It was 1972, July. One of the hottest summers on record.
Seemed like back then everyone had heard of the Carters.
Raymond, the Patriarch, wealthy heir to a wealthier company, bought a couple acres at the west end of town in the Mid 60s.
He'd been educated classically, over in Europe, and was fascinated with the older manor homes, opulent and imperial, and so, like any eccentric capitalist, he went and skipped several centuries of build-up, tradition, taxation and horror and just had a grand estate built in the foothills of the Adirondacks.
With him was his wife, Florence, and their two children, Michael and Kelly-Ann, in addition, as befitting his love affair with the Old World, he hired on a number of servants, staff and maintenance.
An eccentric, the town thought, just a local rich idiot.
Strange and slightly belittling, but ultimately harmless.
Still, rumors spread. Many of the older residents disapproved of Raymond Carter's open disregard for the more puritanical practices of the region at the time. He became known as a libertine, a sex freak, a pervert, some sort of modern slave owner, or a cult leader.
Many people did come and go from the Carter Place quite often, he'd lease out rooms to friends, business associates and other characters.
He was a stand-out character in a town that had never really had one.
And it all came to an end on the night of July 17th, 1972.
The first of the Day Workers arrived at the house to find it locked, and no calls or knocks or rings could summon anyone to open the door, so, the spare was found, and the door was opened.
Within was nothing.
It was as if a great shock had come upon the house in the night, or they had fled from some nameless threat.
Beds were rumpled and unmade, candles still burned in the halls, even the nightly vacuum had been left unattended, food lay on the table, partially eaten.
The Carters, their two children, and their live-in servants had vanished in the night, without a trace.
Where had they gone? Was the question.
The car was present, untouched, the doors were all locked from within, as they did every night.
Vanished-
But for a touch of blood along the hall to the Servant's Quarters.