The Drake House (26 page)

They exchanged a look again before Mabel said, “That’s the funny thing. Right from the start, she was chatty and open. Most kids didn’t adjust that fast.”

“Did she have any objects with her?”

“No. Just a small suitcase with clothes. They were clean and new.”

“Did she come from Small Rapids?”

“No,” Hank supplied. “Madison was the county where we were foster parents. If she was from here, we most likely would’ve known more.”

Nick picked up his mug of coffee and sat back, processing the information. With a last name, at least he had something to go from if the caseworker threw up roadblocks. He’d look through the file later and see what he could come up with. For now, he decided on another tactic.

“Why do you think Alexandra Drake left Trisha the house in her will?”

Mabel’s hands fisted in her lap. “We’ve been wondering the same thing for thirty years,” she said, looking him square in the eye.

He didn’t think she was lying, which frustrated and relieved him equally. “Any guesses?”

Hank’s faced paled. “Once upon a time, I had the outlandish thought maybe she was Trisha’s birth mother. The names didn’t match, though. And why would she give her up?” Hank scratched his head. “After that, I stopped allowing myself to wonder.”

Nick couldn’t blame him. Going off what he knew, Alexandra being Trisha’s mother didn’t fit. Then again, nothing else did either. As far as what they gathered, Alexandra never lived in Madison, her name certainly wasn’t Stratton, and how did a recluse get knocked up?

Sighing, he stood. “I’ll need those records now.”

Mabel stood abruptly. “I know we lied, but it was for her. I’m so very sorry.”

Nodding, Nick looked away. “She’s coming with me to Milwaukee for the night. We’ll be back in the morning. I suggest giving her space.”

“She won’t talk to us,” Mabel said, voice breaking.

Nick had the distinct impression Mabel was the strong one in this group. She came across as a hard-ass, take no crap, kind of woman. Her actions permeated the truth in what they said now.

“She’s okay. Just give her time.”

Hank rose also and draped an arm over his wife’s shoulder. “Normally, we come up from Florida in November through New Year’s Day, so we’ll be around. I made arrangements in Florida for a longer stay.”

Mabel turned and headed into Trisha’s office, returning with a thin envelope. “These are all the records we have.”

For good measure, Nick said, “Stay in town,” before leaving the house to wait for Trisha in the driveway. But even to him, his voice sounded pathetic instead of authoritative.

Nick hung up with his mother after a brief update to Lafferty on the replacement cell phone. Trisha stepped out of the house wearing jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. The tan wool coat she stretched her sleeves into actually fit her compared to what she wore earlier. Stepping off the porch, she popped the hatch on his SUV, dropping her bag inside, and met him by the driver’s door he leaned against.

“Why are we really going to Milwaukee?” she asked.

Though the circles were gone from under her eyes, she still looked tired, but her gaze didn’t waver. She saw way too damn much. “You need to get away. Plus, my parents are asking about you.”

The immediate hesitation created an invisible wall to surround her. “Look, Nick…”

“Don’t make it out to be more than it is, Trisha.”

She studied him and, for a moment, he thought she could see into his heart and all complications his new feelings created, but she tilted her head and sighed. Satisfied, she leaned in and kissed his mouth, then his cheek.

“You ready to go?” she whispered.

Straightening, he looked down at her and swallowed, a thousand words on his tongue, but unable to speak any. “Yep.”

****

After Trisha had signed the papers in Mr. Winfield’s office to transfer the Drake property, Nick decided there was no harm in asking a few questions with her present.

“Mr. Winfield, I was wondering if you could tell us anything about Miss Drake?” Nick glanced at Trisha, hoping she’d take the hint. “Trisha’s having a hard time understanding Miss Drake’s wishes.”

The attorney took a seat behind his desk and removed his glasses. “I thought a lot about this since you were here last. Lexie had no family, so that’s the obvious reason. But I remember a lunch meeting she and I had once long ago.” He sat forward in his chair as if about to divulge a government secret. “I don’t see the harm in telling you, since she’s gone now.”

Nick and Trisha exchanged a glance while the attorney shuffled through his file cabinet. Eventually, he pulled out a photo and handed it to her.

