He turned to the door and gave Terrence a nod. “Mr. Carr.”
The other men followed the mayor’s lead. Deputy Painter mumbled a few curses under his breath. The rest didn’t say anything. Evelyn followed behind them, watching them back out their vehicles and, one by one, vanish down the red brick road.
Evelyn stood outside and hugged herself, listening to the soft breeze, rustling of leaves, and chirping crickets. Maybe it was the wrong decision? Maybe she was a mad woman for not accepting? She’d questioned her own sanity from time to time and wouldn’t be surprised if she’d finally lost it completely. It was your estate, your choice. Her internal justifications meant nothing. Evelyn slumped her shoulders and returned inside. She closed and locked the front door behind her. The plastic sealing the nearest window flapped in the wind, reminding her just how vulnerable her house was.
Zoey approached her under the dim chandelier light. It cast its odd multi-tier shadow over the goth in blobs. “You’ve managed to piss off the mayor, sheriff, and your doctor all in the same night. Impressive.”
With apathetic eyes, Evelyn looked at the goth teenager. “You don’t need to remind me.”
Zoey opened her mouth but struggled to say the words. “I know what you did wasn’t easy, but all of us are grateful for it. You really are making a difference.”
“Tell my husband that,” Evelyn replied, heading for the light switch.
“I mean it,” Zoey followed her up the curving stairs. “No one will ever know what you did for us, but I have a feeling that when we pass onto the other side, we’ll remember the sacrifice you made.”
“Goodnight, Zoey.” Evelyn said, effectively ending the conversation. She didn’t want to be reminded of the millions of dollars and the marriage she just flushed down the toilet. Toggling off every light switch she came across, Evelyn eventually made it to the master bedroom. Terrence sat at the edge of the king-sized canopy bed, staring intensely at his open hands. The nearest window was open and allowed the cold wind to flow into the room.
Evelyn closed the door and began to disrobe for her evening shower.
Terrence didn’t bat an eye.
Stopping in the bathroom’s doorway, Evelyn turned to him. She didn’t know what to say. An apology would be disingenuous. A verbal reaffirming would further draw a wedge between them. Asking if he was alright would be futile, seeing that she knew the answer. She felt like she needed to say something.
The breeze gave her goose bumps.
“What can I do to make this up to you?” Evelyn asked him.
Terrence broke his stare but didn’t looked at Evelyn. He spoke softly. “Tomorrow… I’m going to go through the catalogs we made when we first got here and see if I can’t get a few buyers.”
“What about the case?” Evelyn asked, rubbing her upper arm.
“That’s your baby,” Terrence replied. “I’ll be more useful doing work here. Our month stay is almost over, and if we’re going to start paying for electricity and water here, we’re going to need some money. A lot of it. The antiques are our solution.”
Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek. She breathed in through her nose and didn’t let it out until the bathroom door was closed behind her. She climbed into the bathtub and turned on the showerhead. Jets of hot water punched her skin. She felt the deep grooves in her back, remembering her car “crash.”
It was years ago. She hadn’t been sleeping, or eating for that matter. The case was getting to her. A kidnapping of a fourteen-year-old screw-up. No one cared the girl was gone. No one cared what her piggish abductor was doing to her as he slowly turned her from a lost girl to a streetwalker.
The case wasn’t going anywhere. Worse, the pimp knew that someone was after him. Evelyn went to his hideout: a nine-story tenement built on vices. She curled her white knuckles around her baton’s grip. Her plan was already in motion. The message she sent had been received by the girl, or so said the big-hearted streetwalker that Evelyn had befriended during the investigation. Evelyn just hoped the girl was packed and ready to go the moment the apartment door swung open. There would be no police this time. Not when they were making money off the pimp’s trade. With the balled point of the baton, she knocked on the matte-gray and chipped door. No response.
