Those were Faulkner’s problems. Evan didn’t have any such conflicts of interest. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity. With Hendricks lying low, it was the perfect excuse to nose around his property. Whatever Faulkner might think, Evan reckoned it was worth a more thorough look. Any kind of look would be better than doing nothing like the police.
It was early evening and there were still a couple of hours of daylight left as he drove out to Hendricks’ farm. He drove straight past it and checked for Hendricks’ pickup but the driveway was empty. It could be hidden round the back of the barns, but that was a chance he was going to have to take.
He drove on until he came to a disused farm track about a half mile past Hendricks’ place. It led to a five-bar gate which didn’t look like it had been opened in years, so he backed his car in as far as he could go. He was happy enough it wouldn’t be visible from the road unless someone was specifically looking for it. There was hardly any traffic on the road anyway.
He stuffed a pair of thin cotton gloves into his pocket and felt the reassuring presence of the SIG-Sauer. Then he headed back down the road towards Beau Terre.
Nothing passed him on the road in the time it took him to get there. There was a small stand of Red Maple trees just before he got to Hendricks’ driveway. He made his way towards it. The daylight was draining slowly out of the sky. He was almost invisible standing amongst their trunks. He had a good view of the house and barns as well as most of the yard so he settled in to wait for a while.
Fifteen minutes crept slowly by. He hadn’t seen any lights come on or movement in the house. There could be other rooms on the far side of the house that he couldn’t see, but he was getting a strong impression that the place was deserted.
Suddenly a light came on by the front door. He stiffened and caught his breath, even though he was invisible from the house. He strained to see if he could make out any movement inside the house. Then he relaxed again as he saw the large white cat lightly descend the few steps down from the porch and run off into the bushes. It must have been asleep in the rocker and set off the security light as it headed off for the evening. After a couple of minutes, the light went off again.
He’d given it long enough. He darted quickly across the yard, pulling on the gloves as he went. He tried the front door first. Locked. He headed around to the back. To his amazement the back door was unlocked. Either Hendricks was especially trusting or he’d left in such a hurry he forgot to lock up. Or he was sitting inside in the dark with a shotgun across his knees waiting for unsuspecting intruders.
Evan opened the door carefully and stepped into the kitchen. No Hendricks and no shotgun. The key was in the lock on the inside. He locked the door behind him and dropped the key into his pocket. No point risking anyone creeping up on him. He had an hour of daylight before it got too dark to see without turning on the lights.
First of all, he wanted to check the whole house to make sure it really was empty. Everything in the kitchen was neat and tidy; no dirty dishes in the sink; no trash can overflowing with beer cans. He crossed the room and made his way slowly down the hallway, checking each of the rooms as he passed. Two living rooms, a dining room, a study, all of them empty. If he hadn’t seen Hendricks sitting on his porch three days earlier, he wouldn’t have been able to say if anyone had lived there in the last six months.
There was a door under the stairs leading down to the cellar. He’d have to turn the light on to see anything down there, so there wasn’t any point wasting any of the daylight doing it now.
He crept up the stairs. His mouth was dry and he had an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was almost as bad as kicking down motel doors. Luckily nothing creaked under his weight in the solid old house. He reached a large landing with four bedrooms and a bathroom leading off it. He checked the bathroom first and then the two smaller bedrooms. No sign of life.
That left the master bedroom and what was probably a guest room. He checked the guest room first, leaving Hendricks’s room until last. Somebody was obviously living in it. The bed was neatly made with what he thought were called hospital corners, and it had definitely been slept in. There were a couple of pairs of men’s pants, a dark blue blazer and half a dozen shirts hanging in the closet, all of them clean and pressed. He looked under the bed and saw two pairs of shoes. He pulled the nearest pair out. It was a pair of meticulously shined black Oxfords. Looking down at the gleaming toe caps and the orderly way the clothes were hanging in the closet, he wondered if the visitor was one of Hendricks’s buddies from the army, the ones he went to prison with. Perhaps he lived here. There was some underwear and T-shirts in the drawers—even the T-shirts were ironed and folded like they were still on the shelf in the store—and some other stuff that was of no interest. No porn in the nightstand drawer but no crucifix above the bed either.
