The Midnight Visitors

Also by Mike Attebery

The Grimwood Trilogy:

Flares

Ordinary World

The Midnight Visitors

Four Corners Thrillers:

Chokecherry Canyon

Firepower

Brick Ransom Thrillers:

Seattle On Ice

Bloody Pulp

Billionaires, Bullets, Exploding Monkeys

Standalone Novels:

On/Off

Rosé in Saint Tropez

The Midnight Visitors

Copyright © 2021 by Michael Attebery

All rights reserved.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

www.mikeattebery.com

ISBN: 978-1-7337394-7-4

Publisher’s Note:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

For

Steph and Charley

Contents

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

About the Author

Sometimes I’m here. Sometimes I’m not.

Part 1:

Year Three

Timeline

1855 – Town of Grimwood is settled.

1869 – Ashton Grimwood founds Grimwood University.

1921 – Alan Grimwood is born.

1945 – Grimwood graduates and begins teaching at the University.

1955 – Revenant is published.

1969 – Founding of The Grimwood Writing Center.

1972 – Shooting on Grimwood campus.

1974 – Black Robes is published.

1978 – Alan Grimwood dies.

1981 – Grimwood’s books go back into print.

1983 – Excerpts of Doppelganger are published.

1984 – The Collected Stories of Alan Grimwood (1950-1978) published.

…Present Day

1.

The train rumbled past

the dilapidated buildings on the outskirts of town, its engine wheezing and shaking like a spent runner as it heaved to a stop in Grimwood station. Loren climbed to her feet to retrieve her bags, once more wondering why she ever thought these cross country train rides were a good idea.

While the rattle of the rails was meditative, the sheer scope of the nation’s heartland could be overwhelming. As the train wound through the mountains and set off into the plains, a person’s mind began to wander. The longer you rode the train, the more you felt anything was a viable possibility. You could get off in farmland just as easily as you could ride on to New York. Each stop on the route seemed like an invitation to explore some unexpected variation of your own life.

The time to think was welcome after a summer at home. Her parents were still in limbo – balanced between a frozen marriage and divorce – but she could see the way the pieces were shifting, and sooner or later her family’s state of equilibrium would fall in on itself. Then everything would be different.

She was glad the odds of her being home for the crash were minimal. For that reason, if for nothing else, the train ride was a welcome reminder of the outside world, and broader horizons. But if she liked to imagine herself stepping off the train in an unfamiliar town, starting life anew, unencumbered and anonymous, Loren never doubted that Grimwood was her final destination; she had unfinished business there, and her heart would betray her if she ever tried to settle someplace else.

Over the past few months, as Loren worked in Puzzlebox Brewery’s back office – getting the family business ready for the acquisition – and as she jogged along the farm roads outside Durango, she’d repeatedly heard one voice in her head, centering her thoughts, steadying her breathing, and pressing a thumb on the scale for every decision.

She needed to see Braden.

~

Hank stood by his car in front of the station as Loren walked out the double doors and into Grimwood’s humid summer heat. He was watching a pair of freshman girls as they hailed a cab, and turned to see Loren walking his way just a split second after she’d seen where he was looking.

You made it! Hank exclaimed as he pulled off his sunglasses and hurried over to help with her bags. How was your trip?

Long, Loren said as she gave him a hug.

He walked around to the trunk of the car and started loading up her luggage. Loren again caught him sneaking a peak at the girls as they talked to their driver. She was mildly bemused, but decided not to call him out on his wandering eyes. No Hannah?

She couldn’t make it, Hank explained, his gaze no longer drifting as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. Her co-op has been a little... overwhelming

How is she enjoying it? Loren asked as she pulled the passenger door closed.

What?

The co-op.

Hank sighed and pulled out into traffic. We really shouldn’t get into it.

Oh, Loren said, taken aback. It’s not going well?

"To put it mildly. Don’t worry, she’ll tell you all about it. It’s one of her favorite topics these days. That and the new neighbors."

She doesn’t like them either?

Hank gave her a look. "They’re noisy, but they’re not that bad. We could do a lot worse with how many students are looking for off campus housing right now."

I can imagine… Loren said knowingly.

