Colby Law

by Debra Webb

  Gus showing up had given Sadie an excuse not to do anything rash. For once, Lyle was thankful for the old bastard. As much as Sadie wanted to believe her daddy didn’t love her, Lyle was pretty damned sure he did. He just had a hell of a way of showing it. He was immensely grateful that she hadn’t demanded answers about the photo album from Gus. He wasn’t sure his warning about the danger had gotten through the emotions bombarding her, but it seemed he had.

  Looking at the whole situation between Sadie and Gus from Gus’s prospective, Lyle supposed he had withdrawn emotionally after his wife’s death to protect himself. It wasn’t the right thing to do, but folks didn’t always do the right thing. Maybe Gus was only guilty of taking this competition between him and his daughter too far. But then, who had taken Dare Devil? The horse was worth a few bucks, even as old and worn out as he was. Could have been any outlaw out to make a fast dollar.

  Lyle would enjoy learning it was Sizemore. Kicking his butt would feel good. But that would be too easy. Nothing about this situation had been easy so far, and he suspected that wasn’t going to change.

  He’d like nothing better than to wake up in the morning and find that this was over for Sadie. Every minute that she suffered tore him apart a little more.

  The dogs hadn’t done any yapping, which he had decided to use as an alarm while he was at the barn and Sadie was in the house, but he didn’t like having her out of his sight.

  Rain clouds were moving in. This time of year it wasn’t unusual for a storm to blow up. Since the barn roof was in good shape now, there were no worries about leaks. Maybe he could talk Sadie into taking a ride to town for lunch. Her cupboards were bare as hell.

  Before climbing the porch steps, he checked his boots. His mother had drilled that habit into his head as a kid. Don’t bring anything in this house that belongs in the barn or the pasture, young man. This was a strange time to think of something so mundane. Maybe mundane was what both he and Sadie needed.

  She had scrubbed the blood, and he knew it was blood, from the door, but the fresh coat of paint was still in the can sitting on the porch. Sadie wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. His pulse hitched instantly, but his gut told him she was here. That was something he remembered from before. He could feel her presence. Whenever she was close, his pulse reacted. That the connection was still there after so many years was just further proof of what a fool he had been to walk away. He should never have allowed Gus to exert such influence over his decisions.

  On the way to her bedroom he found all three dogs waiting outside the bathroom. Water spraying sounded on the other side of the door. Guess she’d decided she couldn’t stand any trace of that mess on her skin. He could use a shower himself.

  He tapped the door. “Hey, save me some hot water!”

  “Maybe,” she shouted back.

  Despite having sensed she was okay, relief rushed through his blood at hearing her voice.

  “Come on, boys.” He glanced at the Chihuahua. “And girl.”

  Finding the dog food wasn’t easy. By the time he did he understood why Sadie kept it hidden above the fridge. Gator, the Lab, was as adept at opening the lower cupboard doors as Lyle.

  He poured the kibbles into the different-size dog bowls.

  The mutts chowed down. Lyle wasn’t a fan of kibbles, but he had to confess to a hunger pain or two. To tide him over he guzzled down a glass of milk. Good thing he was consuming it. The expiration date was only a day away.

  Sadie showed up just in time to catch him going for a second glass. She was dressed, hair back in that loose ponytail, jeans snug on her slender body and a plain white tee that looking anything but plain on her. He finished off the milk and put his glass in the sink.

  “You hungry?” he asked, knowing she had to be.

  For a long time she stood there, watching the dogs, as if she hadn’t heard him. Then she lifted her gaze to his. “I want to go to Granger.”

  “Granger?” That little hitch he’d experienced in his pulse a few minutes ago hit him again, only harder.

  “I want to see the house.”

  That was what he figured. “Sadie.”

  “Don’t try talking me out of it. You’re either going with me or I’m going alone.”

  “There’s nothing there to see,” he countered. “It’s been over twenty years.”

