The Third Floor Part 5

In her sleep, tiny hands nudged her again.

Liz jerked awake with a gasp and rolled out of reach. She was wide-awake and staring. Joey beamed into her sleeping face.

"Time to get up," he said.

"I'm up," she murmured into the mattress.

"Time to get up on the floor."

Liz slid her leg out of bed and her bare foot hit the floor. "There." She pushed herself up and stretched. Her back popped. Her other foot hit the floor. Joey bounded off into the living room.

Jack poked his head in. He was b.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt.

"You gonna get up sometime, lazy bones?"

"Not if I can help it," she said. "Oh, my G.o.d I didn't sleep at all last night."

"You didn't? Man, I was out."

She pulled clothes from her dresser and slid past him into the hall, heading for the bathroom.

When she came out again, Jack was in the living room, looking through the phone book.

"Are you going to be here if I can get someone to come and check for squirrels?"

"I should be. Joey can play in the yard if he wants to. Or if they come early enough I can take him to the park later."

Jack found a listing, called, and hung up.

"He said the soonest he could come would be tomorrow."

"That's fine," Liz said. "I'm sure they're not going anywhere."

"Unfortunately."

He kissed Liz and Joey, then left.

Liz sat on the couch. Joey was on the floor, watching cartoons.

I can't sit here all day, she thought. I've got to go up there some time.

It was nearly noon before she did.

Joey ate a sandwich in front of the television. Liz crept up the stairs, watching her feet, wondering where the footfalls she'd heard last night had landed. The landing was bright with sunlight. Dust motes floated by. Liz blew them away. She rounded the landing and looked up to the second floor, expecting . . . she wasn't sure what. Part of her didn't expect to see anything at all. The other half wasn't so confident. She climbed higher and breathed a very small sigh of relief to find the second floor empty.

The morning's chill was gone, replaced by early afternoon warmth and the sunlight s.h.i.+ning into the room threw big squares of yellow onto the floor. Crossing through one of them, she was instantly comforted. She stood at one of the side windows and looked down at the empty lot next door. While she stared down, she listened, waiting for footsteps, pounding, a voice.

With her back to the room, Liz knew that any second she'd feel that tiny hand pressed against her again. But in the brilliance of day, she was able to hold off the terror.

The house was silent around her, but she didn't trust that silence.

It's waiting, she thought. Waiting for my guard to be down. Then it'll do something.

As if in answer, something thumped overhead. She looked at the ceiling. Yes, right above her, in one of the bedrooms.

There's no way I'm going up there, she thought.

Then Jack's voice came into her head. It's squirrels.

"That's a big f.u.c.king squirrel," she said. When the sound didn't repeat, she relaxed a little and was able to make herself think maybe it really had been a squirrel. Maybe it had gnawed a hole in the ceiling and had fallen out. That might have caused a bigger thump than normal.

Would it, really?

"I don't know," she admitted.

She found herself going to the stairs, but instead of descending, Liz stepped up. Her hand gripped the rail, sliding along as she climbed to the second landing. As she pa.s.sed under the rail where the third floor looked down onto the stairs, a chill went through her. She looked around and up to the third floor looming over her. The ceiling was high and the room was grey; the middle room had only one window, high over the stairs, on the north side of the house. Very little sunlight ever found this room. She reached the top of the stairs and found the room empty.

No, the sound came from one of the bedrooms, not from out here.

She stood, frozen but trying to work up her courage.

It's just a house, she told herself. All houses make noises. This house is just a little bigger than usual, so the noises here might be bigger.

"That's just stupid," she said.

She moved to take a step and froze again. There was a voice.

"Forgive me," it said. It panted twice, then said it again, "Forgive me." It kept repeating these two words over and over between pants, "Forgive me,"--pant, pant--"Forgive me,"--pant, pant--"Forgive me."

Liz was at the bottom of the steps before she realized she'd even started moving.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed up the phone and dialed 911. The operator took her sweet time answering. When she did, Liz blurted, "I need the police there's someone in my house hurry--"

The operator asked Liz to slow down.

"I said, there's someone in my house. Upstairs. I heard them up there talking, so there might even be two people. My husband's at work and it's just me and my son, so I need them here right now."

"And what's the address, ma'am?"

Liz gave her the address, "On Fourth Street," she added. "Between Roland and Pacific."

"Okay, ma'am, two units are on their way. Do you want to stay on the line until they get there? Or do you have a neighbor whose house you can go to?"

"No," Liz said. "I'll wait for them outside."

The operator said they should be there within minutes, then she let Liz get off the phone.

