“Tom, no, you can’t, not right away.” He could see Tom was going to object in a big way, his face was turning dark red and his arms stiffened. He reached out one hand toward Tom in what he hoped would be seen as a calming, cooperative gesture. “You can’t come with me, ok, not with me. I understand you want to be there since we think Nina may be on the property.”
“I have to go. I will go.” Tom’s words were clipped and ominous. Archer knew Tom wasn’t a man who angered easily. Stress and fear and uncertainty had a way of switching off a person’s inhibitions.
“What I can do, Tom, is have you ride out with another officer, but he’ll stop short of the actual property until things are under control. If Nina is there, as soon as we can, he’ll bring you in. If she isn’t, then he won’t. But you have to understand that I cannot let you go in with us. This isn’t my personal decision. This is how it is. You are a friend, and I understand your anguish over Nina and her welfare, but we cannot take members of the public into a situation like this.”
Tom visibly deflated and agreed. “Sorry.”
“I totally get it, I really do.” The doors to the lobby whisked open. “Look who’s here. Perri, glad you made it on time.”
“On time? On time for what?” Perri was clutching a handful of copies.
“Tell you what, Tom can explain the developments to you. Perri, you go along in the car with Tom and bring the documents. Wait right here and I’ll put you both with someone, but I need to hustle.” Archer disappeared into the inner works of the building and Tom and Perri sank down onto a couple of chairs.
“Hurry and wait.” Tom snapped.
Perri looked questioningly at Tom, “Tell me what’s happening while we wait.”
Chapter 37
The journey out to the Graham property was fast-paced and smooth on the highways but had degenerated into a lumpy, bumpy carnival ride as Archer and six other officers in three additional police cars trundled their way along the old mud and rock road. Tom was to follow about fifteen minutes behind them with another officer who would stop short of the full distance and wait for word on what to do. They had no choice but to slow down considerably and Archer hoped this was indeed the only way in and out of the property. It had appeared that way on the satellite maps of the area. There were no ground level views available because of the remote location, but at least he had a good overall image of the layout of the property.
They had been able to take the same relatively straight, southerly-running road all the way from Highway 60, but when they reached the western outskirts of Moseley, they had been obliged to turn west onto a narrow, winding road. After a short distance, they turned and headed back to the north on a private road that had been blocked with a cattle gate. It hadn’t been locked, just a chain slipped over a post that was easily removed and the gate swung open to admit the four vehicles. This section of the road had been graveled once, but over time the rocks had sunk into the earth, been scattered off the path, or washed away in this area which could flood in times of heavy rainfall.
Two tracks of flattened weeds and grass were present on each side of a corridor of tall grasses, their seed heads bobbing in the breeze. The traffic down this road hadn’t been frequent or long term; the weeds that were beaten down appeared to be about the same height as the ones in the center. Another indication that whoever was back here hadn’t been back here longer than a few days. A mixture of evergreen and deciduous trees crowded close to the car from both sides. The varying heights of the trees cast a dark shadow into the undergrowth and made any visibility into the surrounding woods minimal.
After a mile or more, even the weeds disappeared, leaving only the remnants of the scattered gravel mixed with loose stones. Approximately two miles in, the road forked, but having looked at the aerial images, Archer knew to stay to the left, the right branch ending suddenly after only a few dozen feet. After this intersection, the width of the passage diminished even more and it became little more than what Archer thought of as a horse path or hiking trail with two ruts. After another three and a half miles, the road again branched. Archer turned on the right fork and continued bouncing over the increasingly uneven ground.
He knew they would have to cross the creek, and that when they did, they would be close to the house, within five hundred feet. He had instructed the others to stop after crossing the creek, that they would determine the best approach based on the terrain and how much of the house was visible from that viewpoint, if any.
Archer could see a break in the trees ahead. As he neared it, he could see it was Horsepen Creek wending its meandering way through the woods. The crossing was a very low, single lane ‘bridge’ made up of huge decaying planks, more like large trees squared-off and laid across from bank to bank. They were not attached to each other, but held in place by a crude metal frame. The earth had been built up, packed, and tamped on each end to cover the protruding ends of the planks, forming a small rise up to the crossing on each side. There were many spots where the soil had been wormed away by the rain or trickles from the stream as it rose and fell.
He stopped and got out, waving the other cars to wait. He walked onto the rude bridge to assess it the best he could. Tracks were visible in the soil on both sides, indicating it had seen traffic recently. Back in his cruiser, he drove over the bridge at a crawl, listening for cracking or other sounds which might indicate collapse, but there were none. Archer pulled far enough up the lane to allow the other cars to cross and stop in a sloppy line.
A ninety-degree curve to the left was clearly visible only thirty yards ahead. Two of the officers remained with the cars while Archer and the other four cautiously advanced along the edge of the lane. When they reached the T-intersection they took cover behind large trees or clumps or brush before peering down the remaining road to the house.
