“Certainly, Michael.” The name almost choked her but she got it out. There was nothing about this man, her father, that she liked. He was sleazy. But more importantly, he was probably Cory’s father as well. Which meant Aubree was his granddaughter. His murdered granddaughter, yet here he was acting normal, just business as usual. Karen had said he wasn’t a nice man.
That was a serious understatement.
***
Forty minutes later, after pointing out landmarks and schools, libraries and parks to Melanie, he flicked the turn signal on and entered a forested area. The road snaked through the wooded area as the SUV climbed higher and higher to the peak. Many times during the tour through the neighboring area his eyes had met hers in the rearview mirror. She had tried to keep her face impassive despite the distinct feeling that he was sizing her up.
Melanie continued her prattle, impervious to whatever silent communication was happening between Paige and Michael. Hell. Paige wasn’t even sure what he was up to. She just knew it creeped her out. If not for the bracelet in her pocket, which she clutched hard, she might have asked him to stop the car so she could escape being near him.
But once they were at the crescent of the small mountain, where an outcropping of luxury mausoleum-like homes dominated with pristine manicured lawns and interlock stone driveways, Michael turned his attention to the neighborhood. He checked out the street and houses, his gaze furtive while his sales pitch petered out.
Melanie seemed to have tuned into the change in his attitude, looking back at Paige with question marks in her eyes. But she soon recovered and once more with a lilt in her voice, she asked, “Where is your home, Michael? I bet it’s that massive ranch over there.” She pointed, but her eyes skewered the man beside her.
He seemed to jolt from whatever fugue he was going through when he turned to her. “Yes. That’s a pretty good guess. But it’s this home here that I’d like to show you.” He pulled into the driveway of a stone bungalow a few doors away from his own. Although with the large half acre lots it was still a ways off from his.
When he popped out of the car and was rounding it to open their doors, Paige mumbled to Mel, “He’s on edge. Ever since he entered this street he’s been checking things out.”
Melanie turned slightly to face her. “I caught that too. Keep an eye out, girl.” And then the smile was back when the door opened, and Michael extended his hand to help her out.
“Why, this is lovely. It looks large enough, and the grounds are impeccable.”
Michael opened Paige’s door but he spoke to Melanie. “Most of us use a grounds keeping service. You won’t see any of your neighbors cutting their lawns or shoveling snow. We’re all too busy plus it’s kind of a social norm here. That way, things are kept nice.”
He led the way up the walkway and after consulting his phone, he keyed in the security numbers to disarm the alarm and open the door. He held it for them and explained. “There’s no gate for security, but everyone in this area has an alarm system. We sleep better knowing it’s there.”
For the next thirty minutes Melanie and Paige followed him from room to room as he expounded on the unique but luxurious features of the home. When Michael wasn’t looking at them, Paige and Melanie exchanged looks, shaking their heads. Both of them knew where they really wanted to go with this.
As they were leaving the house Melanie paused watching Michael lock up. “You know, it’s a lovely house, but I was really hoping for a view of the lake. What I could see was just a sliver of a peek through the evergreens. Yet you have a full vista from your house. Is that right?” She sidled closer to him and giggled. “You wouldn’t consider selling me your house, would you? I’d give you whatever you asked.”
Paige had to turn away to stifle the gag. She never would have guessed that Melanie would be this good at flirting and manipulation. The little wallflower who wouldn’t say “boo” had blossomed into a first-rate Venus Flytrap.
But would Michael Smith be dumb enough to fall into that trap?
Chapter 32
A day earlier…
CORY WAS TWENTY MINUTES INTO THE DRIVE with the heat cranked all the way up in the old geezer’s car. His teeth chattered, and his arms twitched clutching the steering wheel.
“Damn it!” He fumbled with the knob trying to crank more heat out, then sat back listening to the warm air whoosh from the dashboard. But still he shivered while a cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Even his vision was blurry and he had to shake his head to clear it. It was hard to navigate on the winding back roads, even though he’d left the cow path long ago.