Evelyn waited, feeling her heart rate quicken. She pulled out her lock-picking tools and started to work on the lock. Within moments, she was inside. The place reeked. Trash and old food littered nearly every surface. Evelyn waded through the ankle-deep garbage. Just the idea that a human being could live here had her queasy. Keeping her baton out and moving quietly, she navigated the apartment. Evelyn approached the bedroom door. She pushed it open and found the girl lying on the bed. Two large, hand-shaped bruises ringed around the fourteen-year-old’s neck. Peeking out of her purple lips was a folded piece of paper about the size of that found in a fortune cookie. Hesitant, Evelyn approached the girl’s cold cadaver. A piece of Evelyn died when she withdrew the paper.
“Hope is on the way,” it read in Evelyn’s handwriting. The word hope was crossed out and replaced with death.
Evelyn balled it up and put it in her pocket. Carefully and without disturbing anything else, she walked out of the apartment, down the emergency flight of stairs, and vomited her lunch on the alleyway’s floor. She wiped her red eyes and hopped into her crappy sedan. When she looked in the rearview mirror, she saw the dead girl. Completely unwanted and wasting away in an apartment full of trash. Evelyn stomped the accelerator and raced down the dark, wet road. As the RPM climbed, the semi-truck's high beams grew brighter. Right as it was about to pass by her, Evelyn made a split-second decision and swerved in front of it.
Metal and bone crunched.
Lights out.
Marinated in twisted metal and her own blood, Evelyn was shocked to see she was alive. Even more shocked, someone had gotten her out of the car and had taken her hand.
“Help is on the way,” the dark-skinned stranger said. “Hold on.”
He kept her awake until the paramedics arrived.
“You should be dead,” they told her.
Evelyn didn’t reply. She knew they were right. The man, Terrence, visited her during the recovery process. He was the only one who did, and Evelyn knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
Evelyn found herself standing under a cool shower. She must’ve used up all the hot water. She stepped out and dried off with a towel. The mirror was too fogged up to look at her reflection. Perhaps that was a good thing.
She walked into the master bedroom. Terrence was not there. Keeping her towel wrapped around her, she walked through the room and peered into the hallway. The lights were off.
“Terrence?” She stepped out and turned into the closest bedroom. Snoring softly, Terrence slept on a twin bed. Evelyn shut the door and retired, alone, on the master bedroom’s king-sized mattress.
Evelyn watched the sun come up. Its beams grew over her face, causing her to squint.
Bella Day had been missing four days now.
Getting dressed, Evelyn headed down the hallway. She saw Terrence doing what he said he would: reviewing the pictures they had taken of various antiques and comparing them to similar items online. He glanced up at Evelyn.
“I’m heading out,” Evelyn told him.
“Be careful,” Terrence replied.
“Thanks. I love you.”
Evelyn turned to walk away.
“Evelyn,” Terrence called out.
Evelyn twisted back quickly.
“I love you, too,” Terrence replied.
Evelyn climbed into the minivan. She took a deep breath and deliberated which of the men she would follow first. It didn’t seem like a coincidence those specific five men wanted her gone. Were they all part of her father’s disappearance or was it just one of them? Perhaps one of them had ties to the killer? The faster she found that person, the faster the phantoms would go away. As much as she’d like to dedicate her time in searching for her father,
there was too much land to cover and not enough hints. Also, since he was innocent, that meant that he didn’t have Bella Day. If there was a priority, it was her safe recovery. A dangerous amount of time had passed since her disappearance. Evelyn would much rather save a living girl than avenge a spirit.
Out of all the men, the easiest man to track would be Mr. Calhoon. Evelyn parked a block from his house. He marched out of the front door and kissed his wife goodbye, but it seemed out of habit than passion. His collared shirt was slightly disheveled and his hair was hastily combed. Evelyn trailed him to the biggest strip mall in Adders.
Evelyn watched from across the street as Calhoon went from store to store collecting money from the managers. He must be the property owner, Evelyn surmised. Judging by Calhoon’s face to face approach at collecting dues, he didn’t mind doing the heavy lifting.
Even checked her clock. Following them one by one would take too long. Evelyn regretted not bringing her tracking equipment back in Detroit. She didn’t expect to work this vacation, and tracking someone was illegal, not that it stopped her before. She had to improvise.
