She listened to the sounds of the shower stream beating against Scott’s back. He hadn’t closed the bathroom door, she noticed, as she walked slowly and carefully up the hallway and into the kitchen. It concerned her that she already felt tired. She had slept at least nine hours and there was just no reason for her to feel drained like this, but still, she shouldn’t be expected to keep to the bedroom.
Making herself useful, she put on a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table as it percolated. By the time she was pouring herself a mug, Scott strolled into the kitchen, already dressed in a casual suit.
“You should be in bed,” he said, though kindly. If he was hoping Kate would actually follow her doctor’s orders and remain in bed, it was just that—wishful thinking.
“I’ve just made coffee,” she said. “Nothing major.”
“Will you stay in bed today?” he asked, but didn’t give her much of a chance to answer as he dove headlong into listing all of the perks to taking a day off. “It’s cool in here. There are plenty of movies on TV. You haven’t had a vacation in years.”
“Vacation?” she asked, sarcastically.
“A stay-cation, whatever,” he offered.
“Since when did I ever want a stay-cation?”
“Try to enjoy it? At least until the doctor calls us with the results.”
“And let’s say the results are...bad. What then? Am I just supposed to lie around in bed until I die?”
“First of all,” he said, setting his mug of coffee on the counter since apparently his point was so important he couldn’t do it justice while holding a steaming cup of hazelnut. “Don’t joke around about dying. You’re not dying. And second of all, if you are suffering with some kind of serious health concern, I’m sure once the doctor diagnoses it, he’ll prescribe medication and you’ll be right as rain in no time.”
Kate let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, but Scott sat beside her at the table and clamped his warm hand on her shoulder.
“It’s just a few days,” he said, reassuringly. “You might just enjoy it.”
“Yeah? And I might go stir-crazy with cabin fever,” she pointed out.
“Tell you what; I’ll text you updates on the case. How does that sound?”
“Entertaining,” she said dryly, lifting her coffee mug to her lips and focusing on the wafting steam.
Scott didn’t have much time for breakfast, so he wolfed down a bowl of cereal and set it in the sink before rushing into the bedroom to throw on his shoes and grab his jacket. On his way out, he kissed the top of Kate’s head and promised he’d see her later.
It wasn’t until she heard the front door click shut that Kate raced to the foyer and watched Scott’s truck as it rolled down the driveway.
Kate knew herself. She might enjoy a stay-cation, but the reality was that if she did stay home, all she would end up doing is searching through the internet to find answers to her health questions, and that would only leave her stressed out and confused. And, she reasoned, doing so would be bad for her health.
In truth, it had taken one very mundane night with Scott to make her realize that she was actually thrilled. As horrifying as it had been to see a human hand protruding from asphalt in the basement of the Roberts’ old Victorian, it had also ignited a flame of intrigue in her. Who was the woman? What was the real story behind Mrs. Hyatt’s son’s death? And were the two connected? If they were, was it because of some urban legend about the haunted house? Or were rumors a convenient shield? Had the residents of Rock Ridge been killing within those walls because it would feed into a legend, which ultimately had the power to mask their dark deeds?
If she was in tip-top shape, Kate would be driving all over Rock Ridge to solve the murder, and the greater part of her wanted to do just that. But she had to keep a level head for the sake of her health.
Toeing the line between remaining restful and being proactive, she grabbed the kitchen phone and the telephone book off the counter and sat at the table. It took her a couple of minutes to thumb through the directory, but soon she found Mrs. Hyatt’s number and dialed it.
As the ring tone blared in her ear, she considered what she might say.
“Hello?” said Mrs. Hyatt, her voice scratchy through the line.
“Mrs. Hyatt, it’s Kate, the fix it lady.”
“Oh, good morning, Kate. I was wondering when I’d see you.”
“Probably not today,” said Kate with a sigh. “I’m feeling a bit under the weather.”
“That’s how it starts.”
“Excuse me?”
“You aren’t under the weather, my dear. You’re under a dark spell. It’s that house.”
Kate glanced down at her arm and saw that it had pricked with gooseflesh. She rubbed to warm her skin. Hopping up, she lowered the air conditioner from full to medium blast.
“Well, I’ve been feeling a bit tired since before I set foot in the house,” she laughed to expel Mrs. Hyatt’s superstition, but the elderly woman was unmoved.
“The house has chosen you,” she stated. “You wouldn’t have set foot in it if it hadn’t.”
“Are you saying my symptoms, which emerged a solid month ago, are really the work of a haunted house.”?
She could hear Mrs. Hyatt grumbling on the other end of the phone, which told Kate that the woman didn’t appreciate being mocked. So Kate quickly corrected her error, asking, “Did you feel under the weather before moving into the old Victorian?”
The elderly woman fell silent and after a beat asked, “What makes you think I ever set foot in that house of horrors?”
“I heard it through the grapevine... Is it true?”
Mrs. Hyatt said nothing.
“I was sorry to hear about your son—”
“What do you know about my son?” she demanded.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you—”
“Blair was a wonderful young man, and I didn’t kill him!” she insisted.
