“My son would never commit a crime. He was in love with Hilda Reynolds. They were going to get married. Anybody with eyes in their head could see they loved each other.”
The article continued explaining that Anna Bell Graves had been the cook for the Reynolds family for twenty years.
She turned the knob on the projector and searched for more information about the disappearance of Hilda Reynolds. Three articles and the press seemed to lose interest in Hilda and her presumed abductor. For the rest of 1912 nothing was printed about the Reynolds or Graves families. She thought it odd the investigation didn’t continue, especially since Russell Reynolds was such an important person in the community.
Pain squeezed at her heart. She had so hoped to find out more. At least she now knew Billy Graves knew something. She would just have to find a way to get him to divulge how he came into possession of Hilda’s jewelry. Next time she wouldn’t leave until she had the answers she needed.
****
Lacy pulled into the parking lot of Shady Acres after a long, two hour drive. Traffic had been brutal and she was in a lousy mood. She climbed out of her vehicle and slammed the door. Armed with her notepad, she marched up the sidewalk, opened the door, and made a bee-line to the desk without speaking to anyone. She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.
“I need to speak to Billy Graves.”
The same nurse that was on duty last Saturday was at the desk. “He’s in his room. He’s been a little under the weather so he’s still in bed. Room twenty-five.” She pointed toward the left wing.
“Thank you.” Lacy followed the hall until she came to room twenty-five. She stood outside the door wondering how she was going to broach the subject of Hilda without making Mr. Graves angry. She wanted information and she’d do about anything to get that information. She felt she was close to discovering what happened to Hilda.
She knocked on the door. When she didn’t hear any noise on the other side, she almost panicked. What if he was dead? Expecting the worst, she opened the door and stepped inside. The lights were off and the blinds were closed so it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Her eyes roamed over the small room. There was very little furniture and nothing adorned the walls. The stark white walls gave her a feeling of despair. Then she saw him lying in bed. She could see the rise and fall of his chest so she let out the breath she had been holding. He was still alive.
She flicked on the lights. On weak legs, Lacy stepped to the side of the bed. Her hand trembled when she touched her fingers to his arm. His eyes flickered open. Recognition showed and he scowled. “You again.” She wondered if he ever smiled.
She snapped, “I’m not leaving until you give me some answers.”
Pale and trembling, he pointed a thin bony finger at the bed controls. “Sit me up.” His eyes were deep-set and his face weathered from sun and time.
Lacy pressed the button and the motor hummed as the bed moved forward. When he was satisfied with his position, he lifted his hand and she took her finger off the controls. She laid it next to his hand in case he wanted to adjust the bed.
“Why are you here bothering me again? You’re beginning to get on my last nerve. I should have told the nurses to deny you visiting privileges. I told you I don’t know anything about Hilda Reynolds.”
“I think you do.” She sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. The room was hot and stuffy and she wished they could go outside in the fresh air. It smelled of sickness. “Why didn’t you tell me your great-grandmother was Anna Bell Graves?”
Her question gave him pause. His brows drew together in anger. “Because it’s none of your damn business who my great-grandmother was. Now get out of my room.”
“Please talk to me.” When he tried to press the button for the nurse, she placed her hand over his. “I know Anna Bell was the cook for the Reynolds family for many years. Her son by her first marriage was home from college and was helping out on the farm to make some money.”
“How do you know this?” His eyes flashed with pure annoyance.
“I went to the Taylorsville Library Archives and looked through the microfiche of old newspapers.” She showed him her notepad. “Look what I discovered.”
He reached toward the nightstand where his glasses lay. When she saw his intent, she picked them up and handed them to him. After he had the glasses perched on his nose, he took the notepad and began to read. When he finished, she offered, “Hilda’s father, Russell Reynolds told reporters Darrell Talbert kidnapped her. I don’t believe that is what happened. I think someone killed her.”
He rubbed his hand over his face. “Why does something that happened over one hundred years ago concern you? Why are you obsessed with a young girl long dead?”
“I’m just curious.” Her lips tightened. She prayed for patience. “You know I’m not going to let up until you tell me.”
“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that. Honey, you should be at home outside in the sunshine or with some young man out to eat. Why are you wasting your time with me in this horrid place?”
“I can’t explain why.” She fought to keep the urgency out of her voice. She bit down on her impatience and whispered, “I have to know what happened to Hilda.”
“Honey, you’re going to have to speak up. My hearing’s not what it used to be.”
She leaned in and shouted, “I need to know how Hilda died!”
“You don’t have to shout. I said I’m a little hard of hearing, not deaf.” The man had to be the most exasperating person she had ever met. She wondered if all people got ornery as they aged.
His eyes turned wary. “Why do you think someone killed her?”
She hesitated not sure how to answer that question. She didn’t want him to think she was some kind of nut-job. “I’ve seen her. My sisters and I live in the same house she did as a child. Her ghost haunts me.”
“You live at Twelve Oaks?” She nodded her head. “Is that what all this is about? You want to find out what happened to her so she’ll stop haunting you?”
“You believe me?”