He didn’t have a clear view of the entire house, but Archer could see the front face and side of a two-storied stone house. The house faced the creek. A better-tended driveway began at a very low stone wall about half the distance from where Archer stood to the house. It appeared to be completely covered with gravel and wasn’t overgrown with weeds. It curved slightly to the right after the wall, so any vehicles present were not visible, presumably they were parked at the rear of the house.
After returning to the idling cruisers, Archer addressed the other police officers, “I don’t want to approach by walking, it’s too far for that, even under cover of the woods. The up side is there is plenty of room for all four cars. We’ll drive the cars in but avoid the front of the house. The end of the house facing us has only two small windows, one on each floor, so there’s less exposure. We don’t know how many occupants there are.” He looked at one of the other officers, “You go right as much as you can after you get to the clearing and locate any vehicles. Park behind them and watch for anyone trying to use one of them. Keep your eyes open for someone exiting the back of the house. I don’t want anyone getting by us.”
“Remember that we aren’t sure yet who is behind the kidnapping, or even if the people here are who we think they may be. We want to question them but not be confrontational. Our first plan is to approach them as people we need to interview, but with a high level of caution. Be prepared for the situation to change at any moment. Also remember that this may be the site where Nina Watkins is being held but we don’t know her condition or what they are willing to do. Alright, any questions?”
All the officers shook their heads in the negative. When everyone was back in their car, they began advancing slowly and quickly sped up as they rounded the last corner.
Archer didn’t see any movement in or around the house as he passed the perimeter. He tried to absorb as much information about the house and layout of the property as he could. Contrary to his expectations following the rocky drive back to the property, the house didn’t look like it had been neglected or left without caretakers. As a matter of fact, it looked like it was in excellent repair. Because of the apparent di
suse of the road they had followed in, he hoped this wasn’t an indication of a second road into the property from another direction.
Archer wasn’t an architectural expert, but his interest in early American history and the uncounted hours of research into this period in order to be historically accurate had taught him enough to recognize this house as one of the colonial period. Perri had mentioned that Dr. Graham’s family had lived in this area in the late 18th century and he had no trouble believing this house had been here since the Revolutionary War or before. And it was being taken care of.
There was a lawn surrounding the house which was mown and trimmed. The paint on the shutters was brilliant white and unchipped. The bright paint of the shutters contrasted with the soft tans and mellow browns of the native stone and grayish mortar in the rubble-style construction. The two stories were topped with a gambrel roof from which two large chimneys jutted into the sky. Archer was discouraged to see that the front of the house had six twelve-over-twelve paned windows, offering the occupants a view of the entire front lawn and a portion of the sides. The door was placed between the first and second first floor windows on the side closest to the driveway.
There was a stone building about twenty-five feet from the house which had most likely been either a barn or carriage house in a former life. Now it was serving as a garage and had been for some time. Where the original door would have been, two side-hinged doors were mounted, painted white and featured black ironwork hardware.
Officer Monaghan, who was assigned to the garage area, moved into position ahead of him. Archer stopped and surveyed the backyard area. There were no other buildings in view, nothing other than a mound of earth about fifty feet back and on the far side of the yard, toward the tree line.
Archer watched the two windows facing him. Both had curtains. He didn’t see any movement but it meant anyone inside looking out may be shielded. He exited his car and moved swiftly to the outer wall of the end of the house, away from the window. He was thankful the house was stone and not simply clapboard. He waited for the other officers to get into position. Officer Theresa Malone accompanied him around the corner of the building and each took a stance on either side of the wooden plank door, guns drawn. Archer, who was standing on the side nearest the two first floor windows, reached out with his left hand and knocked on the door, loudly and long.
Archer and Officer Malone stood ready but there was no response. Archer had reached out to knock again when the door opened. Both Archer and Officer Malone faced the open doorway. Dr. Orcenith Graham startled and fumbled the nectarine he had been eating. “Good Lord, what is this? Officer Vaughn, isn’t it? What is going on?”
“Dr. Graham, we’d like to speak with you.”
“Of course, but what about? Come on in.”
Both policemen entered the doorway and quickly surveyed the room. No one else was in sight. “Have a seat, please.” Dr. Graham wiped his hands with the cloth napkin he was holding. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take this back to the kitchen and wash my hands.”
“No problem, I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind.” Theresa Malone took a step forward.
Dr. Graham hesitated, looked from Officer Malone to Detective Vaughn and back again. “Certainly, Officer?”
“Malone.”
“Certainly, Officer Malone, if you feel it is necessary.”
Theresa Malone extended her arm toward the doorway. Dr. Graham turned and left the room with Officer Malone directly behind him. Archer took the opportunity to have a close look around the room. It looked as cared for as the outside. The furniture wasn’t dusty, except the wide planked wooden floor had been largely overlooked. There had been enough traffic through the central part of the room to clear the dust, but he could see footprints near the edges of the couch and a couple of wingback chairs. Most of them were partial footprints, either the front or back of someone’s shoe where they had stepped slightly beneath the piece of furniture.
