Ruckman Road: An Alex Penfield Novel

by Robert W. Stephens

  She walked around the house. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for exactly. All of the windows were shut. The large metal door that led to the basement was also closed. Nothing looked disturbed. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

  She walked around to the front of the house. She fished Joe’s keys out of her jacket pocket and unlocked the front door. She hesitated before going inside. She just stood in the door’s threshold and listened. All she could hear, though, was the wind outside. The inside of the home was completely silent.

  Hannah reached inside the living room for the light switch. She found it right beside the door. The ceiling fan’s lights illuminated the empty room. Hannah walked inside and shut the door behind her. She turned the deadbolt and walked toward the staircase and looked up the stairs to the second floor. It was bathed in darkness, and she couldn’t see anything. She suddenly heard a groan but quickly realized it was just the house’s heating system kicking on.

  Hannah walked into the kitchen. Everything looked normal. There weren’t a lot of kitchen appliances. She checked most of the drawers but didn’t find much more than a few forks, knives, and spoons, as well as a bottle opener. It was classic Joe. He wasn’t a cook, and he lived off fast food and takeout pizza, despite her telling him a million times how unhealthy his diet was.

  She opened the refrigerator. Sure enough, she immediately saw a Papa Johns’ pizza box, a six-pack of beer that only had two beers left, and a half-full, two-liter bottle of Coke. There were no vegetables, fruits, or even orange juice.

  Hannah shut the refrigerator door and walked into the den. She sat down on the sofa. She looked at the table and saw the desktop computer. She knew she needed to eventually go through the video files, but fatigue had caught up with her again. She wondered if she should go upstairs to Joe’s bedroom but felt weird about it. She knew he wouldn’t mind her using his bed, but she laid down on the sofa instead. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and she got up after tossing and turning for several minutes. She left the den and walked upstairs. She stopped at the top of the stairs. The hallway was completely dark, and she couldn’t find a light switch on the wall. She remembered Joe’s bedroom was to the right of the second-floor landing. She walked slowly across the landing and found the entrance to his bedroom. She made her way over to the bed and climbed on top of the covers. Despite the wind rattling the bedroom windows, she was asleep within a few seconds.

  Hannah awoke from a combination of the morning sun streaming into the room, as well as her body shaking. She was freezing, despite still wearing her winter jacket. It was an old house, though, and she thought the heating system might have broken sometime during the night. She climbed out of bed and walked over to a heating vent. She held her hand up to the vent in the ceiling. She felt warm air coming from the vent, but the room was still cold. It made no sense.

  She walked out of the bedroom and noticed the air was even colder on the landing. She walked down the stairs. It got colder with each step she took. She made her way to the first floor but stopped at the bottom of the steps. Every window in the living room was open. Her eyes darted to the front door. It was still shut, and the deadbolt was still turned to the locked position. Hannah walked through the living room and into the kitchen. The one window above the sink was also open. She entered the den and saw its three windows were open. A strong burst of wind hit again, and the cold air flooded into the house, causing her to shake once more. There was no mistaking the obvious truth. Someone had been in the house while she slept.

  Several miles away from Fort Monroe, Penfield woke up. His neck hurt from having slept in a weird position on the sofa. His tall frame was really too long for the small sofa, but that seldom stopped him from sleeping on it from time to time. He looked at the clock just below the television. He still had a few more hours to sleep. Penfield looked at the laptop in front of him. The screen had gone black after entering the screensaver mode. He couldn’t remember how many videos he’d watched. He would have to pick it up later that day.

  Penfield peeled himself off the sofa and stumbled toward the bedroom. He entered his room and slipped under the bed covers. The room was cold, and he pulled the blanket tighter around his body. It did little to warm him, though. He closed his eyes and was moments from falling back asleep when he heard footsteps enter his room. They were clear and unmistakable.

  His mind was fuzzy from sleep, and he struggled to remember where he’d left his gun. He usually kept it on the nightstand, but he didn’t recall bringing it into the bedroom with him. Then he remembered it was on the kitchen table. He’d taken off his shoulder holster and placed it and the gun on the table right before he made himself dinner. Penfield kept a baseball bat just under the bed as a backup weapon. Hopefully, he’d be able to reach it in time.

  Penfield rolled over and looked across the room. He saw a shadowy figure standing in the doorway. He had no way of getting past the person and running to his gun. He would have to rely on the baseball bat. He looked at the person’s hands but didn’t see any weapon. Maybe they had a weapon tucked in the back of their pants.

  The figure stepped inside the room, and the light from the street lamp outside partially illuminated the person’s face. It was Patricia Porter. Penfield had no idea how this was possible. Her throat was still slit, and her shirt was covered with what Penfield assumed was her blood. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a low moan came out. She tried to speak again, and this time blood flowed out of her mouth and down her neck. It was a horrifying sight.

  Penfield awoke a second time. Sweat gleaned across his forehead. Confused, he looked at his surroundings. He was not in his bedroom. There was no Patricia Porter. He was still on the sofa. He looked out the window and saw the sun had recently come up. It was low in the sky, and its light had just come over the trees that lined the back of his house.