In mid-August, just after the conclusion of Summer quarter, a malfunction in the emergency sprinkler system in Judy Valentine Hall – Grimwood University’s largest residence tower – had flooded the building and wreaked havoc on the housing plans for the upcoming school year. The timing and location of the mishap couldn’t have been planned for greater destruction. It had occurred when virtually no one was on campus, and what’s more, none of the usual notifications or alarms were tripped to notify the fire department or campus safety that anything was amiss. The result: When every fire suppression sprinkler on the top floor of the building inexplicably turned on, no one knew about it for the better part of a weekend, which gave the steady stream of water time to build, until it began cascading down through the walls and ductwork, making its way down each and every floor of the building in a slow but steady trickle, bringing down drop-ceilings, saturating drywall, destroying carpet and furnishings, and ultimately, knocking out almost a quarter of the on campus housing just two weeks before everyone was set to return to campus for Autumn quarter.

In order to ensure the incoming freshman would have on campus housing, notice was sent out to two thirds of the returning students informing them that their housing arrangements for the upcoming school year could not be guaranteed. That had included Loren, Elissa, Brooke, and – Loren assumed – Braden, but she hadn’t spoken to him in almost two months.

Elissa and Brooke had found a two bedroom place for the summer, which they were able to extend indefinitely, with Loren taking over the spare bedroom once she ensured it was not a unit in the Racquet Club apartments – the hellhole she and Brooke had shared the previous summer.

Do you need to stop anywhere, or should I just take you to your new digs?

New digs would be great if you can.

That is not a problem, Hank said. It’s literally across the street from our place.

Really? Loren asked. So, what is our apartment like?

It’s not bad. Certainly better than your place last summer.

That’s all I need to know. Loren breathed a sigh of relief as they turned onto The Avenue and headed into town.

She watched the familiar sights sliding into view. Coffee shops. Restaurants. The bookstore. Though she hadn’t seen these places in months, it felt like she’d just left. Brick’s was on the corner as Hank turned the car onto 75th and pulled to a stop in front of The Dean Apartments on Greenwood Avenue. They climbed out of the car, and Hank walked around to open the trunk.

Hopefully you recognize our place, he said – pointing to the building behind him, then sweeping his hand around to the apartments across the street. And that’s you guys.

"That is close."

I need to get ready for my shift at the restaurant, Hank explained. Are you OK getting to your place?

Of course. Loren picked up her bags. I got across the country by myself, I should be all right crossing the street.

Hannah is trying to get everyone together at Brick’s tonight if you’re interested. It won’t be until late, like nine o’clock, but I know Brooke and Elissa are coming. I haven’t heard anything from Braden though.

That sounds great, Loren said. I’ll see you at nine.

Oh, hey, I almost forgot to give you these. Hank pulled a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to her. I’ll catch you later.

Thanks, Hank.

~

Loren let herself into the building, walked upstairs, and opened the door to Apartment D. The living room was sparsely outfitted with a TV, a beaten up couch, and a well-worn coffee table. The kitchen was at the far end of the space. A beaded curtain hung across the entrance to a short hallway on the left. The first door in the corridor was closed, but the second was open, letting in a stream of warm light. Loren walked to the end and looked inside, immediately recognizing the boxes she’d left behind for the summer. Brooke and Elissa had set her up with a box spring and mattress and a few random pieces of furniture. Sitting atop the mattress, with a note taped to the glass, was a familiar object: Brooke’s lava lamp from freshman year. Loren picked it up and read the note:

Loren – Welcome back! I thought this might help you feel at home. (Elissa is not a fan.) ~Brooke

Loren smiled, set the lamp on the window ledge, and plugged it in. Then she turned to the boxes and started unpacking. Aside from the bed, there was a beaten up desk and chair, and a small, collapsible bookshelf. None of it was pretty, but it would get the job done. She’d eventually need to find a few more things to make the place comfortable, but this was already several steps up from Racquet Club.

There was no dresser, but the closet had a few shelves and some discarded hangers, so she unpacked her clothes and put them away, along with her books and a collection of notepads. Loren flipped through her handwritten pages as she organized her desk, reviewing some of the pieces she’d produced over the summer. She had proposed a series of interconnected short stories for her Junior Thesis, and gained approval despite the misgivings expressed by a few members of The Writing Center’s faculty. Loren got the feeling it was put up or shut up time if she was serious about her prospects in the program. She was excited to type up her stories and flesh them out over the course of the quarter. It would be interesting to see what she had on her hands by the end of Fall quarter. Either way, it felt good to be creating again.

