House of Secrets

by Ramona Richards

  “I remember Kitty. Did she have a key to the house?”

  June took a right down a short hallway leading to the pastor’s study and a guest bedroom. “Sure. She was David’s assistant until a few months ago when she married. She married one of Daniel’s cousins, a mechanic I think, and they live up in Franklin, just over the state line.”

  Ray pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and wrote down Kitty’s name. “Was marriage the only reason she left?”

  June glowered over her shoulder at him. “David was a gentleman.”

  Ray’s mouth tightened. “I never implied otherwise. But you obviously know where all the secrets are hidden in this church, if not the county.”

  June opened to door of the study. “A lot of them. But not all. And the ones I know, I don’t talk about.”

  “Kitty and her husband are no longer members here?”

  June nodded. “He already had a church home in Kentucky when they met. Wanted to go where his mama did— Oh, wow.”

  They both stopped and looked around at the wild disarray of David Gallagher’s study. The room, large enough for an expansive cherry desk, visitor chairs and a seating area made up of a couch and a wingback, lay in shambles. Bookcases lined two walls, and many of the books had been pulled out and tossed about the room. The desk had been thoroughly ransacked, with the files, office supplies and personal items yanked out and flung with fury. The top of the desk had been swept clean, and a once-elegant pen set lay smashed and crushed on the floor.

  Signs of June’s interruption of the search also stood out clearly as the tall windows behind the desk bathed the room in dust-filled rays of the morning sun. The cherry credenza sat along one wall, parallel to the desk, and while the four file drawers underneath its polished top had been pulled open, the contents remained untouched.

  Ray moved slowly past June and squatted next to the damaged desk set, barely aware that June had silently followed, standing behind him.

  “What is it?” she asked softly.

  “We processed this room yesterday. Took the pictures. Checked for prints.”

  “And?”

  “I didn’t notice that this had not just been broken. It’s been stomped.”

  “Emotional.”

  “Especially when you’re in a hurry and the owner is already dead. It’s a wasted moment.”

  “Not just anger. Vengeful rage.”

  “So what would a pastor do that would make someone this angry?”

  “Not a pastor.”

  June’s words were so firm and even that Ray stood, turning his attention to her. “How do you mean that?”

  She shook her head slowly. “If something he did made someone this angry, he probably did it as a man outside his profession.”

  “Maybe this anger isn’t really aimed at David. Maybe it’s at whatever the killer was looking for in this house and David just got in the way.”

  June’s chin came up, and her eyes brightened. “David wouldn’t have kept it in here. This is where he counseled people. It would be too public a place to keep something dangerous enough to get him killed.”

  “Did you and JR tell him about the compartments?”

  “JR did once, when they were talking about having enough storage in the house.”

  “Then let’s start with the ones you found. See what turns up.”

  June spun and headed for the bookcase near the door. “Then we’ll have to be methodical about it, or we’ll miss one. There are two in here. But most are on the second and third floors, with a few in the attic.”

  “What about the tunnel?”

  She pointed at him. “Good thought. I know there’s one on the wall with the ladder.”

  Ray scowled, thinking of the narrow descent into the earth beneath the house. “Seriously?”

  June headed for one of the bookcases, where she cleared the remaining books from a shelf and pushed aside a narrow panel at the back. “You wouldn’t believe where some of these things are hidden. After finding fifteen or twenty, JR decided it had been a game to Siegfried Osborne.”

  Ray followed her to what appeared to be a decorative series of beveled insets in the wall behind the desk. June pressed on the edge of one of the bevels near the floor. A door swung open, and she peered up at him. “Flashlight?”

  Ray removed a small but powerful flashlight from his belt and handed it to her. She took it and swung the beam around inside a niche about the size of a small wall safe. Empty.

  She snapped off the light and straightened. “Once we found a bundle of Osborne’s letters. He obsessed over the tiniest things. Paranoid. He saw evil around every corner. Heard voices in the walls and worried about having his ideas copied. He wrote every letter twice, mailing one and keeping a copy. But he was brilliant. He corresponded with architects, artists, writers, politicians, all kinds of people. In one of the letters, he gloated that his wife still had not discovered all his ‘squirrel nests.’ In another, he mentioned that he and the architect for the house had designed more than fifty of them, but there were more than that.”

  “And how many did you and JR find?”

  “Around a hundred.”

  Ray touched her arm as she closed the panel. “There are more still hidden?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure of it.” June froze a second, then her eyes widened. “We kept a list on the kitchen computer, and JR suggested David add to it if he found more.” Ducking around him, June headed back to the converted butler’s pantry. She opened the curtain to let in more light, then pushed the window up.

  “A little fresh air won’t hurt. I can’t believe it still smells so strongly in here.”

  Ray’s brows furrowed. “It is strong, but not unusual for a crime scene.”

  June pulled forward a laptop that had been tucked into a shelf and checked to see if it was still plugged in. “Your men must have overlooked this since it was back in its niche.”

  Ray stood behind her as she booted up the laptop. “Wouldn’t he have changed the password?”

