Chapter 26
Amy parked her car as far off the road as possible, hoping it wouldn’t be spotted. If she’d found the right place, Eddie’s dad’s house, and hopefully Ben’s daughter, would be at the end of the lane.
With no address posted, not even a mailbox, she had to assume this lane—the only one for miles—was Deer Creek Road, which meant the surrounding property belonged to Larry Green. A sagging gate with a ‘No Trespassing’ blocked the narrow opening in the trees.
Climbing from the car, she approached the gate and crouched, slipping first one leg through the rails then the rest of her body. Once through, she hurried to the cover of the trees, wishing there were more leaves to hide her and her fuchsia jacket. Fall had taken its toll on the aspen and cottonwood trees. Thank goodness for the evergreens.
Her feet crunched on the dry leaves, and Amy froze. Any other time, she would’ve appreciated the beautiful colors of the Autumn leaves, but today, she shivered despite the mild temperature. Breathing in the crisp fall air, she let it out slowly, and attempted to calm her nerves. Zipping her jacket a little higher, she shoved her hands in her pockets and walked down the lane.
Her stomach hardened.I should never have come alone. I’ll take a quick look around. If I find anything concrete, I’ll leave and call Robert.
But she couldn’t get his or anyone else’s hopes up until she knew if Eddie lived on the property she’d found registered in Larry Green’s name. She’d also discovered Gladys Pike had died the day after the accident that killed Melanie Young. After she discovered this information yesterday, she asked Rudy to cover the last two hours of her shift at the sheriff’s office and arranged for one of the morning waitresses to cover for her at the diner so Charity wouldn’t overdo it.
Amy needed to investigate.
With every step, she prayed she’d find the blue Suburban and Cassey. Of course, if she found Cassey she’d find Eddie, and she had no desire to confront him.
This is a stupid idea.Amy thought she’d stopped making stupid decisions.Apparently not.She was too close to turn back now.
Fifty yards down the lane, she rounded a curve in the dirt road and spotted a large, old, wooden barn, long since devoid of any paint. Its tin roof, brown from rust, curled up at one corner, the casualty of severe windstorms. The entire structure leaned precariously to one side.
An empty round corral with several missing poles guarded giant tumbleweeds behind the barn. Not an animal in sight.
Twenty yards to the south of the barn sat a small farmhouse, in desperate need of paint and new shingles. Its screen door hung crookedly on its hinges.
Her trip here last year flashed in her mind. When she and Lance walked down this lane, they’d found Eddie working on the engine of a green van. Lance had gone straight to Eddie, but Amy had spotted Clara in the backyard.
Amy’s gaze shifted to the old, rusted, swing set that looked like it had been there for decades. A single swing—new, blue, plastic—swayed in the breeze. Had it really been Ben’s daughter she’d seen a year ago?
She studied the house and yard for signs of life. An old gray Buick missing both front tires sat on cinder blocks on the far side of the house, surrounded by tumbleweeds. The raised hood created an ominous, gaping mouth with a single headlight hanging from its casing.
The place appeared deserted.
Catching a faint scent of wood smoke, Amy’s gaze jumped to the chimney of the house. She couldn’t see any smoke rising, but the fact she could smell smoke told her someone lived here. Was Eddie trying to live off the grid? Power lines running to the house suggested he wasn’t completely successful. But according to county records, the land was still in his father’s name, making Eddie a difficult man to find.
Will I find him?
Her eyes returned to the barn. If Eddie’s Suburban was here, that’s where it’d be. She spotted a man-door to the right of the large double doors. Hopefully, it wasn’t locked.
She rubbed suddenly damp palms against her jeans.Get in, take a quick look, and get out.
After a final glance around, she darted to the door and slipped into the old barn. Closing the door behind her, she let out the breath she’d been holding and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The small window on the far wall, covered in dirt and cobwebs, let in little light.
She wrinkled her nose as the dank, musty air mingled with mildew and oil hit her. Pressing her back to the door, she shuddered at the scurry of rodents in the dark recesses of the barn. She hated mice and rats.
Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she stepped away from the door.You can do this.
Now that her eyes had adjusted, she focused her gaze on the massive tarp-covered object in the center of the barn. Her heart leapt to her throat. Could this be the evidence she wanted?
Excitement out-weighed caution, and she lifted the tarp, pushing it back to reveal an older-model blue Suburban with a grille guard. Amy’s heart pounded so hard, that if Lance was here, he would hire her to be his new drummer.
This is it!This is the Suburban Robert has searched for.
She was sure of it.
One edge of the grille guard pressed into the radiator, and the corner of the hood was crumpled. But the real damage was to the headlight and its casing. She knelt and peered at the bumper—originally silver, now a dull gray. One end pushed back into the dented frame of the vehicle. Deep scrapes, like an unattended, bloody wound, left an angry scar complete with flecks of red paint.
Amy’s breath came faster as her pulse picked up again. She studied the dents and scrapes and found more red paint around the crumpled headlight. Excited, she pulled out her cell phone. Because of the dimness inside the barn, she used her flash, hoping it wouldn’t distort the colors. She snapped several pictures including one of the front tire. Her untrained eye saw a tread that might match the tracks left in the mud near Melanie’s car.
