SANDY
When I learned what happened to Sandy, my world changed forever. While growing up, she had always been like a mother to me. What happened to her is bizarre, yet I could never have imagined how horrifying. And her damned house didn’t sit well with me from the beginning.
I’m Cole Mendoza, owner of Black Wolf Private Security. The following pages document the mysterious circumstances involving the disappearance of Sandra Breyer. What you are about to read may sound unbelievable, but the events are true.
Early May
“Cole, I bought a house!” Sandy said to me over the phone. “It’s a Queen Anne Victorian!”
“That’s great!” I said. “You’ve always talked about owning one.”
“Yes, and now I have it, finally. It’s huge, has lots of rooms and is red with white trim. I’ve moved to Ravensblood.”
“Ravensblood?”
“It’s a small town six hours north of Detroit and sits along a river.”
“I’ve never heard of it. Is it anywhere near the town called Hell?” I asked sarcastically.
“No,” Sandy chuckled. “Hell is west of Detroit.”
“I didn’t know you were looking to move. When did you do it?”
“Last month. Bad memories live in my old house. You know, everything involving Peter. I miss Detroit but need to move on. I don’t want to feel ‘un’ anymore.”
Un was how Sandy described feeling sad, alone, or depressed.
“A new house and a new life,” Sandy said. “I’m back to using my maiden name. The Victorian needs work, but I got a good land contract deal. Somehow, I feel I need to be here. You have to come visit me and see the house, Cole. When can I give you a tour?”
“It’s a plan, Sandy. I’m off next weekend. I’ll be sure to make the trip then.”
Sandy sounded ecstatic over the phone. It was one of the rare times she was happy since her divorce. Eager to check out the house and visit my old friend, I took the long drive in my black Jeep Rubicon the following weekend like I said. After finally making it to Ravensblood, I steered through the small downtown area on Main Street. The locals bustled among small, charming shops and eateries. I passed by a quaint park which stretched in back of the row of businesses as sunlight danced and glistened off the pretty river behind it.
Outside of town on the way to Sandy’s house, large fields, barns and roadkill were abundant along winding dirt roads. I spider-webbed through the rural area until encountering the large red Victorian, trimmed in white, like Sandy described. It was situated far back from Arkham Road and surrounded by woods; the nearest neighbor blocks away. A tall green spruce stood on the front lawn, casting a pleasant shade on the neatly cut grass.
Sandy’s vintage orange Volkswagen Beetle was parked in the cement driveway close to the house. While pulling up behind it, a huge black bird landed on the old white porch banister. As I exited my vehicle, it let out a deep hoarse croak while gazing at me with shiny black eyes.
Sandy opened the thick oak front door with a smile, her soft features aglow and blonde hair touching her shoulders. She was a great looking woman in her fifties.
“Cole! It’s good to see you, Hun! It’s been too long.”
“Hey, Sandy!” I said, treading toward the porch. “Good to see you too.” The black bird squawked then flew away with brash flapping wings.
“Was that a friend of yours?” I asked.
“Oh, the raven?” she said, greeting me as I headed up the steps. “He comes around. I’ve got plenty of animals around here.”
She gave me a hug.
“Blonde, huh?” I said. “Looks good. I like the bangs.”
“You know, making changes and all.”
“Working on a tan too, I see. Catching rays?”
“I am. I’ve been doing lots of yard work in the sun. I’ll have your skin tone soon enough. Shame I don’t have your dark wavey hair to go with it. I see you’re keeping it clean-cut now. How’s the executive security business?”
“It’s good. Black Wolf is growing. We landed enough high-profile clients to move headquarters downtown.”
“I’ve always worried about you doing bodyguard work,” Sandy said, leading me through the front door. “It’s too dangerous. Be careful, Cole.”
She led me into the large main hall. Thick gold frames surrounded paintings which hung on light beige walls.
“Don’t you just love it?” Sandy asked.
“I do,” I said. “It’s fantastic. The house is a lot bigger than I thought.”
Somehow the old style appealed to me. In the main hall against the left wall, stood a long dark wooden staircase with a landing at the top. Stairs continued from the landing up to the right leading to the second floor. Directly above us, a loud heavy creak came from the ceiling. Then two more. Footsteps. Someone was walking upstairs.
“Anybody there?” I asked while pointing upward. “Do you have company, Sandy?”
“No, I don’t,” Sandy responded with a reassuring smile. “There’s no one upstairs. It’s the house settling, that’s all.”
“Are you sure? It sounds like someone is up there walking around.”
“Oh, this old place makes all kinds of creepy noises. You know, the banging furnace, chattering pipes, things like that. It’s nobody.”
