Out of the Shadows (Bellingwood Book 12) (26 page)

"To his driveway?" Henry asked.

"Yes, to his driveway. Pull in."

"We're not going into the house. You've already broken in once. I won't be party to your life of crime." He rolled into the driveway and stopped.

Polly opened her door and before she could jump out, Henry grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm going to find her. She's not getting away from me."

He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, all while keeping a firm grip on her forearm. "I'm not letting you go back there by yourself. What if she has a gun?"

Polly relaxed in the seat. "I didn't think about that. But she has no reason to shoot at us."

"What if she's waiting around the corner for you to show up so she can bash your head in?" he asked.

"She's going to be long gone if we don't do something," Polly said. She waited until he relaxed, pulled her arm away and hopped out and onto the driveway. "I'm going to look. I'll be careful. If you're scared, call Aaron."

With that, she turned her phone's flashlight on and hesitantly walked around the side of the house. Just as she started to turn the corner, something touched her shoulder, and Polly jumped and squealed.

"Sorry," Henry said.

"Tell a girl you're there," Polly gasped. "I could have wet my pants."

He handed her a big mag-lite flashlight and turned a second one on. They swept them over the back yard and found nothing.

"That's just weird," Polly said, her eyes darting around the yard. "Where did she go?" She stepped into the yard, her phone's flashlight in one hand and the mag light in the other.

It wasn't a large yard. They walked along the back of the house to the fence.

"This is weird," Henry said. "There's no house on the other side of that fence and it doesn't go all the way around to enclose the back yard. It looks old." He rapped his hand on the wood. "But it's in great shape."

He ran his flashlight up and down the wooden fence as he followed it around the back yard until it stopped about two feet before the garage. He ducked behind the fence and came back.

"Nothing there, just field. That's strange."

Polly followed his path, pressing on the fence. "Henry, come here," she said. "I found something."

They both shone their flashlights on the area that she indicated. "It's newer wood," Henry said and pressed against it. He patted up and down the new pieces of wood, reaching his fingers over the top. "Got it." He stepped back and a hidden gate opened.

"Where are we?" Polly whispered.

"This must be the border of Springer House's property," he said.

"But that back yard was horrible. It was worse than the front yard. All grown over with big bushes and stuff. Even Brutus was scared of it."

Henry aimed his flashlight through the gate and said, "It
is
a little creepy. Look at that."

What had once been an arbored walkway was obviously still in use. Leafy vines covered the frame and had recently been cut back inside the walkway. An old brick path curved to the right.

"I don't know if I want to go in there," Polly said. "At least not at night."

They heard rustling on the path ahead of them and hurried to close the gate. When she heard the lock catch, she stepped away. "I'm going to have to call Aaron."

Henry peered at her. "What are you planning to tell him?"

"I need to tell him everything. About the girl who is staying here and calling herself his granddaughter and breaking into his house and the picture. Everything."

She turned to head back to the truck just as the gate flew open and the girl they'd seen in the restaurant came flying out. "Help!" she cried. "He's going to kill me." She ran into Henry's arms. "You have to help me. Get me out of here. Now!"

Polly didn't know whether to run away or stay and face whatever was coming, but something inside her told her to get moving, so she grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her toward the driveway and the safety of their truck. Henry ran behind them, turning every once in a while to make sure no one was coming.

The girl ran for the front door of Henry's truck and jumped in, leaving Polly to climb in the back seat. Henry got into the truck, turned it on, locked the doors and said. "Who are you?"

"Get out of here. He'll kill us all."

"Who's going to kill us?" Polly asked.

"I'll tell you later. Just get me out of here!"

Henry backed the truck out of the driveway and Polly watched to see if anyone followed. She wondered if everyone who lived on this corner was just a little insane. Henry drove slowly away from the house, glancing into his rear view mirror, while Polly turned in the seat to keep an eye on the house.

"You have to take me somewhere safe," the girl said.

"Go to Sycamore House," Polly said. "I'm calling Aaron."

"You can't tell anyone where I'm at," the girl said, spitting her words out through fast breaths.

"It's the sheriff. He's safe," Henry said.

"Not the sheriff. Please, not him." The girl dropped her head into hands and started to cry. "It's all just gone so bad. None of this was supposed to happen."

"Front door," Polly said to Henry. "We'll go into the conference room."

He nodded. When he pulled into the driveway, the girl looked up. "Everybody's talking about this place. You have a haunted house or something tomorrow night."

Polly jumped down and opened the front passenger door. "Let's go inside. It's safe. There's nothing happening here tonight and the building is all locked up. No one can get in."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Then you can tell us what's going on."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

No cars passed Sycamore House when they walked inside and Polly was sure they were safe. As soon as they got into the conference room, Polly realized the girl was still shivering. "I have a sweater in my office. I'll be right back."

She left and went into her office and sat down to make a phone call.

"This is my patient voice," Aaron Merritt said. "Do I need to choose a different one?"