  His cell phone vibrated a second later on the table in front of him. He assumed it was Torres, but then he noticed the California area code.

  Penfield arrived at the Talbot house just seconds before Torres did. He’d called her on his way to see Hannah. He found Hannah sitting in her car when he pulled into the parking lot. She got out of her car when she saw him arrive. She ran over to him and hugged him. She could no longer hold the tears back. The flood of emotions she’d kept bottled inside for the last two days broke loose.

  “I should have been there for him,” she cried.

  “You couldn’t have known,” Penfield said.

  “I was in meetings all day while my brother was dying. He was breathing his last breaths, and I was in a goddamned meeting.”

  Penfield didn’t know how to respond. He remained silent but held her tighter. He did take notice of her comment that her brother was dying. Something had happened during the night to make her realize her brother was gone. Maybe it was just the passing of time. Maybe it was something else.

  Hannah was still sobbing by the time Torres arrived and walked up to them. Hannah didn’t take notice of the detective. She kept her face buried in Penfield’s chest. He glanced at Torres, but he couldn’t interpret the look on her face. She seemed annoyed, but he didn’t know why that would be. This wasn’t the first time they’d had to comfort a grieving family member.

  Hannah finely calmed down after several minutes. Penfield told her to get back into her car, and he and Torres walked over to the house.

  “I don’t even know what to say about that,” Torres said.

  “She’s under enormous pressure. You know that.”

  “Still.”

  Penfield looked at her as they made their way down the sidewalk. He wasn’t sure what Torres meant, but he decided to drop it. They had other things to worry about.

  They found the front door wide open, which made sense since Hannah had told Penfield she’d run out of the house after seeing the opened windows. They did a thorough search of the house, including the basement and attic, but found no one. There was nothing different about the house except the opened
windows. Torres walked over to the nearest window. It was open, but the window screen from the storm window was still closed. The glass from the storm window had been pushed up, which allowed the cold air to blow through the screen.

  “We should dust these for fingerprints,” Torres said.

  Penfield nodded.

  “But can you imagine how many people have been through these houses?” he asked.

  “True, but maybe something will pop up in AFIS,” Torres said, referring to the station’s Automated Fingerprint Identification System.

  There was always a good chance a perpetrator would already have had run-ins with the law. It seemed to be a universal law with criminals of all types. They seldom committed just one crime. Penfield knew it was a long shot they’d find the right person, but it would be irresponsible to not even try. Penfield called in a team to pull prints from the windows while Torres walked back to the parking lot. She told Hannah what their plans were and encouraged her to go back to the hotel to get some needed rest.

  The crime scene technicians were there in under an hour. The windows had several useable prints each, as Penfield had predicted. There were so many windows, however, that it took them a few hours to collect all of the prints.

  “Thanks,” Penfield told one of the crime scene techs as he packed up his gear.

  “Anytime,” the tech responded.

  Penfield and Torres watched the two technicians leave. Penfield looked at his watch. It still wasn’t even noon, but they’d already been at the house for a few hours.

  “Do you think she did this herself?” Torres asked.

  “Opened the windows?”

  Torres nodded.

  “Why would she do that?” Penfield asked.

  “For your attention.”

  Penfield didn’t respond. He’d seen people fabricate things before to get the police’s attention, but he had no way of knowing at this point if Hannah was one of them. On the other hand, if she were trying to get their attention, wouldn’t she do something more dramatic?

  “You saw how she was in the parking lot,” Torres said.

  “You think her breakdown was for attention?” Penfield asked.

  Torres looked away. Penfield walked over to the nearest window and tried to lower it. The heavy window creaked and groaned. The window track felt slightly off balance, as if the old wooden window was in danger of coming off the groves and becoming hopelessly jammed. Penfield managed to get it closed with a little maneuvering. He struggled again, though, to get the window lock turned. It was caked with what looked like several layers of old paint, and Penfield smacked it with the palm of his hand a few times to get it to move.

  The next few windows were all stiff like the first one, but he eventually got them shut. He pulled his injured side on the next window, though. It refused to budge, and he gave it a firm tug. The movement was enough to send waves of pain racing through his side. Torres noticed his pained expression.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Yeah, fine,” he said, but it was obvious to her that he wasn’t.

  He leaned against the wall and waited for the pain to ease. He felt the beads of sweat form on his brow. Torres walked over to the window and tried to shut it. It wouldn’t move for her, either. Penfield watched her efforts but didn’t say anything. Torres moved to the next window, but that one wouldn’t close either. Ultimately, there were five windows throughout the various rooms on the first floor that wouldn’t move an inch.

  “You still think she did this herself?” Penfield asked.

  “So how did someone else get inside and open these? He or she must have caused a racket. How did Hannah not hear it?”

  “She said she hadn’t slept in a couple of days. A marching band probably couldn’t have woken her,” Penfield said.