His foot, on the accelerator, was numb and there was a dull pressure on his ankle. Looking down at it, he could see the cuff of his pants pressed tight on his flesh. With the way that ankle was swelling up, he needed to get antiseptic or drugs to stop the infection soon.
There were only fields broken by outcroppings of forest in the rolling hills that he drove by. He hadn’t passed a house in at least five minutes, let alone get to a town with a clinic or pharmacy.
When he rounded a slow bend in the road, a sign on the shoulder caught his eye: Town of Gardner 2 Miles’.
There had to be a drugstore there where he could get fixed up. A clinic would be better, but he’d need money and ID for that. The town wasn’t far. He could do this, and with some food and aspirin in his belly he’d be able to get the second wind he needed to get to his father’s house.
A few minutes later, he came up to another sign that said, ‘Welcome To Gardner’.
As he was passing by the sign a child stepped out from behind it. He gasped, his eyes wide with shock. Oh my God! Aubree?
She turned her head as the car rolled past, her face impassive. He was mesmerized as her hand rose, finger pointing straight at him.
The blaring honk of an oncoming car caused him to jerk. He swerved the wheel just in time to avoid a head-on collision. His heart hammering, he looked in the rearview mirror, but there was only the sign and the gravel shoulder of the road to be seen. What the hell? He blinked hard trying to get a glimpse of her.
He yanked the car to the shoulder, threw it into park and spun around to the back window. She had been wearing that same damn red plaid coat!
Where’d she go? She’d been there only a second before. But how?
Aubree was dead.
Oh my God. His hands shook, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. He was sicker than he’d thought—hallucinating that he’d seen his daughter. His foot eased up from the gas pedal, and he took a deep breath. He had to get control or he was gonna have an accident. Forget the damned infection in his foot! He’d be dead in a car wreck if he didn’t get a grip.
A sign posting a lower speed limit along with a few houses looked promising. He’d soon be in some shithole town where he could get some relief. With any luck the police wouldn’t be looking for this car. The old geezer probably wouldn’t be missed for a day or so.
Soon, houses bordered the road, and he could see a traffic light up ahead, along with a few neon signs above small stores. His stomach grumbled as he passed a Chinese restaurant, the aroma of food flitting through the car vents. He smiled when he saw the Rite Aide sign. A drugstore that also would have food and other things he needed. He flicked the turn signal on and pulled into the small parking lot, stopping next to a red truck.
When he got out of the car he staggered a bit, forgetting in his eagerness that his foot was numb and swollen. A woman walking her dog on the sidewalk looked over at him and hurried by. Shit. He must be a sight. The same clothes for four days, with mud and blood smeared on his pants from the raccoons and that old geezer. He took a deep breath, grimacing inwardly at the pain but trying to look as normal as he could.
When he went into the store, a young woman at the cash looked up from where she was reading a magazine. He smiled and nodded to her and hurried down the aisle to where the pharmacy was. He grabbed a bottle of aspirin, antiseptic ointment and bandages before crossing over to
the hair-care aisle. After looking around to see if anyone was near he slipped a package of men’s hair coloring into his pocket.
As he approached the cash, he grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler as well as a large bag of potato chips. Not the most nourishing food but it would do for now.
The girl set her magazine aside and forced a smile, revealing a line of braces on her teeth. Her eyes behind the thick glasses were huge peering at him. “Find everything you need?” She looked down and started scanning his items.
“Yeah.” He spotted a rack of eyeglasses at the next register. “Hang on.” He looked for a a pair with thick dark frames and tried them on. The lenses were pretty weak because his vision only blurred slightly. “I’ll take these too.”
“That’ll be twenty-one, sixty-four.”
He slapped the twenties down and waited as she gave him the change. A few minutes later he was back in the car wolfing down the aspirin with the water. A look in the mirror showed a trace of blood on his chin. He’d take care of that once he’d cleaned the wound on his ankle with the ointment.