  “We’ll find out.” Silently, they waited as the screen flipped through the start-up process and the dialog box for the password popped up. Carefully, she tapped in the word Immanuel.

  It worked, and June bounced up on her toes. “Yes! We’re in.” Deftly, she maneuvered the mouse around, searching through the folders until she found one labeled “Squirrels.” She opened the folder, which contained several nonsequential numbered documents, as well as one labeled “Squirrel Niches.” She clicked on it.

  “So I guess you started the list.”

  June looked over her shoulder at him. “What?”

  “The file name. Fits you more than JR.”

  June paused, her eyes searching his face. “Really?”

  Ray realized abruptly how much he loved the blue in her eyes when she looked up at him like this, and he took a small step backward, shifting his weight to his left foot. “Really.”

  June grinned. “Yeah. I started it. Seemed appropriate. We numbered them as we found them. The numbered documents are a list of contents that we found. That’s why the numbers seem random. Not every niche held something. In fact, a lot were empty.”

  He pointed at the computer. “Did David add to the main list?”

  She refocused, scrolling down the page. “Yes. Right here, these last five entries are new. I’ll print it off so we will know we’ve hit them all.” The printer began scratching out the page. The paper had just landed in the tray when they heard a hollow popping sound from outside the house. The computer beeped suddenly and the screen went dark.

  June stared at it. “What in the world—?”

  A slice of cold apprehension slid up Ray’s spine. “We’ve lost power.”

  “But why would—?”

  June’s words ended in a scream as the window of the pantry splintered with an explosive crack and the computer screen disintegrated in a shower of sparks.

  SEVEN

  Ray flung his arms around June, his body twisting
away from the window, swinging both of them to the floor. Above their heads, the computer and its shelf splintered wildly, showering them with bits of plastic and wood. June’s scream echoed off the walls, ending suddenly as Ray clamped a hand over her mouth.

  June shuddered, fighting the urge to claw his hand away. Panic sliced through her, and every instinct, every muscle, wanted to fight. As if he knew, Ray tightened his arms around her, his voice low and remarkably calm in her ear.

  “June, be still. Listen. Listen, sweetheart, just listen.”

  He pressed his weight over her, forcing her muscles to relax. The low, repeated words had the intended effect, as her panic-driven tremors eased. “The officers outside are responding. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.”

  June closed her eyes.

  Ray’s voice, almost like a lullaby, continued in her ears. June listened. Shouts from the officers and firefighters still on the scene echoed off the walls of the house. She heard the growl of tires on gravel, the roar of the high-powered engines, the screams of sirens.

  The rush of terror, the gripping panic that had sheared through her, slid away slowly as a sliver of scripture echoed in her mind, a reflection of Ray’s murmured words.

  Be not afraid. In response, a fervent prayer burst through June’s mind. Lord, help me be not afraid. Guide me…us…through this.

  June took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a gentle peace replacing the fear. As it did, Ray’s grip on her eased, as if he knew. She opened her eyes as he moved away and stood, then took his offered hand, letting him pull her to her feet.

  Ray brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “You okay?”

  She nodded, searching his face. The concern in his eyes deepened, and his fingers lingered on a lock of her hair. June’s breath caught in her throat, a sudden awareness of the depth of his affection sweeping over her.

  “Ray! June!” Daniel’s deep bellow jarred them both, and Ray stepped back, his expression shifting to that of a county sheriff on the job, jaw firm, eyes critical and examining.

  June turned away, looking at the remnants of the computer as Daniel skidded into the pantry. She plucked at random pieces that lay spread over the inset workstation.

  “Are y’all hurt?”

  “We’re fine. Anyone injured out there?”

  June listened, her thoughts lingering on the work that had been done on this laptop in the years since JR had installed it. Church records. Sunday-school class projects. Household budgets and inventories.

  Inventories!

  “No, the shots were all aimed at the house. The first one took out the electric meter and the power lines.”

  “Could you tell where the shots were from?”

  June pushed aside two sections of the screen, pulling free the printout of the hidden niches. It had survived the attack.

  “Yeah, they came from that stand of trees on the other side of the church. Two of the guys headed in that direction, two others headed for the road on the far side, to see if they could cut him off.”

  June scanned to the bottom, where David had added five newly found niches. When she reached the last entry, her chest tightened and she felt the blood leave her face.

  “Good. No more word on this case goes out over the radios. Use your cell phones. Even with dispatch. And now, we need to get June out of here, safely. June?”

  June turned to see Daniel and Ray watching her. Ray looked from her face to the paper, then back again. “What is it?”

  “The diaries!” Her voice rasped in her throat. “David found Rosalie’s diaries!”

  “That’s impossible!” Ray refused to believe June’s words. “They’re a myth!”

  “Who’s Rosalie?” asked Daniel.

  June faced Ray, her expression set. “Why would David lie on a document only he had access to?”

  Ray didn’t relent in the face of her logic. “He must have been mistaken. Those dairies don’t exist. They never did.”

  “They must or he wouldn’t have listed them.”

  “Who’s Rosalie?”

