"I will," said Miranda, ending the call with Lydia to answer the mystery call.
"Hello?" answered Miranda.
"Is this Miranda Stratton?" asked the unfamiliar voice.
"Yes, this is, who is this?"
"Miranda, my name is Robert Rice. I'm a detective with the Michigan State Police," said the man. His voice sounded deep, but strangely calm and soothing.
Miranda thought about the state police vehicles that passed her earlier in the day. What did they do? Tag her for speeding and decide to let her know the ticket will be in the mail?
"Um...how can I help you, Detective?" asked Miranda curiously, yet a little annoyed if in fact a ticket was what the call was all about.
"Miss Stratton, are you driving a vehicle at this moment? Am I hearing that correctly?" he asked.
"Yes, is this about earlier, because I was only going a few miles over the limit? How did you get this number so quickly?" Miranda asked, feeling a tightening in the pit of her stomach. She was beginning to sense that something was not right.
"Miss, can you please pull your vehicle to the side of the road?" asked the detective. His voice almost seemed to soften for a moment, which unnerved Miranda all the more. She pulled the car over without hesitation, gripping the wheel tighter now, although she didn't realize it at the time. Her knuckles on her left hand turned white as she held the steering wheel. The car came to a stop. She was starting to have an overwhelmingly sick feeling come over her, but had no idea why it was happening.
"I'm pulled over. What is this about?" she asked with a slight tremor in her voice.
"Miss Stratton, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. There's been an accident," he started, pausing for what seemed like forever. Miranda stayed silent waiting for an ax to drop, not knowing where it might land.
"I'm so sorry," Detective Rice said, his voice now unsteady. "There was an accident at your parent’s home, a gas leak in the basement."
"Oh my God!" Miranda said, her phone hand shaking. "Are they...is everyone...Steven...?" She couldn't form a full sentence with her words.
"I'm sorry Miss Stratton. Your parents and your brother didn't make it. We believe they were overtaken by carbon monoxide poisoning in their sleep. They never woke up. The responders did everything they could. I'm sorry I had to tell you this over the phone. We didn't know how to find you. Your number was found in the home. Are you far? We can send someone to pick you up if you need?"
Miranda sat frozen in the seat of her car, alone on the side of US-2, still hours away from her home. She stared straight ahead, and the hand that held her phone slowly sunk to the seat below.
"Miss Stratton? Hello? Miss Stratton, are you alright?" the voice continued on the phone. She found the strength to hit the END button on the phone. She felt empty, like she was outside of her body, floating. She knew what she heard, but nothing seemed real. Tears were flowing down her face, but her hand still held its grip tight on the steering wheel.
"No!" she said with a harsh, angered tone. "Fuck this. Someone is fucking with me. This isn't real."
Miranda wiped the tears from her face as the phone began to buzz again, and she pressed the silencing button on the phone and threw the car back into gear. The tires spun on the gravel and then squealed as they hit the pavement. She was headed once more back in her home direction. She had to get home now, and fast. She needed to find out who was mentally terrorizing her, and why. She kept ignoring the phone’s repeated buzzing, and thought about calling Aimsley to talk to her, just so she had someone to talk to, but she didn't know what she would even say. She didn't want to upset her, especially without knowing what is really going on.
Someone was trying to scare her, Miranda thought. She just sped onward, watching for police and traveling now a good 15-20 mph over the speed limit, which wasn't unusual on US-2. People tended to either forget it wasn't an interstate freeway, or they just didn't care. Miranda didn't care. She needed to get home to see her family.
It was roughly an hour and a half later when Miranda came to the entrance of the Sherwood Trail subdivision. She could already see the flashing lights of police cars lining the road and a road block was put up to stop traffic from coming up the road. The sick feeling came back. She pulled the car over and opened the door into the high weeds along the side of the road, and her breakfast came back up on her violently. Her face filled with tears again, but she got herself together as much as possible and approached the blockade. An officer stood waiting to turn anyone away who was trying to get past the police line.