Wincing, he twisted in the seat to raise his leg and set his foot down on the seat beside him. He had to tug the cuff of his pants higher revealing the red mottled puff of his ankle. The puncture marks were black and oozed a clear liquid when he pressed the ointment there. A red-hot searing pain shot through his leg when he rubbed it into the wound.
He sucked in a long breath through gritted teeth and then sat there for a long while. The noise of a deep-throated engine startled him, and his eyes shot open. It was the red truck next to him. He hadn’t even heard the guy open the door and get in.
He’d actually fallen asleep? Oh my God. But he had to admit he felt a little better. Better enough to find a thrift store and get some other clothes. Maybe even find a diner where he could grab a coffee and start work on his hair in the men’s room. He tore the bag of chips open and then started the car. One thing was certain. He couldn’t just sit there like a lame duck waiting to be caught. He had to get to his father’s house to get some money and another set of wheels.
***
It was almost 10 p.m. when Cory arrived in his old neighborhood in Poughkeepsie. He cruised by his father’s house slowly, noting the Escalade in the driveway and some of the lights still blazing inside. The old bastard was home and still awake.
Tempting as it was to knock on the door and get inside where it was warm, there was no way he could chance it. The old man hadn’t returned with supplies and hadn’t even bothered answering all the calls for help he’d made from the cabin. It was obvious that he wanted nothing more to do with him. The old prick was more worried about his own skin than helping his own flesh and blood.
And forget trying to break in. The place was like Fort Knox. The cops would be there in a New York minute to lock him up.
No. The only way he’d get help from the old man was to jump him when he came out for work the next morning. He’d use the element of surprise along with a tire iron to get what he needed.
It would mean spending the night in the car but he could do that. At least he had warmer clothes and a blanket thanks to the Family Thrift store. He drove out of the exclusive subdivision making his way down the winding road until he saw what he was looking for. If you didn’t know the area, the narrow road leading into the wooded area would be easy to miss. The only people to use it were the contractors who kept the steep and twisting road cleared in the winter. Their shed full of salt and sand was tucked in under a stand of trees around a bend in the lane. No one would be going down that lane anytime soon.
Cory parked on the far side of the shed and cut the engine. He downed a few more aspirin and then stretched out as best he could on the back seat. The fleece blanket provided a little warmth but his ankle still throbbed like a jackhammer.
Twenty minutes later he was sound asleep, worn out by the pain and his body fighting the infection.
Chapter 33
MICHAEL FELT UNSETTLED from the first moment he laid eyes on the lawyer. He’d never met the woman yet there was something familiar, something that put him on edge. All the while that the rich bitch prattled on about family and wanting a secure neighborhood to raise a child, he’d kept sneaking glances at the lawyer.
The honey-blonde hair pulled back revealing a smooth ivory forehead and dark arched eyebrows...eyes that tilted ever so slightly in the outer corners, always eluding a direct meeting of his gaze straight on, like she was nervous or something. And she was tall for a woman, almost five ten in low-heeled pumps.
Of course she was attractive; they both were! But whereas Melanie with the heavily made-up blue eyes and high cheekbones had a flashy prettiness, the lawyer’s beauty was timeless. She’d be attractive at fifty or even seventy. And she moved with the smooth grace of an athlete.
It was fortunate that he’d done this job all his life. He could go through the motions, rattling off statistics, dropping names during funny, humblebrag anecdotes while his mind worked on other things—like who the hell was this Fran Lewalski, and how did he know her?
He turned to punch in the security code, setting the lock on the house he’d thought would be a perfect fit for the rich millennial, when it hit him. Cheryl Evans. This Fran Lewalski was almost a dead ringer for Cheryl. Except for her height.
Melanie’s voice brought him back to the here and now.
