Time to get my thoughts channeled in a slightly different direction. Alissa might return soon, and then we would drive out to the farm. I hadn’t yet called the historical society to see about examining any papers in their collection relevant to my family. I went to the den and got on the computer to look up their number. The website had only minimal information, but it did include a phone number.
I was pleasantly surprised when a woman answered. I identified myself, mentioned that I was a librarian, and that I wanted to look at items relating to my family history.
She identified herself as Aleta Boudreaux, and I recognized the name. She was a public library patron, and I had chatted with her a few times there.
“I didn’t know you’re a member of the historical society,” I said.
“One of the faithful few,” she said cheerfully. “I try to volunteer a few hours every week.”
“That’s great,” I said. “I was told that the society has irregular hours for the museum and archive.”
“Yes, that’s unfortunately true,” she said. “If we could afford a full-time paid employee, we could at least be open regular hours during the week. But our budget barely covers the utility bills.”
“That’s not good.” I wished I had the money to do something about the situation, but that kind of money was beyond my means. Unless I sold the farm, I thought. I would have to think about that.
“When were you thinking about coming to do your research?” Aleta said.
“Will anyone be there later this afternoon?” I asked.
Aleta sounded regretful when she replied. “No, I’m here only until noon. Could you possibly come by this morning?”
I could, but only if I disappointed Alissa. And myself, I realized, because I wanted to be on the scene, as it were, in case Dr. Seton and his dog found anything of significance.
“I’m afraid not,” I said. “Perhaps sometime next week?”
“I’ll be here on Wednesday from nine to noon,” Aleta replied. “Will that work?”
“Yes, that will be fine. I’ll plan to see you then.” We exchanged final pleasantries, and I ended the call.
Wednesday was one of my days to work at the college, but since I worked only part-time, the library director didn’t mind if I occasionally switched days. I would let her know on Monday that I planned to work Tuesday instead of Wednesday next week. There shouldn’t be a problem. I was eager to get a look at the historical society’s archives. I would like to confirm what Mrs. Carraway had written about the Harris family in her book.
I should join the historical society, I decided. Once I did, I could broach the idea of volunteering to get their archive organized. Perhaps a few hours once a month? That wouldn’t cut too deeply into my free time. Now that I was going to be a grandfather for the third time, I didn’t want to overcommit myself and cut into potential grandchild playtime.
Diesel interrupted my musings by warbling loudly, and I glanced down at him. Then I heard the doorbell ring. He had heard someone arrive before I did.
“Come with me, then.” I realized Ramses hadn’t joined us. He was no doubt helping Azalea somewhere in the house.
Alissa appeared haggard when I opened the door to her. I knew that having to view her brother’s corpse must have been a harrowing experience.
“Come on in, and let’s get you more coffee. You need a hot, sweet drink, and you’ll feel better.”
She let me shepherd her into the kitchen. Diesel walked beside her, uttering anxious chirps. Alissa didn’t speak until she’d had a few sips of the hot coffee I prepared for her.
“Thank you,” she said, her color back to normal now. “I knew it would be terrible, but it was horrible seeing poor Marty there.” She sniffed, and I thought she was going to cry. She drew a deep breath and stiffened her back. “At least his face wasn’t hurt,” she said.
“I’m sorry you had to do that. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you.”
She smiled at me. “Thanks. I think you really do understand.” She returned to her coffee.
“When you’re ready we’ll drive out to the farm. Diesel will come with us. I take him almost everywhere with me.”
“That’s really awesome,” Alissa said as she stroked the cat’s large head. “He’s the sweetest cat I’ve ever met.”
“Is there anything else you need before we go?” I asked, thinking she might be a bit hungry, now that the worst was over.
She shook her head. “I’m fine. I couldn’t eat anything right now.” She grimaced. “Maybe by lunchtime.” She drained her coffee and refused a refill. “I’m ready.”
“Then off we go,” I said. Diesel preceded us to the kitchen door and into the garage. I opened the passenger door for Alissa, then the back door for Diesel. Alissa turned in her seat to look at him. “He doesn’t mind riding in a car?”
I laughed. “Not at all. He is used to it, but even when I first got him, he didn’t seem to mind. He’s always gone with me when I leave the house, except to church and the grocery store.”
That wasn’t completely true, but it was close enough for the moment.
“He really likes people, doesn’t he?” Alissa said, still watching Diesel stretched out comfortably on the backseat.
“He does,” I said. “But he doesn’t like everybody. If he doesn’t like someone, I always treat that person warily. He’s seldom wrong.”
“Dogs are like that, too,” Alissa said, finally turning back to face forward. “We had a dog like that when I was little. He was the best. Just a mutt, but I loved him.”
I encouraged her to talk about the dog on the drive out to the farm. Anything to keep her mind off the horror of her morning.
Once I’d turned off the highway onto the road that ran past the farm, she broke off her reminiscences. “Is it far now?”
“No, we’ll be there in less than five minutes.” I saw that she had tensed, her body stiff. “Do you remember the house at all?”