Nick looked down at the picture. A beautiful woman about thirty, with long, black hair in soft waves posed for the camera. Her eyes were a chocolate brown, her skin very pale, and her smile nothing more than a faint whisper. It looked like a CEO headshot for a Website.

Trisha let out a small gasp. Before Nick could ask her what was wrong, Mr. Winfield spoke.

“That’s Lexie’s head shot the publisher used for book promotion.” Shaking his head, he grimaced. “You see how pale she is? She had this horrible reaction to light. I can’t remember the actual name for it, but it was like an allergy. The condition also caused her core body temperature to remain lower than normal. She was diagnosed with the disease as a child. She wore layers of clothes, no matter how hot it was outside. Sunscreen wasn’t nearly enough. She burned in seconds. So she stayed out of direct light, used soft watt bulbs, and was always covered by clothes.”

Trisha’s hands were shaking, and Nick wished to hell the attorney would disappear. “Mr. Winfield, could you get Trisha a glass of water?”

“Oh, of course.” He promptly left the room.

“What is it, Trish?”

Tracing a finger over the face of Alexandra, she whispered, “I remember spinning.” She spread her arms wide. “The woods provided shade, but little flecks of sunlight shone down. ‘Spin,’ she’d told me. We twirled around in circles with our faces to the sky.” Suddenly, Trisha stopped and stared at the picture once more. “I don’t think the day I disappeared was the first time I went over there. She wasn’t a crazy witch—just sick.”

Mr. Winfield returned and pressed a water glass in her hand. She took a sip and thanked him before setting it down on a coaster.

“What was I saying?” The attorney pondered to himself, taking a seat once more. “Oh, right. So anyway, this condition made it difficult for Lexie to go out. She didn’t have any friends. I personally think her seclusion caused an anxiety disorder, but she never mentioned it.”

Trisha’s color returned. Nick cast a glance toward the attorney. “What does this have to do with Trisha?”

For a moment, Mr. Winfield seemed confused, but then his eyebrows rose. “Well, that brings me back to what I was saying about a conversation Lexie and I once had. She said something like,
the little girl isn’t afraid of me
, and then said,
she’s nice to me
.” Leaning back in his chair, he claimed, “That would’ve meant the world to Lexie. Her last book, I forget the name, had a character based off of you. Perhaps this is why she wanted you to have the house, as a legacy to her.”

“
My Friend Who Smiles
,” Trisha mumbled. “That was the book.”

Nick stood, taking Trisha with him as she looked near tears. “Where is Miss Drake buried?”

“Um, well… On the property—near the back, by her roses.” Mr. Winfield wiped the lenses of his glasses against his shirt and donned them again. “That was what her will stated she wanted.”

****

“I need to talk to you,” Nick said, drawing Trisha’s attention from the car window to him.

Try as she may, she couldn’t get the image of Alexandra out of her head. Everything she knew, or thought she knew, was thrown upside down. Before today, she had no memories of Alexandra Drake. She was just a woman who people told tall tales about. A ghost story meant to scare children into obedience.

But that wasn’t who the real woman was at all. She was sick and lonely. She was heartbroken and desperate. It made Trisha sick to think what the town of Small Rapids did to her.

Trisha had been over to Alexandra’s house as a child. Had spent time with her. Perhaps she’d seen something she shouldn’t have. But whatever that was, she couldn’t pull it from memory.
Is that why the killer struck? To threaten me into silence? To keep a buried memory down?

And all this time, her nightmares raged. From early childhood to now, they pummeled her subconscious, calling her back there. She’d spent the better part of her life trying to control them, when maybe Alexandra just wanted help. All along, Trisha had been as ghastly as the rest of Small Rapids, ignoring and shunning her.
No more
.

“We need your permission to get onto Drake’s property,” Nick was saying. “Lafferty’s trying to get an excavation order to dig up her remains.”

“What? No! Let the poor woman rest in peace, Nick. Lord knows she didn’t get it in life.”

Nick pulled into his parents’ driveway and shut off the car. “She isn’t getting peace in death either.” Before she could argue, Nick turned in his seat. “The night Brad and I followed you, that wasn’t you talking in your sleep, Trish. It was her, and she was asking for help. This isn’t going to end.”

