Ruckman Road: An Alex Penfield Novel

by Robert W. Stephens

  The officer pointed to a line of rocks that ran along McNair Drive, which led onto the fort’s property.

  “I don’t suppose she recognized the person,” Penfield said.

  “As a matter of fact, she did. She said she thinks it was her neighbor, but she doesn’t know the guy’s name.”

  “Thanks for the info,” Torres said.

  The officer nodded again as Torres and Penfield walked over to the couple. They both looked like they were in their mid-forties. The man had graying hair and was of average height, although he was a little on the heavy side. He wore a blue suit but had no winter overcoat. He looked to be having trouble fighting back the cold air. The woman was also of average height. She had short black hair that was partially hidden under a winter cap. She wore a thick sweatshirt with the words “Virginia Tech” written across the front. She also wore a pair of black Under Armour workout pants that hugged her legs.

  “Hello, I’m Detective Maria Torres. This is my partner, Detective Alex Penfield.”

  “I’m Ted Barnes. This is my wife, Jenny.”

  “The officer said you were jogging when you spotted a body,” Torres said to Jenny.

  “I run every morning. This morning I ran off the fort property and through Phoebus. I was coming back through here.”

  Jenny pointed down Mellen Street where the four of them currently stood. Then she turned and pointed toward the stop light at the intersection of Mellen and Mercury Boulevard that marked the entrance to Fort Monroe.

  “I stopped at the light because there were a few cars coming off Mercury. That’s when I saw him.”

  “Where did you see him, exactly?” Torres asked.

  “Right there on the rocks. His body was half-on, half-off the rocks. It was moving back and forth with the waves. The waves can get kind of high when the wind’s blowing hard.”

  “Did you recognize him?” Penfield asked.

  “I think so. I think he was our neighbor. His hair was wet, and it was kind of covering his face a bit, but I think it was him.”

  “Did you call the police right away?” Torres asked.

  “No, I usually run with my phone so I can listen to music, but I forgot to charge it last night. I ran home a fast as I could and then called the police.”

  “You didn’t think to pull him onto shore?” Penfield asked.

  Jenny Barnes looked down at her feet.

  “I should have. I’m sorry,” she said.

  “My wife only weighs a hundred and twenty at best. There’s no way she could have pulled the guy up, especially with him soaking wet,” Ted Barnes said.

  “I’m pretty sure he was dead. His skin was really pale. I did drive back up here after I called my husband,” Jenny said.

  “I rushed back as fast as I could. I actually beat you guys. We looked for the body but couldn’t find it,” Ted Barnes said.

  “I think the waves pulled him out. Like I said before, they were pretty high,” Jenny said.

  “How well did you know your neighbor?” Torres asked.

  “Not well, he mostly kept to himself. I think his last name is Talbot. He lived in one of the white houses near the church inside the fort. You can’t miss it,” Jenny said.

  “We’ve seen him several times, taking the trash out, stuff like that. My wife’s pretty sure it was him,” Ted Barnes said.

  “Okay, we appreciate your help. Sorry you had to see that,” Torres said.

  Jenny nodded.

  “Thanks,” Penfield added.

  “Can we go now? We’ve been standing out here in the cold now for over an hour,” Ted Barnes said.

  “Absolutely,” Torres said.

  Penfield was glad Torres had taken the question. He didn’t like Ted Barnes. The jerk was worried about standing in the cold when some poor guy was currently lying on the bottom of the Chesapeake Bay.

  “These are all rentals, correct?” Penfield asked.

  “That’s right,” Ted Barnes said.

  “Is there a leasing office nearby?” Penfield asked.

  “It’s right off Ingalls, on Patch Road, just down the road from here.”

  Ted Barnes pointed in the general direction.

  “Thanks again,” Torres said.

  Penfield and Torres left the couple and headed back toward their car. When they got a safe distance away, Penfield muttered to Torres.

  “That guy’s a real piece of work.”

  “He’s just trying to protect his wife.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m sure she’s pretty shaken.”

  They climbed into their car and drove over to the Fort Monroe Authority’s leasing office. They showed their badges and asked someone to take them over to Talbot’s house. A young office assistant named Amy Wilson pulled Talbot’s file and offered to lead them over. She looked to be around twenty years old. She had a high-pitched voice and an air of exuberance that left Penfield wondering if she was just overly anxious to help or someone who was generally flighty in nature.

  They followed Amy’s car into the fort. It was less than a three-minute drive from the office. They parked in a long, thin lot near the back of the houses and near a wooden church with beautiful stained glass windows called the Chapel of the Centurion.

  “Most of the parking for these houses is back here,” Amy said as she climbed out of her car.

  She carried a thin, file folder in one of her hands and a large set of house keys in the other.

  Torres looked around. There were several brick houses as well as wooden houses within view of the parking lot.

  “Are most of these places occupied?” she asked.

  “About half of them. It’s taking longer than we thought to get the word out. The houses are old, too. They need a lot of work. You either think they’re charming or worn out. There doesn’t seem to be any opinion in between,” Amy said.