“Not really,” she said, her voice low. “I was so little when we left. I don’t recall anything right now.”
Her reaction was interesting. I wondered if it was unconscious memory of her experiences in the house making her feel this way. I had expected her to be more relaxed, plain curious, if nothing else.
A few minutes later I slowed the car to turn into the driveway. I glanced at Alissa a couple of times, and her grip on the door handle looked tight. I braked the car and cut the engine. “Here we are.” I had expected to see several vehicles here, official ones from the sheriff’s department. If they were out working with the dog, they hadn’t parked at the house.
Alissa stared through the windshield at the front of the house. She relaxed enough to loosen her grip on the door. Diesel meowed, wanting out. Once we arrived, he didn’t like staying in the vehicle.
I opened my door, and Diesel leaped into my seat as soon as I stepped out of the car. Alissa hadn’t opened her door yet. I went around to her side of the car and opened the door for her.
“Come on. I know something’s bothering you, but I’m here, and nothing’s going to harm you,” I said.
She looked up at me warily. “I didn’t think I remembered anything.” She bit her lip. “I don’t, much, I just got this scared feeling when I saw the house.”
“There’s nothing in there now that can hurt you. Let’s go sit on the porch for a few minutes. We’ll take it slow, okay?” I held out a hand.
Alissa grasped my hand and climbed out of the car. Diesel meowed at her and rubbed against her legs. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you, big boy?” The cat trilled, and Alissa smiled.
We walked across the yard and mounted the steps to the porch. I motioned Alissa to one of the rocking chairs, and I took the other, about six feet away. Diesel settled beside Alissa’s rocker.
Slowly she began to rock, seemingly impervious to t
he humid air. I was already starting to sweat, and I hoped we could go inside soon.
“Looking out that way,” she said, gesturing to the yard and beyond, “it looks so peaceful and so quiet. It’s really pretty out here.” She continued to rock and gaze out at the vista before her.
I agreed silently. It was peaceful and quiet here. Not much traffic, only the sounds of birds now and then, and a faint rumble of farm machinery in the distance. It would be easy to fall asleep here if it weren’t so warm.
After ten minutes had passed, I’d had enough of the humidity. I stood and looked down at Alissa. “Why don’t we go inside now? The longer you put it off, the worse it will seem.”
The rocking stopped. Alissa stared up at me, and I could see she was calmer now, but still afraid. “Diesel won’t let anything harm you.”
I realized that my words could be interpreted to mean that there were malevolent spirits in the house, if Alissa were at all worried about paranormal phenomena. I hadn’t felt anything of the kind in my previous two visits here. Was she actually afraid of ghosts?
I didn’t voice these thoughts. I went to the door and unlocked it. Holding it open, I gestured for Alissa and Diesel to enter the house. Diesel complied right away, but Alissa moved slowly. She paused on the threshold, and I patted her shoulder.
She took a couple of deep breaths and then stepped inside the house. I closed the door behind us, grateful to be inside with some cooler air. Alissa looked around and began to relax. Whatever she was worried about, this area appeared to be fine.
We began to explore the house, and I told her what I remembered from the time my grandparents lived here. “I was young when my grandparents died, and that’s when your grandfather took over. My father didn’t want to be a farmer, you see, and my grandfather wanted someone to run the farm. I think he hoped eventually either I or my children would want to live here. That’s why he only leased the land to your grandfather.”
“Are you going to be a farmer?” Alissa asked.
“No, not at my age,” I said. “My son is a lawyer, and my daughter is a college professor. Neither of them wants to be a farmer, I’m sure. For now, I’ll continue to lease out the farmland, but keep the house in the family.”
Alissa nodded, and we progressed down the hall. “I’ll show you where your brother was living while he was here.”
“Okay,” she said.
I opened the door of the outer bedroom, and she walked slowly in. I could see that she had tensed a little, probably bracing herself for seeing her brother’s belongings.
“It’s that door over there.” I pointed to the opposite wall. “There’s another, smaller room behind it.” I walked toward the door, Alissa slowly following.
I opened the door and turned on the light. Alissa stepped forward to peek inside. Her color drained, and she shrank back. Her expression wild, she said hoarsely, “That’s where she always was. I’m not going in there.”
She turned and ran out into the hall.
TWENTY-THREE
Startled, I stood there for a moment. Diesel bolted after Alissa, and I went after him. I found her at the front door, her hand trembling on the knob. Diesel was rubbing against her legs and warbling.
“What’s wrong? A bad memory?” I asked. She still looked ashen, and I feared she might faint.
I opened the door and led her back to the rocking chair. She subsided into it and began to rock. Diesel and I continued to watch her in some anxiety. Apparently, the motion calmed her, though, because her breathing slowed and her color came back.
I pulled the other chair closer to hers and sat, waiting for her to speak.
“I’m okay, now,” she said. “I don’t know what it was, but I couldn’t go in that room. Did I say anything?” She stared hard at me.
“You did.” I repeated her words to her, and she frowned.
“Any idea who the woman was in that room? Or why you were afraid of her?” I asked.
