Solid Walls

Chapter Twelve

Nell knocked twice. Behind the door, the volume of the music went up. She knocked twice again, harder. Finally, she heard movement on the other side.

"You people really have some nerve." The voice came just before the door swung open. Ed O'Keefe's expression flashed with surprise when he saw Nell but then carefully repositioned into a scowl. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb, looking her up and down. "And I guess you're the other one."

Nell looked beyond the young man to the room behind him. She took in the details: the laptop on the bed blasting Chopin, shelves of used books—mostly poetry and classic literature—the clothes on the floor, the cheap posters on the walls—a mixture of Edvard Munch prints and indie bands. She again paid special attention to family photos, looking for Moira; but just like his sister, he had none. Mostly what she noted was a guesstimation of the room's dimensions, quickly comparing the length and width to what she'd already measured of the surrounding walls.

"Hello?" Ed waved a hand in front of her face.

Her eyes flashed back to him. "You spoke to my partner this morning."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I understand the conversation didn't go well."

"Oh, forgive me. I'm not usually polite to bloodsucking opportunists who think they can just wander around my house whenever they want." He grinned suddenly. "She's kind of a jumpy one, isn't she?"

"She's a professional. We've been to plenty of places like this before."

His grin grew wider. "I doubt it. I've seen this place get to all kinds of people. All the other posers Talia's brought in who are all so eager to help. I can always tell the ones who'll crack first. And your friend there? After she starts sitting up there with Willa for hours and hours? She'll be well on her way."

Nell kept her tone level. "When she said she was sorry about your mother, she meant it."

"What?"

"When Chloe says things like that, she actually means it. She may spout psychobabble a lot of the time, but under it all, she's sincere. I know she's sorry if there was any misunderstanding."

"Well. A lot of good that does." He kicked at the carpet with his bare foot.

"And you have the perfect right not to want to talk about your mother. But just so you know, Chloe knows what it's like to lose a parent. Her dad died when she was a kid."

"Oh." He seemed to deflate a little under her stare.

"Also, I've spoken to your sister," she said.

"I thought that was the psychobabbler's job," Ed muttered.

"I meant your twin sister."

"She talked to you?"

Nell nodded. "She doesn't seem to share your opinions about us bloodsucking opportunists. She seems to think we might be able to help."

"Yeah, well, that's Sam for you. She doesn't know any better, does she?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Just her memories of growing up in this house and mine are...different."

"In what way?"

"She's just never been as observant as I am, okay? Not the biggest abstract thinker. Things might've gone over her head when we were growing up that I noticed, that I figured out over the years. Sam's just too content to accept things at face value. She's too content with a lot of things."

Nell cocked her head. "I see. So when you go to college in a few months, you think she'll stay here?"

He shrugged. "Apparently she doesn't have any problem with the place."

"But you do."

"Yeah, I do. And as soon as the semester starts, I'm leaving and never coming back to this ostentatious gaudy goddamn house." He seemed to remember himself and put up his shields again, though now Nell thought she knew where the cracks were.

"What did you notice when you were a kid, Ed? Was it something you heard? Something you saw? Was it something to do with your mother?"

Ed slammed a hand against the door jamb, but Nell didn't flinch. "Look, why the hell do you people care about my mother, anyway? She left twelve years ago. It's got nothing to do with whatever crazy story you're trying to put in your book. I don't know anything."

"Then why did you call Willa a liar?"

"I think we're done here." He made to close the door again.

"You're going to be studying classics when you get to college?" Nell asked, nodding behind him at the books on the shelf. "Literature, philosophy?"

He smirked. "Yeah, ever heard of it?"

"Have you read any philosophical theories about architecture?" She didn't wait for a response. "Some ancient thinkers believed their halls and temples should be built purely for utility, mathematically and aesthetically perfect for one specific function. Some modern architects believe that's not possible, because every building is a subjective experience, a little world that expresses different ideas and feelings to different inhabitants. I agree with them both. I think our experiences and expectations color how we live in a space. But I also think every space is built with a practical purpose in mind, one that some people, some especially sensitive or receptive people, can't help but understand the moment they step into a room. So, you're a philosopher, Ed. What's the purpose of this ostentatious gaudy goddamn house? Why do you think it was built the way it was?"

"You don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Nell shrugged. "Maybe not. But I'm learning. Sooner or later, I'll figure out this house. You could help with that if you wanted to. You could help Willa."

"What makes you think I want to help her?"

"Those books on your bed are from the Medina County Library, aren't they?" Nell nodded at the stack of plastic-coated books.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Caring comes in many forms. I'm sure Willa appreciates the deliveries."

"I—I didn't—"

"Let me know if you suddenly remember anything that might help us."

Nell headed down the hall, leaving Ed gaping in the doorway. She continued calculating the measurements gathering in her head as she crossed the foyer and turned to the staircase leading up to the second floor.