looking for Tanner. Or on campus checking out a discharged mental patient whose name he now knew. Whatever the sergeant had to tell him had better be worth the trip.

  There were four people ahead of him, tending to business of one sort or another with the desk sergeant. The man at the head of the line was arguing loudly, and it didn’t look like he was going to give up any time soon.

  But when an impatient Charlie went to another officer to ask for help, he was waved back to the desk at the front of the room. Clearly, no one received help without first going through the desk sergeant.

  Charlie paced back and forth, watching the minutes pass on a large round clock at the front of the room.

  When he thought he couldn’t stand it any longer, and that nothing Sergeant Cleary could tell him would be worth wasting all this time, the last person left the line and he was finally facing the desk sergeant.

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sp; “Sergeant Cleary, please,” Charlie said, “I’m Charlie Cochran. Sergeant Cleary asked to see me.”

  The desk sergeant lifted his head from papers he’d been working on and looked at Charlie. “Today? Cleary wanted to see you today?”

  Charlie nodded. “Yes. He left a message saying it was important. Something he wanted to show me.”

  The sergeant shook his head. “I don’t think so. Cleary didn’t call you today. He’s in Norfolk, Virginia, at a seminar. Left Monday. Won’t be back until Saturday afternoon. Doesn’t seem like he’d be calling you from Virginia. You sure you got the name right?”

  “I didn’t take the message,” Charlie said impatiently. “Someone else did. But that’s the name he wrote down. Cleary. Sergeant Cleary.”

  “Well, he’s not here. Hasn’t been. Won’t be. Someone gave you a bum steer, kid. And what is it that you think Sergeant Cleary would be wanting to see you about? Maybe I could help.”

  But Charlie was already running from the police station, dragging Sloane along with him. Charlie was shaking his head and muttering, “I don’t believe this, I am such a fool! What a total idiot!”

  He did not obey the speed limit signs on his way back to campus and Faculty Row.

  Chapter 22

  OUT OF THE COFFIN, Tanner wanted nothing so much as to relish her freedom. She wanted to run around the room, leaping for joy, touching things, breathing in the air, staring up at the brilliant blue sky above the skylight.

  But she didn’t dare. No time. She’d been lucky so far. He could turn the key in that lock at any second, and there would be the back wall of The Booth lying on the floor. She would never survive his anger.

  Bending painfully, Tanner lifted the back wall and aligned it once again along the side walls. When it was in place, she picked up the heavy Scotch tape dispenser and wielded it as a hammer, knocking the nails back into their holes in the side walls. It wasn’t important to get them in perfectly, or even all the way, just enough to hold the back wall in place. That would be enough if her plan worked.