  “One of the newspaper articles said the house was bought by the parents of some of the victims. They boarded it up, didn’t want anyone else to ever live there, but they didn’t want to burn it down.” She moistened her lips. “They wanted folks to remember what happened in that house.”

  He moved toward her, had to. He needed to touch her. His fingers curled around her shoulders and squeezed with all the reassurance he could convey in that small gesture. To his surprise she didn’t resist. “Sadie, I know this is tearing you apart inside, but you’ve already had to absorb a lot today. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “I’m going.”

  There was no use fighting it. He couldn’t deny her, whatever she asked. “If there’s no changing your mind…”

  She searched his eyes, hers bright with desperation. “I need to remember something…anything. I have to try.”

  Chapter Ten

  Granger, Texas, 2:00 p.m.

  “It’s smaller than I expected.” Sadie craned her neck to see all she could beyond the truck’s broad windows. Lyle had just driven past the welcome sign for Granger proper. Where history lives. That cold sensation Sadie had been fighting all day crept through her veins now, making her feel chilled, no matter that the sun shone strong and bright. The town’s population hovered just under two thousand. Really small. Too small to have been the home of a monster like Rafe Barker.

  “You drive through here before?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe.” If she’d been here as an adult, it had definitely been a drive through and she hadn’t been the one driving. Nothing looked familiar.

  The queasiness that had started the instant she read the message painted in blood on her door was still her companion, but Lyle had been right about eating. She’d forced down a burger and it had helped.

  She glanced at the album lying on the console between them. A couple of times on the drive here she’d started to pick it up, but each time she’d lost the nerve.

  “Drive slower.” She didn’t want to miss anything. The town was an old one with a few historic features still intact. She’d noticed the railroad tracks before. Lyle had explained that this had been an important cotton-trade intersection back in the day when the railroad ruled mass transit.

  Another of those icy shivers went through her as they passed the police department. She wondered if any of the policemen who’d been involved in the arrest twenty-two years ago were still on the force. Did any of the teachers at the schools remember the older girls? Probably not, she decided, since none had been old enough to go to school.

  A church caught her eye and she pondered whether or not it was the one the Barkers had attended. Had she sat on one of those pews as a toddler? She squeezed her eyes shut. No, no, no. She had gone to church with her grandmother.

  Eventually the little town gave way to open road. She turned to Lyle. “How much farther now?”

  “According to the GPS—” he tapped the dash “—about two miles.”

  Sadie’s heart kicked into a gallop. Oddly, her mind kept tripping over the irony that the Barkers had rescued dogs, cats and other small pets. The concept made her throat hurt. Was that kind of thing in one’s DNA? Breathe, Sadie. Don’t think about that part right now.

  Lyle flipped on his right-turn signal and slowed. A big old farmhouse sat off the road, flanked on all sides by ancient trees that shaded the aging tin roof and the overgrown yard. The wood siding might have once been white, but it was more gray now and peeling badly. The windows and front door had been boarded up, just as the article she’d read had said.

  Lyle parked in front of the house. The driveway had disapp
eared in the thick grass. Beyond the house she could see the roof of a barn, not red like hers at home, more a brown. According to the newspapers, the veterinary office had been operated out of a renovated barn. The property was fenced for horses, but there had been no mention of horses in any of the articles.

  “You want to get out?”

  She’d been certain about the answer to that before they left the Cove. For some reason she wasn’t so sure now.

  “We don’t have to.”

  “Yes.” She gathered her courage. “I need to see.”

  Lyle opened his door first. He got out and came around to her side. Despite her determination, she hadn’t moved. When her door opened, she managed a stiff smile. “Thank you.” He didn’t say anything, but the worry in his eyes said all she needed to know. He was here for her. Whatever happened, he had her back.