  “Why are you so quick to defend her?” Torres asked.

  “I’m not. I just don’t understand why you keep pointing the finger at her.”

  Penfield walked away and tried one of the open windows again. It still wouldn’t move. He stood in front of the opening and used the winter air to cool his body down. He heard Torres’ footsteps moving away from him. He turned and saw her walk toward the open front door. He leaned against the wall and wondered if he and Torres had just had their first argument after working together for several years. The whole thing seemed absurd. He couldn’t believe they had debated over whether Hannah had opened the windows herself and then called him to say the windows were open. What was Torres thinking?

  Penfield pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Amy at the FMA. She sent two maintenance workers over. He watched them struggle to close the windows, too. They were only able to accomplish the task after spraying a good deal of WD-40 on the window tracks. They eventually got all the windows closed and locked. Penfield thanked them. He waited for them to leave and then walked to the corner of the living room. He looked up at one of the cameras near the ceiling, which pointed toward the front door.

  “Is this why he installed those things?” Torres asked.

  Penfield turned around and saw Torres standing in the doorway. She entered the house and walked toward him.

  “It makes sense, but why would he also put cameras on the other floors, especially the third floor? Who the hell is going to go through those windows?” Penfield asked.

  “There’s the fire escape. Maybe someone climbed up it and went through the windows.”

  “True, but they’d also have to scale the roof to get to the windows in the other rooms that had cameras. Doesn’t seem worth the risk. That would be a helluva fall,” Penfield said.

  “And why not call your landlord and let them know someone’s been breaking into the house? Why spend all that time and money installing your own security system. He was bound to know there was a security firm on-site. You’d think he’d have flagged one of them down and said something,” Torres said.

  Penfield looked around the room. All the windows were shut, and everything was secure for the time being. The house was finally beginning to warm up again.

  “I guess there’s nothing else to be done here,” Penfield said.

  Penfield walked past Torres and headed for the door.

  “Pen,” Torres said.

  Penfield stopped and turned back to Torres.

  “I’m sorry I was angry with you,” Torres said. “I just don’t feel well.”

  “What’s wrong?” Penfield asked.

  “Headache. I woke up with it, and it’s killing me. I think it’s the weather. Maybe a storm’s coming or something.”

  “It’s no big deal. I hope you feel better.”

  Penfield turned and walked out of the house. Torres stood in the center of the living room and watched him exit.

  Chapter 10

  The Chair in the Attic

  Hannah went straight back to her hotel as Detective Torres had suggested. She spent a few minutes pacing back and forth in the room from nervous energy and the fear that had yet to fully go away. She eventually laid down on the bed, but she was too wired and shaken to sleep. She was now convinced someone had hurt her brother. She never thought for a second he would commit suicide, but now she strongly suspected that someone had been entering his house. She doubted the experience of that morning had been the first time a break-in had occurred.

  Who was going into the house, though, and why? Her brother didn’t own anything of much worth, at least she didn’t think he did. She knew he didn’t have much money. His car was the only thing she could think of that had some value, and that was still in the parking lot. She thought of the unknown intruder and wondered who he or she was. Had they walked into the bedroom and watched her as she slept? She knew she had slept hard for those few hours. Someone could have easily stood beside the bed and observed her for a long time. She realized then just how lucky she had actually been that morning.

  Since she couldn’t sleep now, Hannah decided to use her time in the hotel room to review the video files on the thum
b drive. The intruder had to be the reason her brother had installed the video cameras throughout the house.

  She pulled her laptop out of her backpack and plugged the drive into the USB port. She decided to check the files under the folder labeled “Living Room” first. She started at the earliest recorded file and slowly made her way through all thirty videos. She was shocked, though, to see nothing of any interest. She saw her brother walk through the frame from time to time, but there was nothing else. There were no break-ins of any kind. There weren’t any visitors, either, not even a maintenance worker. It was painful to watch him walk through the room. His hair had grown longer than she remembered it being, but he was the same old Joe. She couldn’t believe the brother she remembered and the person on the video was now gone. It was too surreal to fully accept.

  Hannah looked at the thumb drive contents again. There were so many videos, and it all felt overwhelming. She debated on what room to review next. They would all need to be checked, so she decided to start at the third floor and work her way down to the video files that covered the first floor. She reviewed one of the top bedroom folders. It took just a few hours to view the files in that folder since she fast-forwarded through most of the footage. She found nothing of interest, though, but she admitted to herself that she might have missed something since there were already time jumps on the video recording.

  Her stomach growled, and she wondered if she should order room service. Her eyes were glazed over from watching the videos, so she closed the last video file and headed downstairs to the hotel restaurant. They were just closing as she got to the lobby. She looked at her watch and was shocked to see it was already in the middle of the afternoon. The hostess told her they would be closed for a few hours and then reopen for dinner. Hannah went back to her room and grabbed her jacket. She left the hotel and walked across Settler’s Landing Road, which ran in front of the hotel. She then walked over to Queen’s Way where she found several small restaurants and bars.