She headed to a local supermarket, picked up a few pre-paid burner phones, magnets, small plastic boxes, and glue. She pulled off to the side of the road, activated the phones with a fake name, turned them on, downloaded the proper location app, and sealed them inside the plastic containers. She then glued magnets to the tops of the containers. She stuck the first one in the wheel well of Calhoon’s Lexus.
She headed to the hospital next and spotted Dr. Gregory’s BMW. She snuck back to the employee lot by crawling under the fence. Black cap and sunglasses on, she sped-walked to his vehicle and stuck the magnetized box containing the phone in the wheel well. Wasting no time and not looking up at the camera, she scurried under the fence and raced back to her minivan.
Knowing there was no way to get one of the makeshift trackers on the sheriff’s and deputy’s squad cars, she headed to the town hall. Wiping sweat from her forehead, Evelyn put her shades back on and scanned the quiet streets of Adders’ tiny Main Street. It was past lunchtime. The streets were relatively devoid of witnesses. She rolled around the back of the town hall building, glancing up at the multiple cameras mounted on arms on the colonial style-brick building’s side. As long as Evelyn didn’t make any mistakes, they’d have no reason to review video footage and look up her dingy minivan's license plate. Evelyn pulled up to the guard post at the employee lot. The elderly guard with droopy ears and a pot belly read a Lionel train magazine. He gave Evelyn a suspicious look as she rolled down her window.
“I took a wrong turn,” Evelyn said with a sweet smile. “You mind if I make a U-turn back here?”
The old guard paused. Without a word, he gestured for Evelyn to go ahead and then went back to reading. Evelyn pulled into the packed employee lot and spotted the red sports car. Evelyn’s breath quickened. She kept a hard face and stopped next to it. She popped her hood.
She walked around the car and looked at the engine and the guard staring back at them both. Evelyn smiled nervously. “Could you give me hand?”
Grumbling, the man put aside his magazine.
While he was standing up and setting the magazine aside, Evelyn unplugged her corroded battery and then pretended to look confused.
The guard approached her. “Heck of a place to break down.”
“Tell me about it,” Evelyn said, rubbing her forehead. “It’s usually my husband who takes care of the car stuff. We’re in a little bit of a rough patch right now.”
The man nodded slowly. He looked over the engine and pointed. “Your battery.”
“Oh, let me tell my husband,” Evelyn reached her hand into her purse and “accidentally” dropped her lipstick as she reached for her phone. It rolled to the red sports car wheel. “God, I’m such a mess. Can you fix it?”
The man nodded. He leaned over the engine and began plugging in the battery. Evelyn knelt beside the sports car. Back to the guard, she pulled the magnetized box out of her purse and slipped it into the wheel well. She snatched up the red lipstick and returned to him.
He eyed her. “You should be okay now.”
“Oh, thank you,” Evelyn said with relief. “You saved my life.”
“I don’t know about that, ma’am. Double check your battery before you head out. If it’s not tightly secure--”
“Thank you,” Evelyn said and climbed into the van. She waved him goodbye and drove away.
Evelyn’s next destination was the mom-and-pop restaurant a block away from the sheriff’s department. She requested a window seat and ordered a cheap dinner. She watched the department and sipped her Diet Coke. Yates wouldn’t be off work for another hour. She pulled out her tablet and reviewed her tracking app. She input phone numbers she had synced up with the phones and was able to see the various men’s cars on the GPS. They were all still at work.
After Evelyn finished her slice of pie, she saw Sheriff Yates pull out of the department. She followed behind his cruiser to a small but well-kept house with a garden gnome out front. After he pulled into the driveway, Evelyn drove on, memorizing his address. She wouldn’t be able to track Deputy Painter today. She had enough on her plate already. Dr. Gregory was the first to go home but also the farthest to drive. Evelyn floored the accelerator and arrived at his two-story brick home with an attached two-car garage. There were four skinny pillars on the front porch. A cobblestone path led to his front porch stairs where a lantern was hanging on a black hook. Using her binoculars, she saw him cooking in the kitchen. It looked like he was in for a quiet night.