  There was still a sparse layer of gravel beneath all that overgrown grass. It crushed under her boots. The sky was clear but the air seemed thick and sticky in her lungs, no matter that the temperature was relatively mild for late May and there was a robust breeze. The front porch leaned to one side, so it wasn’t surprising that the floorboards creaked as she walked toward the boarded-up door.

  Overhead, remnants of birds’ nests and spiderwebs hung on every available ledge and in every nook between old, cupped boards. The front of the house beneath the porch had been whitewashed recently to cover up vandalism, but the ghost of graffiti lingered just below its surface. Sadie thought of the bizarre message left on her door, and that frigid rush ran through her again.

  She wandered to the end of the porch and stepped back down to the overgrown grass. The house was deeper than it had looked from the road. Back home her barn stood a good distance from the house. Here the barn-turned-clinic was only fifty or so feet from the house. A screened-in back porch overlooked the yard, where more massive trees offered shade from the Texas sun. Between the house and the barn the hand-stacked rock skirt of a well interrupted the flow of knee-deep grass. A bucket, bent and abused, hung from a frayed rope. The well drew her in that direction. She rested her hands on the cold stones and looked into the seemingly endless black hole.

  Had they looked for bodies down there?

  A squeak hauled her attention to the far side of the yard. A child’s rusty swing set stood beneath a tree, the broken slide squeaking with each puff of the wind. Her boots grew heavier as she walked in that direction.

  For a long time she stood there. Just looking. Then she touched one of the swings, set it into motion. Laughter whispered through her mind. Her heart jolted at the imagined sound. Had to be her imagination. Or had she hung on in one of these swings while her older sibling pushed her forward and laughed as she squealed with equal measures of fear and delight?

  Dragging a shaky breath into her lungs, she turned to Lyle, who stood by patiently while she explored. “Can we go inside?”

  Lyle cocked his head and considered the boarded-up back door beyond the wall of ragged screening. “We can try. It’s called breaking and entering if we succeed. Malicious damage of property if we fail.”

  He smiled at her, and a burst of heat chased away some of the chill. “That’s only if we get caught.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” He hitched a thumb toward the house. “I’ll move the truck back here so we don’t attract any attention and see what kind of tools I have.”

  As crazy as the idea was, considering where she was standing, she still enjoyed watching him walk away. The continuity of that feeling was reassuring. The breeze picked up. She hugged herself. The leaves rustled as the tree branches swayed. That whisper of childlike laughter swirled with the swishing of the leaves, making her shiver. A limb scraped the house, attracting her attention there. That window, though she couldn’t see it for the rustic boards nailed over it, seemed kind of familiar. The limb scraping against the house felt incredibly familiar. There were no trees that close to her house or Gus’s.

  “Got a hammer.”

  Sadie gasped as the sound of his voice snapped her back to the here and now. He’d parked his truck near the swing set, gotten out and closed the door without her being aware he’d moved. She’d been completely immersed in a memory that shouldn’t be hers. A glance back at the window confirmed that unnerving feeling.

  “I want to go up there.” She pointed to the window on the second floor that was barely visible between the leaves.

  He held her gaze a moment, then offered the flashlight he had in his other hand. “Okay then.”

  The screen door whined as they entered the screened-in porch. At the door, Lyle dug the claw of the hammer beneath the first board and tugged. The board groaned then popped loose. Sadie flinched. Five more just like that—she jumped each time—and the door was exposed.

  Sadie grasped the handle, anticipation detonating in her veins, and gave it a turn.

  And it was locked.

  “Give me a minute.” He hung the hammer in his belt and body-slammed the door, twice.

  The door burst inward and the musty smell of disuse wafted out to greet them. Sadie couldn’t move for a moment. If she went inside, would she feel any different than she did now? Would she remember something that would confirm she was Sarah Barker and take away her sense of self?