Polly chuckled. "No. No body. I promise. However, I have a young woman in my office that looks an awful lot like Muriel Springer."

"You what?" he asked - a bit more loudly than Polly would have liked, but she knew he'd been frustrated with this case. With so many people coming in and out of Bellingwood, it had been difficult to find any connections.

"We picked her up at Jim Bridger's house."

Aaron lowered his voice and said, "I'm back to my patient voice. Would you mind telling me what you were doing at Jim Bridger's house?"

"We followed her there?" Polly said tentatively. "We saw her at the Alehouse and when she bolted, I made Henry follow her." Her words got slower as she finished the sentence, realizing how crazy this had to sound.

"I have a lot of questions, but maybe the next one you should answer is how you knew that she looked like Muriel Springer."

"Well..."

"Tell me," he said.

"I might have gone into Jim Bridger's house the other day when I found his dog and I saw a bunch of pictures in his dining room." Before Aaron could respond, Polly said, "And Aaron, they looked like the sketch Rebecca drew of the ghost. I've been trying all week to find ways to tell you, but it sounded ridiculous. And then I poked around the Springer House and somebody screamed at me and scared me to death. Brutus was growling at the back yard, so it was like he knew the ghost was there."

"Slow down, Polly," Aaron said. "You broke into Jim Bridger's house and then you trespassed at Springer House?"

"It sounds terrible when you say it out loud."

"It didn't sound terrible before?"

"Maybe."

Henry stuck his head in her office door and Polly mouthed "Aaron" at him, pointing at her phone. She reached behind her and pulled the sweater off the back of her chair and held it out. He took it, grinned at her and left.

"Am I in big trouble?" she asked Aaron.

"You probably should be," he replied. "Now tell me about this person you have. Who is she?"

"I don't know. Okay, there's more you don't know."

He sighed. "Of course there is. Go ahead."

"So, Rachel told me that she stopped at Mrs. Cooley's house. Do you know where that is?"

"Across from Jim Bridger's. Everybody knew Mrs. Cooley," he replied.

"And Mrs. Cooley told Rachel that Jim Bridger's granddaughter was in town to handle his affairs."

"He doesn't have any children."

"I know that," Polly said. "So that made me suspicious. And tonight when I saw this girl at the Alehouse, I started thinking that maybe there was something going on, so we followed her. And when we got there, she disappeared into Mr. Bridger's back yard." Polly paused for effect.

"Okay?"

"Aaron, there's a secret door in the fence that leads to an old arbor on the Springer House lot."

"Really!"

"We opened it and then heard a noise and I got weirded out, so we left. Then all of a sudden, she came bursting through that secret gate and begged for help because she said he was going to kill her. She was scared, Aaron."

"Who was going to kill her?" he asked.

"I don't know. We just got back here and I came in to get my sweater for her and then I called you."

"You're in the office?"

"She's in the conference room."

Aaron took a deep breath. "I seem to do an awful lot of interrogations in your conference room. Maybe we should consider making Sycamore House a satellite office."

"You're funny," Polly said flatly.

"I know better than to tell you to wait for me, but I'll be there in a few minutes. Don't let her leave."

Polly grinned at the phone. "She’s not going anywhere. If she's not lying to us, then she's terrified of someone."

"Do you have that photograph of Muriel Springer?" he asked.

She reached into a drawer and pulled it out. It was hard not to feel guilty about keeping it, but there it was, right in front of her. "Uhhh."

"It's okay. I'd just like to be able to have it when I talk to her. It will be easier than going to Jim Bridger's..." He stopped and chuckled. "I guess that's not true. Apparently anyone can come and go at his house and no one's the wiser."

"I have the photograph and Rebecca's drawing right here," Polly said. She was so relieved that this was finally all out in the open. Secrets weren't something she was comfortable with.

She heard a car door slam and his SUV start up. "I'll be there in five minutes," he said. "Please stay safe for that long."

"I'll do my best." Polly swiped the phone call closed and gathered up the photograph and sketch pad, then put them on Stephanie's desk before going back into the conference room.

Henry had turned the television on and they were watching Charlie Brown's "The Great Pumpkin." The girl had wrapped Polly's sweater around her and was huddled in the chair, her knees up to her chest.

"Would you like something warm to drink?" Polly asked. "I can make hot cocoa or coffee or tea."

The girl looked up. "Hot cocoa?"

Polly smiled. "It will only take a few minutes. But first, will you tell me your first name? I'd rather not keep thinking of you as 'the girl.'"

"Kitty."

"Thanks. I'm Polly and this is Henry."

"He already told me."

Polly glanced at her husband and he grinned at her. "I'll be right back," she said and walked out into the main office. She sorted through the small cups until she found hot cocoa, popped it in and turned the machine on. During the day, they generally drank whatever Rachel brewed in the kitchen, but this was convenient for Jeff's meetings. She soon had a nice hot mug of cocoa and returned to the conference room. Kitty hadn't moved; she was still huddled in on herself, but her eyes lit up when she smelled the chocolate.

