And his mom had needed him—so even though he’d escaped for a few months, Bryan had come right back home. But he’d met Cass then. He’d fallen hard for that woman. And he had never left. Now he was pushing fifty—and didn’t have that many regrets. He loved that woman of his, and the four children she’d given him since.
But he had more ghosts than he ever had back then.
Bryan just stayed right where he was, and waited. Maybe they’d find something this time. And then…he’d sell the damned house, put the ghosts behind him once and for all.
Chapter 5
Miranda stepped outside. The snow had started up again while they'd been in the house—light, barely there, but the sky had that flat gray look that said more was coming.
Bryan Stenson was still in the yard. He hadn't left. She looked at him for a moment, to form her initial impression.
She crossed the sloshy, snow-covered yard to him. Knight was still inside with Pierce, going over the layout of where the bodies had been found one more time. She'd let them have at it. She’d just needed to get outside for a bit. The snow-covered street was really pretty, if she stood back and looked. Without seeing the ghosts inside.
"Mr. Stenson." Miranda held out a hand.
He turned. "Hello, I…”
"I’m Dr. Miranda Talley. I’m a profiler with the Cold Case division of the FBI. I wanted to thank you for coming out today. For letting us in."
"Didn't have much choice. Asher asked."
The man in front of her was long and lean—built along the same lines as Knight, but a little shorter. He had time-weathered features, and a dark tan, and sandy reddish hair not much different than her own hair color. He reminded her of a half dozen ranchers she’d known growing up. That same…look. This man worked outside—even if he was listed as just a landlord on paper. Pierce had mentioned that Stenson did all the repair work to the houses he owned. Pierce seemed to respect this man, a great deal. Pierce trusted him.
Miranda was reserving judgment. At least at this point. But he had an open look around his face, and she saw resignation rather than resentment in the man’s blue eyes. He was attractive, well-kept, and met her gaze directly. All of those characteristics worked together to tell her who he was. At least superficially. She’d learn more about him as time passed. "Still. I know it's not convenient, driving out here in the middle of the day."
"I'm five minutes away, straight up the road. I run an office out of my garage at times. Rest of the time, I got a small property management company on the main drag up town near the theater. I manage a few rentals for family members and people from church. It's not a hardship." He looked back at the house. Then he shook his head. "Besides, I check on the place every week or so anyway. Make sure nobody's broken in, knocked out a window. Easier to keep an eye on it than deal with the damage later. It’s been empty for about three months now. It takes a while to rent it out sometimes. Not sure why I even kept it."
"Is that a problem out here? Break-ins?"
"Not really. But you get the thrill seekers, and the kids at the schools around here talk about ghosts inside. I end up running them off every Halloween. Nothing but trouble. My own girl is obsessed with that kind of stuff.”
"How long have you owned this place?" Miranda asked. She wanted to get him easier in her presence, see if she could get him to open up.
"Twenty-four years. Bought it when I was twenty-four, off an old family friend who was going into the nursing home. It was my fourth place. Lived in it for six months while I fixed everything that was wrong with it."
"That's a bit young to be a landlord."
"I had big plans back then. Buy cheap, fix them up, rent them out. Build something." He shrugged a little. "Didn't quite work out the way I thought it would, but I've still got this one. And a few others around town. Eighteen in total. This one's been the hardest to keep filled. I own the two across the street, and the ones on each side, too." With eighteen rental properties, that was probably a decent, secure living in a town this size in the Midwest. This house was a mid-sized bungalow, perfect for a family. Plenty of room for a couple of kids to grow up. There was a garage behind the house, and an old swing set in the back. She tried to imagine the Gibsons’ children playing out there. She could almost hear the little boy’s laughter.
It sounded a lot like Miranda’s own little boy’s. She shivered, and not just from the cold.
Evil knew no bounds. That was a lesson her grandmother had taught her long ago. Her father, however, had taught her that sometimes you had to be the person to step in and stop that evil whenever you could. Lessons Miranda had long lived by.
"Looks like this is going to stick," she said.
"Probably. They're calling for three or four inches tonight. Welcome to Washington in February."
"I'm from Wyoming originally. I’m used to the snow. It always makes everything look fresh in some ways.”
“Yeah, I guess. Kids like the snow days, but everyone hates the e-learning that comes with it now. I miss old fashioned snow days.”
"Me, too. Snow days were special. Can you tell me about the neighborhood?” Miranda asked. "Anybody still around from back then?”
"A few. Not many." He nodded toward the house on the left. "Mrs. Patterson is still there. She's got to be eighty-four by now. Hardly ever comes outside anymore. Her son checks on her a couple times a week. My wife stops by occasionally, during rough weather. We try to make sure she’s all right. He lives out in the country in Montgomery—and I think she’s in better health than he is, honestly. My oldest boy shoveled her walkway yesterday, but I think all his hard work has been undone."
"She was here when it happened?"
"She was. Don't know how much she saw or heard, though. She wears hearing aids, and goes to bed early.” And he was a man who knew the people in his little community, too. Did his part to take care of them when he could.