Evelyn headed to the mayor’s house. It was a beautiful McMansion with a horse pen.
Evelyn’s phone rang. Terrence.
“Hey,” Evelyn answered softly as she watched Mayor Timberland yell at his twenty-something-year-old daughter in the living room.
“I need you to come home right now.”
“What happened?”
Evelyn raced back to the Quenby House as fast as she could. Between two vine-wrapped colonnades, Terrence stood outside of Quenby House. The window to the left side of the door had plastic sheeting on it. The window on the right was shattered.
“What the hell happened?” Evelyn asked as she stepped out of her van.
Terrence gestured for her to enter.
On the foyer’s red-carpet floor sat a brick amidst the shattered window glass.
“I was upstairs when it happened. I couldn’t see the culprit.”
Evelyn knelt down beside the brick.
“I haven’t touched it. Should we call the cops?” Terrence asked.
“Probably,” Evelyn replied. Putting on a plastic glove, she picked up the brick and flipped it over. There was a note taped to the back.
Terrence leaned in and his eyes widened.
Evelyn read the hastily written note.
“Child Killer.”
27
Barnstormer
Hands on their hips, Officers Davis and Bailey surrounded the brick. With chewing tobacco packed behind his lower lip, Davis, in his 30s, was a short and stout man with a buzz cut and angry mug. He bounced his intense eyes between the brick and the shattered window.
Bailey, a similarly aged granite-faced woman with fiery red hair and Georgia twang, seemed more concerned with Evelyn and Terrence. Even from a few feet away, one could smell the officer’s taco dinner.
“Is there anything you can do?” Terrence asked. He had on white shorts and a teal button-up.
“Y’all said you saw no suspect,” Bailey said suspiciously. “There really ain’t much we can do without a lead.”
The wind flapped the long crimson curtains flanking the inner window. Evelyn warmed her hands on the front pockets of her black double-breasted raincoat. She was still clad in black from her long day of surveillance. “I’m sure you know that my family are not the most well-liked people in this town, but this is unacceptable.”
Davis picked up the note. He mouthed the words as
he read it. He glanced up at them. “Maybe you should spend a few days away.” Tobacco muffled his voice. Little black leaves stuck onto and in between his yellow teeth.
“Not gonna happen,” Evelyn said, sick of running. Having turned down over two million dollars to keep the house, she wasn’t going risk having a stranger burn it down while she cowered in a cheap hotel room.
Davis glared at her and put the note into a Ziploc baggie. “Then I suggest you buy a gun.”
Terrence gawked at him. “That’s it? There’s nothing at all you can do for us?”
Davis turned his angry mug toward him. “There’s over twenty thousand people in Adders. We can’t stop everything because some teenager decided to toss a brick at your window, so either get armed or get out. That’s the Adders way.”
“I wish someone told us that when we moved here. Would’ve saved us a lot of trouble,” said Terrence.
“You have any advice?” Evelyn asked Officer Bailey.
“Y’all are in a precarious position: outsiders veiled in mystery and at the heart of the town's most brutal murders. People don’t know what to think of you. It’s no surprise some want you gone. If you stay, listen to Davis. Buy a weapon and stake claim to what belongs to you,” Bailey warned.
Evelyn eyed the woman. “What do you think of us? Are we really that much of a threat?”
Bailey and Davis traded looks. Bailey replied. “You don’t cause trouble, I don’t see a reason why you can’t stay.”
“You’re the first ones to say that to us,” Terrence admitted.
“Davis and I aren’t as traditional as most Adders folk.”
Officer Davis nodded in agreement.
Bailey handed Evelyn her card. “Can’t promise I’ll pick up, but there’s my number.”
Evelyn stuck it in her wallet. The officers left soon after. Evelyn grabbed the broom and dustbin and started cleaning up the glass. Terrence returned with a roll of plastic sheeting they had used when they were painting the walls. He cut out the proper rectangular shape and taped it around the window. When he finished, he looked at the other plastic cover window. “Well, now they match.”
The Haunting of Quenby Mansion Omnibus: A Haunted House Mystery Page 31
