The state of disrepair on the structure was evident. The once white paint on the aged clapboard siding was filthy, stained, and dull. Large areas were peeling away to reveal a coat of slate blue beneath, some of which was peeling as well. Along the left front corner, the gutter had separated from the fascia and was hanging several inches below the edge of the roof. The downspout was bent and cocked outward, but still secured to the side of the house. It appeared to be the only thing keeping the trough from crashing to the ground.
Plywood covered the windows on either side of the front door. Before affixing them, someone had actually taken the time to cut the sheets to fit the top arc so that they would be flush against the trim. However, combined with the weathering and fading light, that care in craftsmanship made the boarded up windows appear as a pair of dead eyes, rolling upward into the half story.
Hair prickled along the back of Constance’s neck. The tingling sensation continued the length of her spine as a low moan began to rise in her ears. Her breath caught in her throat and she tensed. In a movement born of pure reflex she hooked her thumb and slid her arm back, smoothly shifting her coat out of the way and brushing her hand against the grip of her Sig Sauer. A heartbeat behind the forlorn sound, its source was revealed when an icy lick of wind caught her hair and whipped it around, stinging as it slapped against her weather-reddened cheeks.
Halfway through closing her fingers on the sidearm she realized what she was doing, and Constance allowed her hand to loosen, then slide slowly back down to her side. She cast a furtive glance around and allowed herself to breathe. The deputy was still in his vehicle and the sheriff had his back to her. Fortunately, it appeared that her moment of weakness had gone unnoticed. The last thing she needed was to look like a wimp in front of them.
“Damn,” Skip muttered.
Constance focused on him as he turned back toward the car. “What’s wrong?”
“I think these batteries are dead,” he complained, hammering the butt of a multi-cell flashlight against the heel of his hand, then clicking the button repeatedly. He frowned at the unlit business end of the torch and huffed, “Weird. I just changed them last week… Well…hang on. Let me borrow Broderick’s.”
The sheriff turned and started toward the other vehicle, but Constance interrupted before he had taken three steps. “That’s okay. We can just do this tomorrow.”
Skip stopped and looked back over the car at her. A curious expression applied itself to his face and he said. “You sure?”
“Yes,” she replied, glancing up at the sky then back down to his face. The wind was still rising and falling, so she reached up and brushed a wayward shock of hair out of her eyes then gave him a thin smile. “Like you were saying, not much daylight left, and we won’t find anything tonight that won’t still be there in the morning.” She shrugged. “Besides, maybe your flashlight being dead is a sign.”
He snorted out a half chuckle. “Yeah… Okay…”
“Trust me, Skip,” she offered. “I’ve seen stranger things.”
He looked at the flashlight, then cocked an eyebrow and regarded her quietly for a handful of seconds. Finally he said, “I’m not sure I even want to know.”
She nodded. “You’re right. You probably don’t.”
The chill dancing along Constance’s spine didn’t really subside until they were almost back to the sheriff’s office near the center of town. As she struggled to shake it off, she didn’t know whether she should be disturbed, embarrassed, or both.
CHAPTER 13
4:49 P.M. – December 22, 2010
Greenleaf Motel
Hulis Township – Northern Missouri
Constance pushed aside the sad remains of what was supposed to have been a Cobb salad. She’d picked it up from That Place on her way to the motel since it had been rapidly approaching dinnertime, and she wasn’t really interested in venturing out once she’d managed to get settled. The salad was edible, but it had been devoid of avocado, shredded Colby had taken the place of the Roquefort cheese, and the only dressing they had was prepackaged pouches of ranch. In reality, Faux Chef Salad would have been a more apt label for it. Hindsight being what it was, she concluded that the meatloaf might have been a better choice.
Stella, the waitress from earlier in the day had handled her order. She’d been courteous enough but never managed to achieve a state that could be construed as friendly. Constance had also experienced much the same reaction from the desk clerk when checking in to her room. Other than Merrie, no one seemed particularly happy about her presence here in Hulis. Even Clovis at the sheriff’s office had been aloof around her, and she still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Carmichael himself.
After digging through her computer case twice, she finally managed to locate an old network cable buried in one of the inner pockets. The motel had boasted Internet access, however, as it turned out it was hardwired only. Apparently the concept of Wi-Fi hadn’t taken hold in this small town just yet. Based on everything else she had seen thus far, she wasn’t overly surprised.
Still, she hoped the cable would work. Actually finding it in the bag was only the first hurdle. She couldn’t remember the last time she had used it and was sure it had been quite some time since it had even seen the light of day. Given the severe crimps in the cable’s length, its condition was definitely suspect.
She crawled around on the floor and located the network receptacle, then plugged in. The connector immediately popped out and fell to the floor. It took three tries before she realized the locking tab on the plastic rectangle, while still hanging on, was severely cracked. She turned the cable around, pushed in the other end, and heard it click. She gave it a slight tug to be sure and let out a sigh when it remained solidly in place. That was the second hurdle. She figured maybe she could just hold the broken end in on the computer while she worked, assuming there was nothing else wrong with it. Backing out from beneath the desk, feeling a bit frustrated with all of these gyrations, she misjudged the distance and banged her head on the underside as she came up.
“Oww,” she yelped, then mumbled, “Dammit…”
Constance stood up, then while rubbing the back of her head with one hand, she pushed the damaged end of the blue cord into the jack on her notebook with the other. It stayed for a half heartbeat then popped out, much as she’d expected. She picked it up and jammed the clear connector back into the side of the computer once again and held it there.
She gave it a thoughtful frown. Working like this was going to be awkward, especially if she had to type anything of length. Hunting and pecking with her left hand wasn’t going to be terribly efficient. She considered walking over to the motel office to see if they had a cable she could borrow, but something told her it would be unlikely. Besides, she didn’t even want to think about putting shoes back on right now, heels or otherwise.
After staring at the problem for a moment she let out a quiet “hmph,” then let go of the connector. She heard it click against the desk as it fell out again, but her attention was elsewhere as she ambled over to the nightstand and opened the top drawer. Fortunately, the Gideons were on top of their game, even in Hulis. She pulled out the hardbound Bible, sauntered back to the small desk, then shoved the cord back into the socket and plopped the heavy book on top of the wire, pushing it up against the back edge of the clear plastic connector. This time it stayed firmly in place, so she pointed at it and mumbled, “don’t even think about moving,” then she carefully pressed the power button on the notebook.