Degree by degree, his face hardened. Any trace of calm left his eyes. She shivered. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He turned toward the windshield, his jaw muscles bunching. “The bastard called me again, only this time, he threatened
you
.”

Crossing her arms didn’t chase the chill away. “Then we know it’s not my parents or Eduardo and Nancy. They’d never hurt me.”

“God dammit,” he boomed, shaking the car with the force of his voice. His fingers worked against the steering wheel, muscles rippled in his forearms. He didn’t turn to look at her, his gaze still fixed ahead. “We have no idea who this is! We need answers. We’re digging up her body, and we’re finding out what the hell is going on.”

“I don’t see what good it will do to dig up her grave.”

His head turned slowly, but his eyes didn’t look her way. “He’s right on top of us. He’ll get to you before I can stop him.” Trish shivered at the calm in his voice, barely a whisper skating over her skin. “He’ll put a rope to your throat,” he said, finally looking at her, his gaze traveling to her neck. With a shaking hand, he reached out to touch her, only to draw his hand right back.

She cupped his cheeks in her frigid hands, demanding he look at her. The shadow of his beard scratched her palms. “If something happens,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It won’t be your fault.” He tried to pull away, but she jerked him back, tears tracking hot trails down her cheeks. “You do what you have to. You stop this guy. But if you can’t, Nick, it won’t be your fault.”

His sister Bethany’s memory filled the car like an unseen fog. Her death was no more his fault than hers might be. But he wouldn’t believe that. Nick had been a wreck since her suicide, blaming himself and shutting down. He’d become different, almost evolving since moving to her town. The thought of something happening to her put the fear of God in her, but knowing what it would do to him caused her heart to seize in her chest.

The wall around her heart cracked. Damn if she didn’t know it would happen too.

“I can’t stand it,” he ground out. “The thought of his hands on you, that rope around…”

“Then don’t think about it,” she said. “We’ll take precautions. I’ll stay away from the house.”

His eyes closed to half-mast. Pulling her hands from his cheeks, he pressed a kiss to each palm. The life drained from his voice, making it as hollow as an echo. “It won’t be enough.”

Swallowing, she glanced at their joined hands. How different they were. He so dark, seeing the horrors of the world. Her, wanting only the beauty. But guilt, she could understand that. In fact, she had been hiding behind it for years.

“He knows I mean something to you,” she said. “He knows you’re close to the truth.” Alarm flared on his face, but she pressed on. “Take away that threat, and he can’t do anything. He can’t hurt you if you don’t care. It’s time to end this anyway, Nick. For reasons besides a killer coming after me.”

“Trish…”

She dropped his hands, and they fell to his lap like lead. Reaching for the door handle, she got in one parting shot. “He can’t hold anything over you now. It’s just me and him.”

As soon as we get back
, she thought,
I am going to draw this guy out from under his rock. This terror will come to an end before I have to bury one more friend. None of this is on Nick. It’s on me
.

If I have to die to stop it, so be it.

Chapter Nineteen

Nick had made himself exit the car, walk up the steps to his parent’s house, and smile when his mother greeted them with animated endearments. He made himself eat meatloaf, engage in casual conversation, and pretend nothing at all was freaking wrong. Pretended he didn’t give a shit that Trisha was walking away from him. Ending it.

After she argued baseball with his father and said good night to his mother, Trisha descended the hall and disappeared into their bedroom. They were sharing a bedroom for Christ sakes. Bethany’s bedroom had been touched very little since her death, and even though she had moved out years before she died, his mom hadn’t wanted to change much. His room still had a baseball theme. They didn’t argue when his mother insisted they stay together tonight, oblivious to what happened in the car in their driveway.

And what the hell am I so upset about anyway? Isn’t this what I wanted? No strings. Get out before it got serious.

Except they were past that point now. Had been since the night he’d made love to her. He didn’t know where Trisha’s feelings fell, or what her intentions were in letting him go, but the sinking sensation in his gut didn’t like it at all.

“Night, baby,” his mom said, patting his cheek and grinning like a clown. Dear Mom had grown attached to Trisha, too.