Part 17

Risa and Charlene had spoken at length about their encounter with Detective Wardell throughout the afternoon. Both girls had come to the conclusion that Wardell was actually a good man with good intentions. Risa was somewhat amazed that her feelings regarding Wardell had shifted so suddenly after their short talk on the front lawn. However, it was comforting for her that Charlene had felt the same way. Wardell seemed less daunting after speaking with him directly and she silently wished him well on his investigation, even if it uncovered unpleasant scenarios regarding her brother.

As if sensing that Risa needed her company, Charlene had canceled her appointment at the nail salon to spend the day at the Pope residence. Charlene had even stayed to have dinner with Risa and her mother. It was a relatively quiet affair since Risa's mom seemed preoccupied - her mind clearly elsewhere. Risa probably was not a viable sounding board as well, since she often caught herself thinking about her conversation with Wardell. But, being somewhat ignored never deterred Charlene from talking. She easily filled the silent phases during the meal with trivial stories and tales of her adventures at the local mall.

It was nearly 10 pm at night by the time Charlene left Risa's house. That's the latest she had stayed at her friend's home since they were in elementary school. In those years the girls would often spend days on end in each others company. They became closer during long sleep over parties and lock-ins.

As they aged, the appeal of staying late at Risa's home waned. As the girl's relaxation activities changed, they found staying at Risa's less and less desirable. Charlene had often wanted to stay at Risa's home to avoid the fighting and arguing that was a nightly occurrence during her parents divorce. Once her parent's marriage was finally dissolved, it made Charlene's house a more enviable place to be.

Charlene's father, who had gained custody of his three children assumed that the best way to cement the affection of his children - was to purchase it. Since her father had the means to accomplish this goal, he rarely spared any expense.

Risa had given Charlene a long and thankful hug when it was time for her friend to go. Though Charlene was at times spacey and sometimes callous, Risa could definitely count her a friend.

Risa sat at her desk and stared blankly out of her bedroom window. She had watched Risa leave a few hours ago and now she subconsciously tapped a charcoal pencil against her sketch pad. Her inspiration had become a fleeting thing since Caleb's disappearance. She used to fill the pages of her sketchbook with doodles and drawings ranging from everyday items she would spot to random patterns that stenciled in her mind.

She watched a pair of head lights turn onto her street and whip around the cul-de-sac before slipping into one of the neighboring driveways.

"Must be Mr. Sumpter," she figured. Mr. Sumpter and his wife lived a couple houses over from the Pope family. Mr. Sumpter was a pharmacist who owned a small drug store downtown. Though his business had suffered some big blows with the economic downturn and the opening of several large multi-state chain pharmacies, Mr. Sumpter stubbornly held on to his livelihood.

A spate of loyal and long time customers kept his business afloat, though Risa always presumed that Mr. Sumpter's near endless optimism was the primary source of his business's survival.

With no children of their own Mr. and Mrs. Sumpter stood steadfast with Risa's mother. They were always willing to lend a hand and always offered their support.

Risa watched as Mr. Sumpter's car plunge into the darkened garage. She noted the red tail lights glaring at her through the growing mist. The steady cascade of the garage door slowly made the tail lights disappear as if a red eyed monster was closing its eyes to go to sleep.

Then something made Risa consciously stop tapping her pencil. She had heard another small tapping sound. She paused for a moment then tapped her pencil against the sketchbook again. She wanted to compare this to the sound she had heard.

Her pencil made a very light thump as it hit the heavy cardboard cover of her sketchbook. It hadn't been the pencil making the tapping sound. Risa paused again and tried to listen for the noise again.

For a moment Risa thought it was odd that such a sound had caught her attention. The Pope residence was an older home and with this age it came with an assortments of creaks and innocent groans as weathered pipes or well worn floor boards gnashed against each other. But this sound was unlike anything she typically heard throughout the house.

Maybe it was her mother doing something in the kitchen? Risa thought, or maybe she was cutting out some coupons from the paper in the family room. Risa quickly dismissed these thoughts since she had watched her mother prepare her nightcap and head off to bed.

Since Caleb's disappearance, Risa's mother had developed the habit of drinking vodka to help her get to sleep. It calmed her nerves, she said. What Risa was not aware of was that her mother had begun to drink this vodka in addition to taking nighttime sleep aids.

Risa leaned back in her chair and strained to hear the noise again.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

There it was again. It was faint and Risa turned her head to try and determine where the sound was coming from. It sounded vaguely like the tap on a key board. It reminded Risa of a person tapping the "spacebar" repeatedly. There was a pause between each tap, though the cadence was fairly even.

Risa stood up and walked away from her desk. She was unsure why she cared about discovering the source of this noise but she felt compelled to find it.

The logical options circulated in her mind. Its probably a small tree branch that stuck in the gutter that's being moved around by the breeze. Or more likely a squirrel on the roof trying to open an acorn. Or maybe a pair of squirrels running back and forth trying to catch each other.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

It sounded again. The rhythm seemed much too uniform for a simple twig being manipulated by a random breeze. The pauses between each tap suggested it wasn't a pair of slow moving squirrels.

Risa moved to her door and slowly edged her head out into the hallway. She looked to her mother's room. The door was ajar and she could see her mother softly sleeping from the light of the lamp on the bedside table. She was comforted by the rattle of her mother's gentle snore. Risa smiled to herself, her mother was always ready to claim that she never snored, and Risa never wanted to correct her.

She turned to her right and looked down the empty hallway. She looked past the metal picture frames that lined the walls, chronicling Caleb's and her childhood. She peered down to the stairwell to the dark first floor entryway.

The sound couldn't have come from downstairs, it couldn't have been loud enough right?

Risa placed her hand against the door frame and waited again for the sound to come.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound was slightly louder now since she was sticking her head out in the hallway, though it was still quite faint. It was as if the person typing on the keyboard was applying just an ounce more of pressure.

Risa wondered why there had only been three taps instead of the five she had been hearing, but her curiosity was cut short by the realization of where the sound was emanating.

Risa squinted her eyes and shook her head slightly as she forced her mind to reconcile the audio and visual data it had just collected. After another moment's calculation there was no mistaking it. She was sure she knew where the sound was coming from and for some reason her curiosity turned into a sickly sense of foreboding.

She stared hard at the closed door leading into Caleb's room.

Tap, tap, tap.