The fire crew grumbled a little, trying to understand why they’d been called to a fire when now, search as they might, there was none to be found. There wasn’t even a burning House to be found, only an old field with a long defunct chicken coop. I think some of them knew, but they weren’t going to say anything.
The police had plenty to do, stretching their yellow ribbon around Van Epps’ home and beginning the long process of piecing together his death, his basement prison, the prisoner, and three murders. According to their instructions, I waited with my friends on the front steps, shakily sipping from a cup of water. Along with our debriefing each other, we discussed lodging; getting everything explained was going to take a while.
Faithful Andi reported, “The phone number on Daniel’s shirt got me the Norquist Center for Behavioral Health—it’s a home for the insane. They’ve been looking for Daniel. Daniel’s uncle and aunt came to take him for a few days but never brought him back, and as it turns out, they weren’t his real uncle and aunt.”
I nodded, theorizing. “Our charming couple from that Institute, no doubt. Van Epps had friends he wouldn’t talk about—friends wanting ‘power.’”
Brenda draped a blanket over my shoulders. “I’ll bet they were tracking little Daniel the same as they were tracking me and Tank for our ‘special gifts.’”
“And brought him here to help them . . . what? Make contact with the House? Well, what he provided was not to Van Epps’ liking.”
“Hey,” said Tank, “it was God talking. You want to hear from God, you better be ready for the truth.”
God. So many issues there. Such a long history. Such a long, long journey back should I even desire to make it. I didn’t care to rebut Tank’s faith, not today. I only asked him, for the record, “Did you really see heaven?”
Tank grinned. “Jesus was there. It couldn’t have been anything else.” Then with a sober, thoughtful air he added, “The House only tells the truth. For some it’s good news; for others . . .”
Brenda put an arm around Daniel and drew him close. “I’ll tell you something. Daniel’s not insane. He’s like anybody else folks don’t understand.”
I reached and touched the boy’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re all right, son.” Then I added with a wink, “That’s quite a protector you have.”
Daniel replied, “Yes, sir,” and smiled up at his invisible friend.
“So what do you suppose, Daniel? You heard the House’s message. You wrote it on the wall. Did the House take Dr. Van Epps because he killed those people and almost killed you?”
“No, sir.”
We waited for more.
“The House took him because he was the kind of person who would.”
I could still see myself hanging in that doorway. There, but for the grace of God . . .
“It could have been me,” I whispered.
I saw the same look I’d seen in Daniel’s eyes the last time he said it: “Not yet.”