“Nothing at all,” Wil said with a wink.
Samantha got out of the car. Julie tried to follow her, but Wil put a firm hand on her shoulder.
“You wait here, honey,” he said. “I need a lookout.”
Julie looked disappointed, but she sat back again. Wil shut the door and took Samantha by the arm. He escorted her up the driveway to the back of the house.
“When you told me about Julie’s ordeal in the hospital,” he said, “you spoke of a glass box.”
“Julie seemed to feel she’d been trapped in one,” Samantha said.
They’d reached the back of the house. Wil crouched down, pushing at an unlocked basement window.
“Look inside.”
Samantha did so. It was a few moments before her eyes adjusted to the darkness, but when they did, she gasped. There on the floor, near a table saw, tool bench, and water heater, lay a pod-shaped box. The top, made of glass, lay broken in large pieces around the floor. The bottom seemed to be made of wood. Wires had been ripped out of it and a small control panel hung loosely from the front.
“Julie’s glass box,” Samantha whispered. She looked at Wil. “But why does it look like it’s moving?”
Wil ran a hand through the spiky strands of his hair.
“I can’t imagine,” he said. “There may be bugs on it. . .”
“Oh . . .” Samantha felt sickened to imagine Julie had been held prisoner in that coffinlike apparatus. Because that’s exactly what it looked like: a glass-topped coffin.
Wil stood up. “Come on, we’re going inside.”
“But that’s illegal!” Samantha cried.
“So’s kidnapping and child abuse,” Wil said. He fished through his pockets and produced a small bag.
Samantha followed him up the stairs to the back door. He took out a tool, fidgeted with the lock, and within moments gained entry to the kitchen. Samantha held back at the doorway.
“Come on,” Wil said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“What if Henley comes back?”
“He has a hell of a lot more explaining to do than we have,” Wil said. “Try not to touch anything. We don’t want to leave fingerprints.”
He looked around the kitchen, but didn’t touch anything. Samantha was also careful to keep her hands to herself. In the living room Wil went directly to a table laden with family pictures.
“Anybody here look familiar?” he asked.
Samantha looked down.
“No, not at all,” she said.
“Let’s take a closer look at that pod,” Wil said. “We might get a better idea what it was used for.”
The entry to the basement was just outside the kitchen. Wil used a handkerchief to open the door and switch on the light. Samantha followed him down the wooden staircase, trying hard not to touch the banister.
“Over there,” Wil said.
“You know, Julie must be getting worried,” Samantha said.
“We’ve only been a few minutes,” Wil told her. “I think it’s important that you see this.”
He knelt down near the box, studying it carefully. The gnarls of wood really did seem to be moving, but only for a moment. Wil rubbed his eyes, letting them adjust better to the dim lighting. Samantha moved to the other side and did the same.
“It’s too strange for me to figure out,” she said.
“Julie would probably know what it was.”
Samantha glared at him over the rim.
“No way,” she said. “You aren’t bringing that child in here.”
“I didn’t plan to,” Wil reassured her. He got back up again and began to search the basement.
“What are you looking for?”
“Some sign she was down here,” Wil said. “Evidence he was holding her prisoner before he turned her over to you.”
“He sounds like a maniac,” Samantha said worriedly. “Wil, please, I don’t want to be here any—”
She had been walking toward him as she spoke, but her words were cut off when she stumbled over something lying on the floor. She backed up and cried out in dismay. Wil hurried to her and knelt back down to look at the body Samantha had discovered. It was dressed in a workshirt, khaki trousers, and workboots. The shadows obscured the features, but they knew at once who it must be.
“Henley,” Samantha whispered.
Wil went to the tool bench and found a flashlight. When the beam filled in the shadows, Samantha had to suppress a cry. The face they saw, screaming silently, was a mass of red. Facial muscles were so plainly exposed that Samantha could identify each one individually. The eyes were round and staring.
“My God, he must have been burned by something,” she said in a choking voice.