"I'm sorry ma'am, I can't let you through at this time," said the officer, who looked younger than even Miranda was.
Miranda's eyes met the young officer’s eyes straight on. "I need to get through - I need to get to my parents!"
Her voice was strong and determined, and the expression on the officer’s face was almost fearful. He did not say a word in response or try to stop her, almost seeming like he had fallen into some kind of trance. After she had passed, he came back to his senses, but did not try to follow her or call her back. He picked up his radio and sent a message to someone, staying in position by his post at the blockade. Miranda could see the ambulance in the driveway, and saw the EMTs walking out of the house with a large black bag on a stretcher. Miranda realized by the size of the body bag that it might be her father. She picked up her pace and started running in the direction of the ambulance, which caught the attention of some of the other officers on the scene.
"Daddy? Daddy!" Miranda started yelling in desperation as she ran. A uniformed policeman stepped in front of her and held her as she tried to push by.
"Miss, you're not supposed to be here right now," said the officer. "You're going to have to go back behind the barricade."
"It's alright officer," said a voice from behind the policeman that was holding back Miranda. The large man came up quickly, moving much faster than it seemed someone his size should move.
"I'll take her from here," said the man, who was not wearing a police uniform, but instead a brownish-grey suit coat and dark grey slacks. His bushy, black and grey hair matched his thick salt and pepper mustache. There was a gold badge on his jacket pocket with the name 'Rice' on it. The officer released her, and she dropped to her knees on the spot in a sobbing mess of tears.
Detective Rice stood next to her for a moment, understanding the pain this poor girl was in. It was a sight he had witnessed far too many times before. He had been on the job for over 30 years, and this part never got any easier.
Rice knelt down in front of Miranda and put his hand on her shoulder. One of the other officers was walking by, and Rice motioned silently for him to find a blanket. The officer returned promptly with a thick blanket from the ambulance, and Rice draped it over Miranda's shoulders. This was not a homecoming that anyone would ever want, nor could anyone ever even imagine. He stood alongside Miranda until she was ready to come with him somewhere they could talk privately.
There were crowds of people lining the outside of the police line. Most were locals, gawking at the excitement and trying to get a handle on what had happened in the house. Others were local newspaper and television station reporters, with cameras set up and aimed in the direction of the activity surrounding the scene.
Standing silently amongst the many onlookers watching the horrors unfold were the menacingly familiar faces of Mr. Skye and Mr. Cain. The two men keenly surveyed the media circus, making sure they were not caught on any of the many cameras at the scene, and just as intently, keeping their eyes focused on Miranda as well.
Like vile predators, they would watch and wait, ready to make a move at a moments notice when they were ordered to do so.
CHAPTER 8
"Miranda," said Detective Rice, speaking softly and kneeling in front of her after several minutes had gone by. "We should probably move down to the police station in town. There are some things that I need to go over with you. Do you think we can do that now?"
Miranda nod
ded her head without lifting her eyes to him, and Detective Rice offered her his hand to help her up off the ground. With everything going on around them at that moment, neither Miranda nor Detective Rice noticed the roar of the motorcycle engine that came from just beyond the police barricade near where Miranda had parked.
"Miranda!" called a voice from the other side of the barricade. "Miranda!"
Miranda looked in the direction from which the voice came and saw Jake Neilson trying to get the officer at the barricade to let him through.
"Jake!" she called to him, and started to run in his direction. The officer at the barricade looked back at Detective Rice, who gave the officer a nod to let Jake through. Jake ran up to Miranda and wrapped his arms around her tightly. She buried her head in his jacket while he held her head against him.
"They're gone, Jake," Miranda choked out, the emotions coming on strong again in his familiar arms.
"I know...I heard in town that something had happened in this neighborhood...and that people had died. I'm sorry, Miranda...I'm so sorry. When I heard the name of the family...I...I freaked out and came up here. I was so scared you were in there..."