  Ray started to respond, but June turned to Daniel, answering his persistent question with a rapid-fire explanation. “Rosalie Osborne, the granddaughter of the original owner of this house.”

  Daniel, who had been born and raised in Bell County, picked up her meaning quickly. “The one who ran away sometime in the mid-eighties?”

  June shook her head and planted her feet firmly, facing the two men. “She disappeared. She did not run away.”

  Ray growled. “June, stick to the facts. Don’t wander off into the rumors and stories high-school kids make up.”

  Daniel touched June’s arm. “Look, this all happened when I was just a baby. Catch me up.”

  Ray narrowed his eyes in warning, but June pushed her hair away from her face and plunged into the story. “When JR and I renovated the house, the contractors were full of tales about Rosalie, how she called the sheriff’s department one night to report that she’d been assaulted. When the officers arrived, the house was standing open, all the lights on, but no Rosalie.”

  “And no signs of any attack,” Ray added.

  Daniel’s eyes widened. “That’s not what the kids spread around when they’re telling spooky stories at campouts.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Seriously? No foul play?”

  “No signs of foul play,” June said. “Her purse was still in the house, the car still in the garage. Nothing seemed to be missing. Everything was neat, clean and tidy.”

  “But Rosalie was gone?”

  “Poof. She was the last surviving heir, so her estate remains unclaimed. There was no will, and no one to declare her deceased. The house became the property of the state due to the back taxes. It remained abandoned until JR and I convinced the church to buy it for the parsonage. Information about the diaries—”

  “Rumors about the diaries,” Ray interjected.

  “—started circulating after Rosalie’s best friend told a reporter that Rosalie wrote down everything that happened in her life, even what she had for breakfast. Combined with the stories about this mysterious man she’d been seeing, who only came to her house at night and no one ever saw her with in public—”

  “She was having an affair?”

  “Daniel, don’t give her ammunition for this wild tale.”

  “—and everyone became convinced she’d been murdered and her body carted off. They believed the diaries would reveal who the man had been.”

  “Probably some hardworking soul out of Nashville who could only get up here at night. They ran off to get married.”

  June scowled at him. He crossed his arms and peered down at her.

  “Well, the rumors I heard were that Rosalie hated being an Osborne and couldn’t wait to get away.”

  Daniel looked confused as he glanced from Ray to June. “So what are the facts in the case?”

  June opened her mouth to speak, but Ray counted off the concrete details on one hand. “Only three. The call was made. The house was open and abandoned. Rosalie Osborne has not been seen or heard from since that night. Everything else is conjecture.”

  “So what about the diaries?”

  Ray and June answered, speaking at the same time.

  “Hidden!”

  “A myth.”

  “So what exactly did David find?”

  Ray and June looked from Daniel to each other, then Ray pointed at the paper in June’s hand. “Only one way to solve this. Where are they?”

  June checked the list. “Third-floor bathroom. Panel inside the linen closet, right side, eye level.” She rolled her shoulders, and Ray saw the weariness in her eyes as she ran her hand through her hair. “No wonder he wouldn’t get the toilet fixed. The pipes run behind that side of the closet.”

  Ray gestured for Daniel to head out the back door. “Rivers, check on what’s going on outside. Find out if they’ve made progress with finding the shooter.”

  Daniel opened his mouth to resp
ond, then glanced from Ray to June, then back again. Abruptly, he nodded. “Yes, sir.” The young man then turned on his heel and left.

  June looked up at Ray. “Is this the part where you tell me I have to leave, for my own good?”

  “Your last twenty-four hours have been rough. Are you okay?”

  He examined her closely. The skin beneath her eyes looked even darker and more drawn than before. She glanced back at the destroyed computer. “Ray, when I was seventeen, my father kicked me out of the house the day my mother died. I was stabbed my first night on the streets, and I spent the day of her funeral in the hospital. I ate out of Dumpsters and soup kitchens. I’ve been in jail. I’ve had worse days.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t ask will you be okay, I asked if you are okay. I think we should get you out of here.”

  June rested her hand on his arm. “I need to do this. Not just for David. For me. And besides, you need me, Ray Taylor. I can locate these hiding places faster than anyone.”

  “What do you need?”

  She squeezed his arm. “Just don’t leave me. I’m getting used to you saving my life.”

  Her grip on his arm felt warm and comforting, as if she were reaching out to him as much as he was toward her. Ray felt something shift deep inside, something he’d been ignoring since she’d insisted they remain only friends.

  He straightened his back and nodded. “I never will. I promise.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Good. So let’s head upstairs. Right?”

  Ray stepped back, indicating that she should lead the way. The list still clutched in her hand, June headed toward the staircase at the front of the house.

  Ray followed June up the main stairs to the third floor. She paused on the landing, pointing out the suddenly narrowed steps that headed up one more story.

  “The third floor was intended as the quarters for the main servants of the first household. Temporary or seasonal employees lived up there, on the top floor, the attic. Hot in summer and frigid in winter. We didn’t find as many niches on this floor and in the attic because ‘servants couldn’t really be trusted with valuables and the attic’s climate was too caustic.’”