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Chapter 10, continued
Melody shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, "I wish it was that easy," she said.
"Okay," Don went on, he hadn't really expected much from that, "Do you know of anything valuable that the Richards kept upstairs? In the attic maybe?" Don held his breath. What would he do if she talked about the mirror?
Again, Melody shook her head. "I've never even been in their attic. As far as I know they just had some old furniture in there like everyone else. Why?" she asked, wrinkling her forehead, "did you find something?"
Don hesitated and then said, "no. Just hoping for some insight."
Melody shook her head again, "Sorry, then."
Don nodded, "Okay, last thing. Has the door to Chailyn's bedroom always squeaked?"
Melody nodded emphatically, "Oh yeah, that thing was---" she broke off in a gasp. "Oh my gosh. . ." she whispered. "She would have heard. . ." her voice trailed off and her face visibly paled. Slowly, her eyes met Don's and he could only nod.
"I know," he said. "Yeah, I know." Don pushed back his chair and muttered a thank you. Melody nodded, but her eyes were unfocused, and her mouth still hanging ajar when he left the room.
Don walked to his car in pensive silence. This case, he decided, was impossible. He lifted himself into the driver's seat and threw his notebook onto the chair beside him. As he closed the door, a resulting gust of wind flew through the car and flipped the pages of his notebook. Don moved to readjust it, and froze, his heart slamming against his ribcage. There, in his own notebook, was the childlike script. I'm going to see him today. Don's mouth had gone dry. A picture of the Mirror flashed inside his head, with the same words scrolled in that think, red substance. The little girl's scream echoed through his head. Don leaned his head against the back of his seat. I'm going to see him today, he thought. Twice. Two different places, two different times. He thought of the doll laying at home, on his kitchen floor. He thought of Mara's story of two little boys. And the words May this be a warning. Perhaps, Don thought, swallowing, though there was no saliva in his mouth, he needed to change the focus of the case. He grimaced and shivered. Something was going on, and he had to find out what. . . if only for his own peace of mind.