10 years ago, the Lawson family disappeared without a trace, seemingly into thin air. Upon the discovery of a hidden room, it reopens a decade later, and Harper Sloann, a low-ranking detective with a fascination for the macabre, takes on the case. I...
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The roar of the vacuum drowned out the noise of the television—turned on but never watched. It helped. It's that type of day—a rarity in my chosen field, and I was here, cleaning. Because if I didn't, I would have to put up with a dust wonderland until the next off-day.
I wrinkled my nose, wiping its runs on my rumpled sleeve. Never did well with this. With pollen too. Sweat dripped down the side of my face and watered my back. Damned heat, it was. I swiped my hand against my hairline, my palm coming up sticky. Ugh.
A kettle whistled from the folds of the kitchen. I groaned, the memory of putting it on sparking in my mind. Why did I even want tea on such a humid day? My thumb flicked the vacuum's power button, stopping the monotonic whirring. Like clockwork, the television's noise flooded right back into my ears. Nothing interesting was on, and some people were too broke for a subscription to a streaming service. Or a new television, for that matter.
My slippers pattered across the squeaky floorboards of my upstairs apartment. It's like one of those sets in homey sitcoms, complete with the rickety pastel green fridge and the pink flowery curtains. It's horrid for my preference, but with a cheap rent and access to the basic facilities like the office, for example, I didn't have to look for other options.
I reached the kitchen and lunged for the stove. The fire snapped shut with a final click. The kettle quietened. More television noise reached me from the living room. The voices were muffled, though. It's less than useless from here.
A mug flies off the cupboard one hinge too loose. A packet of store-bought, crushed tea leaves joined the fray not too long after. I watched the kettle's spout deposit steaming water into my cup. A faint aroma of jasmine and who knew what else filled the 2 inch radius. Huffing, I strode back to the living room. Better see what the television has to say about my poor decision-making, like an ill-timed crystal ball.
When I got there, a video of an old house made me freeze in place, the mug halfway to my lips for a sip. The reporter rambled on about the state of the house before telling me what's the matter with it.
The Lawson House, as coined by the City Police Department, is the site of a decade-old disappearing case. On the eve of the 28th of September ten years ago, the entire Lawson family vanished without a trace. Investigation records, which were made public five years ago, reveal the strangest findings about the case. The Lawson family left everything untouched, as if their departure was sudden and unplanned. Ten years later, when a rafter caught a stray breeze and collapsed, a hidden room was revealed, prompting the re-opening of the case. The hidden room is located in—
A stringent ring zipped through the room, making me flinch. Translucent liquid splashed out of the mug and almost burned my feet through my thin slippers had I not swept them out of the way. What the fuck? Who calls during days off?
I fought a grumble and trudged to the counter separating the dining table and the living room. My phone skipped millimeters east, vibrating with each note of my ringtone. Resting my mug on the counter, I snatched the abomination and flipped it open. A finger jammed on the green phone button and the screen pressed against my ear.