“Of course I believe you.” He sat up a little straighter. “People see ghosts every day. What does she say?”
Shocked at his reaction, Lacy sat staring at him for a few moments. Her shock turned to relief and she felt she was finally getting somewhere. “She asks me to help her. I think she died at the waterfall on our property.”
“Do you think Darrell killed her?”
“I don’t think so. It is possible he was killed the same time Hilda was since both were never seen again.”
He gave her shoulder an affectionate pat. “Look in that trunk over there.” He gestured toward the old black trunk against the wall. The lid creaked from age as she lifted it open. Inside were a lot of old books and photo albums. “Get the one with the white rose on the front.”
The mention of a white rose caused her to think about the dozen pale white roses Bret sent her two days before. She had to push it from her mind.
She sat out two stacks of books before she saw the photo album with the rose. The edges were worn and the rose had yellowed over the years. She handed him the album. He handled it as if it was precious and valuable. He opened to the first page and pointed at the woman standing by a tall man. That was my great-grandmother, Anna Bell Graves. She lived to the ripe old age of ninety-eight. The house once stood only two miles from where you now live.” The house in the background of the picture was nothing grand. Slab boards covered the outside. The only thing special about the house was the rock chimney and the front porch.
The chimney was made of block shaped rock and the front porch wrapped around the side of the house. For its time period the house was modest but nice. “The house had belonged to her first husband’s parents, Darrell Talbert’s grandparents.”
He paused a moment, but it was enough time for her to see the grief come and go. “She had bright red hair when she was a young woman.” Because the phot
o was in black and white she couldn’t tell the color of her hair or dress. It was a simple print belted around a thin waist. The woman looking back at her had a pleasant face and beautiful smile. “She walked it twice a day, once of a morning and again late in the evening. Sometimes even in the dark. She said she spent more time with the Reynolds family at Twelve Oaks than she did with her own family.”
With a sad smile, he ran his thumb over her face before his finger moved to the young man beside Anna Bell. Lacy’s heart caught in her throat. It was Darrell Talbert. The same man she saw with Hilda at the waterfall. “He was my great-grandmother’s first son. Granny’s first husband died in a sawmill accident. Said she had been lucky enough to have two good husbands. She had loved them both. She had one son by her second husband, Robert Graves, my father. It broke her heart when Russell Reynolds accused Darrell of kidnapping Hilda. The whole family was destroyed.” Looking at the pictures brought deep sadness. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.
“How old was Darrell when the photo was taken?”
“Twenty-one. My great-grandmother said two days later he went missing. Funny I can’t remember what happened yesterday, but I remember every word she said about Darrell. She described him as a great man without violence. She swore he didn’t kidnap Hilda.”
Again he brushed his thumb across the faded picture. “She felt responsible. She asked Russell Reynolds to let Darrell work on the farm because he needed money for college. She said he loved school and would never have left his education unfinished with only a year from graduation. I don’t think she ever got over the tragedy.”
Her stomach fluttered. “So she never believed Darrell and Hilda left so they could be together.”
“Not for a minute. He was very responsible and devoted to his family. He’d never just up and leave without telling them. Before him, men in our family worked the land as farmers. He was the first to break with tradition and go to college. Granny said he was going to be a lawyer. She had such high hopes for him. Because he fell in love with Hilda Reynolds, all those dreams were destroyed. Her father would never accept someone of Darrell’s standing to marry his precious daughter. Granny said Darrell wasn’t good enough for her.”
“You think Russell Reynolds had something to do with his disappearance?”
“I don’t know what to think. Granny said Russell loved his daughter. Said he’d never do anything to harm Hilda. It just doesn’t make sense. I don’t doubt for one minute that he could kill Darrell, but not Hilda. He doted on her, gave her everything.”
“After Granny lost her position at Twelve Oaks, they soon lost the farm. It was like the domino effect. Everything fell apart. I’m the last living member of the Graves family and I’m not far from the grave.”
“You had no children.”
Something at the edge of his memory seemed to cause him grief. She could see the pain on his face. He took a slow breath. “One. I had a son. He died in a car wreck when he was seventeen. I thought I would wither away when he died. It was the most tragic incident in my life.” He leafed through the photo album and stopped on the picture he was seeking. “It was his first car.” A young man with light hair stood by a shiny black 1950 Ford Galaxy. “After losing my son, my life has been devoid of happiness.” There was a pause that lengthened into silence.
Feeling faint, Lacy stepped to the window and pulled the cord to raise the blinds. Without asking permission, she unlocked the window and pushed it open. She leaned over the sill and inhaled fresh air into her lungs and immediately felt better. She squeezed her eyes shut and pondered his words. He had led a very tragic life. She needed to calm down, get a handle on her emotions. She turned around and sat on the sill. Billy couldn’t suppress a big yawn. Their conversation must have worn him out. Mindful of his age, she knew she should go home and let him rest, but she still had so much she wanted to ask. Most of all she wanted to know how Hilda’s jewelry came into his possession.
She stood and closed the window. She couldn’t bring herself to close the blinds. The room needed natural light. She walked to Billy’s bed and heard his soft snores. He was already asleep.
