Forbidden Entry (27 page)

What? His monstrous declaration left me stunned and speechless for long seconds. And then, consumed with breathless outrage, my reporter's objectivity flying out the window, I blurted out, “How can you say something…so…horrible, so inhumane? What's wrong with you?”

The fiery glint in his eyes was that of a madman. “What goes around comes around. There will be no tears of sorrow shed here,” he intoned, his words laced with venomous sarcasm, “Why should I be the only one to suffer? Time to spread it around. Good riddance.” His bitter laughter echoed through the trees and off the steep cliff walls, creating an eerie feedback that chilled my bone marrow. What kind of a person would be celebrating the tragic death of an innocent young woman?

“Who are you?” I demanded. “Do you have information about Jenessa's death? Maybe the sheriff would be interested in talking to you again.”

Teeth gritted, he growled, “Don't threaten me! And don't try to involve me in any of this.” He took a step backwards and right before he slammed the door, he muttered, “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”

CHAPTER

24

Unable to shake the sickening sensation lodged in my gut, I trudged through the mud listening to Daisy chanting a nonsensical little tune in an off-key singsong voice, “I have eyes and I have teeth, you have eyes and you have teeth…” while I struggled to understand what had just transpired. Was this guy a total psycho? His professed hatred for a person as sweet and kind as Jenessa seemed misguided, vindictive, incomprehensible and left me feeling incensed, mystified and just plain dumbfounded. While he appeared to be genuinely surprised to hear about her, I couldn't help but wonder if he was acting. Had he played some role in Jenessa's death? But how was that even possible? The whole uncomfortable scene made no sense at all. What would have caused her to make a return trip to apologize to him? Obviously Stilts was not his real name. So who was he? I was anxious now to talk with Marshall and find out what was known about this peculiar man and his background. But why wait? I made a beeline for his mailbox. Just like the ones I'd looked at yesterday, this one was rusted, dented and I could only make out two faint remaining letters. I used my fingernail to pick off some of the grime, hoping to reveal more of the name, but all I could make out was a G and T. Well, that wasn't going to help much. If Darcy didn't know his real identity, then surely the mail carrier Percy ‘Goose' Cross would. Did I have time to detour to his place? And if I did that, would I still have time to find and interview Harvel Brickhouse before darkness settled in?

The answer to my question came in the form of huge drops splattering on my head. Great. Round two of the storm system. By the time I made it back to the Jeep, we were in the middle of another cloudburst. I turned the ignition key and switched on the wipers full speed while a hard knot of frustration gathered in my chest. Well, crap on a cracker. I glanced up at the gray curtain of rain and decided once again that venturing into the forest to try and hunt down the elusive miner would be sheer folly. I had no desire to be stranded out in the boonies overnight in the rain with no cell service, especially considering the caliber of people skulking about. “Okay, let's go to your place,” I said to Daisy, exhaling a sigh of pure exasperation.

“Goody, goody, goody!” She clapped her hands with glee, and as I negotiated the slushy road it occurred to me that if the rain continued at this rate, I might not be able to get out of here at all, even with four-wheel drive. Common sense told me I should leave pronto, but now that I'd made Daisy a promise it seemed cruel to disappoint her. “I can only stay a few minutes,” I informed her. “If it keeps raining like this, I won't be able to get back down the road.”

She turned those amazing, fathomless eyes on me. “I can show you a shortcut! A shortcut through the woods.” She put one finger to her lips. “Shhhhhh! It's a secret. We're not supposed to go there. No, not supposed to. No. Not ever.”

Was she referring to the road Darcy had mentioned? “You mean the one that leads to the McCracken Ranch? The one that was closed several years ago?”

She nodded and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Some people still use it. They don't know it, but I see them. I see them go through the gate.”

“Really?”

“I have pictures,” she announced, patting her camera. “But I won't go there. Never, never, never.”

“Why not?”

A troubled frown creased her sun-freckled forehead. “Because of the skeleton head. I'm scared of the head. Big scary head,” she added, spreading her arms wide.

Uncomprehending, I just stared at her and then thought, okay, O'Dell, you're an idiot. Why are you wasting one second of your time trying to make sense of this woman's gibberish? Look who you're dealing with here. She was probably on the intellectual level of a three-year-old. A very slow-witted three-year-old. I grinned at her. “Why don't you show me the sugar gliders now.”