Going over Braden’s novel had awakened her to the inherent possibilities of revision. His book was good, but she felt her changes would make it significantly better. Whether or not he incorporated her edits remained to be seen, but revising someone else’s work had given her an eye-opening understanding of what she could do to strengthen her own writing; it had also made Braden’s subsequent silence especially disappointing. Aside from a short note after she mailed the revised pages back to him, she had heard nothing from him over the course of the summer.

Still, she was excited to see him.

~

Loren headed to the bookstore after lunch to pick up her work schedule. The street was quiet, virtually abandoned in the heat of midday. The atmosphere reminded her of the previous summer, when, for reasons she didn’t entirely understand, she’d frequently felt a palpable sense of loneliness during the days.

Despite her friendships at the bookstore, and her one-time relationship with the owner’s son, when she thought of R. K. Phillips Booksellers, more than anyone else, Loren thought of Braden. After all, he’d alerted her to the job in the first place, and even when he wasn’t working, he was always there in spirit. Being there without him just felt odd.

Air-conditioning washed over her as the bell on the front door jingled. The main floor was relatively quiet. The sounds of the lunchtime crowd murmured from the café in the back as Loren headed up the stairs to the back office.

She slipped past Mary Ellen’s desk, only to do a double take at the sight of a bearded man in his mid-30s, with dark, receding hair and a beard, who was seated at the manager’s desk, eating a tuna sandwich.

Can I help you, he asked in a thick Irish brogue.

Hi, umm, I was just looking to get my schedule from Mary Ellen…

His eyes narrowed. And you are?

Loren. I work here during the school year. I’m just back from summer break.

Ah, Loren… Austin. Right? He set his sandwich down and reached for a stack of papers above the desk. I just finished working you into the schedule for evenings.

I’m sorry. Now it was Loren’s turn to be confused. I don’t think we’ve met…

Oh, right. He stood and handed her a copy of the schedule. Karl Ryan. I’m the new manager.

Hi. Loren said as she shook Karl’s hand. I didn’t realize Mary Ellen was planning on leaving.

Yeah, I’m not sure she really had much of a plan, but she left… From what I can gather, some things went down…

I see.

Knowing Mary Ellen’s temper, Loren could only imagine what might have happened, but her best guess was that the former manager had butted heads with Roxanne one time too many.

Let me know if you need me to make any changes, Karl said as Loren glanced at the schedule.

It looks pretty good, she said.

You don’t happen to know who Braden McNutt is, do you?

Loren smiled. I do.

I think he’s supposed to be back this week too, Karl said as he handed her another print-out and sat back down. If you happen to see him before I do, could you give him his schedule as well?

Sure.

Nice to meet you, Loren, Karl said before returning to his sandwich.

You too, Loren replied as she continued through the offices.

She glanced over Braden’s schedule as she headed down the back stairs, looking to see if they had any days in common. Now that she was back, she felt a sudden and unexpected swell of irritation thinking about the way Braden had gone silent on her.

Who was he to just ignore her for the entire summer?

She pushed the door open at the bottom of the back stairs, self-righteous indignation building by the second as she stepped out into the parking lot.

And then, there he was, sitting on the hood of an old, dark green BMW, as if he was waiting for her.

Braden-

He looked up and smiled. Hi.

How did you get here?

I finally got my grandfather’s car working again. He banged his palm on the hood. What do you think?

Loren nodded her approval. I like it.

Whatever fleeting anger had welled up in her chest instantly evaporated.

She walked over and gave him a hug. It’s good to see you.

You too.

When did you get back?

Yesterday, he said.

And were you going to tell anyone?

Of course. I was just getting settled into my apartment. You know how it is, I was expecting to have one more year in the dorms. He locked her in his gaze. "Why? When did you get back?"

This morning.

His brow furrowed. What time is it now, like one o’clock?

That sounds about right.

"You’ve been in Grimwood a few hours at the most! It’s not like you’ve been back for days and I’ve