IN the fresh light of morning, the house at 632 Evergreen Lane on the north side of Hulis Township was still a simple one and one-half story bungalow, sitting on an average-sized lot, with a bare-branched, somewhat malformed pin oak tree rising out of the front yard. The white paint on the clapboard siding was still dull and peeling, and the gutter was still separated from the fascia on the left front corner; and it was still held up only by the grace of the downspout that was barely clinging to the wall itself. And the weathered plywood was still covering the windows.
However, now the old dormant tree looked like nothing more than an old dormant tree. The house looked like nothing more than an old abandoned house, and the plywood looked like nothing more than what it was-weathered plywood covering windows.
And just as the light had washed away the eerie shadows, it also revealed a few other salient issues, such as the glass missing from the storm door, some absent shingles, and a desperate need for tuck pointing on the brick chimney.
However, the one thing that truly stood out to Constance was that in this light, the house gave no outward indication of the horrors that had occurred inside over the years. Still, even that fact couldn’t keep the uncomfortable prickling sensation from crawling across the back of her neck once again.
They had pulled in and parked behind a patrol car that was already in front of the house. After climbing out of his own cruiser, the sheriff ambled over to the driver’s side of the first vehicle while Constance waited in the yard. The deputy inside rolled down her window as he approached.
“Morning, Skip,” she said.
“Mornin’, Mel,” he replied. “Thought Johnson was supposed to relieve you around seven?”
“Clovis radioed. His kid’s sick and he’s running late,” she replied.
“Ahh, okay,” he grunted. “Didn’t know. Haven’t been by the office yet this morning. So, all quiet I guess?”
“Just like always,” Mel replied then nodded toward the yard where Constance was standing. “That the Fed? Clovis said they sent another new one this time.”
He rested an arm on top of the car and leaned in a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Yeah. Gotta do the annual tour.”
“Think she’ll figure it out?”
“Guess we’ll see. Not holdin’ my breath, but I gotta say, she’s different from the others. So… Maybe…”
“Different how?”
He shrugged with his eyebrows and continued to keep his voice low. “Just somethin’ about her seems a little driven.”
Mel glanced toward Constance, who was standing in the center of the yard with her back to them as she visually inspected the exterior of the house. Turning back to Skip she said, “So… Have you told her anything?”
Carmichael gave his head a small shake. “Just the official spiel, like always.”
“But if she’s really different-” Mel began.
He cut her off. “Different doesn’t mean she’ll believe… Nope… Better to just let things take their course…”
The deputy nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“Believe me, I know how you feel, Mel,” Skip offered in a fatherly tone. “It sure wouldn’t hurt my feelings to get an answer to all this either… Just don’t wanna get too hopeful, you know?”
“Yeah, Skip. I know.”
He shrugged, then straightened his posture and hitched up his belt. After repositioning the flashlight he was carrying tucked under his armpit, he nodded toward the house. When he spoke, he allowed his voice to return to a normal volume. “I expect we’re gonna be here for a bit. Why don’t you go grab some breakfast, and maybe Johnson’ll be in by the time we’re done, and that way you can go home.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Mel replied, reaching for the steering column and cranking the engine on the patrol car. “Thanks, Skip. I’ll swing back by in a bit, unless I hear from you or Clovis.”
“Sounds good.”
The sheriff took a step back and waited for the car to drive off before meandering over to join Constance on the overgrown concrete walkway somewhere near the center of the yard.
“Everything okay?” she asked as he drew up alongside her.
“Yeah, nothing earth shattering,” he grunted as they began walking toward the house. “Got a deputy with a sick kid. Might mean rearranging some schedules.”
She nodded. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself to the deputy. I’m just not feeling overly social this morning.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he replied, motioning for her to go ahead up the stairs. “All she’s interested in right now is hitting the sack.”
“I can imagine.”
“I see you took my advice,” Skip said, nodding toward the porch in front of Constance as he stepped up and dug a hand into his coat pocket.
“What? Oh…” Constance replied, glancing down at the running shoes that were laced onto her feet. Looking back up, she cocked her head to the side. “No offense, Skip, but you seem to have an odd preoccupation with my footwear.”
“I just notice things is all,” he told her with a shrug. He pulled out a key ring, then clucking his tongue, he waved it toward her like a pointer. “For instance, the fact that you also have a goose egg on the back of your head, probably from hitting it against the desk in your room last night when you were plugging in your laptop computer to the Internet. Plus you’re expecting a call from someone and it’s starting to bother you that he hasn’t called yet.”
She cocked an eyebrow and stared at him.
He answered the unspoken question, continuing to gesture with the keys. “You keep reaching up to touch a spot on the back of your head and then you wince. You probably don’t even realize you’re doing it. You’re a federal cop on a case, so I’m just about positive you’re dragging a laptop computer around. Greenleaf Motel doesn’t do Wi-Fi because Artie’s too cheap to buy the equipment, and the jack for the wired connection is under the desks in the rooms. Hell, the only reason he has wired connections is because his son’s an electronics guy and he did it for free with some surplus from other jobs. So if I had to guess I’d say you came up too soon and bang, there you go. Goose egg.”
He pointed toward her right coat pocket and continued. “As far as the call goes, you checked your cell phone four times on the way over here and at least twice while I was talking to Deputy Slozar. Either you have a fascination with clocks, or your waiting for a call, or maybe a text.”
“Okay. So how do you know it’s a he I’m waiting for?”
“Educated guess. I’ve told you, this isn’t my first rodeo. Every one of your predecessors called their predecessor about this case. And every one of ‘em was all antsy waitin’ for a call back. Last agent on this was Drew, and he’s a ‘he,’ best I could figure. My guess is that’s who you’re waitin’ on to call. Either that or a boyfriend. Maybe husband, but I doubt it because you don’t have a ring or show any signs of having worn one. Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe you go the other way or somethin’, which is none of my business.”
“If I did, I have a feeling you probably would have already figured it out,” Constance said.
“Yeah, probably,” he returned.
She sighed. “Uncanny. That’s all I have to say.”
“Nope. I just pay attention is all.”
“Okay. Then I guess it would be uncanny if you could tell me what I ate for dinner last night,” she joked.
“Cobb salad with ranch dressing. In your room at the motel.”
She shot him an alarmed, wide-eyed stare and took a visible step back, tensing her posture.
“Keep it holstered, Constance,” the sheriff half snorted. “I’m not spying on you. Stella told me your to-go order this morning when I stopped in to get the thermos filled.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because you’re a stranger in town and she’s a damn gossip that won’t shut up to save her life, that’s why,” he explained.