There was a shoe box on the top shelf in the closet. Evan got in down but it was empty. Something about it smelled familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. Then it came to him. Gun oil. He took the SIG-Sauer out of his pocket and sniffed it. It had the exact same smell. So whoever the gun belonged to was carrying it around with him.
He moved on to Hendricks’s bedroom. It was the largest, at the front, overlooking the driveway and the road and then the fields beyond that. The low sun slanted across the crops and Evan stood at the window admiring the view, thinking how unfair it was that Hendricks lived in such a lovely house.
The peaceful silence of the evening was broken by the sound of a car coming down the road. He stepped back from the window slightly, not that anyone would have been able to see him. The car kept coming and then, to his horror, he saw it slow down and swing into Hendricks’s driveway. It was a blue Crown Vic, unmistakably a police car, unless someone had bought a used one on ebay. Damn, it must be Guillory. Where the hell’s she been all this time?
He watched it park and saw Guillory climb out from the driver’s side. Then the passenger door swung open and her partner, Ryder, got out. He stretched and hitched up his belt. His gut wobbled like something just turned out of a Jell-O mold. Evan would have loved to see his ugly head explode in a cloud of red mist as Hendricks or his buddy shot him from the rooftops, but it didn’t happen. Maybe another day.
Guillory walked up the steps onto the porch and disappeared from Evan’s view. The security light came on again and lit up Ryder’s face as he squinted up at the window. Evan froze and held his breath, even though there was no way Ryder could see anything with the light in his eyes. Suddenly Ryder looked back down at his feet. The white cat had come back. It was rubbing itself up against his leg leaving white fur all over his pants. He half kicked, half pushed it away with the side of his foot. It howled and hissed, then shot off across the yard. He glanced briefly up at the window one last time, then headed around to the back.
Evan relaxed. He let out his breath slowly, feeling his heartbeat subside. Without warning Guillory hammered on the front door like she was trying to break it down. His pulse leapt crazily, his heart in his mouth. He felt like a cornered rat. Then Ryder tried the back door. When it didn’t open he shook it violently a couple of times before giving up. Thank God I locked it from the inside, he thought. He could have talked Guillory around, but Ryder would most likely have shot him first and asked questions later before she could stop him. And thank God he’d parked out of sight half a mile away.
Guillory hammered on the door a while longer, then came back down the steps and walked around to join Ryder. Evan heard them talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Luckily, they didn’t seem to think the house was worth any more attention and walked towards the barns.
They disappeared from sight again. Evan ran towards the back of the house to get a better view. There was a faded Persian rug on the polished wood floor of the landing. Generally, it stayed put when a person walked over it in a normal, sedate manner. But not when Evan ran across it. It slipped under him, sent him crashing into
the door frame of the back bedroom, his damaged ear smacking right into the sharp wooden edge. He gasped and clamped a hand to his ear as he stumbled forward into the room, then lost his balance and fell flat on his face in front of the window. It sounded like a herd of buffalo had just invaded the house.
He lay on the floor, hardly daring to breathe. He wanted to peek out the window to see if they had heard anything. All he could do was wait and see if they came back to the house again. He couldn’t hear them at all, but that might mean they’d drawn their pistols and were stealthily approaching the house. He loved having such a vivid imagination. And his ear hurt like hell.
Outside, one of them laughed and the other one joined in. You wouldn’t do that if you suspected there was someone hiding out inside the house, would you? Unless one of them had said they were going to shoot whoever was in the house in the butt, and the other one laughed and said no, shoot him in the balls. Police humor.