My bodyguard instincts kicked in.
“Are you sure? Maybe I should check it out?”
“No, it’s okay. It’s nothing. Just an old house.”
“Alright, if you say so,” I said, trusting her judgement.
To the immediate right of the hall, I was escorted through a wide archway on which two white French Doors on each side swung inward. We stepped into a long living room, almost stretching to the back of the house. Resting against primrose-colored walls on which hung more paintings.
A large mahogany fireplace lay against the wall directly ahead. Two gold candle holders rested on the mantel, each held a long, unburned white candle. Old Victorian-style furniture matched the decor.
“This isn’t your old furniture,” I said, touching the sky-blue couch.
“I sold mine. All of this furniture came with the house, including the paintings. I love the artwork.”
On the coffee table sat a game of chess with glass pieces.
“Remember when I was a kid, I used to come to your house, and we’d play for hours? I knew you’d let me win.”
“You were eleven at the time. I didn’t mind and enjoyed the company.”
“We enjoyed yours too. My parents were grateful for you. When they were struggling you helped us out. A home-cooked meal was always ready, and you bought clothes for my brothers and me when we needed them. You were always our second mom, Sandy.”
“Yeah, I always felt like you were my kids. Your parents knew I was alone and were there for me too. They were great friends. But when I married Pete, he wouldn’t let me out of the house.”
“Well, we don’t have to worry about that guy anymore. He’ll be locked up for a long while.”
“So, how’s your love life, Cole?” Sandy asked, changing the subject. “Has any special woman captured your heart?”
“No, I’m not dating at all,” I said with a smirk. “I’m focusing on expanding the company right now. There’s nobody out there for me anyway.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. Remember, when you meet her, you’ll know.”
“Okay, if she ever comes around, I’ll be sure to tell you,” I said, half joking.
We stepped up to the sizable painting hanging above the fireplace. It was an oil on canvas of a red Victorian with white trim, situated in front of the woods with a gray cloudy sky and large pale moon above.
“That looks like this Victorian,” I said. “Is it the same house?”
“It is. It must have been commissioned by previous owners or something. It’s a little creepy but it’s well done.”
Sandy was right. The mood of the painting was dark and ominous, giving a sensation of unease.
Stepping back into the main hall, we made a sharp right, passing more paintings down the hallway. At the back of the house, we entered a light blue colored room decorated with large sprouting green plants placed all around. A white wicker chair sat near the window, a small table next to it, and a footrest in front. An enormous grandfather clock stood against the only wall void of foliage.
“This is my sanctuary,” Sandy said. “The perfect place to unwind and have tea. I’m going to buy an aquarium and put it on the table next to the broken clock.”
“What’s wrong with the grandfather?”
“Oh, it tells time, but it doesn’t sound. The chime mechanism is broken.”
“That’s okay. You wouldn’t want to be interrupted while relaxing in here. Looks like a good place to de-stress.”
I gazed out the large back window of her sanctuary into the backyard. A red brick garage sat far back in the yard, in front of the wood’s edge. Behind it, to the left was a huge oak tree, its trunk strangely shaped like a giant man. It divided upward into two thick arm-like branches with a rounded bump in the middle, like a head. Though odd, I made no comment about it.
We exited the small jungle back into the hall, making another right turn. The bathroom was next to the sanctuary, containing a clawed feet tub and an old pedestal sink. Next to the bathroom, we entered the kitchen. White cabinets with glass doors lined the sunshine-yellow walls. The back door led to an enclosed porch.
We went through another doorway on the left, into the dining room, painted with mint green walls. A glass dining table was at the center with a crystal chandelier hanging above. Again, more paintings on the walls. A final left brought us back into the main hall in front of the stairwell where we started. We had traveled in the shape of a square. “Let’s have a look upstairs,” Sandy suggested.
The steps moaned as she led me up to the landing then made the sharp right up the smaller flight. The hall on the second floor was in the shape of a hook, the empty space of the stairwell in the center.
Sandy revealed the master bedroom, which contained a queen-sized bed with a mahogany frame. The guest bedroom had a twin bed. There was also a cozy study, with shelves loaded with books and an oak desk at the back wall, accompanied by a brown leather chair.
“What’s behind the last door on the end of the hall?” I asked.
“Oh, that leads to the attic. It’s filled with clutter and junk. It needs to be cleaned. You’re tall, Cole. Six feet, right?
“Yeah, six feet even.”
“Good. You can change the light bulb up there for me later. It went out earlier today.”
A thunderous bang came from above, followed by a strong thump on the ceiling. Someone was in the attic.
Ravensblood 