Then another, louder creak, and a handful of dirt dropped from between the planks immediately above his head, falling into his hair, fine dust getting in his eyes. A longer groan made him spin around as one of the supporting posts flexed. Or was it just the distorting, flickering effect of the phone’s flashlight?
It was the next noise that made the creaks and groans of the old timbers sound like angels singing sweetly in his ear, made the prospect of being buried alive under a ton of earth and timber something to look forward to—car tires crunching on gravel above his head. The whole ceiling trembled as the car passed, more dirt and dust falling through the cracks. The tunnel had been built in the days when the heaviest thing driving over it would have been a horse and cart. He strained his neck, tried to see through the crack. The angle was all wrong, he couldn’t see a thing.
Two car doors opened at once.
What the hell? Was the realtor showing a prospective purchaser around? Or had Floyd Gray found himself a partner—or maybe taught Marlene how to open the door.
His overactive imagination pictured a finger held against lips, while another pointed at the door he hid behind.
The sudden squawk of a radio from inside the car told him it was none of those things. It was the police. A nosy neighbor must have seen him drive in, drive out and sneak back on foot, then called it in. Thank God he’d hidden his car. He wasn’t doing anything wrong—the back door had been open—it was just he didn’t want to answer a bunch of awkward questions if he didn’t have to.
Footsteps approached the hole, the two cops talking loudly the whole time. He felt them peering in as he had, imagined the curious looks on their faces.
A strong beam of light flicked across the small crack above the door, moving fast, not lingering. He pushed himself hard into the wall. He needn’t have worried, it was already gone. The post he hit creaked under his weight, more dust dropping into his hair.
There was a hissed command.
Shush
The beam of light played more slowly and carefully around the space on the other side of the door.
‘Nothing,’ one of the cops said. ‘There’s a door. Could be a tunnel leads back to the house. Must be right under us.’
They both stamped around on the ground above Evan’s head. More dirt fell through the cracks, wood creaked. Were they trying to feel if the ground moved, or cave some more of it in completely?
‘I’ll try the front, you take the back,’ the other one said.
Evan smiled to himself, feeling smug he’d locked the back door. Shit. He hadn’t tried the front door. It might be unlocked. There was nothing he could do about it now. One of the cops tried the back door, rattled the handle a couple of times. Evan pictured him shining his flashlight through the kitchen window, playing it around the room. He prayed the other one had the same luck, wasn’t at this very moment creeping down the basement stairs.
He was in luck. The two cops met back at their cruiser.
‘Back door’s locked.’
‘Front too.’
Evan took a deep breath, let it out slowly, his heart thumping loud enough for them to hear.
‘Reckon it’s some sicko. Come to get himself a souvenir.’
‘I don’t know. Looks like somebody’s living here. And I saw a half-eaten bone over by the porch.’
‘Could be the critters.’
‘Maybe. I don’t know how whoever’s living here gets in. There’s no sign of a break-in.’
‘You think he’s in there now?’
Evan pictured a shrug, hoped it was accompanied by a bored look on the guy’s face, like who really cares? He was out of luck. The cops were either new and keen or just bored, liked the thought of rousting a vagrant for a bit of fun, maybe dust off the nightsticks.
‘Woman who called it in said the guy drove in, drove out again, then snuck back on foot.’
‘Like he’s up to something. We should take a drive, see if we can find the car. He can’t have left it far. We’ll wait for him there.’
They got back in their cruiser and drove off. Evan prayed they turned left onto the street. He knew they wouldn’t. His luck didn’t work like that. They’d turn right and find the car in two minutes flat now they were looking for it.
He had to get out of here. He made a fast dash down the tunnel and out into the main basement under the house. Nothing fell in on top of him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He kicked away the piece of lumber and swung the false shelf section over the hidden door. He had a feeling in his gut the answer didn’t lie that way. If there was a lower level, it was here, under the house.
He just hadn’t found it yet.
***
THE POLICE CRUISER WAS parked on the shoulder, blocking the entrance to the dirt road where he’d half-hidden his car, as he’d known it would be. The two cops got out and leaned on the hood of their car, arms folded across their chests to show off their big arm muscles to their best effect. They wore identical mirrored aviator sunglasses above the mocking smiles.
‘Like to tell us what you were doing in there?’
There wasn’t any point playing dumb. They’d watched him walk out the driveway of Hendricks’ farm from the comfort of their cruiser.
‘Nothing. Just looking around.’
‘Looking around? Thought you might buy the place, eh? What are you, some sick bastard wants a souvenir?’
His partner rested his hand on his nightstick, fingers flexing.
‘We can give you one if you like. How about a broken nose? That’d be a nice memento.’
The cop came off the hood of the car and poked Evan on the shoulder.
‘You didn’t answer the question. What were you doing?’
Should he tell them who he was? Tell them he was the one brought Hendricks to justice in the first place. They’d never believe him.
Another poke on the shoulder, harder this time.
‘You living there?’
Evan shook his head.
‘Maybe he’s the guy burned down the barns.’