Rocking along the slushy road once again, I glanced at the satisfied smile pasted on Daisy's lips. She appeared to be immensely enjoying the ride when she suddenly pointed to the right. “That's old Suzie's house.”

I looked over at an unpainted, ramshackle house almost hidden among the trees. “Is there something special about her?”

“She's a witch.”

Why not humor her? I grinned. “Does she mix up potions, cast spells and keep a black cat?”

Daisy turned to me wide-eyed, her jaw sagging open. “You know about her?”

“Lucky guess,” I murmured, pulling into her driveway. My theory about eccentric people hiding away in these isolated communities held true. I realized that I'd never eaten my sandwich and I badly needed to make a pit stop before hitting the road again. We jumped out into the driving rain and bolted for the front door of her mobile home. Unlike yesterday, there wasn't an animal in sight. At least they had the good sense to take cover from the rain, I thought ruefully, splashing through deep puddles before rushing up the stairs to the porch. Daisy threw open the unlocked door and a chorus of barking met us when we stepped inside, shed our wet coats and removed our muddy boots. After I'd greeted three small dogs and four friendly cats, I looked around the modestly furnished rooms with interest. The place was bigger than it looked. I hadn't realized it was a doublewide and wondered how on earth had they gotten the thing up that narrow, twisting road.

“Come to my room! Come on!” Daisy shouted with gusto, gesturing for me to follow her down the narrow hallway.

“I'm going to stop here for a minute,” I said, pointing to the bathroom. Once inside the small, but tidy room, I couldn't help but chuckle at the sign hanging behind the toilet.
JIGGLE HANDLE AFTER FLUSHING OR DON'T COME BACK!
After I'd tended to business and washed the dirt off my hands, I used a towel to pat some of the rain off my sodden hair. The steady drum of the raindrops on the metal roof diminished and it appeared the deluge was tapering off for now. A quick glance out the small, smudged window revealed a still-overcast sky. Best get out of here soon. When I stepped into the hallway, Daisy, holding the ragged stuffed bunny, stood waiting and led me to her bedroom. Holy cow! I'd never seen such an assortment of items outside of a yard sale. Every nook and cranny was filled with stacks of plastic bins, bric-a-brac, clothing, dolls, shoes, games, puzzles and just plain junk, leaving barely enough room for the bed, desk, chest of drawers and a tall wire cage wedged in one corner. Had she innocently collected this enormous pile of stuff on her scavenger hunts or was Darcy right about her sister being a kleptomaniac? “Daisy, where did you get all these things?”

A shadow of remorse crossed her face and she ducked her chin, glancing up at me furtively. “Are you mad? Are you mad at me like Darcy?”

She looked so pitiful, my heart melted with compassion. “I'm not mad at you.”

“I don't mean to take things. Sometimes, I just…borrow them.” She chewed nervously on a fingernail then her eyes lit up. “I can take it all back! I will! You can help me!” Excitedly, she ran over to a wall shelf, grabbed a handful of books and shoved them at me. “Here! Here! We can take them back!”

“No! No, Daisy. That's all right.” The pile of books tipped forward and landed on the floor with a thud. “Let's put them all away, shall we?” I knelt to gather the books, absently reading the titles as I handed them back to her one by one. Quite a variety—
Alice in Wonderland
, a biography of George Washington,
The Beginner's Guide to Trout Fishing, Easy Meal Planner
and
Final Departure, Assisted Suicide for the Dying
. The last one caught my eye and I pulled it back. A curious subject matter for Daisy to have in her collection. I opened the front cover and drew back when I saw the inscription. Billie Carr. How interesting. “Where did you get this?” I asked gently, not wanting to spook her. “Did you know Billie Carr?”

“She's gone to Heaven,” she said simply.

“Did she give this to you?”

“No.”

“Did you take this from her house?”

