The Drake House (16 page)

Nick nodded. Interesting that neither asked what he’d learned. Time to rile the roost. “Detective Lafferty wants me to check out the Drake property and report to him.” Both men looked up with alarm before a steely edge filled their eyes.

“What the hell for?” Steve asked.

“With the murder being right next door, he suggested a look through. Make sure no one’s hiding out and nothing’s amiss.” He made a mental note to call Lafferty to back him up on this.

Wayne cleared his throat after a long pause, his eyes darting between Steve and Nick. “Probably not a bad idea. You want one of us to head out with you?”

Steve rose. “I’ll follow you out there.”

****

After searching the internet, Trisha looked over at Brad sitting next to her in the cramped office. They’d found nothing. Not one article.

“We could ask my parents some questions,” he suggested.

Remembering the fear on her father’s face when she brought up the dreams, she shook her head. “I don’t think we should involve anyone unless we have to. What about the library? They might have old articles from the Rapids Gazette.”

Now out of print, the small town paper seemed their only shot without directly asking questions.

“Maybe,” Brad said. “It’s getting late though. Everyone will be back soon.”

The McArthur’s had called earlier. Andrew’s funeral would be the day after tomorrow. Detective Lafferty gave the all-clear to use the ranch house again. She needed to go in and prepare for the men to return. Brad purchased extra sensor lights for the exterior of the houses, along with new locks.

As if reading her thoughts, Brad ran his hands up and down her arms. “Let’s take care of the ranch house and wait to see what Nick found.”

****

Nick dialed Lafferty’s number while driving to Eaton’s Orchard. He’d hook up with Trisha and Brad after checking out the abandoned house and have a meeting with her staff. They needed to take precautions from now on.

Lafferty picked up, and Nick gave him a run down about what to say in case asked about the Drake property.

“You really think this is tied to the case?”

“It’s possible. Thing is, a town this small, it could be anyone. I’m new, but everyone else isn’t. I’m treading carefully.”

“All right, Mackey.” He sighed heavily into the phone. “Be the eyes and ears. But if anything, and I mean anything, seems suspicious, you call us. You’re alone out there.”

Don’t I know it.

Disconnecting, he checked the rearview, seeing Steve’s late model blue pick-up right behind him. If the occurrences now are tied to the incident thirty years ago, Steve could probably be ruled out. In his mid-forties now, he’d have only been about fifteen then.

Nick wished the sheriff had accompanied them. Wayne had been the sheriff long enough to know every damn thing in this town. Nick wanted to see his reaction to the place, see if he could read anything.

Making a U-turn, Nick pulled his car to the shoulder close to where the driveway for the Drake house should be. Steve parked behind him and exited his truck. Nick met him at the bumper.

“Driveway is back there.” Steve pointed at a copse of trees. “You can’t drive on it now though. We have to walk.”

The house couldn’t be seen from the road, and if it was as far back as Trisha’s, they’d have a hike ahead of them.

Nick followed Steve over a drainage ditch and to a small clearing. Had Steve not taken him right to the spot, Nick never would’ve located the driveway. For all intents and purposes, it looked just like any wooded area in these parts.

“You ready?” Steve asked.

“Yep.”

The driveway—if one could call it that—at one point had been two cars wide and consisted of pea gravel. It was no better now than the trail he’d walked with Trisha the night before.

Nick decided to take this opportunity to obtain information, but he’d have to be cautious in his approach. Nick brushed aside a low-hanging branch, allowing Steve to go first. He fell into step beside him.

Nick kept his tone conversational. “So, how long have you lived in Small Rapids?”

“My parents moved here when I was a baby. And before you hear it in the rumor mill, my mother took off shortly after. She hated small towns.”

“Your dad still around?” Nick suddenly realized how little he knew about the people in Small Rapids.

“No. He died of a heart attack a few years back.” The excursion from walking had beaded sweat forming on Steve’s brow. His breathing labored, he looked over and asked Nick, “Are your parents back in Milwaukee?”

Keep it light, Nick
. “Yes. Mom hates that I moved.”