Evan laughed. Everybody knew Matt Faulkner did it, even if nobody could—or wanted—to prove it. Most people, including the police, thought it was good riddance.
‘You think that’s funny, do you?’
‘Maybe he came back to burn down the house too,’ the other one said. ‘Reckon we ought to take this guy in.’
They both took a step towards Evan, getting right in his face. He held up his hands.
‘Whoa. This is getting out of hand. We all know who burned down the barns and it wasn’t me.’
‘Turn around.’
‘I was the one found—’
‘I said turn around.’
His tone implied if he had to say it a third time, Evan would be sorry.
There were lots of things Evan was sorry about, one more wouldn’t make much difference.
The cop gripped Evan’s upper arm, tried to turn him. Evan dug his heels in, didn’t budge. The cop pushed harder, his arm shaking with the effort, his face turning a deep brick red.
‘Turn—’
Evan threw his hand off a little too violently, caught him on the nose with the back of his hand.
It all happened very fast after that.
The other cop’s nightstick was out in a flash. There was a big noisy scuffle, arms and fists flying everywhere, grunts and heavy breathing. A pair of aviator sunglasses dropped on the ground and Evan made damn sure he stomped them into the dirt. He got an elbow in the eye, felt like it cracked his cheekbone. One of the cops got a fat lip. Then Evan was thrown face down on the hood of the cruiser, his face pressed hard into the paintwork, nose bleeding and squashed sideways. One of them leaned on top of him, pinning his arms behind his back, the rank odor of stale sweat coming off him in waves, his breath in Evan’s face smelling of eggs. The other one cuffed him and pulled him upright again.
‘Resisting arrest too,’ the one he’d accidentally hit on the nose said with a smirk.
He had br
ight, mean eyes without the sunglasses. He looked around for them, saw them bent and twisted on the ground, one of the lenses cracked. The smirk evaporated, a scowl taking its place as he picked them up and stuffed them in his pocket.
His partner smiled through his fat lip, touched it gingerly with his finger. He spat noisily on the ground next to Evan’s feet, his eyes on Evan’s as he did it.
Evan spat back, a stream of blood-streaked saliva. Some of it landed on the cop’s perfectly-shined shoe.
The cop stared open-mouthed, looked from his shoe back to Evan’s deadpan face. He took an angry half-step forward. His partner’s arm shot straight out across his chest like a barrier coming down. They looked at each other a long moment, a shall we, shan’t we? silent exchange and settled on a common thought.
Later.
Evan stood there, his eye throbbing, the taste of blood in his mouth as it ran off his top lip. He bit his tongue and waited while they fished his wallet roughly out of his pocket, ripping the lining. He watched as a glimmer of recognition crossed their faces as they read his ID. They both looked up at him.
‘You’re the guy ...’
He nodded, gave him a tight smile.
Well done dickhead.
‘Why the hell didn’t you say so?’
‘I tried. You were too busy not listening.’
‘You shouldn’t have hit me.’
‘It was an accident.’
The guy suddenly grinned, gave a whatcha gonna do shrug.
‘Yeah, I know. Turn around again. Let’s get those off you.’
Evan turned this time, let him take off the cuffs.
‘Sorry about the misunderstanding.’
Evan thought that was a nice word. Misunderstanding. He was sure it would appear in the report if they wrote one up, which he doubted.
‘You’re not the guy living here then?’
‘No.’
‘I suppose not after what happened. So what were you doing?’
It was asked a different way this time, without the accusation. Then the cop answered his own question before Evan got a chance to make something up.
‘You think you missed something last time, eh? Some more bodies.’
He laughed and his partner joined in. It was said as a joke—a joke in very poor taste—but there was more truth in it than he could ever have imagined.
‘I just needed to see the place again.’
The two cops nodded in an understanding way.
‘Last time I was here, I nearly ended up buried alive with the others. It still gives me nightmares. I needed to come back, prove to myself it’s just a house.’
They seemed to buy it.
‘And you don’t have to worry, I wasn’t planning on burning the house down either.’
The cops gave him their we know that smiles. It was just part of the silly misunderstanding. The one that was unlikely to make it onto paper. They got back in their car and drove away. Evan watched it disappear into the distance.
What the hell was he doing here?
Chapter 25
‘NO, DON’T TELL ME.’
‘What are you talking about?’
He leaned backwards and tipped his head to the side, his eyebrows pinched together. He looked her up and down. She looked good but he wasn’t about to tell her.
‘It’s on the tip of my tongue.’
The penny dropped.
‘Knock it off, Buckley, or I’ll go back inside and put on jeans and a T-shirt.’
‘It’s a dress! It is, isn’t it?’
She glared at him trying hard not to laugh, then gave him the once over.
‘Good to see you made the effort. What year was that jacket in fashion?’
It was like water off a duck’s back, she knew that. He could have at least polished his shoes. Or combed his hair.
‘What the hell happened to your eye?’
‘Lipstick too, mmm hmm. It gets better and better.’
‘I said, what happened to your eye?’
‘I’ll tell you later.’
