The Visitor

Mara didn't run to her room. She ran to the kitchen. She grabbed a paring knife and taped it to her thigh, under her skirt. She put the key back in the library. She forced herself to stop shaking.

She had to escape. But the gate was coded. The cliffs were sheer. She was trapped in a glass cage at the end of the world.

The next morning, salvation knocked on the door.

The intercom buzzed. A car was at the gate. A police cruiser.

Mara watched from the Solarium as the car drove up. A man in a trench coat stepped out. Detective Halloway. She recognized him from the missing person flyer she had seen online for David.

Julian met him at the door. Mara stood at the top of the stairs, listening.

"Mr. Vane?" the detective asked. "Detective Halloway. We're following up on a lead regarding a David Thorne. His vehicle was spotted on your perimeter camera feeds three days ago."

"Ah, yes," Julian said, his voice smooth as silk. "A troubled man. He came looking for my assistant. I turned him away."

"We'd like to speak with the assistant. Ms. Kovic?"

Julian hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second. "Of course. She is... fragile. But I will call her."

Julian turned and looked up the stairs. He saw Mara. His eyes were cold, void of any light.

"Mara, my dear. A detective would like a word."

Mara walked down the stairs. Her legs felt like lead. This was it. She had to signal him. She couldn't speak—the stress had locked her vocal cords tighter than ever—but she could write.

She walked into the foyer. Detective Halloway looked kind. Tired, but kind.

"Ms. Kovic? I'm Detective Halloway. Did you see David Thorne on Tuesday?"

Mara nodded.

"Did he speak to you?"

She shook her head.

"Did you see where he went?"

She shook her head again. She reached into her pocket for a pen and a small notepad she always carried.

Julian stepped closer. He placed a hand on her shoulder. His grip was firm, painful. "She is mute, Detective. Trauma. It is difficult for her to communicate under pressure."

"I understand," Halloway said. "Ms. Kovic, if you could just write down what you saw."

Mara put the pen to the paper.

*HELP ME.*

She wrote the words in jagged block letters. She began to tear the page out to hand to him.

"How about some tea?" Julian suggested suddenly. "It’s a long drive from town, Detective."

Halloway smiled. "That would be nice. Black, please."

"Mara," Julian said, squeezing her shoulder. "Why don't you go to the kitchen and prepare a pot? I'll take the detective to the study."

He looked at the notepad in her hand. "And leave that here. We don't want to clutter the investigation with scribbles."

Mara froze. He knew.

She looked at the detective. She tried to shove the note at him.

Julian’s hand shot out. He grabbed her wrist. It looked like a casual gesture, but his thumb dug into her nerve. Her hand spasmed, dropping the pad.

"She’s trembling," Julian said with mock concern. "The memories are too much. Go, Mara. Kitchen. Now."

His eyes bored into hers. *Obey.*

Mara turned and ran to the kitchen. She fumbled with the kettle. She had to get the knife. She had to do something.

She heard the study door close.

She grabbed the knife from her leg. She crept back into the hallway.

She heard voices.

"She seems terrified, Mr. Vane," Halloway was saying.

"She is a victim, Detective. The world terrifies her."

"Maybe. But that note she was writing..."

"Curiosity," Julian mused. "It’s a dangerous trait."

*Thud.*

A wet, heavy sound. Like a melon being dropped on concrete.

Then silence.

Mara clapped a hand over her mouth.

The study door opened.

Julian stepped out. He was holding a heavy bronze sculpture—a bust of some forgotten philosopher. The base was wet with dark blood.

He wiped a speck of red from his cheek with a pristine white handkerchief.

He looked down the hallway. He saw Mara.

He didn't smile. He didn't look angry. He looked bored.

"I thought you appreciated silence, Mara," he said, his voice echoing in the concrete cavern. "Why did you try to make noise?"