“No, I would never mean to imply—”
“It’s for your own good that you stay away from that house!” she snapped. “You stay away, and you won’t feel so tired anymore. The house will lose its hold on you.”
Kate stilled, as trepidation ratcheted up her spine. She had never told Mrs. Hyatt that she’d been feeling tired.
“Mrs. Hyatt,” she began in a steady tone as if she might hide how truly rattled she felt. “Why would you move in next door if you truly believe the house is evil?”
When the elderly woman spoke, her voice was gravely serious. “Because, it won’t let me go.”
Click.
Kate looked at the phone, and then returned it to her ear. “Mrs. Hyatt?” But the woman had hung up on her. After getting to her feet, she set the telephone in its cradle on the wall and made her gradual way into the bedroom where she changed out of her sweats and into a pair of overalls.
She wasn’t going to let an old woman creep under her skin, she told herself. But Mrs. Hyatt already had. Kate was not one to buy into superstitions, however it nagged at her that the old woman had known Kate was feeling tired.
“No,” she stated out loud. “Mrs. Hyatt isn’t playing with a full deck, and I won’t be unnerved by her.”
But she was.
Reasoning that it shouldn’t be too taxing to get to the bottom of this, Kate grabbed her truck keys from the table in the foyer, locked up on her way out, and climbed in behind the steering wheel.
She wouldn’t be able to poke around the old Victorian house. Surely, Scott and his team were still crawling all over the place. So she drove into the center of town and parked in front of the library.
Lethargically, she lumbered out of her truck and took a moment to get her bearings. Sprinklers were ticking across the lawn in front of the library and when Kate made her way up the walkway, a fine mist of water sprayed against her legs, which perked her up a bit.
Inside, the library was cool and quiet. A few patrons were scattered across the various tables in
the main room, hunched over their laptops or reading the morning paper. Kate’s old friend, Hazel Millhouse was milling about behind the front desk, organizing and scanning returned library books into the system.
Quietly, she approached the counter and smiled at Hazel as soon as the older woman lifted her eyes.
“Kate,” she whispered, setting down a book she’d just scanned and pushing one of the stacks to the side. The precarious tower wobbled, but Kate caught it, straightening the books. “What brings you to the library?”
“I was hoping you could help me with something,” she began. “Does the library have a database of archived newspapers?”
“We do,” said Hazel, rounding the counter and wasting no time leading Kate toward the row of computers in the back of the library. “I’m not sure how far back it goes.”
“You’ve lived in Rock Ridge your entire life, right?” she asked, pulling out the chair in front of one of the computers that Hazel had indicated.
“Almost,” said Hazel. “I moved to Rock Ridge in my early twenties, but considering my age, it certainly feels like I’ve lived here my entire life.”
“Are you familiar with the old Victorian house on Pennsylvania Avenue where it cuts through the suburban part of town?”
“The one you’re renovating,” she supplied. Kate saw her expression change as it dawned on her where this might be going, and she grinned. “Don’t believe those rumors, Kate.”
“No?”
Playfully, Hazel rolled her eyes and gave Kate a little poke. “Of all the people who could buy into that nonsense,” she said, shooting her a chiding frown before tapping the monitor. “Have a seat.”
She did, lowering carefully into the chair. “Have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“When I was working in the basement, I found a...” she stated the fact under her breath, “body.”
Hazel cocked her brow. “Which Scott is investigating?”
“Yes.”
“Then let him,” she suggested, but soon fell into deep thought.
One of the library patrons, an older gentleman who was carrying his laptop, interrupted to ask Hazel about a particular book, so she excused herself and led the man up the aisles, leaving Kate to peruse the database.
Unsure of what she should search for, Kate first double-clicked on an icon for the Rock Ridge Tribune and scanned down a list of archives that seemed ten miles long, aiming to find the very first article. When she reached the bottom of the list, she realized she had overshot it. The Tribune originated a solid fifty years ago, so she scrolled up the list, hunting through the dates.
This would be exceptionally time consuming, she thought as she came to a list of daily articles from twenty-five years ago. But soldiering on, she began clicking through each one and scanning the headlines, one of which jumped out at her:
Missing Woman.
Eerily, Becky Langley came to mind. Two years ago, all of Rock Ridge had been up in arms over Becky’s mysterious abduction, though no one had been more disturbed than Kate’s son Jason had. She reminded herself that Becky had in fact not been abducted, as she began reading the article.
The woman who had gone missing, Doris Chestnut, had been a wife and mother. Kate noted the article was printed roughly fifteen years ago. Doris had only been living in Rock Ridge for a few months, having moved from South Carolina. The article gave no details in terms of leads in the investigation so Kate began hunting once again, clicking through articles printed after the initial report.
She startled when her cell vibrated in her pocket.
Glancing over her shoulder to check that the muffled buzz hadn’t disturbed anyone, she pulled her cell from her overalls. It was Scott so she quickly swiped the screen, answering the call.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“Katydid, just checking in. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said, angling to wrap the conversation up before it started. “I should get off the phone.”
“Why?” he asked.
It occurred to her that she could ask Scott about Doris Chestnut. She certainly wanted to, and if he hadn’t heard the name, it could provide him with a clue. But she didn’t want to risk his finding out she had bolted from the house only a few minutes after him.