They hiked another five minutes before Steve spoke again. “This place gives me the creeps. Always has.”

There’s the opening
. “What’s up with this place? Why’d they never sell? She had no family?”

Steve eyed him for a moment, then apparently decided to talk. “I’m not sure. An attorney handled it all. It’s been like this since I was in high school. She was a creepy lady.”

Attorney. There had to be records on an attorney handling the property. Storing the information for later, Nick nodded.

They approached an area where two trails crossed. Steve stopped, huffing out breaths. “That trail leads to Trisha’s orchard. As you can see, no one comes back here. We routinely do drive-bys to scare the teenagers away. They could get hurt with no help out here.”

They hadn’t walked this far last night. He stared down the overgrown path, visions of Trisha turning deathly blue, the voice whispering in his ear. His heart thumped as he tore his gaze away.

Steve grinned. “As kids, we’d dare each other to run into the woods or touch the house.”

“You ever do it?”

“I’m taking you now, aren’t I?”

He fell back in step with Steve. They rounded a curve and immediately the house became visible.

“Holy shit,” Nick said, straightening.

Nick was expecting something along the lines of a Unabomber shack, overgrown and run down with time. This was Vincent Price meets Alfred Hitchcock. A three-story Victorian loomed before them, the exterior a dull gray and peeling away with age. Vines snaked the porch, climbing the front of the house and crowding the stained glass windows, several of which were broken.

Steve pulled his gun and looked over at him. “I’ll check around back while you check the side, then we’ll meet on the porch so we can go in together.”

Nick waited until Steve rounded the east side of the house before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. He clicked a picture of the house, thinking maybe after seeing it Trisha might recall something. Drawing his own weapon, he ventured on the west side of the house, discovering a clearing with a massive two-tier stone fountain, now cracked and dry. He took a picture of that too and pocketed his phone.

The rest of the property was heavily wooded. The trees hadn’t been cleared or cut back in three decades. He thought it was a damn shame the house had fallen on such disrepair.

Steve rounded the corner and asked, “Anything?”

“No.” Nick glanced heavenward. It was going to be dark soon. No way in hell was he sticking around that long. “Let’s do a sweep inside and head back.”

The interior proved his first impression to be true. It was straight out of a fifties horror movie. The place had eight damn bedrooms and four baths, plus the third floor attic apartment. Immense fireplaces, mahogany woodwork, cobwebs. The furniture had been covered with sheets. Nothing appeared disturbed. The amount of dust in the place would’ve given an intruder away in ten seconds flat. The basement was little more than a cellar.

Nick turned to Steve. “I guess that’ll do it.”

****

Trisha hung up the phone and turned to Brad. Her parents were catching the next flight out. They’d heard the news about Andrew from Wayne, but the instant her mother heard Trisha’s voice, she insisted on coming home.

Nick walked into her office, and after filling him in on what they found online, or lack of something, Brad and Trisha joined her men in the dining room. A scattering of twelve pizza boxes laid untouched on the table, with a group of somber faces all looking to her for answers about Andrew. Nick stood next to her, making her unease rise. She nodded for Brad to sit before speaking.

“The funeral is tomorrow,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I expect all of you there. The McArthurs are having an understandably hard time with this. Nancy, if you wouldn’t mind, could you bake something to take over there?”

Nancy swiped a fresh bout of tears away with a balled tissue. “Of course.”

Trisha expelled a shaky breath. “I don’t know what happened any more than you do, but Madison is investigating.” She turned to Nick, who refused to meet her eyes. “Nick asked for a meeting with you to ensure our safety is met. Out of respect to me, please listen to what he has to say.”

Trish felt like she was going to throw up. Had there been anything left in her stomach she may have. Taking Brad’s hand and squeezing it, she sat in a chair.

Nick looked at each of her men before speaking. “Due to the nature of what happened, I need to enforce some rules.”

Groans erupted until Trisha cleared her throat and they quieted down.

“Anyway,” Nick continued, “new locks, security alarms, and sensor lights have been installed. No one, and I mean no one, is to give out the security codes. There will be no overnight guests until we know more about what happened.”

