“Please, come on in,” the raven-haired woman said as she held her screen door open with one wrinkled hand. Casper and Delaney followed the invitation and sat on the worn green sofa under Sally Zimanski’s living room window. “Can I get you tea or coffee?” Sally asked. Both nodded. Casper eyed the front door as Sally closed it and left it unlocked. He sat facing the door with his back to the window.
Casper observed the framed pictures that hung from the east-facing wall. Three children’s pearly-white teeth gleamed in each one, years in between each photo taken around Christmas time. The three children, two boys and one girl, stood with trees in the background of each photo. After closer examination, Casper deduced that each shot was taken with the Punkhorns as the backdrop, likely in the backyard of this very house.
The mixed smells of pine needles and mothballs hung in the air. The scent transported Casper back to Virginia summers at his grandparent’s house that butted up against an abandoned golf course. The summers always lingered well past August, and Casper would take the long drive back north to begin his school year without a summer of adventures or newfound friends.
Boxes lined the far wall and atop them, a small TV stood on a shaky end table with wires dangling astray behind it. The boxes were labeled with letters and Casper quickly picked up on the code, “K for kitchen, B for Bathroom,” and so on. Sally joined them with two steaming cups of coffee moments later.
Casper and Delaney both grinned as they accepted their mugs. Casper had thought to ask for iced coffee since he was already sweating at the prospect of a piping hot beverage in the sauna-like humidity of the Cape. Sally tried to move a few boxes out of sight but gave up quickly.
“I’m sorry for the mess. As you know, I’ll be out of here in a few months at the latest,” Sally’s soft eyes betrayed the positivity in her words. “On to bigger and better things!”
Delaney appreciated the kind woman’s attempt to stay optimistic. “We don’t mind at all. We’re truly sorry to interrupt your day, and that you have to move. I wouldn’t wish that upon anybody.”
Casper was impressed by Delaney’s rapport-building, as Sally was instantly chomping at the bit to answer all questions her newfound friends might have. Sally dove into her backstory with the Cape, and her husband’s impulsive purchase of a beach house they couldn’t afford. She gracefully covered the cancer that came and caused her husband’s untimely death years later. When the conversation lulled, Delaney changed the subject and asked if Sally had enjoyed living in the Punkhorns.
“Well, dear, I don’t quite live in The Punkhorns, but I’d say they are my backyard. My husband used to take the kids on long hikes through those trails when they were young. My oldest, Henry, and my youngest, Missy, once tried to camp out in one of the old cow pastures for a night,” Sally said with a glance at the family photos on the wall.
“How did that go?” Casper said, feeling the need to add to the conversation.
Sally broke out laughing. “Well, I’d say pretty poorly. We heard them screaming as they ran back to the house and hid in their bedroom.”
“What happened to them?” Delaney’s voice grew alarmed.
“Oh, nothing at all. They’d heard the stories, and it was all in their heads. I’m sure it was just a fox or squirrel hopping in the leaves that spooked them. Probably just Henry scaring his younger sister with a story.”
“Sounds like a big brother to me,” Delaney pressed on. “Ma’am, did you happen to see a young man run or walk by on Monday morning? He was about six feet tall, black hair.”
Sally shook her head slowly. “No. I haven’t seen any of those poor souls. I knew Grace from church, too. What a shame. Their poor families. I hope nothing happens to the volunteers during their pointless searches.”
Casper’s attention piqued. “You don’t think they are going to be found? No offense, but that’s a bit dark, ma’am.”
Sally stood and looked out the window at the pines that shook and danced in the breeze. “The legends are just that. Legends. But I know these lands as well as anybody in town. The history and the present. I love every inch of this land but, well, things happen in the Punkhorns. Rarely, if ever, are they good.”
As the woman’s smile faded, Delaney and Casper glanced at one another. Delaney nodded towards Sally, and Casper took the hint.
“What kind of things?” he asked.