"I'm okay...I was on my way home when I got a call. I wouldn't believe it. And then I got here...oh my God, Jake. How could something like this happen...? Mom...Dad...Steven...I don't know what to do..."
Detective Rice walked up beside the two of them.
"Miranda," said Rice. "We should head into town. Your friend can come with you if you'd like. The emergency service people and the investigators still have a lot of work to do here. We need to talk about a few things..."
"That's fine...I want Jake to come," Miranda told Rice.
"He can meet us down at the office then. I can give you a ride to the office in my car. We can have an officer bring your car to the police station," said Rice.
"I can drive," said Miranda. There was a shakiness in her voice. Rice thought she seemed too unsteady to drive.
"I don't think that is a good idea, Miss Stratton. We can..."
"I drove the whole way home. I can drive. Please..." Miranda told Rice. She needed her own hands on the wheel right now. It was one of the few things that she felt she could have control of.
"Alright, I will head down now," Detective Rice told the two of them. He nodded his head and walked away to his vehicle.
Jake walked Miranda to her car, his hand on her shoulder the whole time. At that moment, having Jake there was more comforting than she could have expected at any other time. Jake knew her parents well, although there were times when Jake and Miranda were dating that Miranda's parents weren't always happy with how things seemed to be going at times. Despite those times, they had accepted Jake as almost an extended part of the family. When Miranda broke off her relationship with Jake and left town, there was a time when Jake had stayed somewhat close to the family. After time though, he knew he had to move on and put the past behind him. But this tragic turn he felt deeply, and could only imagine the pain that Miranda had to be going through at that moment.
They spoke little as they went to her car. After she was in the car, she thanked him again for being there, started the car and pulled away down the road. As he walked to his bike, Jake felt that something seemed odd about two particular people in the crowd on the street.
The two men, one bald man in a sports coat and the other with glasses, didn't seem as focused on the attention surrounding the house as much as they seemed to be watching Miranda's car as it pulled away. Perhaps they had seen what transpired between the detective and Miranda and were wondering who she was? Jake couldn't put his finger on what is was exactly that made him feel uneasy about the two men. They started to walk to a silver sedan as Jake got on his Harley, and then pulled away down the road as Jake watched them drive off. He fired up his bike and sped on up the road.
The Native Springs Police Department was a fairly small group of six full-time officers, as well as two fill-in part timers, housed in the department headquarters in the basement section of the Native Springs Township Hall and Public Library.
It was accessed at ground level, around the backside of the building where a single entrance door could be seen beside three garage doors where the patrol cars were parked when not in use. This had been the home of the department since the old town hall and police building had been torn down several years prior, and all of the local public service resource buildings were combined into one.
It was a sad time for many of the town's youth when the day came that the old town hall had been demolished to make way for the new building's construction. The old building had not been just a place for township officials to meet and play politics for the 'good' of the town; it was also a place that local DJ Dan Benson would hold dances for the local teenagers every Friday and Saturday night almost all year round.
Because there was really nothing else like them offered anywhere in the surrounding three counties, these dances drew teens from almost all of the towns within 25 miles around Native Springs. In a small town like this, they became one of the only things that the kids could do that kept them from running the streets and causing trouble for local businesses and the public authorities. When the old town hall was demolished and replaced by the new building, the weekly dances became a thing of the past, and an era of Miranda's youth had vanished forever.
This building held no memories for Miranda whatsoever. It was, however, about to spawn some new, exceedingly unpleasant ones. Having to hear what Detective Rice had to tell her about her family's deaths was not something she wanted to do. But something felt off to Miranda. There was a strange feeling that she was having, and she knew somehow that there was something coming, like a dark and menacing storm peeking over the edge of the horizon.
Detective Rice stood waiting outside the entrance to the police station. Miranda pulled into one of the parking spots alongside the entrance and approached the detective at the door. Rice pushed the button on the wall next to the door and the secretary behind the counter, a dark haired woman wearing half-moon glasses, waved to Rice and pressed a button that made a buzzing noise that alerted the detective that he could now turn the latch to open the door. He stepped into the doorway beckoning Miranda to follow him inside.