Liz grabbed Joey and headed out the back door. She took him around the house, down to the sidewalk and led him down to the lot next door. She sat with him on the sidewalk, staring down the street, expecting screaming police cruisers to charge up the street any second, lights flas.h.i.+ng, and sirens blaring. She threw glances back to the house, half-hoping, half-dreading to see someone darting out the front door.

"What are we doing outside?" Joey asked.

"We're just waiting for some people," she answered.

"Is Dad coming home?"

"Not yet. But I wish he was, believe me."

Finally the police arrived and Liz pointed to the house.

"There's two doors," she told them. "The front door should be locked, but I haven't seen anyone come out that way. The back door's unlocked."

The officers split up and one went in through the back while the other waited at the front door. The back door man came up to open the front and both disappeared inside the house.

Liz stood and waited.

"How come the policemen are here?" Joey asked. "Did a criminal get in our house?"

"I don't know," she answered. "But don't worry about it, Joe. Whatever it is, they can handle it. That's what they're for."

"When I grow up," he said, "I'm going to be a super-hero so if any criminals get in you and Dad's house when I'm grown up and live in my own house, you can call me and I'll get them for you. But don't tell Dad 'cause I don't want him to know my secret ident.i.ty."

Liz didn't know if she should laugh or not. She knew he thought he was serious, but the whole idea was so cute, she couldn't help it.

"That will be our secret," she said.

She kept watching the house, wondering what the h.e.l.l was taking so long.

It's a big house. There's a lot of ground to cover up there.

After a while, Liz was sure they'd been in there for half an hour already and still they hadn't emerged with a pair of handcuffed trespa.s.sers stumbling ahead of them. She looked up at one of the third floor windows and thought she saw movement.

That's where they were, she thought.

Then she heard the voice again, repeating its plea in her head.

Forgive me--(pant, pant)--forgive me--(pant, pant)--forgive me.

She s.h.i.+vered and looked away.

"So what's your super-hero name going to be?" she asked Joey.

He looked thoughtful for a second, then answered, "Um, I think maybe, um . . . can you guys buy me a motorcycle? I can be Motorcycle Man."

Liz smiled and said, "A motorcycle, huh? We'll see about that one."

"No," Joey decided, "I don't want to be Motorcycle Man. I think I'll be, um . . . I don't know. I'll wait until I get older and then I'll think of a name. But I'll have to start training soon, so I might need one of those, um, big things, you know? That you hang and you punch it?"

"Punching bag?"

"Yeah, that's it, I'll probably need a punching bag so I can train."

"We might be able to do that," she said.

Finally she saw the officers coming down the porch steps. They were alone.

She ran up to meet them.

"Where is he?" she asked, searching behind them, hoping the creep was coming out after them.

"Ma'am," the first cop said, "we searched the entire house and there's no one in there. Now, whoever was in there, if there was anyone, could have gone out the back door while you were waiting out here."

"Yes," the second cop chimed in, "it wouldn't have been anything at all to slip down the back alley and, from up here, you wouldn't have seen a thing."

"The best we can do is advise you to keep your doors locked all the time, the windows, too. Is your husband in the home?"

"You just said there was no one in there," Liz said. She was beginning to think these cops were morons.

"No, I mean, does he live in the home with you and your son?"

"Of course," she replied. Yes, she decided, they were morons.

"Then, Ma'am, you and your husband may want to look into a security system."

"Especially with a house this size," said the other cop.

"And you're positive there's no one in there?" Liz asked. "You went through all three floors and the bas.e.m.e.nt? Both levels?"

The cops glanced at each other, then said, "Yes, Ma'am, we did." She knew they hadn't. She'd bet they'd missed the bas.e.m.e.nt door just like she had the first day.

"Well," she said, "I guess then, I'm . . . sorry . . . for getting you all the way here for nothing."

"That's no problem," said the first cop. "It is a big house. I'm sure you get all kinds of noises you don't recognize. But I doubt there's anything in there that could hurt you."

The cops exchanged another look and Liz wondered what they were thinking.

"It's always better safe than sorry, anyway," the second cop added.

"I guess," she said. "Thanks. And again, I'm sorry I got you here for nothing."

"It's no problem," he repeated, then climbed into his cruiser. The second cop got into his and they both had pulled away by the time Liz and Joey reached the front door.

Liz carried Joey on her back down the stairs, then slid him to the floor. He ran into the living room and collapsed on the floor, his chin in his hands, staring up at the television. It was still on.

"No running in the house," Liz said. "Besides, come on, it's naptime."

"But we just came inside," Joey said.

"I know we did, and look at the clock. What time does it say?"