“That’s because they don’t know anything.”
“And retired Detective Ventura.”
“True.”
“So basically we need to find Griffin Jr., bring Tom Grand in for questioning, and find out who the man in black is.”
“Basically.”
“Easy peasy,” said McGaven.
“At least we should find out that the murderer of Meredith and Misty Collins was Bruce Collins and he was murdered inturn. I know the blood on the bat is going to match.” Katie thought about it. “It’s sad no one is going to pay for the brutal murders of mother and daughter.”
McGaven glanced over. “I’d say that Bruce Collins paid the ultimate price.”
After driving another fifteen minutes, McGaven drove up to a trailer park that had been empty for quite some time. He tried to find a level place to park. It was muddy and slippery from the storm. Katie grumbled as she thought it would have been better taking McGaven’s truck or her Jeep. Grabbing her hiking boots from the back seat, she quickly put them on. She was smart enough to have worn khakis and a long-sleeved T-shirt with a quilted jacket over it.
“This is going to be lovely,” she said without inflection.
“Become a police detective: it’ll be fun, they said,” said McGaven, laughing. He also readied his clothes and shoes for the uncomfortable walk and search.
As Katie waited, she took a good look around. There were thirteen single-width trailers, including one that had been burned, showing only a skeleton of what was once a home. She wondered why they were still there and hadn’t been dismantled or cleared out. Some of the trailers were upright and still on their foundations, while others were cockeyed and leaning to the side. Objectively, Katie thought the place might have been nice once, nestled in the trees with a creek down the back. It would have been a good place to get away—go hiking, fishing, and just relax. Now it resembled more of an apocalypse setting.
“This was the last known address for Griffin Jr.?” she said.
“Yep.”
Katie looked around once more. She didn’t see any other cars. “You think anyone’s here?”
“Doesn’t look like it,” he said, grabbing another magazine.
Katie didn’t like the situation they were in, but they had to cross everything off the list. She secured her Glock and backup weapon in her ankle holster. The rain had stopped, but the air was humid and heavy. Everything around the detectives felt like a movie set.
“Ready?” McGaven said.
“As I’ll ever be.” Katie made sure her footing was solid. “How do we find trailer number twelve? There are no numbers anymore.”
“Right. But… they are in a row of thirteen, which means it’s either one trailer in on either end. Two choices.”
She sighed. For some reason Katie felt unlike her usual self. It wasn’t because her sleep was bad; in fact, she had slept well. The cases had been bothering her and maybe she was just annoyed that they were close and could almost touch the clue that would break everything—finally making sense of this Collins family line.
“I’ll go this way,” McGaven said, indicating the trailer at the entrance.
“And I’ll go this way,” she said.
Katie walked down what used to be a road, her hiking boots sinking a couple of inches as she walked. The area was almost completely silent. The only sound she heard was drips of water through the tree branches.
The ground seemed to go uphill a bit and Katie was relieved to be walking on what was left of a gravel path. Each trailer she passed was almost completely dilapidated, making them appear like metal parts, but almost every one of them had some indication that someone had once lived there, with faded stickers, old broken planters, and remnants of doormats. It was as if Katie walked through a ghost town of metal from another time.
Katie glanced back and saw McGaven disappear into the trailer at the other end. Looking at her view, she was glad the last one wasn’t the plausible address due to the fact it wasoff two foundation blocks and would be next to impossible to search.
As luck would have it, there was still a faint outline of a number 12 on the trailer she approached. The front door was gone and there were no steps. Katie took a look around to make sure she wasn’t stepping into a disaster waiting to happen, imagining being pinned down by sheets of metal. She could hear the creek behind the structure, down a small ravine. The recent rain had helped to add water to the stream.
Katie climbed inside. The rotten and moldy stench hit her senses. It was a strong odor even with the missing doors and windows allowing for some ventilation. Still holding to the edge of the doorway, she adjusted her eyes before moving on. The overcast skies made the inside dark. She thought she heard a scraping noise on the outside, stopped and listened, but dismissed it.
Taking another couple of steps, Katie could examine most of the trailer. It was narrow, like a shotgun house, where one room moved into another—the kitchen into the living room and then on to the bedroom. There would be a bathroom area somewhere but it wasn’t obvious.
Katie cautiously moved through the interior. Each step caused a creaking noise underneath her feet. Water was puddled in the corners, obviously due to the recent rain. There was no furniture, only remains of built-in tables and where the bed had once been. Heavy quilts, long rotten, were at the far end of the metal building. She moved toward them.