“In our first year living here full time, we had a puppy named Biscuit. This little Yorkie. She’s in one of these photos,” Sally scanned the wall for the right photo. She paused and pointed to a small dog in her youngest daughter’s arms. “She was a puppy. Always causing trouble, pooping in my husband’s garden, or stealing food from the trash. We started keeping her outside more often, even built a little doghouse for her. Then, one evening, my husband and I were on the back deck eating dinner and Biscuit was on the outskirts of the woods. We heard her cry and when we looked up, a coyote had come out in broad daylight and snatched our pup in her mouth.”
Delaney winced. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. That’s terrifying.”
“It was nothing short of a horror. But my husband and I both felt the stare of the coyote as he stood there with Biscuit in his mouth, crying for help. The beast must have stood and stared at us for the longest minute of my life before turning back into The Punkhorns with our beloved pet. We searched for a few days to see if we could find Biscuit’s body. You know, for the kids. For closure. It would have been nice to bury her and say a few words. We didn’t have any luck.”
“That’s terrible. I’m sorry, Sally,” Casper replied. “I’m sure that was difficult for your children, as well.”
“We told them she was hit by a car. That felt like the gentler explanation, although they had more questions than we had answers when it came to the facts. I’m sure they knew we were fibbing.”
“And is that why you were willing to sell the land to Baxter when they came calling?” Delaney asked to change the subject.
“It was more the money, to be honest. And it was made clear that we didn’t have a choice in the matter. So, I figured it was time for a fresh start, and a new place to make memories.”
“Will you miss it?” Casper said.
Sally sighed and sat back on the couch. “I will. There are parts I’ll miss more than others. The ancient trees, and the friendly fauna. Those are things I hope to find elsewhere. But I’m ready to be away from the ominous darkness that creeps in at night. The cry of coyotes and wolves at 3 AM. The lasting image of those hideous yellow coyote eyes each time I gaze into the woods at night. I’m about ready to leave that behind.”
Casper nodded. Delaney stood and shook Sally’s hand. “Thank you for your time, Sally.
“I wish I could have been more help. Please, come back anytime. And I’ll pray for those lost souls and keep an eye out for them.” Sally held the front door open and her two visitors walked down the narrow sidewalk and towards their car.
Delaney slumped into the driver’s seat and let her hands fall to her side. Casper joined her in the car and mirrored her expression. He looked over to her and considered how to break the tension. “So, what do you think?”
Delaney pinched her lips. She looked over at Casper and then back up to Sally’s house.
“I don’t know. That coyote story really creeped me out. I can only hope the next house knows something more concrete. Like maybe they saw a giant hawk swoop out of the sky and take Aaron Sun away.”
Casper knew better than to goad her by questioning the validity of that idea. He looked down at his notepad. “Looks like Thomas Renard’s place is down the road a bit. Let’s head there.”
Delaney wrinkled her nose and put the key in the ignition. Casper did his best to look away, but had found himself enamored by the detective’s overactive facial expressions. He finally understood why some people were described as “cute.”
As Delaney pulled out of the drive and started up the road, Casper rolled up his window. “You know the AC in this jalo
py is busted, windows are the only air we’ve got, pal.”
Casper chuckled. “I know, but after your giant hawk story, I think I’m going to be overly cautious for a moment. Better safe than sorry.”
Delaney shot him a look, then broke out laughing hysterically. The two giggled like school boys finding their father’s stashed adult magazine; a pure, naïve and uncontrollable fit of joy. As they saw the road pass from asphalt to gravel once again, the Punkhorns greeted them with an eerie, interwoven canopy that blocked the sky from their sight. Their laughter evaporated and was replaced with an unspoken, sinister sense of foreboding.
TWENTY-ONE
Tuesday, August 7th
Rachel rapped her knuckles against the spotless white screen door of the mayor’s house on the pond. She had only seen one car in the driveway when she pulled up, but hoped that by some chance the mayor was home for lunch or off for the day. As she ran through those possibilities, she knew it was highly unlikely.