The knock came at the door just as she was about to wake him. A nurse entered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Mr. Graves had company.”
She peered at Billy sleeping peacefully. It took an enormous act of will not to wake him. She felt depressed because she didn’t find out how he came into possession of Hilda’s jewelry. “I was just leaving.” She lifted his arm and took the photo album. Lowering the bed, she touched her fingers to his wrinkled cheek. Hopefully she could come back another time.
She placed the photo album inside the trunk and closed the lid. She wondered what other treasures he had inside. She placed her hand on the top and thought about Hilda. Hopefully the trunk held the answer to what happened to her. Just maybe on her next visit she would find out the answers to her questions.
Chapter Seven
Bret stood in the shadows under the huge oak outside Lacy’s dorm. A breeze whispered through the branches. It was three o’clock in the morning and no one was on the street since it was Monday. Dressed all in black, he blended in with his surroundings. No one would notice him if they were out at such an early hour. For half an hour he stood under the tree peering at her dark window.
He heard it on good authority Michelle had gone with Tommy to the mountains and wouldn’t be back until eight o’clock. Just knowing she was in bed all alone had him excited. He closed his eyes and envisioned her sprawled on the bed. In his fantasy she was nude, but in reality he knew better. She was too much of a prude to sleep naked. Virgins didn’t do something so risqué.
Taking long strides, he hurried along the sidewalk and then up the few steps to the awning covered porch. He took out his tools and began to work on the lock. In seconds he had it unlocked. Exhilaration coursed through his veins as he stuffed the small leather pouch back into his pocket that contained his tools. He opened the door and stepped into the foyer. His heart beat frantically as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. Dim lights lit the halls as safety precautions. He placed his hand to his chest to calm the rapid beat of his heart as he stood outside Lacy’s door. Again he took out the leather pouch and unlocked the door. He held his breath as he pushed the door open.
The room was dark and it took a few moments before his eyes adjusted. A small amount of light penetrated the blinds from the streetlight outside her window. Against the wall he could see her lying on her side facing him. Tiptoeing to the bed, he crouched low and took time to watch her sleep. God she was beautiful. Creamy skin, blond hair draped over the pillow, lips meant for kissing. The urge to climb into bed and finish what they started in his room a week ago was strong. He pulled off his leather gloves and stroked his fingers over her cheek. She let out a little moan.
He whispered into the darkness, “Are you dreaming of me, Lacy?”
She stirred and he jerked his hand back. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake and begin screaming. There would be another opportunity to have sex with her, a time when they could be completely alone without anyone interrupting them. No one would disturb them the next time. He would make sure of that.
Hands on his thighs, he pushed off the floor. He stuffed his hands back into the leather gloves. It wouldn’t do to leave any fingerprints behind. He moved about the room looking for a memento to take with him. It was a small room so there was little furniture, a small sofa, one chair, and a small two chair dining table. There was barely enough room to walk between the twin beds. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. He felt along the wall until he found the light switch. He flipped it on and peered around the tiny space. It had a shower hardly big enough for one person. Next to it was the sink and then the commode. The minuscule space had him feeling claustrophobic.
Since it was Lacy’s third year in college, she should be living in an apartment or somewhere nicer. Was it lack of money that kept her in such a deplorable dorm room?
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br /> The only thing on the back of the sink was soap. He opened the mirrored cabinet above the sink and peered inside. A bottle of perfume and make-up lined the shelves. He opened the bottle of perfume and took a deep sniff. It wasn’t Lacy’s scent. She wore a light fresh perfume. He placed the pretty pink bottle back on the shelf just like he found it.
He opened the sink cabinet and took out a wood box with a horse carved into the top. The horse’s mane gave the appearance of flying as if it were galloping. There were a few pieces of jewelry and some trinkets inside. Something in particular caught his eye. It was the cameo Bret had seen Lacy wear to class with her white cotton shirt. It must have some sentimental value because it looked like an antique. Maybe it belonged to her grandmother or some family member now long dead. He held the cameo up to the light. It seemed like an odd piece of jewelry for a woman of Lacy’s young age. Only old people wore cameos. But then Lacy wasn’t like most young women. She was more mature and knew what she wanted out of life. Most young women he associated with were silly and stupid.
He pocketed the cameo, replaced his gloves, and put everything back as he found it. With one quick sweep of the room he turned off the light, satisfied she’d never know he had been there. The door creaked when he opened it causing Lacy to stir in her sleep. She rolled to her back.
Holding his breath, he stood in that same spot for what seemed an eternity. Confident she was sleeping soundly, he softly walked to the side of the bed. She looked angelic as she slept, her soft breath the only sound in the quiet of the room. With gentle hands, he pulled the cover away from her body. Long, shapely legs had him salivating. Just as he had suspected, she slept in a tee-shirt and panties. Underneath the thin worn, shirt her nipples stood straight and proud. He could see the shape of the V between her legs through her panties. Unable to control his desires, he leaned over and pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes flickered.
Secrets of the Falls (Twelve Oaks Farm Book 3) Page 9
