Is This True?

Chapter 19

"Hello?"

Before stepping through the broken door that looked as if something or someone had beaten on it, my eyes peeked around the corner and scanned the area for any signs of life. But there was none. This house had been abandoned for a long time. That was when we just left here four years ago, but why would Samantha neglect it? This house was like an heirloom to her, but wait, she went missing soon after. That's right, how could I forget?

But where would she have gone?

Someone certainly couldn't have kidnapped her. Both she and Joan were more than able to take care of themselves, but what if--what if Joan and Samantha were banded together? What if they left together for whatever reason?

On the day we left, my friends told me Samantha had led them into the mountains but left them to fend for themselves soon after. I mean, why would she leave them? That may be a good question, but it certainly doesn't surprise me. There have been many times Joan has come and gone without explanation. Again, they were unpredictable. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them showed up just about now--
Thump!

I jumped, watching a dark rat scurry between my feet. It was rather large and if my eyes hadn't focused so closely, I would've thought it was a black cat.

Exhaling, I gather myself together and continue my journey into the once familiar Victorian beauty.

It seemed just like yesterday I wandered into these halls, mesmerized by its interior. The furniture was still in the same position including a few extra inches of dust. One chair in the parlor--no lies--looked as if it would fall over at any given second. A soft blow of air would do it, for sure. The piano, desiring to be played, also stood idly by the stairs. Deep in my memory, the image of Mary gliding down the stairs replayed in my mind; but I shook the thought away.

Bad things happen whenever I think of her and now wasn't the time for that.

Creaking up the stairs two at a time, I didn't bother checking the bedrooms since I assumed they'd be in the same condition; but that feeling in my gut told me to. After all, I wonder if that knife was still inside that room Maggie and I stayed in.

To my shocking, it was still there.
I picked it up with my hands, my fingers slowly scraping the dirt off from the handle. The blade was still sharp and shiny on the sides, but the tip looked a bit dull. Other than that, it looked good as new. Should I leave it?

Keep it?

My brain juggled with the certain possibilities, but again, I listened to my gut because it seems to be always right, right?

It was decided; I would keep it. For now.

But before I could do anything else, it was time for my next stop: the attic.

I was rather hesitant to even climb the rickety stairs that have quickly aged over the years, but by just thinking about what happened when I was up there last made me even more leery to try. I had to though, for the case, of course. I was supposed to be gathering evidence, but I didn't even have any clues or leads except for the warning that woman gave me. Just thinking about it gave me the chills. How could someone disappear so quickly like that without a trace? Maybe it was just a figure of my imagination. If that was the case, was what she said my imagination too? Was it real? That Samantha shouldn't be trusted? And that there were others?

I wish I knew.

I made it up to the top, my eyes again scanning the premises. It looked slightly different than when I was first up here, but maybe some things were moved around casually. But the deeper my search became, the faster I realized that the things weren't moved around just casually. They were moved as if the one moving them was in a hurry.

Blankets and sheets were tossed on the side and the chest filled with the newspapers and small scrapbooks was toppled over. Did someone break in? Were they looking for something? I wouldn't think someone would have broken in because of the condition of the front door, but the possibility of entering through a back door or window was strong. But again, like I had noticed, the front door did look like someone had beaten on it. Maybe I was right. Maybe someone did break in.

But why?

Nothing else in the house was touched so why make a complete mess up here? Maybe they knew what they were looking for was up here and just couldn't find it? Did it have anything to do with what was inside the chest?

I moved the chest back to its original spot and sifted through it. It was a mess. Some criminal these people were. I couldn't even begin to think of what they wanted, but a thought occurred to me.

The journal.

The journal with all the information I could ever need was inside my small backpack. I was wearing it at the moment, so it was in good hands. Was that what they were looking for? But why? What private information would they possibly want to seek?

"I'm probably just making this all up."

I whispered out loud to myself,
"Why did I even get this job?"

Standing to my feet, I exited the attic and proceeded to make my way out of the house. After all, I really didn't find anything or any information, that is, to help the case. I was on a false chase with no leads so far but with just unanswerable questions and made-up scenarios, my brain decided to come up with. I didn't even know whether they were true or not, but you never know.

Closing the front door behind me, I almost instantly stopped dead in my tracks.

Footprints.

They led up to the front of the house, but when I first walked up, they weren't any tracks in the snow. These were fresh.

And they weren't mine.