  “Do you know what kind of car he drives?” Penfield asked.

  “It’s listed here on the lease form for our security patrols.”

  Amy looked in his file.

  “He drives a Mini Cooper,” she continued.

  Penfield and Torres looked around. It took less than ten seconds to locate Talbot’s car in the tiny parking lot. It was a dark blue Mini Cooper with a black roof. They looked through the car windows but didn’t see anything of notice.

  “Which house is his?” Torres asked.

  “Right this way,” Amy said.

  They walked toward a large, white three-story house that was less than two hundred yards from the church.

  “Does Talbot live alone?” Penfield asked.

  “I think so.”

  Amy took a quick glance at the papers inside the file folder.

  “Yes, he’s the only one listed on the lease,” she continued.

  Torres looked up at the massive structure as they got closer to it.

  “Could he have rented some of the rooms out to other people?”

  “You’re not supposed to sub-lease without our written permission, but I suppose he could have done it without us knowing about it.”

  They walked down a sidewalk between the church and one of the other rental houses, which took them to Ruckman Road. They then walked down another sidewalk which led them to the front door of Talbot’s house. There was a thin wall that separated Talbot’s porch from the neighbor’s. Penfield hadn’t realized until they got to the front of the house that it was a duplex.

  “This place is huge. How big is it?” Penfield asked.

  “The whole duplex is about 10,000 square feet, so each unit is around 5,000 square feet.”

  “And he lives here alone?” Torres repeated Penfield’s earlier question, apparently not believing Amy’s answer.

  “Yes, I was the one who showed him the place. We’d seen several places that day. This is the last one I showed him. I didn’t think he would want it since it was so much bigger than the other units he originally asked to see, but he really took an instant liking to it. He signed the lease the
very next day.”

  Amy rang the doorbell as Penfield and Torres stood behind her on the porch.

  “What about this unit?” Penfield asked, nodding to the home connected to Talbot’s.

  “That one’s empty,” Amy said.

  She waited several more seconds and rang the bell a second time when there was no answer. She then reached into her pocket and produced a single key which she placed in the lock and turned.

  “That’s weird,” she said.

  “What is?” Torres asked.

  “The house wasn’t locked.”

  Amy slowly pushed the door half-way open.

  “Mr. Talbot? Hello, it’s Amy Wilson with the FMA.”

  She waited a moment but got no reply.

  “Mr. Talbot?” she repeated.

  Amy waited another second and then walked inside. Penfield and Torres followed her. The three of them walked into what was apparently the living room. The house was even more beautiful on the inside. There were wooden floors throughout the living room and up the staircase, which was just a few feet from the front door. The ceilings were at least fifteen feet high. There was also a fireplace with ornate woodwork surrounding it.

  The strange thing, however, was what wasn’t in the room. There was no furniture except a small, wooden table placed near the front door. Penfield looked at the table and saw it was covered with mail. He glanced at the top envelope and saw the name “Joseph Talbot” written above the Ruckman Road address. He also saw a set of keys beside the mail.

  “Have you been in the house since you first showed Mr. Talbot the property?” Torres asked.

  “No, this is my first time back.”

  “It’s a big place. Maybe his stuff is in the other rooms,” Penfield suggested.

  They walked through the living room and entered the kitchen. There was no kitchen table, but there was a small microwave on the counter and a couple of empty pots and pans on the stove. Torres walked over to the sink and saw a dirty plate and glass in it.

  They walked out the opposite side of the kitchen, which took them to a smaller room in the back of the house. There was a beige sofa partially covered by a red fleece blanket against one wall. A black wooden coffee table sat in front of the sofa. A large screen television was on a wooden stand pressed against the opposite wall. Penfield walked over to the sofa and coffee table. The table had a wrinkled bag of potato chips on it, as well as a travel magazine.

  Penfield turned and looked at the fourth wall. There was a small white fold-out table with a large LCD monitor and keyboard on top. A desktop computer sat on the floor under the table, as well as a desk chair on rollers. Penfield stepped closer to the table and looked at a blue metal box that sat on top of the computer. He saw the words “Digital Video Recorder” written on the front of the box. He then noticed several tiny tears in the back and seat of the chair. It looked like something Talbot might have bought at a thrift store. The entire workstation was a weird combination of expensive equipment juxtaposed with cheap furniture.

  “Pen, look at this,” Torres said.

  Penfield turned to her and followed her gaze to the upper corner of the room.

  “That’s different,” he said.

  They both walked to the corner of the room and looked up at the small, gray device mounted to the top of the wall, just below the ceiling. The lens was pointed down at the room and in the direction of the sofa.

  “Security camera?” Torres suggested.

  “Security for what? His computer?” Penfield asked.

  Torres shrugged her shoulders.

  Penfield walked closer to the camera. There were no wires running from it, which indicated it was potentially a more expensive wireless security camera. He turned to Amy.

  “Did the FMA install this camera?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Let’s check the rest of the house,” Torres suggested.

  “Right this way,” Amy said.

  As the entered the kitchen, Penfield looked up to the ceiling.

  “Check it out,” he said.