A woman in black yoga pants and a white top opened the front door instead. Rachel tried to force the corners of her mouth up as the mayor’s wife opened the door and wiped sweat from her forehead with a small gray towel.
“Hello, can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Rachel Spokes. I work for Baxter Construction. I was looking for the mayor.”
“Rachel, it’s lovely to meet you, I’m Ann Peck. Why don’t you come in for a glass of water?” the woman said. She smiled like a loveable grandma, and Rachel saw that the teeth in the corner of her mouth were starting to yellow. Ann had an inviting presence that reminded Rachel of her mother. Rachel followed inside.
The beach decor theme was evident from the first step Rachel took inside, onto a seashell doormat. All the home’s walls were painted in a light pastel, warm blues and yellow welcomed her inside. Knickknacks lined the shelves between books and framed photographs of the family. Rachel liked the theme of the place much more than most of the fish-lined walls she’d seen in other homes in the area.
Ann took a glass off the open shelving in the kitchen and pulled ice cubes from a tray in the freezer. Rachel plopped herself on a stool by the tan granite counter and felt her body slouch under the weight of the day’s chaos. Ann slid a coaster over and placed the glass of water on it.
“Peter isn’t here right now, but it sure looks like you’ve had a tough day,” Ann said.
“Thank you. It’s been a lot,” Rachel replied as she grabbed hold of the glass. Condensation left a ring on the wooden coaster.
“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Ann sat on the stool next to Rachel and drank from a Nalgene of her own.
Rachel jumped at the chance to share her day from hell. She walked Ann through the search party and the shock of the discovery at the construction site. She explained her furious drive over to The Captain’s golf course to confront Baxter and beg him to stop. She let out a sigh as she finished with Baxter’s persistent threats and disrespect.
Ann stood and walked to a small oak side table where her phone sat plugged into a charger.
“Rachel, that’s a horrific day,” Ann said as she swiped to unlock her phone. “Can you just say once more what he said at the end? I’d like to let the police chief know personally.”
“He said, well, something like, I don’t care if it’s a bald eagle or a bird-watcher, I’ll wipe out anything in my way. I’ll wipe out this whole city,” Rachel repeated.
“Gosh. That’s just terrible. That’s a toxic work environment if I’ve ever heard one. Could you report him to HR?” Ann glanced up at Rachel as she typed furiously on her phone. Rachel observed that Ann had sent the message to one person and was typing it all again to another. She assumed one of the two was going to the mayor himself.
“It’s hopeless. He’s the owner’s son. Even if he’s the black sheep, his father will not listen to me complain about his asshole son,” Rachel said.
Ann shook her head and sat the phone back on the table. “I sent that over to the police so they may reach out for more information. I’m sure if you called Detective Shepard, she’d be happy to hear your story as well.”
Rachel’s attention sharpened at the description of the day’s events as a story. Her mind sprinted through every word that she’d said. She felt her heart sink.
“Do you not believe me?” Rachel’s voice cracked.
“Of course, I do, dear. I’m just a nut for a story,” Ann laughed. “I’ve always thought of myself as a book nut, and I’m actively comparing my real life to the thrillers I read every day. You’ve got no reason to lie.”
Rachel smirked and tipped the bottom of her glass so the ice cubes that remained slid into her mouth. She crunched them and felt the cold shiver up her sensitive teeth.
“If you could escape, all of this, everything, where would you go? What would you do?” Ann prompted.
Rachel paused to think. “Peru,” she said, almost like it was a question.
“Peru! Have you been?”
“No, but I’ve seen photos and read books. I’d go live in a top-floor apartment in Cusco and lead weekend tours out to Machu Pichu. I’d befriend the locals and never pillage the land that they call sacred. I’d drink coca tea and hike the Andes.”
Ann’s face glowed. “Now this is an idea I can get behind. ¿Puedes hablar espanol?”