  Only one way to find out. Sadie stepped across the threshold. It was dark. She remembered the flashlight and clicked it on. The beam spilled across a cookstove. The kitchen. Made sense. Cobwebs clung to the bead-board ceiling and walls. A thick layer of dust covered everything else, including the floor. She rubbed at the dust with the toe of her boot, revealing the green-and-yellow pattern of worn linoleum beneath. Images flickered, disturbing her vision. She blinked repeatedly, shook her head.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes.” Sadie elbowed aside the heebie-jeebies and focused on the room. Typical farm-style kitchen. Stained and chipped porcelain sink. Old laminate countertop with metal trim. Ancient fridge, reminded her of her grandmother’s. Big wooden table with chairs on each end and benches along the two sides.

  “Looks like the place was left as it was that morning.”

  Sadie nodded. “Seems so.”

  “Why don’t I lead?”

  “Sure.” Sadie thrust the flashlight at him. She didn’t need it anyway. None of this was familiar to her. No. She shook her head. She’d probably seen the linoleum somewhere. Maybe at the home of one of her grandmother’s friends.

  The kitchen led into a long narrow hall that divided the house down the middle and ended at the front door. Or began there, depending upon the way you looked at it. Along one side of the hall a staircase climbed to the second floor. Doorways on each side of the hall near the front door led to twin parlors. One was furnished more formally with what Sadie generally referred to as old-people furniture. Uncomfortable and out of date. The other was obviously the one the family had used most often. Sagging sofa. Box television set. A recliner. Bookshelf lined with the expected, mostly books about dogs and cats.

  The house was spooky quiet. She hugged herself and wrestled with the trembling that had started deep in her bones. She started back to the hall before Lyle. He caught up with her in time to prevent her from tripping over a broken floorboard.

  “Watch yourself,” he warned.

  Her attention drifted upward.

  “Upstairs?” he asked, directing the flashlight’s beam that way.

  Sadie nodded then remembered that unless he shined the flashlight at her he wouldn’t see the gesture. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I want to see the other rooms.”

  Lyle checked each tread before moving upward. Ensuring the steps were still stable enough to support their weight. Sadie couldn’t get a deep enough breath. The dust, probably. Couldn’t be anything else.

  At the top of the stairs was the first bathroom they’d encountered. A rubber duck sat amid the dust and rust in the tub. Three doors lined the corridor. The first appeared to be the parents’ room. Plain. Faded wallpaper coming l
oose in one corner where a water leak had stained the wall.

  Sadie backed away from the door. She didn’t need to go in there. She followed Lyle to the next door. A bed and chest of drawers were the only furnishings. A guest room, she supposed. There was no window. Lyle checked the closet, closed the door before she had a look.

  “What’s in there?”

  “Junk mostly.”

  Something she’d read in one of the articles bobbed to the surface of the turmoil in her head. She reached for the door and opened it. With obvious reluctance he pointed the light into the small space.

  Ropes and chains lay on the floor. Articles of clothing were twisted into gaglike devices. Her heart bumped hard against her sternum. This was where the children had been imprisoned. Clare Barker had denied the charge, but the evidence had proved otherwise. She wondered why the devices were still here. Hadn’t they been used in court as evidence? Or had they used photos instead?

  She closed the door and walked out of the room.

  “You okay?”

  She ignored his question. But no, she wasn’t okay. Saying it out loud wouldn’t help. “That’s the one.” Sadie moved toward the final door. The window of this room would look into the massive branches of the tree next to the house.

  The room was the same size as the parents’ room. There was only one bed, full size. A chest of drawers was the only other piece of furniture, just like in the windowless room. At some point the walls in this one had been painted pink. The toe of her boot bumped something on the floor. She leaned down and picked up the stuffed dog. Her hand shook so hard she held it more tightly than necessary to hide the tremors. More toys were scattered over the floor. She turned to the bed, the covers tousled.

  I’m ’fraid. The words whispered through her mind. Images of baby-doll pajamas and long blond braids flashed like images cast on the wall by an antique projector. Screaming. Not children’s screams. A woman’s. Let me out! Let me out!