Obviously bewildered, Alissa shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t really even remember anyone, but I know I was afraid of whatever was in that room.”
I considered that for a moment. She’d been a toddler when her mother took her and her brother to California with the woman’s new husband. I never had clear memories of my life at that age, and I didn’t imagine most children did, at least after they reached adulthood. Perhaps it was a repressed memory, brought back by the sight of that room. After all, it might not have changed much since she lived in the house.
“Your grandmother was gone, and the only other woman in the house was your mother, right?”
Alissa nodded. “I think that’s right. I don’t know who this other woman could have been.”
“Maybe she was a maid, or a nanny who was helping your mother with you and your brother,” I said.
“Could be,” Alissa said. “I’ll have to ask my mom about that. I don’t have to go back in there, do I?”
“Of course not.” I was glad now that I had persuaded her to stay at my house rather than staying here by herself. If she had gone into the room and had the same reaction while she was here by herself, well, I didn’t like to think about the outcome of that scenario.
“You sit here with Diesel. I’m going back into the house for a look around.” I rose from my chair.
Alissa shot me an anxious glance but didn’t try to stop me. Diesel sat beside her chair, watching.
I entered the house and walked back down the hall to the room that had frightened Alissa so badly. I stepped inside and looked around. I felt nothing, other than my own curiosity. Nothing malevolent here that I could detect.
Yet something had obviously happened in this room to frighten the toddler Alissa. Had the woman who occupied the room at the time been mean to her? Perhaps she had spanked, or even beaten, the child. I hated the thought of that, but it would account for Alissa’s terrified reaction.
I would ask Asa Luckney about this when I saw him. Surely he would know who this woman was and her role in the household. This was the first I’d heard of her. I wondered if Kanesha knew about her, or Azalea? Surely Azalea would have said something if she did.
Could the bones belong to this mysterious woman? Could she have been one of the so-called missing women in this case? I thought it far more likely, though, that she was an unknown quantity. Other scenarios from my experience with Gothic fiction came fleetingly to mind, but they were too bizarre to contemplate in this setting.
I went back to the porch to check on Alissa.
“I’m glad I didn’t stay here,” Alissa said suddenly, before I had a chance to speak. “I would have lost my mind if I’d opened that door all by myself.”
“I’m glad you didn’t, either,” I said. “Whatever you experienced in that room, it was obviously traumatic for you.”
The sound of approaching vehicles alerted me to the arrival of the sheriff’s department. I looked down the driveway. Along with two patrol cars, I saw a large pickup, the kind with a backseat. That must be Dr. Seton and his dog.
Once parked, the people alit from their vehicles, and Kanesha strode forward and onto the porch. Not far behind her was a small, wiry man in boots and work clothes accompanied by a beautiful dog. A Belgian Malinois, I recalled. I had never seen one before, but this one must be a perfect specimen of the breed.
“Good morning,” Kanesha said. “Ms. Hale, Mr. Harris, this is Dr. Dewey Seton and his dog, Fleur.”
I rose to shake the man’s hand, and Fleur held out her paw as well. I shook it as I looked around for Diesel. He had not moved from Alissa’s side, but he was staring curiously at the dog.
Dr. Seton nodded at my cat. “Maine Coon, I hear. Beautiful animal. Is he used to dogs?”
“A poodle,” I said. “Neither he nor I have ever seen a Belgian Malinois before. She’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” Seton smiled up at me
. He couldn’t have been more than about five five, I decided. His bright red hair and light dusting of freckles reminded me of a boyhood friend whose name had long slipped from my memory.
Seton chuckled. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t recall that we ever met before.”
“We used to live next to you and your parents for a couple of years,” he said. “Then my father got a job at Cornell, and we moved to New York State.”
“That was you?” I remembered the boy next door had been about three years younger than I, but we had played together often. That had been over forty years ago, so it was no wonder I hadn’t recognized him.
“Yep, that was me.” He chuckled again. “As you can see, I didn’t grow much. You certainly did.”
Diesel had emerged from his spot by Alissa to investigate the dog. Cat and dog stood almost nose to nose. Diesel didn’t hiss or try to swipe at Fleur, and she stared curiously at the cat. Diesel meowed and turned to walk away, back to Alissa.
“It’s good to see you again. I thought you looked a bit familiar, like a boy I knew when I was a kid, but I couldn’t remember your name,” I said. “It’s been a long time.”
“Sure has. When the job came open at the college, I had the urge to move back South,” Seton replied. “I was getting tired of the cold Northeast in the winter. This is much better, and everyone here has been really welcoming.”
“I know the authorities here”—I nodded to indicate Kanesha—“are delighted to have your expertise, and Fleur’s, to help them.”
“We are,” Kanesha said. “Now, Dr. Seton, we really need to get moving on this search. Are you and Fleur ready?”
“We are,” Seton replied. “Let me give Fleur the scent again, and we’ll follow where she leads.” He glanced at me. “Catch up with you later, Charlie.”
What the Cat Dragged In Page 16