Chuck stood. “And what in the hell did happen? We haven’t had a murder…” After saying the word aloud, Chuck paled and sat back down. Her normally humorous friend and worker looked like he’d been scraped off the street.

Her heart broke. This wasn’t just a small community, just a job. It was family. They’d lost more than a friend. The tears she’d been able to keep at bay clogged her throat. She made a strangled sound before it could be helped.

Chuck looked over at her. “Ah, Trish, I’m sorry.”

Waving her hand, she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. My heart hurts for Andrew. And this could have been any of you.” Drawing in a breath she steadied her voice. “Please, guys, listen to Nick.”

When she looked up at him, his worry and concern nearly sent her into another crying jag. Maybe he did give a damn after all.

Nick palmed the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. He was having a difficult time also. She should’ve considered that. Their gazes locked for several moments before he tore his away.

“From now on,” he said, “no one goes out alone. If you go to town, to the main house, to the orchard…you go with someone. It’s the best way for now to keep you safe. Wayne, Steve and I will be here often, and we’ll be doing routine drive-bys overnight. Any questions?”

When no one had anything further to say, Trisha stood. “The ranch has been cleaned and restocked. After the funeral tomorrow, I think it best to jump back into work. The Bunny Hop is only a week away.”

She paused, recalling her conversation with Mrs. McArthur. Andrew’s mother made it quite clear she wanted things to go on as usual, as that’s what he would have wanted. Nothing would be normal again.

The men dug into the pizza boxes as Nancy made her way around the table to her. “Have you been sleeping,
chica
?”

“Some.”

“And the nightmares?”

Trisha glanced at Nick, then back to Nancy. “They’ve been worse.”

Nancy reached up to pat her cheek. “
Mi bebé de la muchacha. ¿Qué hemos hecho
?”

Trisha didn’t speak a lick of Spanish, but the concern in her housekeeper’s voice was evident. “We’ll get through this, Nancy. I promise.” She looked over at Nick again, seeing a hard edge in his eyes, his grip on the table rigid. “Go eat and settle in. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Trisha motioned for Brad to follow her when Nick stepped through the doorway and into the living room. Before she could ask Nick the problem, he whirled around.

“How long have Nancy and Eduardo been working here?”

Brad straightened. “Whatever you’re thinking, Nick, don’t.”

Nick kept his voice low, but firm. “How long?”

Trisha swallowed, not liking the sinking feeling in her stomach. “Eduardo’s worked here since my dad was still running the orchard. I think I was four or five. They both came on full-time eight or so years ago. Why?”

Nick casted a glance toward the dining room, then back on her. “You don’t speak Spanish, do you? You know what she said to you?”

Okay, now Trish really wasn’t liking this. She shook her head.

“
My baby girl. What have we done
?”

Trisha gasped, but Brad stepped forward. “That could mean anything, Nick. You can’t possibly think they could do something like this?”

“They have the alarm pass code. Were they where they said they’d be?”

Trisha looked between the two of them. “Oh God. Do we really need to check?”

“Nick,” Brad ground out in a harsh whisper, “Trisha is a daughter to them. Be serious.”

Nick glared at him. “You sure enough to leave her alone in the house with them?”

Brad closed his mouth, eyes narrowed but unchallenging.

“I thought so.” He looked at her, holding her gaze as the room spun. “Is there a number for where they stayed?”

They went down to Chicago to spend time with Nancy’s sister. That was four hours away. It’s where they always went on time off. “Come into the office,” she said, walking in that direction. Nick needed assurance, and suddenly she did too. The traitorous thought left a rancid taste in her mouth.

Fishing through her file cabinet, she pulled out their file, handing it to Nick.

Gripping Brad’s hand, he drew her to his side as Nick dialed their emergency contact listed. After a few questions, Nick disconnected.

“They were in Chicago the entire time. They went out to dinner that night.”

“Thank God,” Trisha said, a whoosh of pent up air leaving her lungs. Tears poured from her eyes. “What’s wrong with me that I even imagined they could hurt Andrew?”