  Torres and Amy stopped walking. They both looked at one of the upper corners of the kitchen and saw another gray camera that was pointed at the kitchen sink and the window above it.

  “What’s your bet there’s another camera in the living room that we missed?” Torres asked.

  “Let’s go see,” Penfield said.

  They left the kitchen and entered the empty living room.

  “There,” Torres said.

  She pointed to a camera just above the front door. It was pointed back toward them and the entrance to the kitchen.

  “There’s another one,” Penfield said.

  He indicated a second camera, which was mounted just above the kitchen doorway. This one was pointed in the direction of the front of the house.

  “Looks like he’s got the entire first floor covered pretty well,” Torres said.

  “Why have security cameras shooting an empty room?” Penfield asked.

  Torres didn’t answer him. She turned and walked toward the staircase. Penfield took a second look at the two living room cameras and then followed Torres and Amy up the wooden staircase. The stairs creaked under his weight. His injured side twitched as he climbed each step. He prayed he wouldn’t double over in pain like he had earlier that morning.

  The stairs came to a landing half-way up, with a window that overlooked the back of the house and a small playground, currently devoid of any children. The staircase then double-backed and led to the second floor. Penfield joined Torres and Amy on the second floor landing. The landing connected to a hallway that led off in two directions. He was almost out of breath by the time he got there. He avoided Torres’ gaze and hoped she didn’t notice his condition. She didn’t say anything if she did.

  “There are four bedrooms. Two that way and two over here,” Amy said, pointing to both ends of the hallway.

  They decided not to split up since they weren’t in any kind of rush. They chose one direction and entered the first bedroom. It was dark since the shade had been pulled to cover the single window. Torres flipped a light switch, but nothing happened.

  “This room doesn’t have a ceiling fan with lights,” Amy offered.

  Penfield looked around the dark room. It was filled with several boxes, as well as a few more boxes, which had been collapsed and stacked on top of one another. Penfield walked over to one of the boxes to look inside, but it was still taped shut.

  “Looks like he never got around to finishing unpacking,” Penfield said.

  Torres looked at the upper corners of the room.

  “No cameras,” she said.

  They left the room and entered the second bedroom, which was located directly across the hallway. This was obviously the room Talbot had used since it contained a queen-sized bed, a nightstand, and single dresser. The bed was made and had a dark blue comforter on top. There were no photographs or paintings on the wall, which gave the room a sterile look. Penfield couldn’t get any type of sense of Talbot’s personality beyond the unexpected presence of the video surveillance cameras. The man was coming across as weird or paranoid.

  Torres walked over to the dresser. It had no objects on top of it. She opened the top drawer and saw two rows of black socks and one row of white socks. She shut that drawer and opened the one underneath, where she saw several pairs of white underwear and undershirts. She then shut that drawer and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Another camera,” she said.

  She pointed to a camera mounted just above the inside of the door.

  Penfield opened the closet door and saw several dress and polo shirts hanging from a wooden rod as well as several pairs of jeans and black dress pants.

  “Let’s check the other rooms,” Torres said.

  The third bedroom was completely empty, including no cameras in the upper corners. They then came to a bathroom just off the hallway. There were no toiletry items or even a shower curtain ab
ove the tub. Penfield checked the upper corners of the room. No cameras in here either. They left the bathroom and headed to the last bedroom. This one faced the front of the house and Ruckman Road. The room was empty except for a small wooden chair by one of the windows.

  “Two more cameras,” Torres said.

  Penfield walked over to the chair and looked out the window. It offered an attractive view of the old fort’s military parade field and several large live oak trees.

  “Cameras in some of the rooms but not others. What do you make of that?” Penfield asked.

  “I don’t,” Torres replied.

  Penfield turned to Amy.

  “What’s on the third floor?” he asked.

  “There’s two more bedrooms and the attic.”

  Amy exited the bedroom and opened a nearby door that Penfield had assumed was a hallway closet. Instead, it revealed a second staircase, which took them to the third floor.

  “More damned stairs,” Penfield thought.

  He took them slowly, but the pain increased with each step. At least Torres and Amy were in front of him, and they couldn’t see his pained expression. They encountered another door at the top of the stairs, but it was closed. Amy turned the handle, but the door wouldn’t move.

  “It’s not supposed to have a lock on it,” she said.

  She pushed harder on the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Let me try,” Penfield urged.

  He squeezed by her in the tight space and leaned his shoulder against the door. He shoved hard, and the door swung open. The pain increased even more, and he realized how dumb he’d been to volunteer to shove the door open.

  The three of them walked through the door and onto the third-floor landing. Penfield and Torres saw two open doorways on the right, which revealed two empty bedrooms. They entered each room and scanned for cameras. There was one camera in each room that was placed above the door and pointed in the direction of the windows.

  They walked back onto the landing and spotted a camera pointed at a closed door, which Penfield guessed was the attic. He walked across the landing and tried the door. It was stuck like the staircase door. He shoved hard again, and it opened. Penfield saw a large heating unit with several white PVC pipes leading off it. There was also a black chair placed in front of the window.