Her furtive gaze shifted away. “Maybe.” She stared blankly into the distance for a few seconds and then disconnected from the conversation. Humming happily to herself, she crossed the room and began to replace the books on the shelf. At that second, it occurred to me that Daisy had probably accompanied Darcy when she had gone to care for the dying woman and helped herself to the book or books while there. I leafed through several chapter headings that outlined the numerous ways patients could take their own lives—starvation, various combinations of drugs, poisons, and the proper use of plastic bags to smother the patient. Pretty grim stuff. It was doubtful Daisy had read any of it. She'd most likely just taken it…just because she felt compelled to take something.

“Come see them now!” Daisy pleaded, beckoning me as she opened the cage door and reached inside to pull out a small, multi-colored, possum-like creature with bulbous black eyes. “This is Henry,” she announced, beaming. “And that one is Lolita,” she said pointing to a second, smaller one hanging by its tail from the top of the cage. Daisy set the sugar glider on my shoulder and I stroked its soft fur as we sized each other up eyeball-to-eyeball. “Well, aren't you the cutest little thing,” I whispered. I'd never seen anything quite like them before. “Where did you come from, little one?”

“Australia!” Daisy exclaimed. “They have big, big eyes to hunt at night.” She studied my face. “Do you like him?”

“He's adorable.” I glanced inside the cage and pointed at little bags hanging from the top of the cage. “What are those for?”

“For sleeping,” she announced with pride in her voice. “They sleep in the little bags and run on those little wheels.”

“How fun.” I pulled my phone out and handed it to Daisy. “Take a picture. Just tap the button at the bottom.”

She tapped away and then picked up her camera and took several shots. “You can take him home. You can take both of them,” she announced with wide-eyed eagerness. “I can't keep them. No, I can't keep them.”

“Why not?”

“Darcy says they cost too much. They eat too much!”

“What kinds of things do they eat?” I asked, marveling at the unique creature.

“Look! Look at these,” she said grabbing two small containers from the floor and screwing the lid off one of them. “Meal worms! And wax worms! They eat lots of these and fruit and vegetables. Avocados! They eat avocados and eggs too.”

“That's a lot of food.”

Her lips gathered in a forlorn pout. “It costs too much. And Darcy says it costs too much to keep them warm. They take too much work. That's what she says,” Daisy complained despondently. “Too much work. That's what Darcy says. Yeah. Too much work.”

“Well, I'll sure ask around when I get back home,” I promised her as the energetic creature leaped, or should I say flew like a flying squirrel from my shoulder to the top of her bureau. It actually looked like it had wings, and at that moment it dawned on me why they were called gliders. “Well, this has been quite educational,” I said, noting the time, “but I have to go now.”

Disappointment clouded her face as she picked up the unique creature and gently placed him on a perch in the cage. “You don't want to take them?”

“I'm sorry…I just can't.” I turned and headed for the door when I heard her say softly, “The pretty girl said she would take them.”

I whirled around to stare at her. “What?”

“The pretty girl. In the picture.”

My heart stilled. “You mean Jenessa?”

“She never came back. She never came back and now she's in Heaven. Yes, in Heaven,” she murmured to herself then fixed me with a questioning look. “Is she there with Billie Carr?”

“I'm sure she is,” I answered, her surprising revelation kicking up my pulse rate. Very interesting. I now knew at least one of the reasons that she and Nathan had returned to Raven Creek. “Daisy, do you remember what day Jenessa was supposed to come back to get the sugar gliders?”

Another blank look and then her eyes brightened. “I do! I do! I wrote it down,” she said breathlessly, rushing to the cluttered desk to scoop up a notebook depicting several kittens cavorting on the cover. Tongue clenched firmly between her irregular teeth, she leafed through it and then shoved the page so close to my eyes everything blurred. “Right here! Right here! See? I wrote it down on my calendar.”

I pushed the notebook away, focused on the date and my heart faltered. If this entry was correct, Jenessa had intended to pick them up last Tuesday—the same day she'd been expected to return home. And then the memory of the strange notation on the calendar I'd seen in her room jumped to mind. Of course! Pick up SG had to mean sugar gliders. “Daisy, can you show me exactly which day she came to see you?”

Daisy tilted her head sideways and pointed to a small x she had marked on Tuesday of the previous week. “See here? See this x? She said, “I will come back in one week.” She held up one stubby finger. “One week. That's what she said. Exactly.”