He glanced over at her when she sidled closer and giggled “You wouldn’t consider selling me your house, would you? I’d give you whatever you asked.”
Normally, he’d be all over that. Hell, she’d been practically flirting with him since they’d met, and her offer—well he wasn’t blind. But he couldn’t help staring at Fran who had turned away, her profile confirming the resemblances to Cheryl and his son as she looked up the street at his house.
“Well? I told you I came here to buy a house. Will you show me yours?” Melanie slipped her hand along his arm.
The words that flowed from his mouth were on autopilot. “Of course. I mean everything is for sale. It’s just a matter of agreeing on price.” He flashed a warm smile at her and then directed his attention to Fran. “As Melanie’s attorney, what do you think, Fran?”
The woman had hardly said boo since she’d been with them. It was silly, but he wanted to engage her in the conversation. She wasn’t Cheryl, but she sure as hell could be her.
Oh my God. The smile dropped from his face before he completed the thought. Cheryl’s daughter? But that couldn’t be. Her last name…
When Fran turned and smiled at Melanie, it hit him like a punch to his gut. That was Cheryl’s smile.
“I think you should show your house to my client. Melanie is like a dog with a bone. When she wants something she usually gets it. It could prove to be mutually beneficial, Michael.”
He nodded and then walked over to the car, holding the door for Melanie but his gaze riveted on Fran. “It’s a great home to raise children, Fran. Are you married? Have a family?” The odds of this woman being any relation to Cheryl were astronomical but still something deep inside made him probe.
Melanie flitted by him and took her seat. When he held the door for Fran she seemed to falter just a little before answering. “No husband or kids. I’m too busy with my career. Especially with this crazy lady as a client.” She slipped by him, avoiding eye contact once more.
And that was disconcerting. Almost as odd as the color of her eyes. An olive shade? He knew that color. He looked in the mirror everyday at that same greenish brown.
As he rounded the car to take his place behind the steering wheel, his mind warped into overdrive. Cheryl had disappeared into thin air after that night. He’d let her leave in order to calm down after the incident with the young panhandler—the stupid loser. But when he’d knocked on her door the next day, she was gone. Vamoose. Pulled a total Houdini on him. He’d searched high and low for her. For weeks he’d torn up the state.
Was it possible that she’d been carrying his child? She�
��d been so excited that evening at dinner. They were going back to her place to spend the night. But all that had changed when that loser mutt had tried to beg money from him. He’d totally lost it!
It was far from the first time he threw someone a beating. But it was the first time he had a witness. He knew he shouldn’t have, but by God he worked hard, and the guy showing up out of the blue like that had ruined what should have been a perfect night.
Shit! He’d even had the ring in his pocket, everything all set to propose to her. All he could think of was the homeless guy ruining everything.
When he settled behind the wheel and started it up, Melanie peered at him. “Are you all right, Michael? You look upset.”
Her words had a sobering effect. This wasn’t how he conducted himself. He’d learned to hide that side of his nature long ago. Unlike his asshole son.
He forced a tight smile. “Sorry. Guess I’m thinking of how my life would change if I sold you my house. Thinking of how much I’d miss this neighborhood. But nothing lasts forever, right?”
He pulled out of the driveway but noticed Melanie exchanging a look with Fran. As he navigated the short distance to his own driveway, he glanced in the rearview mirror, “Where do you practice law, Fran? Are you based in Madison like Melanie?”
He would have to be blind not to notice her eyes flash wide meeting his gaze in the mirror. She immediately looked away again, fiddling with her purse.
He knew that look. She was hiding something. He glanced over at Melanie. She’d checked out financially, but it had been odd how she’d insisted on only dealing with him. What were these two up to?
Chapter 34
EARLIER THAT SAME DAY, as Michael was finishing lunch at the deli before he met with Melanie, Cory was sound asleep in the gray sedan. He had climbed into the back seat so he could stretch out as much as possible.
The Haunted Reckoning Page 14