Rachel looked up at her new friend. “Si, un poco. I’m learning, though.”
“Well, I think that’s a lovely plan. How can I help make it happen? I know of a few books about the region that I could happily share with you from the library. But only if you’re planning to stick around for a few more weeks.”
Rachel stood and placed the glass in the empty sink. “I’m not sure where I’ll be in a few weeks. I think it may be time to leave the Cape.”
“I think you’d find this a much more welcoming place under different circumstances, Rachel. But I understand. Follow your heart. Chase that dream down. Don’t stick around here just to delay the misery.”
Rachel nodded and went to the door. She turned back to Ann, who stood with her arms crossed in front of her. Rachel reached out and quickly hugged her.
“Thank you,” Rachel whispered as she let go of the embrace.
TWENTY-TWO
Tuesday, August 7th
The house belonging to Thomas Renard could only be described with the word ‘cottage’. The small house had a misshapen, slatted roof. Its four walls were made up of coarse gray stones that held speckles of teal moss on their corners. The rocks seemed to glimmer and wink in the light, which broke through a welcomed opening in the canopies that lined the drive in. The home had no landscaping of any kind, and the dirt walkway that led to the front door was worn like an old sidewalk was ripped up and removed.
Delaney knocked on the front door and waited for a response. Nothing in the house seemed to stir. “There are tire tracks in the driveway. He must be out somewhere.”
Casper cupped his hands and looked in the window. He saw a tattered reading chair and a ragged aqua sofa stacked high with newspapers. The walls were bare aside from a painting of the ocean and an old dust-caked trophy case. Nothing seemed to grab Casper’s attention, nor Delaney’s, who had joined him peering into the crusty glass.
The cramped quarters that Thomas Renard called home were best described as Casper Kelly’s worst claustrophobic nightmare. There were stacks of crap blocking different windows in the rooms besides the den. From their vantage point, Casper observed that the back door was blocked by a large recycling bin. A door to a crawlspace was half opened below them on the side of the house. The darkness inside made Casper’s blood curdle. Casper turned as he and Delaney heard a car approach.
A worn red pick-up truck ambled down the drive toward the road, and the passenger side window lowered slowly as it was cranked down. A smiling forty-something face stuck out, and he waved to the two trespassers. Casper had expected Thomas Renard to look much different based on the inside of his house. “Hey there, Del!”
the passenger shouted gleefully.
Delaney grinned and walked towards the vehicle. “Hey, Keri. How are you?”
Keri Perotta responded by pointing back to Renard’s house behind her. “I should ask you the same question. You trying to find Tommy?”
“We sure were. Planning to come see you and Tate next,” Delaney crouched to get a good look at the driver. “Hey Tate, great to see you too.”
Tate extended a wave and furrowed his brow. “You bringing out-of-towners on house calls with you now, Del?”
Delaney turned to Casper and snickered. “No, sir. He’s a consultant helping us with these missing people. A specialist from the big city.”
Casper waved at Delaney’s jubilant friends.
“Tate runs a landscape company that covers most of the lawns here in Brewster. Keri splits her time between the library and the coffee shop. We’re all in a runner’s group together. It always dies out a bit in the summer, but we’ve done some marathon relays and always get together for the Brew Run,” Delaney said.
“Brew Run? Is that when you chug beer between laps?” Casper had heard of similar shenanigans in college but never took part. He preferred the late-night indie movies that they would show in the student center to the chaos of the childish antics that his classmates enjoyed.
Tate and Keri howled laughter. “I wish, buddy,” Keri said. “It’s an 8k that happens next weekend. Always perfect weather and a good time. Haven’t seen a drop of rain in years. Hope you can get all of this cleared up in time to run, Del.”
Delaney blushed at the nickname again. Casper noticed and grinned at her embarrassment. “I’ll be there. I’ll wait for you at the finish line!” she responded.
Welcome to the Punkhorns (Shepard & Kelly Book 1) Page 11