After he’d had the chance to think something up. He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her the truth.
He put a hand on her elbow to lead her down the sidewalk to where he’d parked.
‘You need me to help keep you steady on those heels?’
She ignored him, pulled her arm away, then caught sight of the rental Honda. She stopped dead.
‘I told you, you’re not taking me to dinner in that.’
‘What’s wrong with it? It’s got electric windows and a heater. I think. Besides, what’s the big deal? I buy you breakfast every week.’
‘Breakfast isn’t dinner. You don’t have breakfast at night.’
‘And everybody knows night time is the right time, eh?’
He schmoozed up to her and she pushed him away.
‘Is this a date, is that what you mean?’
She started walking again, towards the Honda.
‘No. This is thank-you for all the tireless work I do on your behalf.’
‘Okay. Just so long as I know the rules before we start. Anyway, we’re picking the Corvette up from my sister’s. I didn’t have time to get it earlier.’
If he hadn’t already been on the other side of the car, she’d have hit him around the head with her bag.
Mitch’s car was parked on the street outside the house when they got there.
‘Your brother-in-law moved back in?’
‘Sort of. He thought about that incident the other night, thought maybe he should stick around for a while.’
‘I mentioned it to the captain. He’s not going to put anybody on it.’
‘It was worth a try.’
He pushed the door open and she went to do the same.
‘You wait here, I won’t be a minute.’
‘You ashamed of me or something?’
He grinned at her, held his reply a little longer than she’d have liked.
‘Not looking like that, I’m not. But if you come in, you won’t get out again. It’ll be Charlotte’s secret recipe meatloaf for you. Bye, bye, fancy restaurant. Come to think of it, I like meatloaf—’
She gave him a shove to get him out the car and was fixing her makeup in the mirror when there was a bang on the window. She looked up and there was Charlotte’s smiling face on the other side of the glass. Behind her, Evan stood with his arms folded, a smug told-you-so grin plastered across his face. Charlotte pulled the door open and Guillory climbed out.
‘You must be Kate. Evan’s told me all about you.’
Guillory was tempted to reach around Charlotte, see if she could get hold of Buckley by the neck, but he was already on his way to get the Corvette from the garage.
‘All good, I hope.’
‘Oh, yes.’
She leaned in closer, not that anyone could have overheard anything as Evan fired up the Corvette.
‘He really likes you.’
‘He said that?’
‘I’m his sister, he doesn’t need to.’
Guillory was sure Charlotte’s heart was in the right place. She felt a warning twinge in her ring finger nonetheless.
‘Do you know what happened to his eye? He won’t tell me.’
‘No, me neither.’
Charlotte shook her head.
‘On your first real date, too. I tried to make him comb his hair.’
‘It’s not—’
‘You have a nice time tonight.’
She leaned in again and Guillory got a waft of meatloaf on her breath this time. Behind her the Corvette rolled down the driveway, the engine throbbing in tune with her head.
‘You can pick up the car tomorrow morning if you like.’
Guillory watched open-mouthed as Charlotte skipped back up the path to the house. A blast on the horn from Evan brought her back to earth. She got in the car and Evan floored it like the little boy in a man’s body that every man is.
‘What have you been saying to your sister about me?�
�
He didn’t look around. Even from the side she could see his grin could’ve swallowed the steering wheel.
‘Don’t worry about it. She gives me the same treatment.’
She shook her head, wishing she hadn’t asked.
‘You were the one wanted to go to dinner. Maybe if you’d worn jeans and a T-shirt she wouldn’t have gotten any ideas—’
One of the things she liked about driving with Buckley was he didn’t have room to move out of the way when he needed a slap.
***
‘YOU WANT TO TELL me what you were doing out at Hendricks’ place today?’
Evan choked on the mouthful of steak he’d just bitten into. She watched him cough and splutter with a self-satisfied smile on her lips, took a sip of her wine. She’d relented on the champagne, didn’t like the stuff anyway.
‘You deliberately waited until my mouth was full before you said that.’
‘The way you eat, there’s not a lot of other options.’
He took a large mouthful of her wine before she could stop him. His glass was empty and they were in one of those places where they put the bottle over on the other side of the room where you can’t reach it yourself.
‘A couple of the patrol guys were talking, saying how they nearly rousted this vagrant, turned out to be the guy who discovered all the bodies. Apparently, he started a fight.’
She paused to see if he’d say anything. He was too busy pretending to catch the waiter’s eye, to get him to bring the wine over.
‘They had to restrain him. The guy got somebody’s elbow in his eye. Turned out it was all just a—’
‘Misunderstanding?’
She beamed at him, glad they were on the same wavelength.
‘That’s exactly the word they used.’
‘It’s a useful word. Saves having to write fuck-up in an official report.’
The waiter arrived with their bottle. Guillory saw from the way Evan was scrutinizing it he thought they’d given some of it to another table as well.
‘The patrol officers said the guy made up some story about having nightmares, needing to confront his demons, that sort of thing. They thought it was pure BS. He was there to burn the place down.’
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