He risked taking a look. He slowly got himself onto his knees, backed away from the window and straightened up until he could see over the sill. Guillory and Ryder were both standing in front of the larger barn with their backs to him. They were fiddling with the padlock on the doors. Evan moved forward and across to the side of the window where he could see better. The light was fading fast now so he didn’t have to worry about being seen.
Ryder pulled the padlock free and opened the barn doors. Hendricks’ pickup was inside. Either he owned another vehicle or his army buddy was driving. Or he was holed up somewhere nearby where he didn’t need a car. Guillory found the light switch. Evan watched them go inside and look around. From inside the house he couldn’t see anything else in there, but he couldn’t see all the way to the back wall. It didn’t seem like there was anything of any interest in there anyway because they came back out again in under two minutes. Guillory turned out the light and then closed and padlocked the doors.
They walked across to the smaller barn and tried the padlock on that too. It was clearly more of a challenge than the other one. They gave up after a couple of minutes. A bit of gentle persuasion was okay it seemed, but not shooting the lock off. Besides, it’s difficult to relock a padlock that you’ve just shot off. They had a quick conversation and started back towards their car.
Now, Evan thought, now’s the time for your head to explode with bits of bone and brain matter and blood flying everywhere. It didn’t happen this time either, but he enjoyed the mental picture he had. They didn’t even give the house another look as they passed it. Evan walked carefully back to the front of the house in time to see them get into their car and drive away.
Chapter 36
HE SLUMPED DOWN INTO a rocking chair in the corner of Hendricks’ bedroom, wondering what to do next. It was now too dark to do anything useful without turning on the lights. After Guillory and Ryder’s visit he didn’t feel comfortable doing that. Driving away could be a ploy. They might come back. Then he remembered the basement. The lights turned on down there wouldn’t be visible from outside. It was probably his best bet anyway—wasn’t that where the bodies were always buried?
He went back downstairs to the basement door. The house was eerily quiet. It seemed very different in the dark. He felt for the comforting presence of the SIG-Sauer. He patted his pocket—nothing. He patted the other one—again, nothing. A frisson of panic went through him. It must have fallen out when I fell. He turned around, started back up the stairs. A number of the treads creaked as he stepped on them, sending a shiver across his skin. They hadn’t creaked before. At the top of the stairs he groped his way round the wall to the doorway he’d crashed into. His ear throbbed in sympathy. He got down on his hands and knees and explored the area immediately around the doorway. No gun. It must be in the bedroom. He did a methodical sweep across the floor starting at the door and moving towards the window, but still couldn’t find it. Under the bed? He got down on his belly and slithered underneath. Sure enough, he felt it in the furthest corner. It had come to rest against a pile of other junk. If he’d had some light he might have had a look to see what was under there. But not in the dark. From the smell he’d have said there was at least one successfully deployed mousetrap with its decomposing victim. It didn’t make him want to feel around blindly.
He slid back out with the gun in his hand feeling much better. He didn’t want to lose Faulkner’s property, after all. Straightening up onto his knees, he glanced out the window, did a double take. There was a sliver of light showing under the doors to the smaller barn. Then it was gone. Had he imagined it? It hadn’t been on before. Guillory and Ryder would have noticed. But how was it possible for someone to be in there, if the doors were padlocked from the outside? There must be another door. Guillory and her partner should have checked. He’d have a word with Guillory about her sloppy work next time he saw her.
What should he do now? He could phone Guillory and pretend that he’d just got there and seen the light. Perhaps he should go down to check first, see if there really was another door. He might be able to lock it from the outside so that whoever was inside—Hendricks presumably—couldn’t escape.
He pushed himself half way to his feet and froze like a mouse under a cat’s paw. A faint noise came from downstairs. He held his breath and listened. The low rumble of two voices. Had Guillory and Ryder sneaked back on foot? But it was coming from somewhere inside the house, and he hadn’t heard the door open. He’d checked all the rooms—except the basement. Had they been down there all the time? It wasn’t possible. They’d have heard him, especially when he fell. He was trapped. Even if they stayed in the basement, they would hear him if he tried to sneak back downstairs. The stairs would creak for sure if he did.