“Oh, no reason. Just thought I should be resting. Hey,” she interjected. “I’ve been doing a little hunting on the internet.” It just crossed her mind she might get away with it. “It looks like a woman named Doris Chestnut went missing about fifteen years ago. Do you think it could be the same woman I found in the basement?”
He groaned. “It doesn’t sound like you’re resting, Kate.”
“I’m being as restful as I can,” she insisted.
“I haven’t heard the name, but we’re still waiting on dental records.”
“You might call around South Carolina,” she suggested. “That’s where Doris was from.”
“Would you like me to come home for lunch?” he asked, avoiding her point.
“Aren’t you busy with the investigation?”
“We wrapped up at the house. I’m waiting on forensics, so sneaking away for lunch isn’t out of the question.”
“Then yes,” she said, figuring she might be able to swing by the old Victorian if the police weren’t there.
They agreed on a time, and then Scott let her go. After returning her cell to her overalls, Kate resumed her search, but was again interrupted when her cell vibrated. Of course, Scott would call back to see if he should grab take-out from Daisy’s, but when she answered the call, she heard a woman’s voice.
“Kate! It’s Celia!”
“What can I do for you?” she asked, hoping the woman would have a job for her. Celia had once been married to a detective but remarried the editor-in-chief of the Rock Ridge Tribune, who was subsequently arrested for his involvement with the drug conspiracy a few years back.
She did.
“I’ve been helping out at the Tribune, and we really need a shelving unit installed.”
It didn’t seem to taxing so she asked, “When do you need me to put it together?”
“Whenever you have time.”
“I can head over now.”
After returning her cell to her overalls, Kate closed her search windows on the computer and made her way through the library. At the front desk, she thanked Hazel for her help and asked, “Do you remember a woman named Doris Chestnut?”
“Doris? Yes, I do. She had a sweet daughter. Amy, I believe her name was.”
“Amy?” Kate suddenly recalled the woman who had hired her to renovate the Victorian house—Amy Roberts.
“I believe so. That poor woman,” Hazel went on. “I wasn’t close with her, but it was no secret that Doris had moved up here from down south to get away from her abusive husband.”
“Really?”
Hazel looked grim as she commented, “And then she went missing. The Police Chief back then wasn’t the most proactive man. Most of the residents felt strongly that Doris’s husband had found her, took her, and did God only knows what. But the Police Chief did nothing.”
“So what happened to Amy?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. I believe her relatives came and got her.”
Kate knew that Doris’s husband hadn’t merely taken her from Rock Ridge, but probably killed her in that house. However, if he had also taken Amy, then Kate would have some place to start.
“Do you recall the husband’s name?”
Hazel shook her head. “Supposedly, he never set foot in Rock Ridge. I never met him and Doris didn’t speak his name, the man was that terrible.”
“Thanks a lot,” said Kate, as she gave Hazel’s arm a little squeeze.
When she reached her truck, the heat hit her hard and she couldn’t get the air conditioning blasting high enough. She waited a moment for her truck to cool off before setting off toward the Rock Ridge Tribune.
Since Eric Demblowski’s arrest, a woman named Olivia Tartt had
been running the Tribune as editor-in-chief. As a general rule, Kate despised reporters and avoided them like the plague, but she had to admit she liked Olivia. The woman was stern and discerning and had a delicate touch when it came to pursuing stories. She wasn’t invasive, and when there was a story in town, she never stalked or harassed those involved. By the same measure, she kept her reporters working with the same respectful standards. At times, Kate had wondered if Olivia would become tenacious should a brutal crime take place. Perhaps Olivia was gentle because the only crimes that had taken place in town revolved around petty misdemeanors. Time would tell, she supposed.
As she stepped inside the newspaper headquarters with her tool kit in tow, she felt light-headed all of a sudden. The receptionist behind the front desk was immersed in a phone call. Kate braced against the counter and noticed a jar of jellybeans, which she immediately thrust her hand inside, grabbing a fistful. She ate the sugary candies as she waited, hoping the sugar would dispel her wooziness.
Celia barreled through the bullpen where reporters were hunched over their desks and joined Kate. “That was fast. Right this way.”
Kate followed her, walking on unsteady legs through the bullpen and into Olivia’s office. The editor was typing away on her computer, classical music playing softly from the speakers.
“She won’t mind if you work,” said Celia as she indicated the boxed shelving unit. “She’d like the shelves set up here.”
Celia was motioning to a wall set perpendicular from Olivia’s desk.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she added, shuffling toward the door, which she shut on her way out.
Olivia was so engrossed in whatever article she was drafting that she didn’t even glance at Kate, which suited the fix-it lady just fine since she preferred to work in silence.
Kneeling in front of her tool kit, Kate grumbled. She should’ve asked Celia for a cup of coffee. But as she began assembling the shelving unit, she wondered if perhaps her constant fatigue could have been caused by coffee in the first place. Caffeine had always agreed with her, but she had heard about those caffeine crashes that hit certain people very hard. She gulped at the thought of giving up her favorite habit.
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