There were footprints from more than one person here. Different shoe shapes, sizes. He could see impressions from a running shoe, a smooth-soled, faintly tapered men’s shoe such as a wingtip business style, and another tennis shoe / running shoe that was smaller than the other one. Archer turned and walked around the perimeter of the room. Near the internal wall opposite the door to the other rooms, he saw marks in the dust. There were many footprints, one on top of the other, none of them distinct. Someone had either stood or sat directly next to the wall, their feet moving around as they sat.
Archer had turned back to the center of the room as Officer Malone and Dr. Graham re-entered. Dr. Graham seated himself and asked, “What can I help you with, Detective? Has another item surfaced for which you need an appraisal?”
“No, Dr. Graham, there are no more artifacts that we need help with. What we need is help with the one you’ve already seen.”
“That lovely side knife?”
“Yes, that’s the one. You don’t happen to have seen it lately, have you?”
“I saw it in your office on, I believe it was Tuesday, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but my question was, have you seen it since then?”
“Well, no, Detective. I thought you retained it at the police station. Have you lost track of it?”
“Ok, we don’t really have time to go through niceties, I’m afraid. A woman is missing over this knife and it’s looking an awful lot like you may be in the midst of it.”
“Me? I assure you…”
“Assurances aren’t working for me right now, Doctor.”
Orcenith Graham stood and adopted a dignified air of insult. “I find your accusation, whatever it is, to be quite disturbing.”
“I’m sure you do, but I find the kidnapping of a woman to be more disturbing. Indulge my need to investigate.” Dr. Graham opened his mouth to speak, but Archer continued, “Before you say more, you need to be aware that we do know that the knife belonged to an ancestor of yours and I’m fairly certain you knew that too.”
The professor exhaled sharply, “I have no…”
“Let me finish. I don’t know the whole story, not yet, but I know that you are completely aware of this.”
Dr. Graham began to object, Archer continued in a louder tone of voice, “Probably…probably it isn’t a good idea to donate a box of old documents with your name on it if those documents might reveal your connection to the knife, wouldn’t you say?”
The professor’s lips squeezed tightly together, he stood up straighter, and pulled his chin down toward his chest. As he spoke he turned and walked toward a bookcase on the rear wall of the room. “I think you are assuming a great deal, detective. It is never wise to assume you know something because of a piece of paper someone found in a library.”
“I didn’t say anything about a library.”
“No, but where else would one donate a box of old documents? And you told me yourself you have a friend who is here doing research at the LOV. I know of a knife, such as the one you had, which belonged to my great, great grandfather, Jasper Graham. However, and I stress this quite heavily Detective, it would be irresponsible and unprofessional for me to assume the one you had in your office was the very one that belonged to an ancestor of mine from over a century ago. What professional would take a giant leap such as that?”
“Alright. Why haven’t you been staying at Bottomley House? You are reserved there through this coming Saturday, but after you were in my office on Tuesday, you didn’t stay there again. And you didn’t inform the staff of it.”
“I didn’t realize I needed to inform them. My intention was to return tomorrow night, if not tonight, and complete my stay in Richmond there.”
“Why did you decide to stay here when you had a room right on campus and the conference wasn’t over yet?”
“There was a problem with some of the plumbing and I needed to get it taken care of before it caused damage to the house. I’m sure you can understand the importance of prompt maintenance.”
> “Did you call a plumber?”
“No, I fixed it myself. I’m not completely useless with a wrench and some plumber’s putty.”
“Good for you. Glad to hear the old place is in good hands.” Archer continued, “And I’m sure you’ll reciprocate my need to be professional and as thorough as possible.”
“Indeed, I do, Detective Vaughn. No room for slovenly performance in a Virginia State Trooper.” Orcenith smiled a greasy smile.
“Excellent! Glad to hear you are amenable to a thorough investigation.”
Dr. Graham’s smile turned into a frown in a flash. “What does that mean, precisely?”
“Precisely, it means that I would like to search this house.”
“For that knife? You have got to be joking.”
“I don’t joke about things like this, Dr. Graham. If you don’t agree, that is absolutely your right…”
“And I do not agree. As a matter of fact, I’d like you to leave this house now.”
“If you object, we can wait. I have requested a search warrant. We’ll wait.”
“I object. I won’t allow it.”
“Well, you would object, wouldn’t you, if you had it here? If you didn’t, I can’t imagine why you would want to prevent it.”
The professor thought this over, sighed loudly and waved his hand, “Alright, then, go ahead and search the house. There isn’t anything for you to find.”
Archer stepped forward and waved toward the settee, “Have a seat Dr. I’ll have someone keep you company.” He nodded to Malone who radioed to the officers still posted outside.
Dr. Graham strode to a settee and sat down with an injured air. His face was drawn. He didn’t look at Archer or the two additional officers who arrived to stay with him while the house was searched.
One of the policemen spoke to Archer, “Station just radioed that the search warrant for the house and property is on the way here.”
“Very good.”
The officer moved close to Archer to privately say, “And Mr. Watkins and Ms. Seamore are in a car with Officer Elliott on the road into the property, about a mile back from the creek.”
Buried Roots Page 21
