Page 66 of His to Claim

When I opened the door, the musty odor greeting me was exactly as I would have expected. As a series of LED lights popped on, my nerves remained on edge. The stairs were surprisingly wide, having been rebuilt at some point. When I reached the bottom, I was surprised at the clean, modern, and very organized space.

There were no darkened holes where monsters could hide or ominous shadows coming from corners. Everything in the oversized space was bright, only the smell giving away any age.

The area also contained a huge range of supplies from copy paper to toner. Everything was in order and categorized. I found the employee records in the back, the dozens of boxes positioned on steel racks. They were labeled by years and alphabetized, just as I would have expected. While I had no indication of what year to start, I chose the year before I was born.

I ran my hand over the long metal table, the work surface sleek and obviously recently wiped down. I tugged the flashlight from my pocket, carefully placing it on the table.

I was forced to grab a stepstool, the heavy box awkward to yank down from the top shelf. I dragged it to the table at the end of the row, gingerly opening the lid. As with everything else in the space, the folders were neatly organized and labeled. What I did find interesting was that the labels themselves appeared to be new and without the yellowing effect I would have expected. Why would anyone perform the tedious task of replacing all the identification stickers?

As I sifted through the documents, forced to pull out several in order to search, I quickly realized there was nothing with regard to my father. Damn it. I wasn’t quite as careful when I packed everything away, frustrated as hell. Another dead end. As I placed the box back in position, I realized that his disappearance could have happened over several years, including after my mother had left the city.

No, if I had to venture a guess, his disappearance actually prompted my mother’s departure, a story made up to account for the move. How old had I been? Four or five. I took a chance, pulling down yet another box.

While the basement should be chilly as hell, my exasperation as well as a trickle of fear kept my heart racing and my blood pumping. Beads of perspiration trickled along my forehead and over my mouth, a reminder that I needed to finish quickly. That last thing I needed was a night security officer or a member of the cleaning staff to find me here at this time of night. I was certain Mr. Montenegro would be told.

Within seconds, I realized two things. There was no mention of my father but more important, it would appear that a handful of files were missing around the letter T. While I couldn’t be certain, I highly doubted the records stopped at O and resumed at W. I quickly replaced everything, moving to the third box. By now, my arms were aching, my stomach churning, and my sixth sense kicking into some horrible overdrive.

I moved quickly, grabbing the last box I felt comfortable in looking through. I knew at least an hour had gone by. As expected, I found the same exact situation. Whoever had cleaned out the files appeared to have been in a time crunch. And I knew in my gut the reason the files were missing.

Hissing, my anger was heightened enough I shoved the box across the table. When it unexpectedly dropped to the floor, I cursed under my breath. The last thing I needed was to spend time cleaning up and sorting through files. I stormed around the table, yanking the box onto the surface and crouching down to grab the clutter of files, including the loose papers that had fallen out. There was no way I was taking the time to put everything back together.

As I dumped them onto the table, one of the pages caught my eye, forcing me to bite back a gasp. I blinked twice, shocked at what I was seeing, my fingers shaking as I pulled it close to my face. There in black and white was a piece of paper with my father’s name on it, an employee record including the date of hire. Even his signature was right there in black and white. Tears sprang to my eyes as I rubbed the tip of my finger over his name, tracing the cursive writing.

For the first time in my entire life I felt close to my father, vindicated in my mind for my crazy plan that had taken me thousands of miles away from my home.

But this had once been my home, with my father, at least according to the employee file. I allowed my gaze to fall to the table, pushing through the other files in hopes of finding more. After several minutes of searching, I realized there was nothing else with his name on it. At least I had proof of his existence.

The paper itself told me very little other than his name, social security number, and an address I didn’t recognize. It was enough. Giddy, I savored the moment, taking several deep breaths to calm my nerves. I would get to the bottom of the mystery one way or the other.

Click.

What the hell?

The lights went out completely, tossing me into complete darkness. Maybe they were on a timer at night or perhaps the electricity was out in the entire building. Everything was pitch black even after I blinked several times. An instant wave of fear rushed into me even though I hadn’t heard another sound. I waited for another two full minutes in case there was a generator of some kind.

Of course not.

Very carefully I folded the paper, sliding it into my back pocket. As I felt along the edge of the table, the darkness became suffocating, I calmed my breathing in order to ascertain the direction to the stairs as I reached for the flashlight. It took me three tries to be able to wrap my hand around the smooth cylinder. I was amazed how disorienting the darkness was, throwing me completely off. The instant the beam of light added a warm glow to a succinct area, I took a deep breath of relief.

I was a damn fool to have come here. Some sleuth I was. All I had to do was secure the box back in its position and get the hell out of here.

The task seemed to take forever, perhaps because my hands were clammy, even more so than before. I turned around one last time, making certain everything was in its place then moved quickly toward the door.

The single slight scraping sound seemed to echo in the massive space. While it came from behind me, the noise was far too close for comfort. I turned around slowly, swinging the beam in a basic grid I’d learned from self-defense classes. I could see nothing out of place. I was just jittery from coming close to breaking the law.

The thought gave me a smile and I shifted back toward the stairs, making it only three feet before I heard the noise again, only this time I homed in on what it reminded me of.

Someone purposely tossing a piece of metal against the concrete floor. Very gently I eased my gun from my back, holding both the flashlight and the weapon in two hands as I swung around another three hundred and sixty degrees.

A skittering series of sensations jetted down my spine, falling swiftly to the floor. I wasn’t alone. Given the sound was still behind me, likely at least twenty feet away, I knew I had a chance to make it to the stairs. Suddenly I could hear what reminded me of footsteps heading in my direction, only the gait was entirely different, as if the creature was walking on four legs.

Fuck.

Stop being ridiculous.

Was I?

I swallowed hard before biting my lip to keep from crying out. Was I really thinking there was a beast of some kind in the room? Oh, God. Oh…

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