"Can we wait for Jake first?" asked Miranda, looking over her shoulder to see if he was within sight yet.
"For right now, it's better if you and I talk alone first. Loretta can let Jake in when he gets here, and he can wait in the office with her. That alright with you, Loretta?" Rice asked the woman at the desk.
"That'll be fine," she told them, smiling at Miranda in a forced sort of half-smile.
Detective Rice led Miranda to a small conference room in the back of the department building, past all of the officer’s work desks. All of the on-duty officers, as well as a few off-duty ones that were called into work that morning, were either on the scene at the Stratton home or on patrol elsewhere. Besides Loretta, they were alone in the building.
The conference room had white walls and no windows or two-way glass. It looked more like a meeting room, and less like the interrogation rooms that she had seen on TV shows and movies she had watched in the past. After they walked into the room, Rice shut the door behind him and pulled out a chair for Miranda. She sat down, and Rice took a seat in the chair directly across from her. He had no files or papers with him. He folded his hands together atop the table and looked at Miranda wistfully. Miranda looked back at him, expressionless and seemingly lost.
"Miranda...may I call you Miranda?" asked Detective Rice.
"Yes...yes, that's fine."
"Thank you. Miranda, when I first spoke to you this morning...and I am sorry that you had to hear the news of what happened that way, over the phone...I just didn't want you stumbling into it all coming home, or finding out by some other means. I had an opportunity to head you off, and I took it, but I am still sorry you had to find out that way,” Rice told her apologetically.
"I understand...thank you
," she said in almost a whisper. She felt cold, her hands trembling slightly in her lap.
Rice nodded softly to her before he continued.
"We were still working on getting a clear picture of how this happened when I called you. Your brother had not arrived at school this morning, and a call was made to the home. There wasn't an answer, so the school had your father's work number, but you father's work told the school that he hadn't arrived this morning, either. This raised some concern for one of your father's co-workers, Steve Carrol. He went to the house and knocked. When no one answered, he tried a back door and entered the house. He didn't get too far into the house before he started having trouble breathing. He immediately got out and called 911. The operator suspected it could be a gas leak. The block had to be cleared because of the potential for explosion. Upon arrival, the crew for the gas company confirmed a high amount of natural gas in the home. The gas was shut off, and the house had to be cleared of gas before the emergency medical crews were cleared to enter, for obvious safety reasons. Your family had succumbed to the gas in their sleep. They probably never knew what happened."
There were tears once again in Miranda's eyes. She tried the best that she could to hold them back, but right now being the strong girl didn't seem to matter as much as it usually did with her. Nothing was making sense. Everything felt wrong.
"Miranda, there's something you need to know. We haven't released this information to the press or anyone not directly connected to the investigation, and for the time being, that is the way it will have to remain. It appears that someone tampered with the gas valve entering the home. We don't believe this was an accident," said Rice.
Miranda sat stone cold for several seconds. She looked at Rice, whose eyes stayed fixed on her.
"Are you saying...someone killed my parents? My brother?" asked Miranda, with shock and disbelief in her voice.
"We believe so, yes. We are pretty sure that everything about this was intentional. Upon inspection of the valve going into the house, the gas company crew found a filtering device unlike anything they had ever seen before. Natural gas has no odor to speak of. The gas company adds odor to it in case of leakage. This filter somehow blocked only the odor additive, allowing the gas to flow freely into the house steadily for several hours. It appears that everyone could have passed out in the early evening hours and not had a clue what was happening. They may have felt slightly ill, but being this is always the beginning of the flu season, they may have not thought too much of it without smelling the gas. I am just speculating at this point, of course. The investigation could turn up other possible conclusions. The only thing we are certain of is that nothing about this looks accidental. If fact, it looks professional."
In the Shadows of Fate Page 13