"The sheriff is coming up to talk to you, Kitty," Polly said as she put the mug in front of the girl.

"What?" Kitty yelped.

"It's okay. You said someone was going to kill you. It's the best way to keep you safe."

Kitty looked around. "I can't stay here. I need to get out of town."

"I believe you need to answer quite a few questions," Polly said.

"I didn't do anything wrong. It was all harmless."

"Portraying a ghost?" Polly asked. "Telling people you were Jim Bridger's granddaughter?"

Kitty looked at Polly in shock. "You know about that?"

Henry let out a huff and a chuckle behind Polly.

"It had to be you. What I don't understand is why."

"Money," Henry muttered under his breath.

"Is that it?" Polly glanced back at him and then at Kitty. "Was this all about money?"

"Uh huh," Kitty said and unfolded her legs. She sat forward and took a tentative sip from the mug, then blew across the top and took another. "It was a lot of money."

"From who? Who paid you to come to Bellingwood?"

"That old man. Mr. Bridger."

Polly sat down at the table. "I hate to ask, but how much money are we talking here?"

"Five thousand a week and a cut of his take from magazine articles and books and stuff. It was easy money."

"Old Jim Bridger paid you to look like Muriel Springer and scare people."

"I already look like her," Kitty said in a whisper.

As Polly tried to absorb that piece of information and process on what it might mean, she heard the front door unlock. Aaron Merritt had long ago been given an electronic key to Sycamore House. If she couldn't trust the county sheriff, she might as well move back to Boston.

"That's Sheriff Merritt," Polly said. "He's a good man and you can trust him."

"Mr. Bridger said we'd get in trouble if anyone caught us," Kitty replied. She held the mug in front of her face as if using it as a mask.

"I don't know about that. The most important thing tonight is finding whoever is trying to kill you."

Kitty put the mug back down and as if by reflex, pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs again. Whoever it was, did frighten the poor girl.

Aaron tapped on the door and strode in. He was a big man, over six feet tall, with a barrel chest. His face was kind, but Polly had seen him get angry and he was intimidating when that happened. This evening he was wearing his uniform, which probably accounted for the extra time it took him to get to Sycamore House.

Henry stood up and shook his hand, then, using the remote, turned the television off. Poor Linus. He was still waiting for that pumpkin to show up.

"Polly," Aaron said and put out his hand.

She shook it and said, "This is Kitty. She has quite a story. It seems that our Mr. Bridger paid her to come to Bellingwood and play the part of Muriel Springer's ghost."

"Before I hear that part of it," Aaron said. "I'd like to know who's trying to kill you."

Kitty set her jaw defiantly and looked past Aaron to the door.

Both Polly and Henry glanced at the doorway, thinking someone was there, but Aaron didn't flinch. "If you don't want to talk here," he said, "I'll gladly place you in protective custody, make you a material witness." He paused and crossed his hands behind his back. "Whatever it takes. I'll put you in my car right now and transport you to our offices in Boone. This was potentially a friendly conversation, but it's up to you."

"What if he finds me?" Kitty asked.

Aaron turned to Henry. "Did anyone follow you here?"

"I don't think so," Henry said.

Polly jumped in. "I watched the house as we left and no one came out of the yard, much less followed us in a vehicle."

"We have a team arriving at Springer House any minute now. They'll be combing through the house and the property. Who do you expect them to find, Miss …?" He left it up in the air, waiting for her to give her last name.

"Hoffen," she said, her voice barely perceptible.

Polly stepped forward. "What did you say?"

"Katherine Hoffen. There. That's my name. Does it surprise you?"

Aaron put the photograph and the drawing on the table in front of him. He looked down at them and up at her. "You're the spitting image of Muriel. How in the world?"

"I colored my hair and styled it different, but grandpa always says I look just like her."

"Your grandpa?" Polly asked.

Kitty nodded. "He's one of Muriel’s younger brothers."

Polly heard the tense. "He
is
? Does that mean he's still alive?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug. "He's in assisted living, but he's still alive. So's my Uncle Nick. He was the baby of the family."

Aaron took his phone out and swiped it open, read whatever had come into him. "They've been through the house and are working through the back yard and the garage. Another team is at Jim Bridger's house. They haven't found anyone yet, but there are signs of someone having lived there. Is that you?"

"Yeah."

"So who's trying to kill you? Is it the same person that killed Jim Bridger and Jeremy Booten?"

Kitty looked down at the floor. "Mr. Bridger killed that photographer. He was going to expose the whole thing." She pursed her lips and looked at them. "And that's what's so bad. He was only here because it was part of the scam. But he was going to expose everything, and I mean everything. He had the goods on Mr. Bridger.

Polly and Henry had taken seats across from her by this point and Polly put her head in her hands. "So let me get this straight. Jim Bridger brought Jeremy Booten into town so he could write about the haunting, but when the kid found out the truth, he killed him?"