Any kind of decision was abruptly taken out of his hands as he heard the unmistakable sound of the basement door opening. He fought to control the panic that rose up inside him. He dropped back to his knees by the side of the bed. As quietly as he could he lowered himself down onto his belly and slid back under the bed, turning his head so that he could see out. From where he was he saw the rug still rucked up on the landing. Shit. He couldn’t do anything about it now. He wormed his way in as far as he could go, brushed something soft with the back of his head. The smell of rotting rodent assaulted his nasal passages and made him want to retch.
The light over the stairwell suddenly came on. Someone heavy started up the stairs. Evan drew himself further back under the bed. He touched something else with the back of his head and heard the snap of another mousetrap going off. The unexpected noise made him jerk his head away, banging the wooden slats supporting the mattress. It sounded like a thunderclap to his hyper-sensitive nerves.
‘Hey Jason, I just need to get something from my room before we go,’ a voice he didn’t recognize called.
The voice didn’t seem to have heard anything.
‘For Christ’s sake, I’ve told you it’s Carl now,’ he heard Hendricks reply with obvious irritation in his voice. ‘Do I have to wear a name badge?’
‘Yeah, right. Sorry, I keep forgetting.’
The voice had reached the top of the stairs. Evan couldn’t see his face from where he was lying, just his feet and the legs from the knees down.
‘Jas . . . Carl, what’s been going on with the rug up here?’ the voice called.
Evan closed his eyes, prayed silently to a God he didn’t believe in.
‘What the hell are you talking about? We haven’t got time for housework. Just get what you need and get back down here. We need to go.’
The guy grumbled something under his breath. It sounded a lot like dickhead. He went into the room that Evan had searched earlier. The light went on. A drawer opened. Evan couldn’t remember seeing anything more important than clean underwear in them but he might have missed something. The light went off again and the guy came back onto the landing and stopped dead.
Evan stared at the feet facing towards him, held his breath. The dust under the bed was irritating his nose. Now was not a good time
to sneeze. The guy must be able to hear his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Had he seen something else? Blood smeared on the door frame? Seconds passed. What on earth was he doing? His feet hadn’t moved. Then the soft rustle of a hand pushed cautiously into a pocket. Had he pulled out his gun?
The tickle in Evan’s nose was unbearable. He was about to sneeze any second. It was building inexorably towards its explosive climax. Carefully he turned his head to face the floor and pressed his nose into it. He forgot it was broken. A sharp stab of pain made him gasp.
‘Did you say something?’ the guy called down the stairs.
‘No, I did not say anything,’ Hendricks’ taut voice came back. ‘What the hell are you doing up there?’
Evan heard him step onto the bottom tread, imagined him peering upwards, trying to see what his friend was doing. He stepped up onto the second tread.
‘I heard something,’ the one on the landing said.
A heavy sigh from downstairs.
‘It’s just mice. The place is alive with them.’
Evan’s throat was closed tight. His heart felt as if two cold hands had taken hold of it, squeezing hard.
‘No. I know what a mouse sounds like. This was like someone sucking in air.’
The hands squeezed harder.
‘It’s just the wind, for Christ’s sake. It’s an old house. Or maybe it’s a ghost.’
The guy didn’t reply. Evan imagined him standing stock-still, head cocked to the side, not breathing.
‘Maybe you’re right. I’m coming.’
But then the guy’s OCD kicked in. Despite Hendricks’ increasing impatience, he couldn’t just walk past the rug. He tried to straighten it with his foot, but made it worse. He dropped to one knee, leaned forwards and spread his hands out on the rumpled folds to smooth them.
Evan stared at the top of his head pointing directly at him. If the guy raised his head six inches they’d be staring into each other’s eyes. Evan’s left eye twitched, then his nose wrinkled.
The Evan Buckley Thrillers: Books 1 - 4 (Evan Buckley Thrillers Boxsets) Page 19